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dyaz-stories · 9 months

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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman || Park Chan-Young x f!Reader

summary: Yeong-Su breaks a window at the stadium, and Chan-Young takes the blame for it, resulting in severe consequences. Fortunately, you're here to pick up the pieces afterwards.

word count: 3.1k

warnings & tags: spoilers for season 2 of sweet home, violence, injuries, soldiers being assholes, coarse language, making out, the pronoun "she" is used in reference to the reader

A/N: couldn't find gifs for chan-young so I made this one, but I'm by no means a gif maker, so, yeah. Also, I don't know anything about baseball, so please pretend this makes sense if you know better. I'm not sure which team Chan-Young was supposed to be on, so I picked the Doosan Bears because Sweet Home takes place in Seoul. Finally, it's my first time writing for him, so I hope you'll enjoy my take on this character!

It’s another day at the stadium, which means it’s another day of boredom.

Oh, there are things to do around here, sure. If you don’t mind being ordered around by soldiers who stand behind you with a scowl on their face and remind you that the only reason you’re even there is because of their good will, you’ll find a job to do. Cleaning a corner of the stadium, probably, in hopes that someone will be able to live there — as if there were enough mattresses — or doing the inventory, again, while looking the other way when rations mysteriously go missing and everyone knows who’s doing the taking.

Thing is, you’ve never been one to grovel. In fact, back in the Before days, you were the one giving the orders. Youngest assistant coach for the Doosan bears, the Seoul baseball team, you were in line to become the youngest coach in the history of the country. And, yeah, you weren’t completely in charge, but you were trusted. You had responsibilities. People knew to take you seriously.

You’ve had ideas for how to run this place more efficiently, to avoid making the civilians feel like they’re second-rate citizens, but it’s been made clear to you that you weren’t welcome to make suggestions. So you haven’t bothered, lately, but you also won’t play in that stupid game, where people get to change the rules without telling you.

It means that you do a lot of aimless walking around in the stadium. Chief Ji implicitly lets you roam around, a testament to the fact that you knew each other well back in the days, when you used to bring her coffee before big games, but you mostly try to make yourself useful in the way soldiers haven’t bothered accounting for.

A lot of that means keeping an eye on kids that are left to themselves otherwise. Their parents are busy, and it’s not like there’s much to do for them, here, so you try to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, you’re no teacher, meaning that it’s a lot of physical activities, wherever you find enough place. Other days, people who are teachers take over for you. That is the case today, meaning you’d have the day ‘off’, if it weren’t for Yeong-Su not showing up for class.

You don’t personally think he should have to attend class. You know how mean the other kids can be to him, and though the teachers don’t do much in the name of keeping the peace, you don’t let that fly when you’re in charge. Which is probably why the kid never misses your classes, a small pride that you keep well tucked in your heart.

Still, the teachers insist that you make sure he’s okay, so you agree to go try and find him. He knows the stadium well, meaning it will be no easy task.

You end up finding him throwing a ball against a wall. It looks like he’s practicing his aim, you think when you notice that he’s drawn a square on it. You’re about to approach him, maybe give him a few pointers, when a particularly hard throw has the ball bouncing too high and it crashes through a window, finishing outside of the stadium.

You freeze. Monsters don’t approach the stadium much — it’s been months since there’s been a case of that happening.

But the mere thought of there being something open here still has your heart pounding with fear. It’s only a few seconds before you compose yourself, but that’s long enough for someone to come running. You rush towards Yeong-Su, prepared to fiercely defend him if you need to.

It’s Chan-Young, and you relax, even if your heart is now pounding for a whole other reason.

“What happened here?” he asks.

He may have been running with his whole equipment, but he shows no sign of being out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-Su mumbles. He’s hard to handle, especially these days, but he clearly respects Chan-Young a lot. “I didn’t mean to— I was just practicing and—"

Oh gosh, you realize, kid was practicing pitching, and it’s not lost on you that that’s the position Chan-Young mainly played as.

“…and now I’ve lost my ball,” Yeong-Su sniffs.

He’s trying to hold back tears, and it tears a little piece of your heart away. You know that Yeong-Su had found a ball autographed by Chan-Young, know that it’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s no surprise that Yeong-Su can’t stand the thought of losing anything more than what he already has.

Chan-Young glances at you, still standing a few steps behind Yeong-Su.

“He didn’t mean to,” you say. “I’ll help you fix the window.” Eun-Yu probably won’t mind giving you a hand, too.

Chan-Young nods, and you watch as he puts a knee to the floor, so he’s at eye-level with Yeong-Su. If he was any other soldier, you’d be more cautious, but you know him. Worked with him, when he was on your team, lost him when he enlisted, and now you’re in this strange limbo, where he doesn’t seem to know how to interact with you, even though there is this obvious familiarity between the two of you, every time you do speak.

“You need to be more careful,” he tells Yeong-Su, putting on his Serious voice. “If a monster heard that and came in, it could be very dangerous for everyone. And if you’re in front of the window when it happens, it would attack you first. So don’t let that happen again, okay?”

Then he gives Yeong-Su a small, comforting smile.

“If you want to practice again, come ask me next time, okay?” He glances up at you, and there’s such softness in his eyes when he does. “Or ask the coach. She knows her stuff.”

You’d never become coach, not officially, but his use of the word makes your heart swell.

“Okay,” Yeong-Su mumbles, staring down at his feet.

For a moment, it looks like everything will resolve itself just like that, and you’re already putting a hand on Yeong-Su’s shoulders to pull him away with you, when you hear the familiar stomping of military boots coming towards you.

Chan-Young’s expression changes immediately.

“Go,” he orders.

“But…”

He spins around to grab your shoulders, lowering himself to look straight into your eyes.

“Go,” he repeats. “Please.”

There’s such urgency in his voice that you can’t deny him, even if you’re not sure what is going on exactly. You grab Yeong-Su’s hand and pull him with you until you’re both behind a corner, just in time. You keep an eye on the scene, confused. The soldiers behave like assholes, you know that, but surely—

“What happened here?” the Sergeant bellows in Chan-Young’s face. “You’re lucky it was us, who were standing outside the window, and not something else! You better have an explanation, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chan-Young says, shoulders straight, from what you can see. “I was just practicing and—”

Before you can wonder why he’d lie, the punch catches him in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain. You catch yourself before you can gasp out loud, and instinctively cover Yeong-Su’s mouth, which is probably a smart move, because he starts thrashing to run towards Chan-Young. You don’t blame him, but you also absolutely cannot let him do that, not right now.

“Yeong-Su,” you whisper, mimicking Chan-Young’s attitude with you just a minute ago. “You need to go back to Ms. Cha. Okay?”

“But they’re…”

You wince, because they’re still berating Chan-Young, and one of them has just given him a hard kick to the ribs. All the more reason for you to intervene.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise, but I can’t do that if you’re here. So go back to her, and I’ll come see you when everything is okay again, alright?”

He sniffs, rubs his eyes to hide the tears, then turns around and runs. At least he’s got a good survival instinct, you think, even if it hurts to remember where it comes from. The second you’re sure he’s not coming back, it’s your turn to run, but towards the soldiers this time, with a confidence that you now worry is wholly unwarranted.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough?” you interject, maneuvering so you can get between them and Chan-Young.

There’s a scoff and they roll their eyes. One of them puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes, but you barely take a step back. You’re used to men trying to intimidate you.

“I thought we’d made it clear that your opinions weren’t welcome,” Seo-Jin snaps at you, getting too close to your face for comfort — like that would make you budge.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat up someone because he broke a fucking window, when if you’d gotten to work, that hole would be closed by now,” you reply on the same tone.

He opens his mouth to yell at you once more, a vein bulging on his forehead, when Chan-Young comes to stand in front of you. He’s barely just gotten on his feet, has one hand pressed against his rib cage, and still, he’s already coming to stop you from taking any risk. You want to scream at him and hug him all at the same time.

“Please, sir, she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Neither does he!

“That’s enough, Seo-Jin,” sergeant Kim finally intervenes, and the man immediately takes a step back. “Don’t let it happen again,” he tells Chan-Young. “And fix the hole,” he tells you, as an afterthought, before leaving and taking his team with him.

Your blood is boiling. He might try to be the voice of reason now, but you saw him doing nothing while his men got blood on their hands so he wouldn’t have to.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because next to you, Chan-Young has slowly let himself slide to the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask, panicked, while he grimaces and leans against the wall.

“I’m fine,” he says, an obvious lie. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You took responsibility for something you had nothing to do with, but I’m the one who shouldn’t have said anything?”

He sighs, shakes his head.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. He looks at you with warm eyes, and you feel your breath catching in your throat.

There’s something about Chan-Young, there always has been. You always have to remind yourself that he’s nice to everyone, because he’s such a kind person. Even that didn’t stop you from falling for him — and it’s the second time that it happens, damn him.

“I’ll go get medical supplies,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here.”

“There’s no need to—”

“Please, do you want to die from an infection after surviving all these monsters? Stay. Here.”

You ignore any further protests as you rush to get the supplies.

It doesn’t take you long. Chief Ji provides you with what you need without questions, and apologizes for not being able to give you painkillers — they’re reserved for emergencies, she explains. You know the other supplies are, too, but you understand her reasoning, and just thank her with a quick nod and a promise to help out for the next few shifts outside the stadium, if she needs it.

When you come back, Chan-Young’s moved to sit on one of the boxes that are always laying around in here, and you grab another one to sit across from him.

“Open your jacket,” you say as you take the disinfectant.

“I— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with an eyeroll, because the guys on the team weren’t exactly shy about taking their shirt off in front of you and he should remember that.

He clears his throat and glances away, and you notice his ears turning red.

“Um, right. Yeah. Just a second.”

Under the jacket, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, and he lifts it up so you can see for yourself.

And it’s not looking good. The area is red and swollen already, and you worry it will be worse soon. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do about that, so you disinfect the scratches caused by the boots, and gesture for him to put it back down. You’d normally advise to put something cold on it, to calm the swelling, but that’s not really an option here, not when the little electricity you have is mostly used to keep the lights on.

“Try not to move around too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says with a brief laugh. It’s a silly recommendation, and you both know it, but you still felt the need to say something.

“Now give me your hand, I’ll see what I can do.”

He does, and you carefully turn it to check the palm. You’re not sure if he hurt himself when he fell earlier, or if it’s just that there’s constantly manual work to be done and it’s hard not to injure your hand. Either way, you start cleaning it and disinfecting it as well.

“Do you think they would have been as hard on a kid?” you ask.

“No!” he protests immediately, maybe a tad too strongly. “They’re humans. I’m sure they wouldn’t have—” He interrupts himself, and you suspect that he knows they still could have hit him, a thought that makes your stomach turn. “But… Yeong-Su’s had a hard enough life as it is. People here are not… kind to him.”

“I’m not blaming you, especially after that,” you sigh, “I just— You do realize that it’s not your responsibility, right? I’d have helped the kid, and it could have ended better than…”

You gesture vaguely at him, and he closes his eyes for a second. He closes his fingers over yours where you’re holding his hand, rubs his thumb over your skin, which sends a wave of heat through your body. It only lasts a moment, though, before he catches himself and lets go.

“I’m— I was in charge, when his sister— I was supposed to be helping them. And I failed him.”

“What?” Ms. Cha told you that story, in hushed whispers, to explain why Yeong-Su was such a complicated child these days. It had been clear that there was nothing Chan-Young could have done. “You can’t blame yourself for someone turning into a monster and going on a rampage.”

“It happened on my watch,” he insists. “If I’d been more careful— If I hadn’t left the bus—”

You stop yourself to look at him straight in the eye. He’s close, but you don’t feel uncomfortable, not with him.

“That could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have planned for it.” He exhales, long and slow.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says, but you can tell that your words haven’t sunk in. It breaks your heart, and yet you have no idea what more you can say. After all, you weren’t there. It makes sense that he wouldn’t believe you.

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in the line of danger to—” to what, anyway? Expiate his sins? What does he have to prove? Does he have a death wish or something? “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

“Better me than Yeong-Su,” he insists. “He’s just a kid, and he has his mom — well, Ms. Cha. And he has you.” You set the disinfectant back down, hands almost trembling as you realize where he’s going with this. “Better me than him,” he just concludes sadly.

“Park Chan-Young,” you say, “you don’t seriously think that, right?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he replies.

“He has a family here. I— don’t really have anyone—”

You’re not sure what goes through your head when you put your hand on his cheek and kiss him. If you had to rationalize it — which you’re not really in any position to do when it happens — you’d say that you just wanted to prove him how wrong he was. Truth is, though, that you also couldn’t bear the idea that you were letting him believe that when it was so entirely untrue.

His lips are warm against yours, and you think you feel him leaning into you, but you pull away too soon to know.

“There,” you say as you gather your things. “Now you know you do have someone, so don’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily, alright?”

Then you’re on your feet, hell-bent on fleeing the scene.

Of course, Chan-Young catches up with you in an instant. He grabs your wrist, and pulls you back against him. His eyes are wide as he searches yours.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

“Mean what?” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re… not sure where he is going with this.

“It wasn’t pity, right? You— I have you?”

The words almost send a shiver down your spine.

“Of course you do. I don’t exactly go around kissing people—”

Next thing you know, his hands are cupping your face and his mouth is on yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he desperately needs you to prove your words to him. You kiss back without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his neck. It isn’t long before your back hits the wall and you let out a brief groan.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from you to check on you. “Are you—”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him back down against you. His hands move down to your waist, one of them slipping under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin. He’s kissing you slower now, more sensual, and he abandons your mouth to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, before he comes back to your lips.

“I shouldn’t—” he mumbles against you. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Everyone’s doing it,” you reply, but it doesn’t surprise you when he tears himself away from you. He’s a sight to behold, flushed and out of breath — and is it odd that you enjoy seeing him panting from kissing you when you know he can run for hours without struggling? He’s always been one to stick to the rules closely. It says a lot that he broke one right now, but you won’t push him any further, not until he’s ready.

You take a step back towards him, take his hand in yours, and press your lips to his cheek for one last, soft kiss.

“Don’t forget now,” you say. “You have me. Don’t risk your life without thinking.”

He doesn’t kiss you again, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, squeezing your hand in his.

“I have you,” he repeats, as if to convince himself. “I have you.”

I hope you liked it! as always, if you did, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought! feedback is really motivating and is what keep us authors going, so leaving a comment or sending an ask or anything really helps to keep me writing!

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home season #park chan young #chan young #chan young x reader #park chan young x reader #sweet home imagines #park jinyoung #my writing

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faebaex · 1 year

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Tangled in Wonderland - Leonotis Leonurus

author note: second poll's winner! also a plant pun for the title, just because (￣▽￣) i feel like Jade would be proud. speaking of, he has a teeny tiny cameo in this fic, simply bc he just fit the situation so well. so far, its been a housewarden clean sweep on the polls, with Azul winning the Octavinelle poll! new poll is up right now, a bonus one this time! who will be the comeback king? go vote if you haven't already! enjoy~

characters: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

The library was your turf.

By this point, you were on a first name basis with all of the library ghosts, and you had a fairly good working knowledge of every section of the library, with Ace and Deuce often seeking you out at your usual table to ask you if you had any idea where a certain book would be. Of course, more often than not that meant that they would then sit at your table and you wouldn’t really get any meaningful research done, not with all their squabbling and general freshman catastrophic energy. When Grim tagged along, it was even worse, but at least you could keep an eye on him and make sure he was actually doing the assignments he was supposed to.

Despite all the time you had been spending at the library, you were still no closer to figuring out how to get home. Crowley was nowhere to be found, taking avoiding you to an entirely new level. The books and reading list that Riddle had provided you, however, had been very insightful. His recommendations were much easier to read than the previous tomes you had been torturing yourself with, and you were starting to see connections between theories, it becoming easier for you to source further reading without having to consult Riddle first. So yes, the library was your turf.

The botanical garden, however, was not. And you were well aware of who it belonged to.

Leona Kingscholar was one of the students at the top of your list to avoid. And considering his personality, the feeling was likely mutual. So you made a conscious effort to avoid places where you could run into him, not wanting to tempt the already volatile nature of fate to thrust you into his trajectory. You were even doing well avoiding conflict with the Savanaclaw students, especially considering they were always looking for a fight and the school’s only magicless student was definitely high on their lists to torment. But unfortunately for you, you couldn’t always avoid some of Leona’s favourite haunts, because what Crewel wants, Crewel gets.

You grumbled to yourself as you picked through the botanical gardens, a basket on one arm and a list in the other. Crewel had kindly brought it to your attention with a lash of his pointer that good ol’ Grim had been using ingredients from the potionology inventory for his lab work and assignments instead of collecting his own before class, as student handbook guidelines demand. With Grim nowhere to be seen and you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Crewel had handed you an extensive list of every ingredient that Grim had used since the two of you became a joint student, and ordered you to the botanical garden to retrieve every single one of them, or face the consequences. And with Crewel swinging that pointer around, you didn’t wait around to find out what those consequences would be.

Being so unfamiliar with the botanical gardens made this job harder, and the sheer size of the list had you running around in circles, picking one ingredient only to realise that you needed something similar that was back the way you had just came. It was incredibly frustrating, and you found yourself huffing under your breath as you traipsed around the botanical garden. To make matters worse, you had to keep yourself alert, lest there be a certain lion’s tail draped carelessly on the pavestone.

You were well aware that in the game, the poor main character had accidentally stepped on a certain stroppy lion’s tail, and he had retaliated by threatening to knock their teeth out. You’d rather not find yourself in the same situation. You’d briefly considered moving his tail out of the way with a stick or something, but decided that Leona was hardly worth the effort and would likely get offended at you poking at him either way, so instead you had to dutifully watch your feet as you continued on with your laborious task.

You had been hunting for ingredients for about an hour and a half by now, and clubs were starting to wrap up their activities and head back to their dorms. You, however, still had half of your list to go, so there was no such reprieve waiting for you. You wondered if you would be able to drop the basket back to the potionology lab with your half-completed list and promise Crewel that you’d finish the job tomorrow. Surely he wasn’t willing to wait around for you to find all these ingredients? If there was any professor at Night Raven College who you expected to have evening plans, it would be Crewel.

As you pondered your next course of action, you caught a flash of teal out of the corner of your eye. Walking towards you down the pathway was Jade Leech, and you fought the urge to do something stupid like show weakness by tensing or throwing yourself into the bushes. With his usual contrived smile affixed to his face, Jade eyed you in a way that really did make you feel like a shrimp, suddenly giving you a whole new understanding as to why his twin had dubbed the main character with such a pet name. Him being here was an oversight on your part, clearly you had thought that Leona was the botanical garden’s biggest threat, not even factoring in that Jade would use this place to fawn over his mushrooms. Thankfully he didn’t stop, passing you with an elegant stride that you could only appreciate, considering he had only been on legs for two years.

“Good day, prefect. Lovely weather we are having.” Jade greeted as he passed you, with you only responding with a small, tight-lipped smile back. No sooner had his footsteps faded away did the heavens decide to open up, a surprised cry erupting from your lips as you quickly found yourself becoming drenched, the sprinklers dousing the entire area and you in water. That could not have been a coincidence.

The sprinklers stopped as quickly as they had started, but by that point the damage had already been done, your clothes and hair dripping. The list in your hand was sodden, the ink running and quickly making the contents illegible. You growled in frustration, throwing the soggy list to the floor with a wet thump as you tried to squeeze out your clothes in vain. You were so busy trying to sort yourself out, to scrap back any shred of dignity you could that you almost missed the rustling of bushes next to you. Even if you had, there was no way you’d miss the soaking wet beastman emerging from the foliage, ears flat to his head and tail whipping behind him aggressively.

And he was glaring straight at you. Great.

“You got some nerve, herbivore. You got a death wish?” Leona snarled at you and you found yourself prickling up. “This wasn’t me!” You argued, gesturing to your own dripping form before glaring right back at him, “I might be magicless, but that doesn’t make me stupid! If I was going to set the sprinklers off, I’d make sure I wouldn’t get caught in it.” You huffed, once again trying to squeeze the excess water out of your clothes. Your words seemed to pique some interest in Leona, as he was suddenly all up in your space and sniffing you.

“Hm, you’re right. No magic at all, just wet herbivore.” Leona remarked, scrunching his nose up as he stepped back, as if the smell offended him. “Do you mind? You smell like wet cat.” You said flatly with an unimpressed expression, throwing your basket back over your arm with perhaps a little more force than necessary. You swear you could see an amused glint in Leona’s eye as he stooped down, picking up the soggy list that you’d thrown to the ground just moments earlier. “What’s this?” He enquired, holding the list away from him between his thumb and forefinger as if it was toxic, yet still holding it out of your reach when you tried to swipe it back.

“That is mine.” You said with exasperation, your dignity already running down the drain without Leona making you jump to get your list back, “whatever, its ruined anyway. Have it.” You huffed, resigned to having to go back to Crewel with your metaphorical tail between your legs and plead for a new list. Leona eyed you up for a moment before he stepped towards you again, tugging at the basket on your arm to get a look at the contents before dumping the ruined list into the basket.

“C’mon, prefect,” Leona droned over his shoulder as he started walking up the pathway, “I’ll get you some ingredients. First year ingredients are simple.” He scoffed as he navigated the garden like a seasoned pro, his gait lazy and leaving you no choice but to trail after him with a suspicious expression on your face.

“You’re… Helping me?” You questioned, the corner of your lips downturning warily. The Leona you knew was never helpful, only interested if he had something to gain, usually foisting off any inconveniences to Ruggie. “What’s in it for you?” You asked carefully, watching as he picked some stems from a bush and lob them into your basket, making you sigh as you attempted to tidy up his shoddy packing. Leona’s smile was all fangs as he caught your eyes before continuing along the path, “I’m always in need of another gopher. Having you owe me could come in handy, Ruggie has been nagging me lately and you could be just what I need... Plus, the quicker you’re out of the botanical garden, the more peaceful sleep I’d get without having to listen to your huffing and puffing.”

Ah.

Well, you suppose the original main character was truly onto something when they’d stayed up all night screaming outside Leona’s room in chapter three.

Leona had made short work of finding ingredients, and soon your basket was filled to the brim. “Those are all the common ingredients in first year potions. Any missing ingredients are on you.” Leona drawled as you both walked together towards the exit of the botanical garden, his hands behind his head as he yawned leisurely, “you owe me, prefect.”

“How do you even know what ingredients to look for?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you both left the garden, about to split off on your own paths as you planned to deliver the basket of ingredients to Crewel, whilst you assumed Leona would head back to his dorm. Leona simply kept walking, and you assumed he’d grown tired of you. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk that you’d dare to describe as cheeky.

“Because I had to search out ingredients for Crewel in my first year, too.”

Huh. Perhaps Leona wasn’t that bad after all, you thought to yourself as you watched Leona’s retreating back, before setting off yourself to hand the ingredients in to Crewel, praying for fate to grant you some mercy for a change.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n

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nahoney22 · 5 months

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🌊 If you do pick one or two, please add it to your request and what list you’d like it from.You may crossover prompts from each list. ❣️

🌊 If I do your request all I ask for of you in return is respect and a reblog as this is the best way to support content creators! Especially if it’s ✨ free ✨

Thank you!

🫧 Prompt List links if you’d like to use (again not compulsory)

🌊 Fluff Prompts

🌊 Enemies to Lovers Prompts

🌊 NSFW Prompts

Tag list:

@littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @green-alm0nd @thiswitchloves9904

#nahoney22 writes #thank you all so much #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #clone wars #bad batch #nahoney22 requests

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becauseplot · 1 year

Text

Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

Phil steps aside and lets the skull-man lead him into the little house, where he takes one of the many picture frames off the wall. “Here,” he says, handing it to Phil. “Look. This is us—me, Chayanne, and Phil. My Phil.” Phil takes the frame, and sure enough, the photo inside shows the skull-man, Chayanne, and a man that looks…yeah, almost exactly like him. Granted, his hair is shorter, his striped hat has a wider brim, he’s actually dressed for the weather, and from what Phil can tell, his wings are undamaged and preened. Most of all, though, the Philza in the picture looks…he looks happy. Very happy. He’s holding Chayanne on his hip and he has a wing draped around the skull-man’s shoulders. La Familia Minecraft-Sinfonia, says the bottom of the frame, carved in flowing script. All three of them are smiling.

Or, self indulgent dsmp crossover where I chuck c!Phil into qsmp. What will happen? Your guess is as good as mine!

Archive Warnings: NONE!

Status: 21,296 words, 5/? chapters

Fandom(s): QSMP, DSMP

Characters (more to be added): c!Philza, q!Philza, Missa, Chayanne, Tallulah, Cellbit, Roier, Jaiden, FitMC

Relationships (more to be added): Philza & Missa, Philza & Missa & Chayanne & Tallulah, Cellbit/Roier (background), Cellbit & Roier & Jaiden

Additional Tags (more to be added): Crossover, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Dead c!Technoblade, Avian Philza, Humanized Eggs, Nonverbal Eggs, Talking (so much talking), Video Game Mechanics (inventories and comms my beloveds), Cat Hybrid Cellbit, Spider Hybrid Roier, Avian Jaiden, Blood and Violence

✨✨REBLOGS GREATLY APPRECIATED✨✨

HAPPY READING :D

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction #dsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #dsmp philza #c!philza #qsmp missa #q!missa #qsmp chayanne #q!chayanne #qsmp tallulah #q!tallulah #death duo #my fics

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homestuckreplay · 5 months

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pages 31-39

I'm gonna be honest, I'm not a fan of this turntechGodhead kid. In yesterday's pages he said he didn't want to talk about either the movie John likes or the game John wants to play, today he tells John he sucks at using his inventory and then doesn't tell John in advance that his strife specibus allocation is permanent. Which all combined makes him seem like kind of an asshole. It could just be part of their friendship dynamic, but because we haven't seen any other kind of interaction between them yet, I'm not seeing anything to like about TG.

That out the way, I'm really enjoying everything that's happening both with John and in the medium of the comic. John continues to be an easy character to connect with when he 1. looks at all the cool shit in his own room, 2. has trouble with the basics of picking things up and putting them down, and 3. feels an emotion and immediately changes his instant messenger status to tell the world. The scrunchy frustrated face he makes on page 36 is my favorite face of his, it's shown up a few times now and it is Homestuck's equivalent of a laugh track.

Being able to mouse over the games in John's CD tower on page 31 is so cool, it really adds an adventure game feel to the comic. I know that a good chunk of these games are references to the author's previous works, but there's also the Ghostbusters II MMORPG, the Little Monsters Nintendo game, and Harry Anderson Call My Bluff! all of which seem chosen to tell us that John's taste in games is about as good as his taste in movies (yet another trait that makes me relate to him). Really hoping we get more of these semi-interactive elements in the updates to come!

The concept of a strife specibus kind of comes out of nowhere here - I get that it's like equipping your video game weapon, but why would John get into combat in his day to day life when his current obstacle is learning how to open a book? I'm curious about what context it'll get used in, and I love the detail on the 'kind abstrata' card on page 37, listing all the different possible specibi. These pages are coming out pretty fast, but the amount of content on each page is also really high, which is impressive.

anyway tag yourself, I'm 'peprmillkind'.

#homestuck #reaction #i am genuinely loving close reading act 1 #its good! its a very cool beginning! i have even more i wanna say!!#even while playing my Goop Sorcerer at dnd tonight (among my fave activities) i was excited to come home and read homestuck #i wanna see more peoples act 1 reactions tag me in em #chrono

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wilxfyre · 1 year

Text

✨c2077 Character Reference Sheet - PSD✨

Finally making some templates 👀💛 Please do not remove the credit, and link back to this post when posting [and feel free to tag me! I'd love to see it <3] 💛 Special Thanks to PinkyDude for the extracts !! 💛

[DOWNLOAD HERE]

more info under the read more!

INCLUDED:

Favourite Radio Station

Lifepath Buttons

3 Outfit Showcases

Icon

❕YOU WILL NEED PINKYDUDES EXTRACTS IF YOU WANT THE IN GAME ICONS FOR THE INVENTORY❕ ⚠️You will also need the font which you can download here⚠️

Completed Example

#c2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #template #meme template #character template #character sheet #misc stuff ive made

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azullumi · 2 years

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the minecraft experience with them — various characters ☆彡

summary — in the world wherein the blocks are square, the sun is square, the moon is square, everything is square, how will they live and survive?

characters — kaveh, zhongli, childe, tighnari, cyno, wanderer, alhaitham, ayato (w/ gender neutral reader)

tags — fluff, modern, just some headcanons i thought of while playing minecraft; headcanons

word count — 1137

a/n — god my heart is melting seeing my friends act like couples in minecraft.

KAVEH — It’s obvious, guys, come on. He focuses on arts and the beauty of architecture and would most definitely take on the role of the builder and the designer of the world. He’s the type to build the most beautiful and extravagant house, create an underground base, and have a fully functional and pretty home that it feels literally out of the world. He consumes a lot of resources though and would spend more time gathering the things that he needs more than the time he spent on building. He’s the primary reason why the forests are bald in your world because of the amount of wooden logs he needed. There was also the time wherein a creeper came to his home and blew it up, ultimately destroying it, and he was in despair. Alternatively, if you threaten to destroy his base, hell will break loose.

ZHONGLI — The most efficient and lucky miner of all, as well as the gatherer of materials and resources. He’s the type of player to immediately venture out and look for a cave with a wooden pickaxe on hand. Nobody complains though because he’s extremely lucky at finding ores and getting the things you need early-game. Progress is easily made with him on your side because of how fast he can mine things and because of that, it feels like he’s an expert on the game even when he doesn’t play that much nor has any prior experience. Oftentimes, he’ll immediately find diamonds but doesn’t have the appropriate pickaxe to mine it but it’s not a problem however as he’ll find another one so easily. ‘I came looking for coal but found diamonds instead’ type of beat.

CHILDE — An all-rounder. He can be the miner, he can be the explorer, he can be the gatherer, he can be the farmer, and most especially, he can be the fighter. We don’t talk about his building skills though, this man would build a 5x5 house made out of wood and call it a base then reasons that this is much more effective and saves your resources. Well, whatever makes him happy, I guess. He often accompanies you wherever you go especially when you go mining as he’ll protect you from the mobs. He’s the kind of person to believe that placing a bed on nether and sleeping on it will give you a huge buff. He’s the adventurous type of player, the reckless and careless kind, and is the reason why keep inventory is switched to true.

TIGHNARI — FOOD. FOOD. RESOURCES. FARM. ANIMALS. FOOD. Food is the essence of life and is really crucial in the game. He’s in charge of anything related to farming and alike. You’ll find dozens of chests fully stacked with food and animal products, especially bread and baked potatoes. He’s the main supplier and giver of food, as well as, potions in your world. He’s the type who loves collecting flowers and has his home decorated with plants and vines because it looks pleasant and not like anyone complains because it looks good. He’s also the builder type and just one look at a reference picture for his builds, he knows how it is done even without watching a tutorial. Definitely doesn’t like spiders because of the way it looks and how it can climb up structures and invade your home.

CYNO — The fighter and bodyguard to the farm. He’ll take on the role of the protector as he protects the base and farm from creepers that threaten to approach, blow up, and destroy any form of hardwork and kill annoying skeletons that shoot at you from afar and hide underneath the shade of the tree to avoid being burnt and dying. He often uses the weapon, Trident, and would go even at the ends of the world just to attain it (since it’s a rare drop). He does whatever he is asked to and would often go explore to gather materials or get what is needed. He occasionally finds lush caves and would tell you about it, asking you to come to these specific coordinates if you can. You won’t need Iron Golems and anything to protect your home when you have Cyno.

WANDERER — Just like his name suggests, man is the player incarnation of Dora the Explorer and would rather focus on looking for those rare and hard-to-find biomes than settling in on one place. He takes days just for adventuring and sometimes it can last up to weeks or months in-game. He goes out to venture and seeks for strongholds, mansions, and villages, then once he’s satisfied, he’ll come back with good loot and hard-to-get items on hand. He pulls an uno-reverse card on enemies and would raid them, blowing up mansions and taking everything that he can. He knows how to come back to your base or wherever he came from though no matter how far it is. You really don’t have to worry about him getting lost since he understands how coordinates work and if you don’t, he’ll make fun of you for it but will teach you afterwards.

ALHAITHAM — An explorer and expert in gathering. He has tons of materials stored in his chests that he doesn’t use and only chooses to fight when he needs to but he somehow has his character on a fully enchanted diamond armor with enchanted tools, either iron or diamond. You need a stack of clay? He has it, it’s on the chest on the third column at the top. How about some cactus or snowballs? He has quite a lot of those. He also has a collection of leaf blocks and vines that you might like as decorations of your home. Of course, since he has those unnecessary things, he also has a ton of importance that are often really hard to get and find, especially the slimes. Because of this, farming and gathering wasn’t something you’ll have to think of when you play with him.

KAMISATO AYATO — Exploration? Mining? Fighting? Gathering? Farming? Building? Whatever you mention, he knows how to do it and is even good at it. He immediately becomes an expert on the game from the very first few times of playing, saying that it’s just like life itself with some weird mobs and a square world. However, he only gathers and collects precious and rare materials and items that, majority of the time, he ends up not using. He would never touch copper because he thinks that it has no use— it’s true though. He doesn’t do a lot of work and wouldn’t invest that much time in doing such trivial things and tasks so his base is mediocre, not big nor small, only made for functional and competent use, and his chests are filled with only items that are needed for late-game.

— navigation | masterlist

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theresattrpgforthat · 9 months

Note

Hello! Do you have any fairytale/disney-esque ttrpgs you could recommend?

Theme: Fairytale Games

Hello there friend! I sure do! We've got a really nice selection here to look at - and don't forget to check out the previously recommended!

I’ll Be Taking That, by porchlightdusk.

You are a goblin, and you are what you hold close: discarded trinkets, unloved baubles, desperate comrades. These precious bits of flotsam give you courage enough to rummage through the treacherous alleys and howling wastes of this world. Venture out from whatever miserable hovel you sprouted and seek the shiny things of the world, oh little chaos beast!

I'll Be Taking That is a tabletop roleplaying game in which a narrator and several players tell the stories of rambunctious goblins in a harsh world. Play is rooted in narrative choices and collective, chaotic joy, supported mechanically by a lightweight inventory-as-skills action resolution system and overflowing random generation tables. IBTT is built on Caltrop Core by Titanomachy RPG and draws heavily on the philosophies of Powered by the Apocalypse systems, among others.

This is a game that situates you into the fiction very well in just the first few pages. Chaotic nonsense is definitely encouraged in this game, and I can feel the undercurrent of mischief sprinkled throughout the book. Trinkets are a core tenet of this game - you will accumulate them as you adventure, and risk breaking them on your worst failures. Your attachment to these trinkets will also rise and fade. If you want a game that lets you embrace your inner gremlin, you might want to check out this game, although be aware - it’s still in development!

Witchblood: Pulp Fantasy Fairy Tales, by Rose on Mars.

The Woods… …are dark and deep, but they are not lovely. Inch by inch, they close in on the villages of humanity. And in those encroaching wilds dwell the witches. Ancient, primeval, creatures from before the First Eve and still potent today.

In this world, where life is brutish and short, you stand tall. You are a witch's grandchild, or a disinherited noble, or a scion of the good folk. You are part of humanity, but also apart from it, by your own choice or otherwise. You are caught between the expectations of your birth and your own needs and desires. Run from your past, or chase it. Love freely, or not at all. Stand between the hearth and the wilds. They may not call you a hero, but your name will live on ever after.

Witchblood is a roleplaying game about who you were, who you are, and who you will become. Take on the role of a self-determined, tough-as-you-want pulp fantasy protagonist wandering a world of bloody -- but not always grim -- fairy tales. Wield the powers of birthright and destiny. Explore the darks of the forest and brace yourself against the bite of the wind. Do what’s right, or just what’s right for now.

These are the woods through which Little Red voyaged through; this is a fantasy world that might remind you of The Black Cauldron, or the brambles summoned by the witch in Sleeping Beauty. Character creation involves choosing options that look like classes, as well as pairing together identity tags that can be rated from 0-5, as well as pairing opposing Qualities, also rated from 0-5. You will roll d10s according to your Identities and Qualities.

This is a game where combat and conflict are expected, and stories can be expected to turn darker before becoming lighter. If you like traditional fantasy alongside fairytales of witches and darkness and danger, Witchblood might be for you.

Nexalis, by Cezar Capacle.

We invite you to step aboard your enchanted vessel and set sail on the ethereal ocean known as the Nectar. Nexalis calls you on an awe-inspiring journey across a universe filled with countless uncharted islands, each teeming with unique cultures, mysteries, and magical phenomena.

Nexalis is an otherworldly realm where islands drift amidst an endless cosmic ocean of magical plasma, the Nectar. The Nectar, pulsing with vibrant, ever-shifting colors, mirrors the celestial patterns that guide adventurers on their thrilling journeys. At the heart of this sea lies the Celestial Nexus, an entrancing vortex of astral energy that births islands and renews the world in a constant cycle of creation.

As you journey through the Starbound Isles and the shimmering Nectar ocean, you will encounter vibrant cultures, awe-inspiring landscapes, ancient relics, and enigmatic secrets. Guided by celestial constellations, you will brave untold challenges, learn valuable lessons, and forge lasting bonds with the people and places you encounter.

Nexalis is a bright fantasy game, a genre that focuses on themes of wonder, exploration, and camaraderie. It showcases a vibrant and diverse setting, filled with colorful landscapes and imaginative creatures. Stories in Nexalis tend to be character-driven, often revolving around personal growth, discovery, and the building of relationships.

If you liked movies such as Treasure Planet or Atlantis, this might be the game for you. The magic of this place feels ancient and yet unlike traditional fantasy. The gameplay is guided, meaning that you’ll cycle between two different modes, depending on whether you are in a high energy scene or moments of reflection and role-play.

On the Way to Chrysopoeia, by NessunDove.

On the Way to Chrysopoeia is an epistolary roleplaying game written by Morgane Reynier and illustrated by Marion Bulot. Together with a partner you will be writing a four-handed adventure, first by inventing its two protagonists and then by leading them on a legendary journey. It’s a different way to make up a story in your head: you’ll be reinventing objects and places you see every day, turning them into crucial ingredients for a Great Work of alchemy.

Reality itself and your daily life will bleed into your characters’ fictional journey. What if your favorite museum was the headquarters for a league of mad scientists? What if the path you’re strolling along lead to an unknown city…? The journey is narrated through the exchange of letters between two characters: the Master and the Disciple. They walk the way of the Athanor— the alchemical Crucible, the pot where explorers melt their research and experiences. Each one is the keeper and judge of their partner’s progress.

This is a great option if you don’t have a large play group but you have someone with whom you’d like to play with who lives in a different time zone. One of you plays a Master, the other a Disciple. The Disciple is on a quest. The Master is stuck at home, due to age or infirmity. The goal: to find Chrysopoeia, a mythic city full of hope and magic - although the specifics are up to you. This is a largely interpretive game, so if you like writing and world building, this is a game for you.

The creator of this game has also created a game called Chrysopoeia & All Around for group play at a table, borrowing from Lasers & Feelings!

Stormwild Islands, by Gizogin.

Welcome to [Stormwild Islands], a tabletop role-playing game. Set in the Stormwild Islands, a cluster of islands in the middle of a perpetual, continent-sized storm, this game explores the aftermath of a generations-long war and the magical damage done to the world as a result.

In terms of genre, [Stormwild Islands] fits most closely with “gaslamp fantasy”, an early industrial setting with a great deal of magic. Spellcasters are commonplace, and they work alongside new innovations like steam engines to create a world that changes very quickly. Golems - humanoid constructs with minds and wills of their own - have been instrumental in bringing about this new wave of industry, but their use in the war and their newfound push for independence might be even more significant. Alongside all of this is a world of spirits, otherworldly creatures who think and act according to completely different rules, and mixing spirits with humans or golems tends to cause all kinds of clashes.

This is a game for the folks who like moving little guys around on a map, especially if you’re familiar with games like D&D or Lancer and you don’t want to stray too far from the familiar. The cycle of play will fluctuate between combat and narrative moments, so expect your characters to be all about fighting their way towards victory. If you like combat and kicking butt, this looks like the game for you.

The player’s guide as linked above is free to download, but if you want the Gamemaster’s Guide, you’ll have to buy it.

The Fae Team, by Almost Bedtime Theatre.

Two years ago, a crack squad of the Sun Guard’s Human Intervention Division was sent to prison by the Faerie Court for a crime they didn’t commit. These woodland creatures promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Faerie Realm underground.

Today, still wanted by the Sun Guard, they survive as freelancers. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire… The Fae Team.

The Fae Team is a role-playing game inspired by The A-Team television show, but puts the players in the roles of skunks, weasels, frogs, etc. and gives them magical powers before sending them through a gargoyle-generated portal into the human world to solve problems. As one does.

The rules of this game depend on a two-stat dichotomy, similar to Lasers and Feelings. You choose a number between 2 to 5, with a higher number indicating that you are good at calm and precise actions, while a low number means you are better at wild and physical actions. There’s also plenty of bits and pieces to make your character unique, such as your faerie gift, and the item that your characters carry around.

A session of this game can be fairly episodic, with an NPC contacting the group for help and giving them a mission that requires entering the human world. While the mission (and its complications) are expected to be generated by the Story Guide, the players are encouraged to describe the world around them and create elements that they get excited about. If you want a game that is lighthearted and magical, check out The Fae Team!

Sunderwald, by Long Tail Games.

In the center of the kingdom of Realm, there exists a dark and unsettling forest. It is known as the Sunderwald.

This is a game about how the woods change us, and how we change the woods. It features a complete, stand-alone game with character creation, enemies, advancement, the whole deal. It is also a legacy tabletop roleplaying game. During play, you will physically and permanently modify this book. Do not be afraid. Scar. The. Book.

The fact that this book is meant to be manipulated and modified makes it feel somewhat akin to a wizard’s grimoire, or a magical artifact. This is a book that asks you to make your own pieces of the world, and might also feel like a kind of achievement system by doing specific things with the game.

While most tasks appear to be resolved with a d6, playing the game involves so much more than rolling dice. Your characters have descriptive skills, might take upon themselves physical and mental scars and consequences, and will grapple with their inventory, wound threshold, background and magic. If you like unfolding a mystery together, if you like manipulating physical objects, and if you like fairy stories or tales like Alice in Wonderland, you might like this game.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Hearts & Ravens, by Martian Machinery.

We’re All Mad Here, by Shanna Germain.

Wanderhome, by Possum Creek Games

Jack Kills Giants, by Andrew White.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #fairytale games

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 3 months

Text

Chapter 8

Summary: The team heads in to deal with the Wolf, things don't go as planned

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, smoking, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship

*some dialog from the game used in this chapter*

A/N: dialog written in bold italics is in Arabic

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.7 K

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 22:20 - The Wolf’s Den, Takkari, Urzikstan

Fuck, she could go for a fag right now.

The thought circled Rory’s brain like a buzzard. Something to steady the nerves, to quiet the shaking in her hand.

The closer they got to the target the more the uneasy tension built in her shoulders. The instinctive squeeze of the muscles and tendons that warned her she was stepping foot into the territory of another predator. Sharp teeth and claws ready to clamp down on them and tear, acting without mercy.

Boots tapped rhythmically on the cold metal floor below her, the beating of the helicopter blades a steady hum like the droning of a backing synthesizer, dulling out the music that played in her ears as they flew in on approach to the Wolf’s Den. Trying her hardest to focus on the lyrics, hands patting her knees to the beat, she hummed just loud enough to drown out her thoughts.

Garrick's attention fleetingly landed on her from time to time, shaking his head with a quiet laugh when he recognized the tune. He was lucky he wasn't having to deal with her singing in the shower – that was a torture only John had to deal with, and he had since learned to keep a spare set of earplugs with him before she tried her hand at the falsetto portions of a Queen harmony.

Glancing over at Price’s new recruit sat hunched over beside her, quiet, she had to admit she was the tiniest bit surprised. Most soldiers she knew tended to amp themselves up before going into a firefight, readying themselves for the heat of battle. Listening to music, putting themselves on high alert, increasing the adrenaline coursing through their veins if only to ignore the fear that simmered in the pit of them. Life or death biding its time, just moments away, the relative state of calm they rode in on quickly fading into the past. “Are you always this quiet flying into enemy territory, Sergeant?” She asked, pulling out her headphones and leaning over towards him, raising her voice just above the din. “Only my second time, to be fair.” She hummed. “Good point. It gets easier. Survive a few more of these and rather than sitting in silence you’ll start filling the void.” Shifting, she adjusted and re-checked her tac gear. Taking her meditative inventory of supplies in her vest as her hands brushed over each pocket. “Most soldiers have a playlist. Doesn’t really matter what it is that’s playing as long as it gets you in the right headspace – I know of at least one bloke who listens to classical before heading in.” “Really? And what about you, ma’am?”

Giving him the side-eye, her brow furrowed. “I was serious about that earlier, you know? You really don’t have to call me that, Sergeant.” “What should I call you then?” Flashing her a charming half-grin, the little scar on his cheek flexed, and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Sinclair. Hell, Rory’s even better.” She sighed and sat back in her seat, turning her head to look at him. “Listen, apologies for coming off as a right bint before, that wasn’t on.” Rubbing at the back of her neck, she continued, “You didn't deserve that. Consider it… personal bias. Or better yet, me being an absolute cunt – something that I generally try to be above, but alas, I am only human.” She paused for a beat, looking him over once more. “You seem like quite a nice chap actually.” Kyle gave her a tight lipped little grin. “Ta.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, she changed the subject by returning to the initial discussion topic. “As for my taste in music, I’m an 80’s New Wave girl. Blondie, New Order, Depeche Mode – that sort of thing. A rarity, apparently. Most tend to stick with the heavy metal.”

Rolling her eyes, she thought of the countless times she’d had to listen to John’s music – ever the product of his generation – if it wasn’t Metallica and Motorhead, then it was nu metal classics like Slipknot. It was one of the many things her and Price had learned to agree to disagree over in their relationship.

“It’s all about the rituals though, innit?”

“A soldier is nothing without their superstitions, I’ll give you that.”

“Sort of like the Captain and his mid flight cigar?” He gave her a quiet little smirk, just enough of one to let her know it was a lighthearted jab. Oh, she was starting to like this one.

“Ah, so he didn’t spare you from that habit of his, eh? He’s a bloody chimney and I’m no better, I just don’t tend to light up in enclosed spaces like he does,” she snickered. “He’s used to having people not call him out for it either.” Dark eyes landed on her in a moment of quietude as her laugh petered out. “How long have you known the Captain?” She’d always had a sixth sense for when someone was as perceptive as she was and the shield would raise, guarding herself – and in this case, John as well. “Two years now. Worked a mission together.”

“And now you two are…?” He asked with a little lift of his brow.

The poker face, the unreadable stare that gave nothing away, the one she’d perfected in the company of the Captain, settled on her features. “Armed compatriots.”

“But you’re close, yeah?”

Rory paused, tipping her head to the side. The eyes that could read a man clicking into focus like the shutter on a camera. “What are you digging for, Garrick?” She asked with an easy smirk, maintaining a relaxed atmosphere.

“Nothing. Just curious is all,” he replied with a shrug.

“You know you'd make a good interrogator. We share the same trait of having a face and an air about us that puts others at ease, lets people open up quicker – unless they're trained not to,” she said with a sideways glance, a bit of a warning in her look. “As much as I can appreciate John's brand of intimidation, it doesn't always have the desired effect in every situation. Sometimes, you need a softer touch. You'll likely come in handy to him when it comes to that, same way I do.”

“Cheers.”

“We’re in the AO,” the pilot’s voice crackled over their headsets, “Lights out.”

With a nod, she gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Game face on now, Sergeant. Price’ll give us a proper bollocking if he thinks we’re having too much fun on the flight in.”

“Let’s nail this bastard.” A rapid descent of three helicopters filled the air with the thunderous hum of rotors and blades slicing through the night, attacking raptors in formation swooping in low.

Off like a shot the moment feet hit the ground, night vision on, traveling in the darkened haze awash with a spectrum of green, a horde of soldiers headed straight for the main building where the targets were meant to be held. Kicking in doors, stomping boots entered the premises and began to clear the structure room by room, careful as they climbed each narrow set of stairs. Threats hid behind closed doors and around corners, firing freely, while other rooms held women and children, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. Guilt by association, but not out for blood – the very real reminder that Al-Qatala preyed on those who had something to lose or had already lost it in the ongoing conflicts that affected Urzikstan.

In a blitz of bullets and bodies, the bounty on the Wolf’s head went unclaimed. A dry hole.

Rory sighed as the radio chatter came through from Garrick upstairs, her gun pointed at a woman’s back. Shifting the rifle in her hands, she bit her lip, waiting for the ‘all clear’ and the lights to come on once more. The unknowns would be collected and questioned, and that’s when the kind face of the ‘Lamb’ amongst the war dogs would be brought out.

In a small room on the first floor of the building, women and children were led to be held in one area, controlled by and kept under the watchful eye of the invading force.

The huddled masses stared up at Rory as she entered the room under the guard of another soldier and her gut twisted. A dozen sets of eyes seemed to track her every step forward and her heart started to pump faster, squeezing from behind her ribcage like being crushed by a fist. She swallowed the stress response down as the tremors started to wriggle through her fingers and along the joints of her knuckles. Fucking hell. The sight of people penned together was enough to bring back the awful memories that lived in the back of her head – mothers cradling their crying children in their arms, innocence turned into a weapon.

Her eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as she breathed through the sudden anxious twitches that traveled up her spine. Mothers and children… the way they had looked at her like some sort of hero back then, at least these ones saw her for what she was. There was no liberation involved here.

“What’s happening?” A strained voice cried out as she wrapped her body around a young boy quivering in her arms, a frightened bird desperate to escape.

Rory’s eyes lifted, dragged back into the present. Conversing in Arabic like it was her first language. “I apologize for the intrusion into your home, for the shock and the noise.” She dreaded the next choice of words to come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry for your losses.” She meant it, she truly did. Taking the lives of fathers and husbands never sat easy on her shoulders, even if they were terrorists. It was a burden she had learned to bear. What made the job harder was witnessing the personal cost left to face the repercussions of retaliation.

“We’re looking for the Wolf.”

The eyes of the women fell. It was clear their loyalty never stood with the leader, they were there for the men Rory and her allies had just ripped holes through with their weapons, the blood of those that stained the floor, enemy combatants.

“Do you plan to kill him?”

Rory nodded her head solemnly. “I promise no harm will come to any of you or your children. We only ask for any assistance you can provide us in tracking him down.” She held her hands up to show that she was unarmed and reached into her vest, pulling out a chocolate bar from inside one of the pockets. It wasn’t much as far as an olive branch, but a little sugar as a pick me up could mend a child’s fear somewhat at the very least, though it would never remove the memory. Unwrapping it, she passed it to the children to portion amongst themselves. “Where is he?” The women shared looks amongst each other, deciding as a group if they could trust this outsider who had just helped storm the compound they called home. “The quicker you can tell me, the quicker we’ll leave. We won’t obstruct you any further. We just want Omar Sulaman.”

Another woman with two children tucked under her arms, quieted by the chocolate they chewed on, finally muttered, “Teahouse. Underground. There are tunnels.”

“Teahouse,” Rory echoed. “Thank you.”

Leaving the room, she headed out into the hallway, watching as soldiers marched between rooms collecting intel and records, tossing duffel bags filled to the brim with it out from the adjoining rooms. “Managed to get somethin’ from ‘em?” Price asked, his rumbling voice carrying towards her as he marched down the hall with Garrick at his back.

The steady, sturdy thumps of heavy boots and gear bearing down on old wood floors reverberated towards her, pulling her out from the lingering dark thoughts that started to swirl inside her head like ink, thick and obscuring. Her hand tightened into a fist, hiding the trembling of fingers as she rubbed at the lines between her brows and nodded. “Yeah. Teahouse. There’s an underground network of tunnels.”

Price pressed his hand to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he lowered his voice, “Alright?” His probing stare far too observant not to notice the tremor that shook through her.

“Yes, Captain,” she stated with nonchalance, covering for the crack in the foundation. “Nothing a fag won’t fix.” A quick, forced smile graced her features, maintaining the image of a CO and a sergeant.

His brows knit together for the briefest of moments, nearly imperceptible, easily brushed off as nothing more than a twitch. He knew she was lying, she could see it on his face. Slipping his hand from her, he gave her upper arm a short pat, and her jaw clenched in response.

“Right, I want you to stay here. Focus on the intel,” Price ordered, “Garrick, teahouse, on me.” Giving her the way out, keeping her safe – it had always been John’s way, he couldn’t help himself from day one when it came to her. She had learned to forgive him for that, even when it made her feel bloody useless. In this case, she knew it was the right thing to do, burying her head in information and data retrieval, words and numbers, rather than violence and triggers. She watched them head out with a glance from over her shoulder. Stretching out the muscles in her back and neck, raised hackles finally being given their chance to calm, focused on the things within her control.

Grabbing an empty bag, she made her way down the hall into a room not yet scoured and started going through drawers and cabinets looking for intel. Enough concentration and slow, focused breaths later and she found the shaking in her hand started to subside. Distance and time between the trauma had allowed her to learn to cope with it better than she had previously. It was short lived however, as moments later the ground shook and the boom of an explosion immediately stole her attention.

Rory’s hand flew to the radio on her vest, pressing the PTT button. “Bravo 0-6, do you read? Come in.”

Chest constricting, sweat glistened on her brow, her heart racing until he finally answered. “Vest in the tunnels. Farah and Alex are cut off, no injuries.” Sighing a breath of relief, she returned the call. “Copy.”

“Garrick and I are looking for the nearest exit point. Out.”

Her heart rate slowed hearing his voice, a relative sense of calm filling her once more. She was on edge, nerves frazzled, signs of stress were catching up to her. “Come on Rory, not right now. Not like this,” she muttered under her breath.

For two and a half years she’d been living like this, waiting for the when and the if of her next trigger. She rubbed her hands down her face, mimicking the motions of washing the frustration away before returning to the task at hand.

The site in the Arqus Mountains became more like an ant colony in the summer heat once Alex and Farah climbed free from the tunnels. Figures dressed in black tac scurrying to collect intel below, and dragging out the dead monarch. The Wolf had been killed by a single shot to the head by Keller. A threat deposed, only to be replaced with another, and so the cycle continued.

Rory stood off to the side watching the corpse get carried out, slipped into a body bag and zipped up tight. It was an end to one story, but it was no final conclusion, there never really seemed to be one of those in this war. There would always be new soldiers, new martyrs, another reason for people to pledge allegiance.

She rolled her lighter in between her hands, focusing on the cool metal against her skin, the smooth texture of it, and the way it slowly warmed from her body heat as she looked up at the night sky in shades of indigo and navy, speckled by the twinkling lights of stars.

Finishing his follow up with the rest of Bravo team, Price walked over, unstrapping his helmet and removing it from his head. Brushing a gloved hand through his hair matted with sweat as he stood beside her. “You alright?” His husked whisper letting her know this was John now and not the Captain speaking.

Staying quiet, she nodded her head but said nothing more. He worked his jaw, pursing his mouth. “Flashbacks?”

She sighed, then hummed in agreement. “For the rest of my life.” Her hands stilled, the lighter slipped back into the pocket of her vest. “But, at least Sulaman’s dealt with.”

“Now it’s just Hadir and the gas.”

Out there in the expanse of desert, above any of the small villages below in the mountain’s crags, the sky seemed to be limitless. Stars she never saw back home, galaxies on show, spread out unswallowed by the haze of light.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Nudging him with her elbow, Rory continued to wear her brave face. “Go on, sir. I’ll be okay.” “Sir?” His brows raised, etching lines into his forehead as he stared down at her, lowering his head to press his chin to his chest.

A quiet chuckle bubbled up from her. “We’re still at work.”

“When we’re back to base and there’s downtime, we’ll talk about it, yeah?” His eyes not set on her, instead gazing out into the distance over her head, focused on the other bodies that meandered around the site, keeping the secret he had with her safe.

Rory couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He cared too much about her sometimes, making it his personal mission to see her through her troubles. “You mustn’t be so preoccupied with me,” she said, giving him a sideways glance. “You have a mission to lead and I can take care of myself.”

His hand sought hers out, far enough away from everyone else, no one could see how his grip encompassed her hand in his perfectly, their fingers intertwined. “I’ll choose where my attention goes and when I see fit,” he gruffed. “You gonna promise to get some sleep?”

Her head cocked to the side, debating the option. “We’ll see. If not, suppose we can share an elongated smoke break together.”

A half grin started to curl at the corner of his mouth, a dimple in his cheek just visible under the scruff. “Look forward to it,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

October 30, 2019 7:09 - US Army base, Urzikstan

There would be no rest for the weary however, only more bureaucratic bullshit.

The Wolf’s body had barely been put on ice before those at the top thought they understood the food chain better than the boots on the ground. Hadir was a confirmed terrorist – by his sister, Russia, and the nation he had once been an asset to. Party and family lines were blurred and crossed, loyalties questioned. Arriving back at base only to discover that the ULF had been branded a terrorist organization by the very nation that had allied with them against AQ. “They’re our allies,” Keller debated, aghast with the system he was a part of.

The tiring charade of being told who was their friend and who was their enemy weighed heavy on everyone in the room. The tension within was as tight as razor wire, one quick pluck and it could slice clean through everything. Despite all their hard work dealing with the Wolf, it was all for naught. Urzikstan’s chance for hope had been deemed equal to the force Farah had been fighting against for years.

“Yeah. Not anymore.” The smug face of Norris clearly enjoying the power trip he was swaddled in made Rory want to snap, barely able to hold onto the leash of the snarling dog that was the Captain at her side. “You keep your muppets on a short string, Colonel.” Price, as always, was quick to threaten when the safety of one of his own was in danger. The natural inclination to protect, to stare down the bully was something innate in him. It never mattered if the individual was a violent criminal or a superior officer, he was never one to stand down.

“Or what?” Norris sneered.

“Or I’ll fuckin’ hang you from it,” Price snarled, pushing forward to get into the American’s face only to have a hand snap around his wrist to hold him back.

The sniper’s quick reflexes caught him in time, keeping him steady. “John,” Rory’s growled whisper reminding him to heel. He glanced back at her for just a moment with a furrowed brow to meet her own, his jaw clenched tight before turning back to the Colonel, giving him a terse nod of his head to direct the man out of the tent.

“Kate, these people need our support.” “Surely there’s been some major oversight here, Kate. This is bloody ridiculous,” Rory added.

“There’s nothing else we can do.”

“We’re really turning our backs on a whole host of people? This is –”

Her thoughts were cut short by the heavy hand that came to rest on her shoulder, squeezing at the muscle, the scent of cigar smoke clinging to it. “Leave it be,” Price’s voice rumbled in her ear as he herded her back into line, keeping her from speaking out of turn. The debate might have been over, lost without ever knowing the fight was going to happen in the first place, but she also knew well enough that John would never let something like this happen without a backup plan, a way to resolve the situation even if it wasn’t through proper channels.

His hand moved to squeeze the back of her neck, the same way he had all those years ago in the safehouse. Words not needing to be spoken between them. Trust. Rory sighed, closing her eyes as she heard the final verdict come from Alex. He was leaving, turning his back on everything he knew with honor to join Farah and her forces. She had been right about him from the start, he really was one of the last good ones. Better than her or any of the others who still followed the line and the letter.

With Alex and Farah gone, having to remove themselves from the base considering they were deemed a traitor and a terrorist leader, morale was at an all time low.

Garrick sat at one of the benches in the smoking section, kicking at the dirt as he lit his cigarette, boot dragging through the sand. He barely lifted his head as Rory took a seat beside him, finally getting to partake in her much needed shot of nicotine after hours fueled with stress. Silence hung between them. There was nothing to be said. Both of them felt let down by the system they were a part of.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be any different. It never is. Bloody red tape and fucking hoops to jump through, and for what? Never solves anything.”

She nodded her head, the flame of her lighter burning the end of her cigarette as it bounced between her lips. “Law and order – not much use for it when only those being controlled actually follow it. It’s one thing my father and I always disagree on. He still believes in blind justice, innocent until proven guilty.” She took another drag before blowing out a long stream of smoke. “He’s a barrister after all, so I suppose it’s only right that he thinks that way. But, out here? Not much place for it. All too often civility simply… gets in the way. Out here, it’s the rules of the jungle, and most are far too willing to throw others under the bus to rise to the top.”

Kyle’s hands slid up and down his thighs, the cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth before he snatched it away to talk. “I joined this mission ‘cause I didn’t want to be tied down to all the rules, but it's not any bloody better. Same bullshit, different people in charge.”

Rory scoffed. “You’ll soon learn all that passion tends to do little to stoke the coals of the superiors. More often than not, they’re in it for the easy win, not what’s proper in the long run. That’s why things go off the books sometimes. Try not to let it break you too much.” She sighed, tapping the ashes off her cigarette onto the ground between her boots before taking another drag from her cigarette. “If I know John – and I do – it won’t be too much longer before he gets tired of sitting on his hands either. Meanwhile, you and I are left to stew on what that means for us.” “Care to make a prediction?”

“Russia. Barkov. Hadir has an axe to grind. Urzikstan’s history for the last twenty years has been rampant with bloodshed. Genocide. The treatment the people have lived under – It’s fucking horrific, and the world barely talks about it. It stopped being interesting to the masses three years in.” She shook her head, huffing out a sigh. “The Russians had men, women and children locked up in prisons, and the rest of the world?” She shrugged, the cigarette slipped between her lips, mumbling around it. “Simply forgot. So yeah, Hadir has every right to be angry, except he’s gone and made a piss poor decision that benefits no one.” Inhaling the smoke, she tilted her head back and blew the stream upwards before tossing her half burned cigarette on the ground and crushing it with her boot to put it out. “Anyway.” She patted her thighs and stood up. “Enjoy the fag, I’m going to go clean my gun. A girl’s only as good as her weapons after all.” She gave Kyle a friendly salute before heading towards her tent, planning to field strip her weapons. Inside the safety of the sturdy canvas structure, standing at a table, Rory began the process of sliding apart each section of her gun and wiping them down, cleaning it of debris and oiling where necessary. It was relaxing, calming, a process she knew forwards and backwards. A sense of peace in making sure her weapons were at their best, doing everything on her part to make sure they’d never fail. Headphones in, “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and the Banshees played in her ears as her foot tapped out the rhythm in time with the music, her hands deft with practiced movements. Boots crunched through the sand behind her, circling the table. Her eyes lifted to meet blue ones looking back at her. Pulling the headphones out, Rory draped the wire around the back of her neck.

“Alright?”

Price offered no real answer. His jaw held stiff, face stern. “Get packed.”

“Where’re we headed?”

“Russia. Kate’s getting us in. After that, it’s up to us. Going in off the books. Black.” Rory sighed, running a cloth along the barrel of her rifle. “I figured as much. Don’t make things half easy for me, do you?”

“When ‘ave you ever done that f’me?” A grin curled at his lips, the gruff exterior breaking for just a moment, only to return twice as hardy.

“So we fuck off to Russia and leave Farah and Alex utterly buggered out here and seen as the enemy?” Rory placed the parts of her gun down on the table, resting her hands on the edge, gripping it tight with frustration. “Christ almighty, John.”

“It’s not perfect, but we’re fixin’ things, yeah? Hadir’s got a lot t’answer for. And if he's thinking’ he's gettin’ away with a revenge plot, he's got another thing comin’. I'd rather it was us that reminded him of that, not Barkov.”

She nodded. “And I assume since we'll be in the motherland, Nik'll be joining us?”

Nikolai was a bit of a suspect individual, but Price trusted him. He was loyal, at the very least, even if his contacts were shady.

He responded with a curt nod.

A smirk spread across her lips at the news. “Always enjoy seeing a friendly face.”

“You've got an hour. Going in wearing civvies.” He patted the tabletop with his hand before leaving her to finish her duties and gear up.

“Yes, sir.”

#call of duty #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #oc: rory sinclair #john price x oc #skelly writes #fic: evening of score #chapter 8

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