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captainsboonie · 3 months

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Tall grass and faulty straps

words: 3131 (might get a part two depending on motivation and notes lol)

Warnings: Blood, slight gore, very suggestive themes, unresolved sexual tension

Additional tags: Reader is implied to be introverted, helicopters, fem!reader, enemies to lovers (kinda), ghillie suits, mutual pining (kinda again), very abrupt ending sorry, short reader, reader is price's subordinate

Summary: “You’re joining the 141. The contract is already signed.” She blurts, right after you close the wooden door to her office behind yourself. After processing her words you immediately turn to look her straight in those blue eyes, almost giving yourself whiplash, and you snarl. “Excuse me?”

The reader joins TF 141 against her will, and makes enemies with the Captain. During their first mission together, things don't go as planned, and ends in unresolved sexual tension.

Sniping is your preferred method when it comes to keeping things on the low. Actually, sniping is your preferred method when it comes to anything, really.

At your height, infiltrating bases and confronting head-on isn’t ideal. There were men out there who downright towered over you, and unless you could use your size to your advantage, there was no way you’d be able to beat them hands-on. You would be targeted immediately out on the field since you looked so weak compared to your taller comrades- and if you were captured, only God knows what absolute hell you would be put through.

Due to all of the above, you started shooting from a distance instead, sending swift and powerful bullets through people’s heads with the help of your unfailing rifle. And you loved it. You could hide very well considering your size, fitting beneath sheltering bushes and camouflaging in secluded spots that would be inaccessible for any other 6’ man. You also had utmost patience, laying completely still for multiple hours on end just to drop the target.

But it was the feeling that you actually enjoyed. The feeling of hiding in plain sight, like a predator patiently waiting for its prey. Then finally sending that killing bullet; seeing the target suddenly go limp, crimson slowly pooling around their cranium- it made you feel so strong. So powerful- like you were the one quietly collecting their souls, just like Death himself.

Due to your newfound interest, you kept accepting missions. Going, waiting, shooting- over, and over again- until you had an almost flawless record. The word spread fast, and the requests for you slowly piled up on Kate Laswell’s desk. She knows that you aren’t a team player, and you’re sure that she wouldn’t accept any offers regarding task forces, you’ve made it very clear multiple times that-

-“You’re joining the 141. The contract is already signed.” She blurts, right after you close the wooden door to her office behind yourself. After processing her words you immediately turn to look her straight in those blue eyes, almost giving yourself whiplash, and you snarl. “Excuse me?”

Kate’s office was as immaculate as ever, not a single speck of dust in sight. The large office table in the middle of the room matched the other interior; a shiny, red-brown-ish mahogany, making the room look exceptionally expensive. As Kate began to walk towards you slowly, the heels of her shoes clicked slightly against the hardwood flooring, shadow being cast by her little desk lamp that she always leaves on when she does paperwork.

“I know that you like working alone-” You interrupt her, your top lip slightly raised in disgust, “You said that I could do this alone. That was my only request, Kate.”

“I know, I know. Just let me finish.” Your brows were furrowed as you glared her way, and you made your way to one of her raven-black leather office chairs before pulling it out and sitting down. She handed you four files- the files of your future teammates- and continued. “They need someone new that could focus on just sniping, and they need it fast for an upcoming mission.”

“Is four men not enough for them?” You ask, giving Kate a disapproving glance as you flip through the four files. Two Sergeants, a Lieutenant and a Captain. You sigh as you close the files and slide them away from you on the office table. You weren't particularly interested.

“Four men is usually more than enough, but everyone except the Captain has other matters to attend to. He requested you personally, and you know that I can’t turn him down.” She explains, sitting down on the desk in front of you. Her blonde hair was almost shining from this angle, looking ethereal, due to the illumination from the desk lamp behind her. You sigh and rub your face with your hands as she keeps talking. “You’re one of the best we have. Your skill paired with the 141 will make it indestructible.”

Eventually, you caved (because you had no other choice) and said yes. Kate, oh so pleased, told you that she would inform the Captain shortly, and wished you good luck.

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Barely twelve hours later, a helo came to pick you up. Its giant rotor blades rapidly sliced through the air, as if it were impatient, whisking away any spare leaves on the concrete heli-pad. The whirring noise became excessive as you approached, the gusts of air whipping against your face and propelling the few streaks of hair that had managed to escape your bun. Your rifle, which is carrying a silencer sitting snug against its barrel, bobbed against your back as you took large and firm steps towards the vehicle. Everything that you felt like you needed to take with you was currently getting thrown around in a large duffel bag that’s hanging from your side.

As you stepped into the helicopter, you looked over to the pilot and raised your hand slightly as a greeting. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and a diminutive nod in return, and after you buckled up and he muttered some words into his headset, the helicopter grew louder and started to ascend.

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The trip wasn’t as long as you expected it to be. Time went by relatively fast as you looked out the window to watch the practically untouched nature down below; admiring the chlorophyll-filled, bright green leaves. You flew past the foliage below you at (what felt like- you actually had no idea) full throttle, sometimes flying so close to the trees and their crowns that leaves and small branches lost their grip. Even with your limited knowledge about helicopters, you figured that flying at such a low altitude as this must mean that you're close enough to land soon.

You turned out to be right. A square-shaped, large building suddenly appeared in your point of view, surrounded by the massive forest. It looked boring to the naked eye, as it was just painted with different shades of grays, whites and blacks, but you were sure that the more interesting part would be inside. The pilot immediately knew where to land, setting his sights on a helipad close to what seemed to be the main entrance of the building. The helo started descending steadily- a little less wobbly than you were used to, thankfully- and touched down within a few seconds. You unbuckled yourself and grabbed your duffel, nodding once to the pilot as a silent thanks as you stepped down onto the slate gray concrete. After you took a few steps away, the helicopter blades’ speed increased, and it lifted off once more.

As you turned around, you noticed that the man with the weird hat and wide shoulders was standing on the concrete as well. That would be the Captain, then. He wasn’t in tactical gear as you were expecting, but he was still big. He had a black, long-sleeved, shirt on, his biceps and pectoral muscles straining against the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest. The camo cargo pants were low waisted, hugging his hips and thighs just enough to show off the muscle underneath. His shirt was tucked in his pants, showing off a well-trained and slim waist.

“Welcome to the base, I’m Captain Price. I suppose your trip went well?” His voice was rough as he introduced himself, and you hoped that it didn’t imply a sour mood. Your own voice sounded squeaky after hearing his, and you felt a little humiliated as you only reached his chest. “Yes, sir. It went smoothly.”

“Good. Let me show you to your room before anything else.” He was muttering now, almost under his breath, and you were quite sure that he was as keen on having you here as you were. He needed someone new for the team, that’s for sure, but maybe he didn’t want one. You knew that he only requested you personally because of your talent- not that he wanted to get to know you. Frankly, you understood him, and you would try to stay as distant from him as possible, for both of your sakes.

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The situation between you and the Captain didn’t get any better. You exchanged a few words when you met in the gym sometimes, but usually, you had gone into hiding in your room. Not sure what to make of the situation, you had tried to start a conversation in an attempt to save what could be the start of a friendship. It ended in an uncomfortable silence that grew so loud that you exited the room in shame, head bowed.

From that point on, you decided to stop trying to make things better when he wasn’t even reciprocating the effort. You started to think of him as pathetic- someone who doesn’t accept new things in life and doesn’t try to solve issues that, eventually, will have a major role when it comes to trust out on the field. You started ignoring him, changing your schedule to not overlap with his as much as possible. It was like you had the base all for yourself now that you didn’t meet him as much, and it was like you were back to being alone again. It was comforting to not have someone you don’t trust spitting commands at you and muttering under his breath constantly. At the same time, however, it was anxiety-inducing. You had no idea what to do now, having made enemies instead of comrades on the task force that you were supposed to stay with.

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“My office at four, don’t be late. Knock before entering.” He’d said that as he passed you in the kitchen, and didn’t even turn around to see if you’d heard him. It was expected, since you knew that he had an urgent mission to go on, and he couldn’t do it alone. You were on your way to his office not too long after, wanting to get this meeting over and done with as soon as possible. You knocked at his door before you entered, just like he’d told you.

The first thing that attracted your attention in his office was him, of course. You decided not to look at him, and subtly looked around the room instead. Two fine dark oak bookshelves were standing against one of the olive-painted walls, with a beige classic painting hanging on the wall in between them. Underneath the painting stood a filing cabinet in the same color and material as the bookshelves, most likely for easy access of mission and personnel files. The table in front of the shelves and cabinet was L-shaped; the sturdy, thick wood acting as the foundation for a monitor, a desktop lamp, and a pile of papers and files. The room was oddly cozy, and reminded you of an office in a family home- not one in a military base.

“We’re leaving for a mission at 1800. I expect you to be ready and out on the platform at an appropriate time, understood?” He was watching you like a hawk, eyes peering at you from under his hat; studying your reactions, even the most minimal ones, to try and figure out your thoughts on this. You muttered a ‘yes, sir’ under your breath, used to last-minute heads up about an oncoming mission. You nodded once, and turned around to leave. Suddenly, he spoke up. “Before you leave, soldier…”

You turned around, looking him in the eyes, but not challenging him. He had leaned over his desk slightly, arms supporting his body’s weight as he kept his hard gaze on you. “I know you're not fond of me, but you will listen to my orders. If you don't, there will be consequences. Copy?”

…Who does he think he is? He was the one who was short with you when you first arrived, he was the one who didn’t put any effort into communicating, and he was the one who started ignoring you in the first place. So why is he blaming your disagreement on you? You’d been handling the situation like a child, you’d admit, but all of this happened because of his immaturity in the first place. It’s not your fault that he’s too childish to communicate, and funnily enough, you couldn’t figure out how he became a Captain in the first place.

“I don’t know where I implied that I wouldn’t follow your orders, Captain. If you’ve ever felt like that was implied, then I do apologize.” You try to sound as professional as possible, trying to hide the searing hot anger you were feeling. Does he think you have the mental capacity of a one year old? You left his office as soon as you’d worded your thoughts, not quite slamming the door, but getting close.

You knew that something was up. The Captain’s records did not say anything about having an attitude like most, and he was known to take care of anyone who he took under his wing. So why are you the exception? You ended up with a killer headache while trying to figure it out, deciding to get properly dressed and think of something else for the moment instead.

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Turns out that you didn’t need to pack much considering it was a stealth mission. You and Price were getting dropped off close to the warehouses you had to inspect from the outside- something about cartels and the black market. You’d be wearing ghillie suits to blend in with the tall grass, and if it wasn't for Price, it could get fun. You brought your own rifle with you, obviously, which was currently laying on the ground next to you as you adjusted the last, seemingly faulty, straps of the suit.

“Ready.” You told the Captain, laying down next to him and gently picking your gun up. You looked through the scope to analyze the guards and their moving patterns, seeing Price’s laser through the thermal vision. His voice was softer as he spoke quietly, not having that signature rasp in it anymore. “Good, let’s get this over with.”

You both started taking out lone guards, and together, you managed to take out some pairs. The guards slumped over quietly, one by one, as your silencers lived up to their namesake. That familiar feeling started to come back- the feeling of quietly taking lives, unnoticed. You started feeling powerful once more; and you began to wonder if Price felt it, too.

Naturally, you both managed to take out most of the guards wandering the warehouses. You both were exceptionally trained at sniping and staying hidden, so expecting anything less than an accomplished mission was practically impossible. Until what couldn’t happen, happened. The leftover guards had somehow managed to see where the shots came from, and had sent out a patrol to look through the area. As a car approached your position, you desperately tried to tighten the straps of the suit, which had gone loose as you were shooting. The loose straps made the suit open from the side, which made the clothes under the ghillie visible. If you didn’t get them to work correctly in time, the patrol would spot you.

You kept pulling on the defective straps, doing everything in your ability to try to get it to work. In the end, it just loosened more than before, making you even more noticeable. You snarled towards the man next to you as you kept pulling. “You gave me a broken fucking suit. Did you give me this because you want me to get shot? Want to get rid of me the easy way?”

“You better shut your mouth before I do it for you.” The Captain growled, already having noticed your complications before you got defensive. He looked stressed, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what to do. You sure as hell couldn’t run for it- you’d get shot down within seconds. There was only one option left, then. You started whispering insults under your breath as the straps just loosened more. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

All of a sudden, you heard Price move, and next thing you knew you felt an immense pressure over your entire body. Something started to cover your mouth to keep you quiet, and as a reflex, you put your hand over it. That’s when you noticed that you could feel his beard scratching and his warm breath against the back of your neck. He was laying on you to cover you. You felt his warm, slightly chapped lips against your earlobe as he whispered into your ear. “Told you to shut the fuck up, soldier.”

You felt shivers down your spine as he whispered. You hoped he didn’t notice, but at this proximity, you were sure that he did. The hand covering your mouth was large, way bigger than yours that was resting on it. Instead of just covering your mouth, it was covering the entire lower half of your face. He could feel your warm breath against his fingers- and he fought his own filthy thoughts as he covered you from the guards, which were now passing by. His hips were laying flush against your rear, and both of your legs had been accidentally intertwined.

The guards had passed, but the two of you were too caught up in the position you were in to move. As the guards got further and further, he slowly retracted his hand which had been on your mouth, but you didn’t have anything to say. You felt his beard scratching at your soft skin as he pulled his face away, and he started getting up from your back. As he did, he accidentally pushed his hips hard into your rear once, and his eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched up as he felt something that he prayed you didn’t feel. He looked down, and fortunately, ghillie was good at hiding and covering.

You sat up, looking at him over your shoulder. Under his ghillie hood, he looked as stern as ever, with furrowed brows and squinting eyes. But he was blushing. Your eyes widened slightly and looked away from him as you noticed that this is probably why he didn’t want to be with you. A superior crushing on a subordinate wasn’t right in the military, but neither was a subordinate crushing on their superior. Both of them were happening right now- and you were blushing enough that he probably had it figured out, too.

“Let’s just finish the mission and get the fuck out of here.” His gaze didn’t meet yours as he spoke. You swore that he wasn’t as commanding when he was flustered, and you couldn’t wait to test your hypothesis.

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#captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #john price x reader #captain john price x fem!reader #captain johnathan price #john price cod #captain price #captain price x reader #john price x you

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codfanficedits · 7 months

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One fucking mistake - Part four

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Summary: Simon lost you after making a mistake on a mission.

Wordcount: 866 | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: cussing, swearing, grieving, angst with no comfort, conversation, blaming.

A/N: Part four!

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ AO3 Link

No, no, no. This couldn’t be, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You had to come home with him. At this point it was no longer about you being alive, it was about you coming home. He wanted, no he needed to see your pretty face one more time, he wanted to tell you that he loved you one more time.

Simon made his way over to Price, he needed to see if they were really your dog tags. They had to be someone else’s, they shouldn’t be yours, they couldn’t be yours. Dear God, anyone’s but yours.

They were yours.

Of course they were yours. He recognized them from afar, his vision getting blurry from the tears when he looked at the shiny metal. His mind was racing and he couldn’t think.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t think.

You had to be here, you just had to be. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the stinging pain of the glass shards on the floor. Raking his hands through the debris, tossing away concrete, stones, glass, everything to try and find you.

The leather on his gloves is strong, but not as strong as his love for you and it doesn’t take long for his blood to stain the broken pieces of building he was touching. He had to find you.

You had to come home to him, you just had to.

He can feel a hand on his shoulder but Simon ignores it. He just needs a little longer, he just needs a few more minutes.

“Simon.” The low bass in Price’s voice makes it impossible to ignore him. “We need to go back.”

“No.”

“It’s an order.”

It breaks Price, seeing his best soldier suffer like this. And Price himself doesn’t want to think about your fate. He hopes you’re still buried under all that rubble and debris, he prays that your dead body isn’t taken by the enemy, because he too knows how disgusting men can be.

“We have to go back.” Price usually doesn’t repeat himself, but he’ll make an exception, just his once.

Simon gets up from his knees, knowing that if he leaves now, he has to accept your fate, his fate, the fate of the relationship the two of you had.

“But.” Simon tries to protest.

“Don’t.” Price sighs. “It won’t get easier over time. Rip off the bandage, boy.”

Simons knows it is for the best, but by God did it hurt, he didn’t want to leave you, he didn’t want your status to be changed to Killed In Action, no he wanted you to be Missing In Action until the two of you reconnected again in the afterlife.

Simon holds out his hand, wanting to hold your dog tags. The only thing he is bringing home today.

He holds them the whole flight in the chopper, this thumb caressing the metal, memorizing the way your name is marked on the cold metal. He brings them to his lips, kissing them through the balaclava, hoping that you’ll feel his kiss in the afterlife.

Simon, Price, Soap, Gaz, they all know this can’t go on any longer, they all know this is breaking Simon, the infamous Ghost crumbling down at the loss of his beloved.

“A word.” Price doesn’t waste any time when they’re back to base.

“I know.” Simon sounds defeated as he follows him into an empty briefing room.

“This can’t go on like this, Simon.”

“I know, just.” Simon doesn’t want to talk, but he has to. “Just let me stay on base until the funeral is over.”

An empty casket.

Price would’ve denied anyone else, he would’ve told anyone else that the army wasn’t a babysitter, but he couldn’t deny the broken soul in front of him. He couldn’t risk losing his best soldier because he had sent him home too early.

“Of course.” Price finally answers. “But I want you to go to therapy when you’re on leave.”

Therapy. Simon finds it a filthy word. Because therapy would mean that something is wrong with him, and the only thing wrong is your death.

“I promise.” You would’ve wanted it for him.

Price had never expected Simon to agree so quickly, but he is glad Simon doesn’t put up much of a fight, although it worries him slightly.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Price warns him.

A faint smile forms on Simons lips. “The dumbest thing I ever did was bringi-“

“Stop.” Another order from Price. “You’re beating yourself up.”

“But it is my fault!”

Silence, because the both of them know that you still would’ve been alive if Simon hadn’t begged you to come with him. The both of them know that you would still be alive if you wouldn’t have gone on that mission. But Price could never tell Simon that, he could never bring his best soldier down even more.

“Get some rest.” Price orders. “I’ll make sure that.. that..” He struggles to find the words, but it’s clear what he means. He will make sure that you’re put to rest as soon as possible. Your empty casket into the ground, your dog tags the only evidence that you ever existed.

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fanaticsnail · 6 months

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MORE THOTS!!! You don't have to write anything with this but you can if you want. I'm kinda just regurgitating stuff like a teenage girl kicking her legs while writing in her diary lol.

The Greek myth of Atalanta. Atalanta is abandoned as a baby and raised by BEARS (symbol of Artemis goddess of the hunt) until she's found by hunters who take her in and raise her as THEIR own. She becomes a famed hunter by killing a boat sent by Artemis. Naturally suitors flock to her begging for her hand and of course don't take no for an answer so she proposes that they run in a race and anyone that beats her gets her hand but if they lose she kills them. This thins out the herd a little bit there are still some left who she races and obviously annihalites beats. Despite the murder of every loser people keep coming to ask for her hand. Until one day some guy rocks up who's different. In some version of the myth he meets her on a hill while she's practicing and compliments her skill and doesn't undermine it by saying "you're pretty good for a girl" or anything stupid. Other versions he just meets her in asking for her hand and is very cute and sweet and even Atalanta feels bad about inevitably killing him.

But he he has a trick up his sleeve. He went to Aphrodite who totally shipped it and agreed to help.

See, Atalanta loves shiny things.

So, come to the race, he is almost immediately taken over before he drops a golden apple. Atalanta stops to pick it up, letting him get some headway. Atalanta immediately catches up again so he drops another apple. And again she catches up and he drops his final apple. This time he manages to cross the finish line just in time (the myth is open to interpretation about whether or not she took a little extra time to smell the roses on her way back from the third apple).

Summary of the myth that I find very engaging story telling: https://youtu.be/zjTDoXGR7-M?si=E2Tc87kkP7HO09L1

(idk how much this makes sense bc I used they/them pronouns for both)

So, imagine one piece characters with a crush on someone who is a master of their field (archery, hand to hand combat, or even intellectually, etc.). They've spent their whole life being underestimated and mocked and had to claw their way to the top, and then when they finally reached the top everyone who doubted them did a 180 and started sucking up to them. And they know that it's not out of any actual appreciation of their personality, or value for their thoughts and opinions, or even admiration of their skills. They know that all they are seen as now is a trophy on someone's arm, or a weapon in someone's army, or a challenge for someone to rule over. People just want to be the one to have them, to own them, to teach them to submit so they can boast their own strength and feel good about their ability to dominate someone so strong.

So they build up walls, they ignore any compliments which are really just attempts of flattery, they grow cold. Until eventually they even lose the joy in their own craft, having been the thing they devoted so much of their life for only for it to leave them alone.

They make a deal. Anyone to beat them at their own game wins their hand in marriage, but all who lose will die.

And it scares off a few and gives them a good excuse to kill the rest, and they knew what they were getting into when they agreed to the fight so no one can really oppose them. Besides, they don't feel much guilt for those who can't take no for an answer.

Until one day they meet their one piece character.

Maybe they pass through and hear about a challenge and want to participate, only for the master to realise halfway through that they don't actually know the stakes at hand and spare them because it wouldn't be fair to kill someone who didn't know they were fighting to the death. Technically leaving the battle forfeited.

Maybe they happen to catch them about to kill one of the losers and try to stop them and it starts off as an annoyance/enemies-to-lovers misunderstanding.

Maybe if their love interest is a strawhat they're convinced to join them in search of an actual challenge so they can find joy and purpose in their fights again.

Whatever the reason, they either start travelling together or keep meeting repeatedly. And they get to know each other.

And the walls come down, brick by brick. And they don't even realise how much of themselves they've willingly given until it's harder to ignore compliments and write them off as superficial flattery when their one piece love interest compliments them on things about themselves. They've been recognised for their skill and their looks and their mind before and they've gotten so used to it that it washes off them like water off a ducks back.

But their face flushes when their love compliments the effort and time they put into honing their skill. Not just the way their skill serves them. Not just as a weapon. But as a craft.

And their hands shake when they're complimented for the way they've done their hair, or chosen their outfit - things that they've chosen about themself. Or their love reassures them that the scars they carry aren't signs of failure or even endurance, but signs of healing and growth. And they confess that every time they see them they are filled with both gratitude that they lived through them and were shaped by them so they could meet each other as they are. And with anger that they ever felt they had to suffer to prove themself.

And something lodges in their throat and stings from behind their eyes when they're complimented on their mind. Because they realise that someone is listening to and respecting their thoughts. And the fact that they know what compliments mean more to them is a testament to the time they've spent together.

They realise that although they haven't thawed their cold completely, they were never made to feel bad about it. Because on the days when they are still cold their love burns warm enough for the both of them.

And then their love challenges them. And it all comes crumbling down.

The love that they've felt building is washed away by betrayal.

Why? Why challenge them? Why now? Why not sooner, why wait so long?

Then the fear. Fear that answers their questions as quick as they come. They only ever wanted to challenge them. They never loved them. They were biding their time to know their weaknesses and practice their strategy. Or perhaps they didn't initially intend to fight them but they grew bored. They weren't enough to be worth keeping around and this was just to entertain themselves. They spent their whole life trying their best to be the best and it wasn't enough, and when they finally let it go and breath and feel they can be themselves that wasn't enough either.

And of course the deepest fear. Because they know that their love interest won't win. And even in the midst of betrayal they don't want to kill them.

But a promise is a promise. Having grown up swallowing weakness and never feeling fear before a fight - because they were never in danger of being beat - they seek to squash it down and the only thing they can grasp at is anger.

Anger that they were taken advantage of. Anger that their time was wasted. Anger that their heart was broken.

And they don't hold back.

Or they don't mean to.

But the fight lasts longer than it should. Long enough that they realise they're pulling their punches despite themself. Long enough that they realise that even their weakest of attacks would have been more effective before, based on their knowledge of their loves abilities. Long enough to know that they've been practicing. Long enough to see their love is breathing fast and sweating hard, hands trembling.

Long enough that they blink and catch themselves no longer fighting like it's a chore. Not because they're a challenge - even years of practice couldn't pose a threat to them - but because for the first time in years their opponent is taking them seriously.

And it breaks them. Cursing, crying, screaming at their love.

Because why have they challenged them if they know they couldn't win?

And then their love admits it. That they loved them and couldn't bear it any longer but they'd never ask them to yield in their fight. They'd rather die by their hand than live without it, because that is the only heaven they'd ever need anyway.

That they practiced and honed their skills, not because they ever entertained the notion of being able to beat them, but because they wanted to be a fight worth remembering. They wanted to give them back their joy in their art.

I will absolutely write this for you. This sounds spectacular. I love it.

Adding it to the list. Do you have a preference in mind for a character, because I can truly see someone like Sanji, Usopp, Buggy, Shanks or Mihawk. Angsty, flirty, piney is what I do and I can absolutely see these themes incorporated into it.

The thought of Shanks challenging in archery has me literally sobbing because he only has one arm but will still try as he might to win her hand.

Masterlist will be updated once completed, please advise on a preferential character and I will adjust accordingly!!

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action

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shiyorin · 1 year

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Привет🤗 Это снова я, я надеюсь, что нет ограничений на запросы от одного человека (если есть, обязательно дайте мне знать). Вы можете Льва Эль'Джонсона и принцессу-читательницу. Крутая аристократичная, хитрая леди, как Роксолана или Кесем Султан. Пусть у них будет аура жесткой, властной пары. Как мы знаем, у Льва проблемы с общением и эмоциями. Пусть она будет его полной поддержкой в этом. Тайвин Ланнистер и его жена Джоанна - "Только леди Джоанна по-настоящему знает Тайвина, и все его улыбки принадлежат ей и только ей. Клянусь, я даже видел, как она заставила его смеяться, и не один раз, а целых три!” О, и пусть она понравится Темным Ангелам😊 Например, все происходит до Ереси Гора. Но после Рангданских ксеноцидов. Тогда стало ясно, что Лайон упустил свой шанс стать Воителем Империума. И это первый раз, когда Лев привез ее на Терру. Но это так, примеры. У вас есть полная свобода действий🌹🌹🌹

Yes, I remember you, you have some interesting requests. Enjoy it!

In the name of faith, in the essence of love.

I swear to my queen, to be faithful till death.

You saw the world in shades of gray, where everything revolved around power and greed. To you, sugar and spice were nothing but luxuries for the weak and privileged, things that you had no time to waste on in this hostile world. Instead of letting the innocent fantasies of your childhood guide you, you focused on the only things that really mattered: power and survival. And in this world, to survive, you had to be ruthless, to fight like a beast, to show no mercy to your enemies, and to take what you wanted without fear or hesitation.

Caliban was a dying world, ravaged by the Great Beasts that roamed the forests unchecked. The people were few in number, and the Order that defended the borders was overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of the beasts. And you know this better than anyone, the weight of your position weighed heavy on your shoulders, and the fear of not being able to save your people from extinction haunted you every waking moment. You were constantly on edge, knowing that any slight mistake could mean the end of your people.

But everything has changed since that man arrived. The giant knight in shining armor... Maybe not so shiny. You hear that his name is Lion el'Jonson. A strange man, always silent, but extremely fierce, and you can clearly see in his eyes that there is always something hidden. That man called for a grand crusade to exterminate the Great Beasts of Caliban so that the people of this world could finally know peace and live free from fear. By his order the old traditions that allowed only the nobility to fight among the knightly orders of Caliban were dropped, swelling The Order's ranks further at the cost of some dissent within the ranks of the more traditional knights. This made many nobles dissatisfied with him.

And somehow, you made a strange decision, despite your initial doubts and fears, you decided to take a chance and put your trust in him. You knew that you were risking everything by choosing to bet on Lion, but somehow you felt a deep intuition that he was the answer to your prayers. You swear your house's support and aid to him, and you would do everything in your power to help him succeed. And, in the end, he did not disappoint you. The grand crusade took nearly a decade of constant warfare against the terrible dangers of the deep forests was a success, Lion received the title of Grand Master of The Order, and ruled over all of Caliban. A happy ending, but there is a variable you never expected.

You have become the Lion El'Jonson's queen consort.

You haven't guessed this, while this isn't bad, it's also not very good in a way. This is… You don't know, it feels so awkward. However you're fine with it, it's not clear why Lion wants you to be his queen consort, but you can infer that this must be a political move. No, you have nothing to complain about, as it also gives you and your house loads of new power. (You just hope he doesn't intend to put that thing inside you. That won't end well.)

For Lion. You make him nervous. The kind of nervousness that actually, genuinely makes him flustered, because he doesn't understand it. How can this woman make him such a mess? He blamed Luther and The Order for coming up with such a stupid idea and also blamed himself for accepting it. He figures it's probably a result of a temporary lapse in his iron will, but he's content with that, all things considered. If even a moment of weakness can make him feel like this, just how strong must he truly be to resist that?

Because, in a world of blood and guts, he's got you. A cold and ruthless woman of nobility that understands the games of power, and yet who chooses to side with him instead of against him. Someone with a sharp, critical eye. Someone who isn't afraid to speak her mind, and won't bend to his will.

He's not the kind of person to fall in love easily, especially in a world as brutal as theirs. The Lion's not the type that goes looking. So, naturally, he's a little hesitant about getting into it, but he's willing to give it the old college try. His nerves are a little shot, because this is a little uncharted territory for him. And yet, somehow, it also feels… right.

He'd never tell you, naturally, and you certainly wouldn't ask, but when you two get married, he'd probably put in at least a little effort into making the wedding itself enjoyable. He might even crack a smile! But only a little one.

You two have a very quiet domestic life. There's no passion or grand displays of affection, but the two of you are content. And, in your own way, you love each other. You two fit together, like puzzle pieces.

There's a certain kind of beauty to the simplicity of it, too. No frills, no showy gestures. Just a slowburn relationship built off of mutual respect and understanding. You two have both got enough going on in your life that you don't need your relationship to be grand or spectacular. Just being in his presence makes you feel safe, for some reason. It's like you're in some secure castle with this immovable wall before you. He's the kind of man to provide that kind of security and safety, without needing to advertise it in any way, shape or form.

But you and the Lion still have a very interesting dynamic. He's the man with an iron will, cold and calculating and you're a master at the games of the court. He keeps a watchful eye over you, but in spite of how you often seem to plot against him, you help to balance him: his iron will tempered by your cunning and ruthlessness.

The two of you are the most powerful players in the court, but while you make your moves silently and from the shadows, the Lion's very presence commands respect by itself. While he doesn't have your tactical prowess, he more than makes up for it by making every move worth the effort. He makes sure every move he makes counts, and he'll work through every move and checkmate you make in kind.

Oh, most definitely. And he'll never ask you to change, since he understands that it'd be pointless. He knows you're cunning and ruthless, but that's who you are. He respects that, even if he doesn't fully understand it. And he'll stick by your side, through thick and thin. He's got an iron will, after all.

The Lion's not a particularly flashy person, so he won't constantly shower you with affection or praise. Just a solid, reliable husband, who's always there for you whenever you need him. But it's not nothing, there are points where you get genuine affection from the man, like gifts and the occasional kind comment (or even the rare compliment or apology).

And he'll never force you to give him affection in return. A hand touch or two every now and again, maybe, but he's satisfied enough just being in the same room as you. His love is subtle, to say the least, but it's always with good intention.

And things didn't change much even when the Emperor appeared, of course he was surprised to see that his son had a wife. And not only a wife, but a wife who seemed to have actually tamed him. The Emperor was a little flabbergasted, though his reaction was less one of shock and more one of amusement. He wasn't one to meddle (or even care) about the relationships of his sons, but he was always a little entertained to see them form the bonds he was incapable of making.

The Emperor's reaction to the Lion getting married was essentially one of polite curiosity. A slightly inquisitive brow-lift, and a nod of acceptance. And the saying "Nice catch" even though you don't know who he said it to.

As for the Dark Angels, they were quite confused but they were also happy for the Lion (Although only a few people know you). They respect you for not only your tactical prowess but also because you can handle their gene-father.

The Lion always keeps his private life private, the only people who knew about his marriage were those who needed to know, even his brothers don't know this (except Alpharius… You know.) His marriage does not waver, even as the Great Crusade ramps up in earnest, with the Lion only returning periodically to you from his years-long crusades.

You were there when Horus was announced Warmaster, and you could just see the Lion's frustration. He wasn't having any of it. You may not know the exact specifics, but you can certainly say that the Emperor made the best choice, because Horus is a more charismatic and charming man. He's likable, he's popular (but in your opinion, his ego is way too big.) But that doesn't mean the Lion's worse. He's had his own triumphs, victories he can be proud of. He may be a little stubborn, a little unfeeling, but he's far from a bad leader. A different leader, certainly. But not worse, by any stretch. Just more reserved.

You know about his frustration about it (as well as other frustrations he's encountered in his life). And you take it in stride, because this is the way he is, and you can't force that. And that's okay. Besides, it's not too bad that Horus becomes Warmaster, right? Right?

#shiyorin's answer #warhammer 40k #primarch x reader #reader insert #lion el'jonson #wh40crack.#shiyorin's writer #romantic stuff in 40k

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ironheartedfae · 7 months

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Timing: Current Location: The Pines near some river Feat: @closingwaters & @ironheartedfae Warnings: Parental death tw, Sibling death tw (both mentions of past events) Summary: Two fair folk meet amongst the pines. Unfortunately one is not quite as good of a neighbor as perhaps she should be.

“Just…go…down!” Teagan growled, squeezing the remaining breaths out of a hunter she had captured.

He didn’t go down easy by any means. It took a mile of tracking and a well placed foot-fall trap. Instead of building a large one that would end the life in one swoop, Teagan opted for a small version. It helped with incapacitation, allowing the nix to pounce at any moment, just as she did for her latest kill. She giggled when the breathing finally ended, and she topped it off with a blade plunged into his chest.

“No more killing for you.” There were a slew of weapons he carried, including an iron blade that felt boiling hot. It burned Teagan even as she simply hovered her fingers above the shiny metal. With a sigh, she tossed everything in a bag and was about to settle back into the trail back home when she heard a startled scream. A grin painted onto her lips, and she sprinted toward the sound, finding her prize swaying in the snare she set. Amazing work, really. It was holding well, and had snapped the man’s leg just as planned.

“Get me down! Get me down! Please help!” He exclaimed, trying desperately to reach his ankle. “Please, miss! Pl…” His face contorted into something like anger, as if something of a realization snapped in his mind. “You filthy fae!” Teagan chuckled, sauntering over to the secure rope. The warden continued to yell expletives, speaking of all the horrors he couldn’t execute from the tree. She sighed, undoing the knot so she could drop the hunter on his neck. The rope zipped against the branch, but sadly, the warden landed on his back. Pity, Teagan thought. But at least she’d get to slit his throat while he gasped for air.

Ren kept focus, kept her knife held vigil like it was the last candle lit in the monastery. Coated in iron like incense clinging to cloth, the hunt was her solemn sermon. Hunting carried a somber mix of relief and malaise each time the young fae went out. Days spent chasing the feeling that this used to hold. In a way, Ren missed the easy emptiness that hunting used to have. Now it carried so much weight, anchored her chest somewhere it never belonged.

Research, it seemed, was the cure. Spending time before a kill, making damn well sure that whatever ended up on her blades deserved it. That she took time to make the distinction between the things that she had been told were the enemy, and things that actually were. Ren was a protector. The nymph strived so hard to be good. That's all she ever wanted to be. Being the shield that saved humanity was just the only way she knew how. And while there was a growing distinction to what that meant, what she came across in the clearing was… obvious. At least she thought it was.

A man, freshly fallen from a treacherous trap. And a menacing figure stalking toward him with weapons drawn and a sinister smile upon her lips. Ren didn't stop to examine further. Didn't ask questions she maybe should've. She did the first thing that came to mind and hurled one of her own iron blades towards the Nix.

A figure from her periphery stopped Teagan in her tracks, and she side-stepped the attack with just enough speed to prevent the blade from plunging into her. Instead, it sliced her skin, burning far more than usual. She hissed, covering the wound on her arm that continued to sizzle. Iron, she thought, teeth gritting together like a blade on a stone. Teagan stepped forward, ready to attack, but before anger could build in her chest and expel through her hands, a prickling sensation danced beneath her skin, giving her pause. Had a fae truly attacked her?

“Cousin?” She raised her hands in peace, not wanting to fight such a young face. Did they know any better? Had they even felt the beautiful hum before they attacked? If Teagan had come upon the scene, maybe she too would’ve reacted the same, the need to protect rising above all else. But she could explain this one. The man hunted both of them, with no regard to the lives they lived. She was just doing the same. That was easy enough to explain.

“Oi,” Teagan sheathed her knife, raising her hands again with peace. “Ain’t gonnae hurt ya. Was just taking care of this trash here.” Taking a few steps to the side to circle around and get to the warden, she gestured to him. He had taken out a blade by then, trying to back away toward his sword so he could use it on both of them. “Get back! I’ll gut you both! Monsters, the both of you!” Anger, red and furious, coated Teagan’s eyes, and she reflexively tensed her claws, tail swaying from side to side haggardly in an attempt to help keep her balance.

“See what I mean? We gotta take care of it.”

Why did they talk? Why did they always talk?! Rage flooded through Ren's veins, on behalf of the one who was shouting for her death. A cruel twist that the one she had to save would hold such hatred. But she could understand where that came from. There wasn't a warden alive who wouldn't mistake another fae happening upon the scene as a good thing. It was likely even if she took care (as the nix had put it) of the other fae the warden wouldn't trust Ren. Wouldn't see it as a comrade in arms. She'd be lucky to escape him unharmed.

But she still couldn't blame him for that.

Until a few months ago she was of the mind that every fae deserved to die. Why would any normal warden feel differently? Why should she? Fae were dangerous. Deadly. This nix was a perfect example.

"You will not be hurting anyone else." The redhead pointed her blade towards the other nymph. "This ends now." True, Ren didn't have the full context. True, the man on the ground was threatening the young fae. But as far as she was concerned, she was doing the right thing.

The entomid was quick. An ambush predator, trained for this, built for it. Aimed in a better direction. It had to be a better direction. The fluttering feeling of bells beneath her skin still inspired the same sickness it always had. Rather than the glorious connection it was supposed to be. In seconds she had closed the distance, behind the nix, balisong at the ready. Slashing out towards her back as Ren grasped for the thrown weapon. Adding it back to her arsenal.

Was the fae after her own kind? Disbelief and dread lay heavy on Teagan, leaving her legs in a slight wobble when the young fae went for another attack. What kind of twisted fate was that? It was unnatural and wrong, going against every fiber in the fabric they were both woven into. She was shredding it, denying every part for the sake of what? A hunter that killed people like them? Memories flooded like a tsunami in Teagan’s mind, and she acted quickly in response. Wrong as her cousin was, she was young, and likely led astray. That wasn’t her fault, it couldn’t be.

“Stop it!” She swiveled on her heel, just barely dodging the attack. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t!” Teagan leapt for the hunter, claws ready to dig. He screamed for her to stay away, but there would be no reprieve, just as there was none for her family, and she landed on him like a feral predator finding its prey. Another scream filled the space, turning into sweet, muffled nothings as Teagan put the warden in a choke hold. She wondered if she should gut him with his own sword, poetic and sweet. Or maybe leave it simple since there was hardly any time with the disturbed fae quickly closing in.

Knife it is, then. Teagan unsheathed her knife and pressed it to the warden’s throat, glowering at her cousin with a hunger for blood. It needed to spill, it would, but first, Teagan wanted to see if she could get the other to comply. See her way. “He wants us dead. Can’t you see that?! We have to fight first before they get us. It don’t right matter if someone corrupted you. They’ll still want you dead, and you’re much too beautiful to just let die by the hands of such evil.”

The nix leapt on the man and panic soared inside the redhead. Ren abandoned tactics in favor of force. "NO." Legs primed and shifted, a split second calculation and the bug launched herself at the woman. Taking a blade to the forearm to prevent it from sinking further into the Hunter's throat. Fear made faces blend together, it wasn't some stranger, it was Darya, or Jericho. It was Emilio or Kaden. Any one of the mentors who had shaped her psyche. And she couldn't separate that from the twisting guilt that bubbled up inside.

For.

Against.

Kill.

Spare.

The tackling was effective. Pushed the nix to the ground, Ren on top of her holding her still. Lucky that they were on land and not in the monster's native biome. "You are a murderer of people. We are not the same. You must be stopped." Resolute. Determined. Ren was far stronger than she looked. Her knees pushed down hard into the nix's side. Finding pressure points and applying as much as she could muster.

“And what are they, huh?!” Blood stained the blade Teagan was holding and her breath hitched in her throat. The young fae wasn’t meant to get hurt by her. She wasn’t meant to prevent the killing of a monster! “They kill people, youngling.” She slapped the girl with her tail and kicked her away, giving herself some space. “They kill and kill and kill, and they don’t see us as people! Whether you like it or not, you are just like me. You are fae. You are not one of them!”

The warden coughed, wheezing as he took hold of his sword. Two filthy fucks were going at each other, and he was more than happy to take advantage. The little one was a bit more spry, a bit more dangerous than the one who was now using distance as a tactic. He smiled, like a villain concocting a plan. Fae were too stupid, usually. He’d take advantage of this. “Glad you’re here, kid.” He rose to his feet, limping toward the smaller of the two and planting himself next to her. “We can kill her together. How’s that sound?”

Teagan’s eyes widened, pupils just small points as fear entangled itself within her. The hunter had smiled, something wicked and evil laying behind his mask of friendliness. “No! Get away from her!” She nearly burst into a sprint, but stopped short when the warden took the fae into his hold, much too similar to the one Teagan had him in not even a minute ago. “Let her go!”

"They are PROTECTORS. Killing monsters like you who kill without reason. You were smiling before, you think this is fun." Ren shouted back, something that surprised the hunter. Never heard of a fae defending a warden before. Novel, but didn't change the facts. The nix was clearly concerned for the younger one's safety and that could be used to take down the bitch who had strung him up. He'd make heads or tails of the kid later.

When he offered to team up, the nymph almost smiled. Something like pride swelling in her chest. A foreign feeling, for sure. Confusion slipped in too, when the man grabbed at her. Green eyes flicked between him and the woman, trying to figure out if this was some sort of tactic. Maybe. It seemed to throw the fae off kilter. Ren nodded at him, like she was in on it.

The woman charged, and Ren seized the momentum to add extra weight to the kick she delivered. Made easier with the anchor the man provided with his grip. Maybe that was his intention all along. Though it didn't seem to loosen when the blow landed. "I can do this, she will not hurt you or anyone else."

The kid was determined, if a bit fucking stupid. But the warden was almost curious what could drive a monster to hunt its own kind. To protect a hunter that was until that point absolutely planning on adding two notches to his belt. The puzzle pieces weren't quite adding up. He had to stay sharp, but he had to admit he was interested.

"You do this often, kid?"

"I was raised for this." Ren responded, hoping the man would understand that despite herself, despite the fact that he was right to try and hurt her too, she was on his side. "I protect humans. I am not like them at all."

While Teagan gagged from the impact of her cousin’s kick, the warden laughed. The spittle on her chin only served to strengthen his delirium, laughter growing louder as he mocked her by pointing at the nix. She felt a ton of lead drop on her back, preventing her from breathing properly and causing her to hyperventilate. Her own kind had betrayed her, helping the very monster that haunted not only her, but those related. How vile and cruel. Fate had no bias, and therefore Teagan couldn’t be angry at her, but that didn’t stop her ire from ticking up just slightly enough to hiss at her opponents.

“You think I’m the monster? You think you protect?” Tears stung at the edges of Teagan’s vision, blurring the strangers in front of her. That was no cousin of hers, she thought. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to even conceptualize hurting the youngling. She was too stupid. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t. “Is killing children protecting? Is slaughtering a family keeping the community safe?” Rising to her feet, Teagan paced, eyeing a plan that would set both fae’s free without hurting the younger of the two.

“And what about mothers, huh? How is leaving children without a mother to care for them protecting?” She shook her head, gaze widened with pain. A smile that matched ticked up Teagan’s cheeks, but didn’t quite meet her eyes. It was wild and disturbed, slowly creeping toward crazed. “What about sitting in a pool of your family’s blood? How’s that for protecting?” The warden laughed, but Teagan’s smile didn’t falter. Actually, it grew, and she laughed with him, finally reaching a piece of rope she was creeping toward. “Keep laughing then!” She cut the trap’s lead, and the wall of spikes torpedoed into the hunter’s back, leaving him coughing wetly for only a few moments before his last breath bled out of his mouth.

Words were shouted in anguish. A death rattle from a pitiful creature, only… only it wasn’t the fae who’s breath halted. Cut short. Ren felt the vibrations, felt the sudden shift, but there was nothing she could do to stop the onslaught of spikes from driving into the man’s back. Striking him down in a way no quick healing could ever compete with. Her eyes widened as flashes of faces she knew took the spot of the one she didn’t. His story was one she’d never know, not now.

But she knew theirs.

She knew tales of the glorious shields protecting mankind from the monsters that lurked beyond the fringes of imagination. Monsters like this nix, monsters like Ren. In her mind, confused as it was by everything she’d learned in Wicked’s Rest, the wardens were still the heroes. Especially at a moment like this. Where the blood seeped out of the lifeless corpse that began to slump on top of the young nymph just moments after the beast had pulled the trigger.

The weight on top of her was enough to slow the bug, but not enough to cut out the scream of anguish that replaced any and all rational thought. A streak of crimson split Ren’s features, hellbent and furious. She scrambled from beneath the dead weight, chasing towards the nix. No more words. Not for her. Not now.

The scream terrified the nix. Not because she could feel the rage beneath her grating voice, but what the scream really meant. The young fae really was aligned with the monsters that haunted Teagan, her night terrors that left her screaming and her heart pounding like a frenzied drum. There was no saving her cousin, someone who didn’t know they were in danger. There was only running.

“Good riddance.” Teagan snarled, continuing to glower a few beats longer before she leapt into a long stride, sprinting to the river only a few yards away. She made a large splash when she dove, distorting the water further by beckoning the current to strengthen. If the young fae wanted to follow, she’d surely drown. That wasn’t what Teagan wanted, but that choice was up to the redhead, and not her. She hoped she’d stop, truly. There had been to much heartbreak, and Teagan didn’t think there’d be enough pieces left to put her heart back together again.

The nix ran, the entomid followed. She dove into the waters and Ren's heart sank faster than she would have if she dared enter the raging waves. It was a fool's gamble to meet the stranger on her own battlefield. Wild eyed and grief stricken, Ren could only pace up and down the shore. Screaming and throwing whatever small boulders or logs she could pry up and huck in the vague direction she thought the other nymph might have gone. When that failed to do anything but put splinters in her gloves and blisters on her skin she sank.

Tears of frustration, of shame and guilt ran their own rivers down her cheeks. Mixing with the hunter's blood and the sweat from all that exertion. Behind her, something worse awaited. The nix may have run off, but there would be other days. Other hunts. She wouldn't get away with this. Not if Ren had any say in it. The body was a stone not so easily turned. But it was her burden now. Her responsibility. Did the nix think about that? Had she considered the weight of her actions as she'd undertaken them?

The traps were underhanded, cheap. A coward's play, and one that set her up for a heated response. Why would the hunter respond with anything but fear and aggression when he'd been strung up and threatened. How could she have been talking about hunters being the monstrous ones when she couldn't have known whether the nameless warden was a father. A friend. What if she was leaving other kids without their guardians. What if he was kind in the ways others had been? Whether he would have taken in a kid from the street like Emilio, or stopped to care for and concern himself with their mental health like Kaden. These things hadn't crossed that fae's mind. And now neither of them would get to find out.

The redhead's hands were coated in that hunter's blood. She'd failed to protect him. Failed to stop the threat before it became a problem. Maybe, just fucking maybe she would have been able to stop this from happening if she had kept with her fucking job. Instead of going off and pretending to be a person. Ren was supposed to find the local fae. Gain their trust. Take them out from the inside. And what had she actually done? Ceased almost everything in favor of taking it slow. Taking the time to wait for the monsters to commit terrible deeds just so she could feel justified in her work.

Suitably covered in filth, feeling as empty as she'd ever been, Ren finally stood. Finally turned her back on the water, almost daring the nix to return. Carefully she crept back over to the body. To the man who's name she never even learned. Did it matter? Would that have saved him? Or would it be worse if she knew?

Something had to be done here. For him. Ren didn't know where to begin. Even if she was able to find if this man had a family, it wasn't like they'd look too fondly on a monster coming to tell them to grieve.

#wickedswriting #parental death tw #sibling death tw

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deancasbigbang · 2 years

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Title: o weary traveler

Author: dothraki_shieldmaiden

Artist: Sketcheun

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, minor Sam/Ruby

Length: 85000

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Imprisonment

Tags: angel!Cas, The Odyssey AU, wings, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Posting Date: November 8, 2022

Summary: Still reeling from the death of his father, Dean Winchester has one goal: make it home to Lawrence, where his kingdom and the rest of his life are waiting for him. His task is made infinitely more difficult when he shipwrecks on a mysterious island. When his crew and then his brother disappears, Dean enters into a deal with the island's mysterious inhabitant, Castiel, to keep them safe. The catch? He can never leave. Bound by his deal, Dean has no choice but to get to know Castiel, and what he finds is surprising. Castiel is kinder than he originally thought, even though he's harboring his own secrets and guilt. Dean needs to return to Lawrence, but he finds himself reluctant to leave Castiel behind. Meanwhile, Castiel knows that the kindest thing to do for Dean is to let him go, regardless of his own feelings towards him. As their relationship deepens into friendship and then something more, Dean and Castiel face both outside dangers as well as their own doubts. Can Castiel find it within himself to let Dean leave? Can Dean find it within himself to go? Or can these two create their own destiny?

Excerpt: Something passes behind the man’s eyes. In the shifting sun and shadows of the room, Dean can’t quite see it, but when he speaks, there’s no hint of any inner turmoil. “What would you do to keep them safe?” “Anything,” is Dean’s immediate answer. The man scoffs. “A coward’s answer. Easy to promise, and difficult to fulfill.” Dean lifts his chin. “I’m their captain, and when we get home, I’ll be their arch. An arch is nothing without the support of his people. In order to be worthy of their loyalty, I have to be willing to take on their burdens as well.” The man’s eyes narrow. “You would take on danger for their sake? You would risk yourself and all that you’ve gained for the chance that they might survive? That they might be happy?” Dean’s upper lip lifts in a sneer. “Are you deaf? How many times do I need to say yes before you understand? You ask me what I would do to keep Sam safe? There’s not a damn thing that I wouldn’t do, the angels and demons both be damned.” “Would you take on their punishment?” The question comes swiftly, and it’s dropped like a stone into a calm pond. The ripples threaten to bowl Dean over, at least at first. “Yes.” The man straightens, staring at Dean. Dean shifts. Though it’s ridiculous, he feels like the man can see straight through him, into his soul, or whatever Sam would say he has. “You will never leave this island,” the man says slowly, giving each word enough weight to sink on Dean’s chest. “Your family and friends and lovers will move on without you. Time and life will pass you by.” Each word feels like the man is carving a slice out of him, like he’s losing something vital with each syllable. Dean doesn’t crack, though. He stands firm and takes it, with only the faint wobble of his lower lip to give truth to his feelings. “As long as Sam and Ash go free,” he says, putting every ounce of conviction he can into his words. Light flashes in the man’s eyes, blue-white swirling in his pupils, and Dean has just enough time to draw back in fear before the man reaches out and grips Dean’s left shoulder. The swirling light in his pupils brightens to an almost painful brilliance, and searing pain envelops his left shoulder. Dean cries out, but almost as soon as it arrives, the pain is gone, leaving nothing but a dull ache in its place. “What did you do?” Dean asks. He wants his voice to snap, but he’s too shaken. It wobbles instead. To hide his shame, he yanks at his sleeve, tearing the fabric to reveal a bright red scar, shiny on his otherwise pale arm. It’s the man’s handprint, seared into his skin. Dean hisses as he touches the tender, raised edge.

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goddess-aelin · 2 years

Text

Stick to You Like Gum on My Shoe

Aelin accidentally spits gum into the hair of the gorgeous guy sitting in front of her in class. This could either be a disaster or the best thing that ever happened to her.

Word count: 6.5k

FLUFF. So much fluff.

TW: mention of death. Mention of controlling relationship, language

A/N: listen, I know some people prefer long haired Rowan but I’m fully team short hair Rowan. 100%.This is just a fun little 6.5k Drabble with lots of fluffy tropes. Sharing a bed, drunken shenanigans, enemies to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort. I mean, what could you ask for?

Aelin’s senior 8AM history of world politics class was the bane of her existence. The class itself? Perfect. She loved history and she loved politics.Those two subjects combined were her major, after all. No, she hated mornings. If it were up to her, she would be sleeping in until ten every day, not speaking to anyone until at least one cup of coffee was in her system, sweetened with an exorbitant amount of sugar. Who even scheduled classes at 8AM in their senior year? The answer, apparently, was her.

That was her excuse for her current predicament. Simply a series of unfortunate events leading to a level of embarrassment she had never experienced before. All stemming from her lack of sleep and hatred of mornings.

She didn’t mean to do it. The day started when Aelin didn’t have time to brush her teeth that morning, running late from snoozing her alarm one too many times and subsequently waking up with only five minutes to spare and a three minute walk to her class. In trying to hide her morning breath (at least she didn’t go drinking last night, thank the Gods), Aelin had decided to pop a stick of spearmint gum in her mouth. Nothing out of the ordinary. Aelin chewed gum all the time. Peppermint, spearmint, cherry. She had an entire arsenal to get her through the day. It wasn’t her fault that the professor happened to be the most hilarious person on the planet while dismissing them from class. It wasn’t her fault she was sleep deprived (ok maybe that was her fault but she would never admit that) and couldn’t help her cackle at whatever corny joke left her professor’s mouth. The same joke that she couldn’t even remember and was the catalyst for her chewed, disgusting, morning-breath gum ending up in the long hair of the guy in front of her.

Aelin always admired Mr. Silver Hair from afar. She always noticed his shiny, flowing, grey-tinted hair that ran to just below his shoulders. Sometimes it was pulled up and back in a ponytail, sometimes in a half-up bun. The hair sometimes ran over his extremely muscled shoulders and touched his deliciously defined arms. Those arms were the subject of many fantasies she dreamed up during the more boring periods of the class. She imagined how it would feel to run her fingers over his smooth, tanned skin. To be lifted up by his toned arms. To run her fingers through his silky hair. Oh, to live in that fantasy.

It was a much better fantasy than her current situation where she was internally panicking over the fact that her wad of gum now rested peacefully in the hair nearest to this poor man’s skull. Maybe he wouldn’t feel it and she could escape before he noticed. Or maybe he’d be nice about it. Both dreams were shattered as the victim turned around, fixing his emerald gaze upon her and reaching a hand into his gorgeous locks. Aelin had to admit that she was dumbstruck by his green eyes. She felt as if they pierced her soul and it felt as if time stopped. Aelin always knew she had a penchant for dramatics, though, and that thought was confirmed as a deep voice spoke a few choice words.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He might as well have slapped Aelin in the face with how quickly she was torn from her reverie. Raising her eyebrows and gaping like a fish was all she could do before he picked up his books and stormed away angrily.

Aelin’s head dropped into her hands, mortification overtaking her at the thought of what just transpired. She just spat gum into the hair of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Fuck. She had two other classes right after this, no coffee in her system, and she was starving. That, in addition to what happened just minutes ago and the fact that she had two exams to study for, were all the reasons why this day was off to an absolutely fantastic start.

- - - - -

Aelin made her way back to the apartment she shared with Lysandra and Elide, completely exhausted. She was ready to pop open her favorite bottle of wine and forget everything that happened that day. After the incident, her day only got worse. She decided to get a coffee from the campus cafe but turned around as soon as she saw what may or may not have been a head of silver hair. Aelin couldn’t take that chance. So she walked all the way over to the vending machine on the other side of the building and got herself an iced tea instead. The same iced tea that she immediately spilled on herself. Then, afterwards, she received her grade for her senior math midterm which was….not so great. She didn’t fail but she could’ve done better. To top it off, today was the anniversary of her father’s death. Really, it was no wonder why her day was going the way it was.

So yes, Aelin was ready for a nice glass of wine. Or two or three. Anything to drown out this horrible day.

When she entered the shared space, she smelled something delicious. Lysandra was at the stove, cooking what looked to be a scrumptious beef stew. Aelin could have kissed her friend at that moment. But when she went to reach for a tiny taste test, Lysandra smacked her hand away with the wooden spoon, claiming that she had a netflix date tonight with her new boy and wanted to bring something easy but nice to dinner for him. Who this elusive “him” was, Aelin didn’t know and her friend refused to tell her. But Aelin would find out soon enough, she always did. Though it wasn’t like Lysandra to be so secretive. She had her fair share of lovers but she had never been this quiet about it before. Aelin wasn’t sure if that meant she really liked him or didn’t think it would last. She had a mind to follow Lysandra when she left but decided against feeling the wrath of her friend afterwards.

After Lysandra left, Aelin was just about to text Elide when the door opened and in walked the woman in question, arm in arm with her hulking brute of a boyfriend. Aelin and Lorcan were self-professed enemies. They simply had clashing personalities. Truth be told, she thought sweet, innocent Elide could do much better than Lorcan Salvaterre but she kept her mouth shut about that since Elide was in love. So Aelin kept her distance and tried not to pick fights. Even if she tried, though, she couldn’t help it sometimes. It was just so much fun.

Lorcan’s presence made Aelin decide to get takeout by herself and hole herself in her room to study. She had two exams tomorrow, anyway, and then she was free. At least for the weekend. Fenrys was having a party at his new house he rented with his brother and new roommate, Vaughn, the next day and Aelin could not have been more excited. She needed a good party after this week. She needed to dance with Lysandra, take shots with Elide, and absolutely crush Aedion at beer pong. And she needed to completely forget every mortifying thing that happened that day.

- - - - -

Aelin was ready. She did her entire makeup and pre-party routine, already having had a few hard seltzers and some whiskey shots. She knew she looked damn good in her tight, golden dress. It wasn’t her normal choice of outfit but Lysandra leant it to her and insisted that it would look amazing on her. Lysandra, as always, was right. To top it off, she had her favorite pair of heels on and a pair of cute emerald gemstone earrings dangled from her ears.

She could already hear the bumping bass coming from the corner house as she, Lysandra, and Elide made their way to the party. Aedion was meeting them there, never one to miss out on one of Fenrys’ great bashes. Aelin could tell that the house was already full of people based on what she could see through the windows. And as they entered the doorway, her suspicion was confirmed. There were a ton of people there. More than Fenrys probably even knew. And it was loud.

Elide quickly veered off to the left, meeting Lorcan in the doorway to the kitchen and kissing him as if she hadn’t seen him in months. Ick. Aelin made a face and decided that this was a great time to get a drink, taking the other entrance to the kitchen. Here, she found the party’s host and gave him the tightest bear hug she could manage in her already-tipsy state.

“Aelin! So glad you could make it!” Fenrys always had a way of making her smile. He was like a puppy in human form, always happy even if he truly wasn’t. He took her hand and pulled her back into the living room before she could grab a drink. “So Aelin, you know Connall. And this here is our new roommate, Vaughn.” Aelin gave a little wave to the man in question. Fenrys looked as if he was searching for someone. “Our other new roommate is around here somewhere.” Other new roommate? Aelin thought it was only the three of them. Hmm.

Just as she was about to leave to finally grab her drink, Fenrys shouted a loud “Rowan!” Across the room. Aelin heard a voice before she turned and distantly thought about how deep and beautiful it was. Familiar, too. And as she turned, she found out why.

“You.” Mr. Long Silver Hair- Rowan- spat. Except Mr. Long Silver Hair now had short hair. Oh gods. It wasn’t often Aelin was embarrassed but this was one of the rare occasions she was sure she turned beet red.

Aelin was about to reply. With a sorry? With an argument? She wasn’t sure since this man completely infuriated her in the few moments she’d known him. But before she could reply, Fenrys started. “Wait, you two already know each other?”

Rowan looked as if he could spit fire. “Know each other? This is the girl that spit gum into my hair yesterday and caused me to get a very unwanted haircut!” His tone and arrogance were stroking Aelin’s fire.

At that, Fenrys started cackling. “Wait, you’re gum girl? Oh, this is just too good!” Rowan glared.

“It was an ACCIDENT, okay? I didn’t mean to do it!”

“And still, you haven’t even apologized for it yet!”

“Well you haven’t even given me a chance to! You walked away right after!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t chew gum in class anyway!”

“What kind of stupid comeback is that!? I’ll chew gum whenever I please, thank you very much!”

“You’re probably the person that sticks gum to the bottom of tables. No regard for anyone else.”

“Well. You’re….You’re..” Aelin didn’t know what he was. She let out a noise of frustration. He was so aggravating. Arrogant. Irritating. Rude. Obnoxious. Handsome. Boy, was he handsome, especially with the short hair. And boy, did she want to kiss him right now. She wouldn’t. But she wanted to. And apparently Fenrys had the same thought because he was looking at them as if they were the night’s best entertainment. She knew the gleam in his eyes, knew what his raised eyebrow meant.

Aelin was about to storm away in frustration when a voice she did not want to hear called her name. Chaol was weaving through the crowd toward her, looking like he wanted to have a conversation about their relationship. Or lack thereof. One in which Aelin did not want to have with him. Ever.

“Aelin! Wait! Can I just talk to you for a second? I don’t like how we left things. Please!”

I don’t like how we left things? Rich, coming from a guy who called her a monster just weeks before. The guy who told her she was unlovable because she didn’t let people in. Yeah, she was not going to have this conversation with him.

So instead, she turned tail and walked briskly for the kitchen. She found a staircase leading up to the second floor so she took it, grabbing two beers from the cooler on her way up. She remembered Fenrys mentioning a balcony and luckily, the first door she tried was the winner.

The cool night air soothed her soul and calmed her nerves. What she hoped was going to be a night of fun and dancing was quickly turning into a night she’d very much like to forget. She opened the first beer with a crisp pop and, after realizing how disgusting it tasted, decided it was just better to chug it. So she did. And the second one. Maybe she’d feel better after this. Aelin wasn’t a heavy drinker, she swears. It had just been a really shitty, ridiculous week.

Once she was feeling better, lighter, she decided to go and find Lysandra. She turned the knob on the door only to be met with resistance. Locked. Shit. Fishing her phone from her wristlet, she called Lysandra to no answer. Elide picked up on the second ring and when asked to come and help her, Elide claimed she was indisposed. Which really meant she went home with Lorcan and was currently naked. She told Aelin to try calling Fenrys, which she did to no avail, either. No answer from Aedion and she didn’t want to even think about calling Chaol. Fuck. She truly was stuck out here.

As a last resort, she tried banging on the doors and yelling. After waiting a few minutes to see if someone came up to find her, she slumped on one of the patio chairs, giving up. Of course no one would be able to hear over the pounding music. Her phone was about to die. She had no food or water. And it was getting a little chilly out here. This definitely was not how she imagined her night going, that’s for sure.

It could’ve been minutes or hours that Aelin sat there, distantly listening to the muffled bass pumping from below. She supposed she could try climbing down the side of the building but it was high. And she wasn’t feeling entirely stable after chugging those two beers. Finally, she heard the click of the door and got up as quickly as her tipsy legs would allow. Which apparently wasn’t fast enough because the person was already standing on the balcony staring at her, door completely shut. And if it wasn’t Rowan. Shit.

“What are you doing out here?” Even though Aelin knew he probably hated her because of the gum incident, she was taken aback by the accusatory tone in his voice.

“I came out to get fresh air, you Buzzard. And then I got locked out here. And now you’re locked out here too unless you can magically produce a key.” Aelin knew they would have no such luck when his frown deepened. “I called everyone who I know at this party and no one picked up or had already gone home.”

“Let me call Fenrys.”

“Tried it. And texted him. He’s probably making out with that brunette he was hanging with when I got here.”

“How about Lorcan?”

Aelin scoffed. “As if I would have his number. But no. Elide left early which meant she went home with Lorcan which means they’re occupied. I already tried Lysandra and Aedion, too.”

“They’re also currently occupied.” Aelin could only gape.

“What?” Lysandra and Aedion?

“I mean, you’re talking about that green eyed brunette you came with, right? And Aedion is the blonde that is literally the spitting image of you?” Aelin nodded. “They were making out before I came up here.”

Aelin plopped back down onto the cushioned patio furniture. It wasn’t often someone could surprise her but Rowan sure as hell just did. Lysandra and Aedion didn’t bother her. No, they were quite cute, actually. She always had a mind to set them up for years. It was just the fact that Lysandra had been seeing someone for a few weeks now and said nothing to her about it being Aedion. She would certainly have to have a talk with her whenever she escaped this balcony.

Aelin took a deep breath. “Ok, so our options are waiting here or you can climb down and come back up through the inside and unlock the door.”

“Me? I’m a little drunk, princess. I don’t think that climbing down a two story building is in my best interests right now. Why don’t you do it if you think it’s so easy?”

“Because I just chugged two beers before you came up here and already had a few seltzers and shots in me. So I am also fairly drunk and would most likely end up dead. So no thank you, Buzzard.”

Rowan just let out a huff and sat down next to her on the cushioned bench. For a while, their breathing was the only thing that cut through the night air and muffled music. Rowan leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

“This is not how I thought the first week in the new house was going to go.”

“Tell me about it.” Aelin murmured as Rowan lifted his head up, giving her a conflicted look. Aelin just side-eyed him and rested her head on the back of the bench. “Yes, Rowan. I’ve had a shit week, too. Being stuck out here is just the icing on the cake.”

“You’ve had a shitty week but were you the one who ended up with gum in your hair? Didn’t think so.”

“Oh, get over it. It’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened. The haircut looks good on you, anyway.” Rowan scoffed, looking more annoyed by the minute. But Aelin couldn’t help but notice the shadow that crossed his face. Which is what prompted her to sigh and softly say, “I am sorry for doing that though. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I like pulling pranks on people but never something like that. So I’m sorry.” Rowan didn’t say anything, just looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, so she kept going. “I don’t even remember what the joke the professor made was. Probably something stupidly cheesy. But I was very sleep deprived and left that morning without brushing my teeth and without coffee. So that’s my only excuse.”

Rowan let out a long sigh and after what felt like an unending moment, replied, “It’s okay. I needed a haircut anyway.” When their gazes met, they both had half-smiles on their faces. Rowan let out a small cough and looked away before asking, “So who was that guy you were running from?”

It was Aelin’s turn to let out a sigh. How much information did she want to give to this virtual stranger? Nonetheless, a stranger who hated her up to a few minutes ago. Her tipsy brain decided on the whole truth. “His name was Chaol. We dated for like six months but broke up about a month ago. He was just…controlling. Nothing I did was ever the right thing with him. The little things got to me the most. He was always telling me to put on shoes when I wanted to go barefoot in the grass. Or would order my meal for me. Or telling me that I couldn’t wear a certain outfit because it was too revealing. He would hate this dress I have on tonight even though I don’t think I’ve ever worn a piece that feels more…me. In hindsight, it was actually really horrible and I’m not sure why I tolerated that for that long. I’m not something to be stifled. I need to feel the air in my lungs, ya know? It sounds super cheesy but I just didn’t feel like myself anymore.” Aelin shrugged.

“So when he told me he loved me, I totally freaked out and ran.” She let out a small laugh at that. “It was not my finest moment. But it wasn’t the wrong thing, either. I came back like an hour later and he yelled at me for running off and told me I was being ridiculous. And I told him I wanted to break up and he just called me all sorts of names. Not so nice ones. And he basically said I was unlovable. So yeah. That’s why I ran from him tonight. Because, honestly, I’m not sure if I could have a civil conversation with him without wanting to punch him in the face.”

Aelin finally turned to Rowan and braced herself for the judgment on his face. But there was none.

“I don’t blame you for any of that. Hell, I probably would’ve punched his smarmy face if you had stayed. If he doesn’t appreciate you as you truly are, then he’s incredibly stupid. You’re not unlovable, Aelin. That’s just bullshit. Plus, that dress you have on is…is…” Aelin giggled at that. Giggled. There was something about Rowan trying to compliment her that made her feel like she was back in high school again.

“It’s what, Buzzard?” Aelin smirked.

“I’m not saying anything else to feed your ego since it already takes up all the space on this balcony.” He smirked, though his eyes softened. “You know how beautiful you are, Aelin. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Aelin felt her cheeks heat and her heart rate speed up a little. Gods, what was this man doing to her? A few moments ago they were ready to tear each other apart. Now she just wanted to tear his clothes.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. And for being an ass yesterday. I haven’t gotten a haircut in so long and it was just…very unexpected. That’s all. I knew you didn’t mean to do it and I just reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

Aelin smiled and gave him a nod.

“Since you shared your sob story with me, maybe I could share one in return that will hopefully make you hate me less for the way I acted.”

“One, I don’t hate you. And two, yes of course share your sob story. We can bond over our shared woes,” Aelin laughed. Rowan returned the smile even though a nervous jitter rose in him.

“Okay. Well, I had this girlfriend in high school. We had been dating since sophomore year so I guess we were technically high school sweethearts. I loved her but when we went away to college, we just… grew apart. Or I guess I did. I called her one night in freshman year and told her that I just didn’t think we could do the long-distance thing. I wasn’t very good at breaking it off. And like I said, I did love her but just not in the way I should’ve. So she insisted she drive to see me and that we talk. She was going to school in our hometown of Doranelle and was going to make the 300 mile drive to see me here in Wendlyn. She was maybe halfway when she got hit by another car and died. That was three years ago.” Aelin’s heart was breaking for this man she barely knew.

“She was in cosmetology school so she was always the one cutting my hair. I felt so guilty for the longest time. I was the one who was a coward and couldn’t just tell her not to make the drive because my answer was going to be the same whether we talked about it or not. I wanted to break up either way. I always think about how maybe if I was just open with her, that maybe she would still be alive.

“Anyway, I haven’t gotten my hair cut since then. I suppose it’s mostly out of guilt. But she also always liked my hair long so I kept it like that to honor her, I guess.” Aelin could see the tension in his face. She also thought maybe she saw a few stray tear tracks down his face but she didn’t comment.

All she could do was whisper, “Rowan.” It was at his name that he finally looked at her. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for causing you to get your hair cut. I’m sorry that this happened. I’m just….sorry.” Aelin wanted to hug him. To take him in her arms and hold him as tightly as she could. But she wasn’t sure if they were there yet or if he even wanted that from her.

“I’ve never told anyone that before. Fenrys and Lorcan know that something happened but I’ve never told them exactly what.” He huffed a small laugh. “And not only do I not blame you, I almost want to thank you. Because I’m not sure I would’ve taken that step by myself. You pushed me to move on in a way.”

“Can I hug you?” As soon as Rowan gave a nod, Aelin threw her arms as tightly as she could around him. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his pine and snow scent deeply. She could feel her dramatic side making its way to the surface again because she could swear that she never felt so at home as she did in this moment.

After that, it was easy to pass the time. They talked about everything and nothing. Aelin told him how her parents were politicians and her dad died in what might have been an accident but probably was an assassination. And why that’s the reason she wanted to get her degree in history and politics. She told him about her favorite color (red) and her favorite food (anything sweet, duh). They laughed and chuckled and when things moved to more serious topics, they listened intently and held each other.

Hours later, Aelin was dozing on Rowan’s shoulder, his head resting on hers and his jacket wrapped halfway over her, when the balcony door opened.

“Well, well, well. What do you know? Looks like everyone owes me money.” Aelin and Rowan glared at Fenrys, who interrupted what actually was a very nice and comfortable sleep. “I bet that you two snuck off to hook up. I blamed the belligerent sexual tension I could feel just oozing from you two. Looks like I was right.”

Aelin was up before she knew it, trying to tackle Fenrys. Before she could, strong arms wrapped around her and held her back.

“We weren’t hooking up, Fenrys. We were trapped out here.” Aelin could hear the irritation in Rowan’s voice at the stupidity of their friend. “You didn’t pick up the phone and no one else could be bothered to help us out. But apparently you could bet on us.”

“Oh, I saw the text hours ago. I just wanted to give you guys some time to work things out. And then I actually forgot. Oops.”

Panic struck Aelin. Did Lysandra know where she was. “What time is it?”

Fenrys checked his phone. “4 AM.”

Aelin muttered a shit at that.

“Don’t worry, your friends know exactly where you are. I told Lysandra I would look out for you so she went home.”

“Alone?”

“What?”

“Did Lysandra go home alone?”

“Oh. No. She went home with someone...” Fenrys looked apprehensive to say any more.

“Fenrys. I know she went home with Aedion. It’s really fine.”

“Alright, well… this has been a great conversation but I must get my beauty sleep.”

“Wow, what a great person to have ‘looking out for me.’” Fenrys gave a shrug as if he knew that she now had someone else to look out for her.

Aelin followed Rowan into the hallway after Fenrys disappeared.

“I suppose this is where I leave you,” Aelin crooned.

“Do you have a ride home?”

“No. I was going to call an Uber. Annnnddd my phone is dead. It’s fine, though. I’ll just walk. I live just a few blocks from here so it’s no big deal.”

“Or you could stay and we could just finish what we started?”

“Rowan…ya know, I actually don’t know what your last name is…Are you trying to get in my pants?”

“What!? No! I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that you were already half asleep and if you wanted to, you could just stay over. And sleep.” Rowan slapped a hand to his face. “Oh my gods.” Rowan slowly met Aelin’s eyes with a sheepish look on his face. But Aelin just laughed. It was like music to his ears.

“I’ll stay. If you don’t mind. I can take the couch or something but I don’t have any clothes.”

“You can take my bed. And you can borrow some from me.”

“I’ll only take the bed only if you also take the bed. Also your shirts will literally swim on me.”

“Does that matter? I have an extra toothbrush, too. My room’s the third one on the left. Go and get comfortable and I’ll get you a bottle of water.” He started walking away before stopping abruptly and looking her way. “Whitethorn.”

“What?”

“My last name is Whitethorn. Earlier you said you didn’t know my last name. So my name is Rowan Whitethorn.” He held out his hand. “Nice to officially meet you.” Aelin gently took his hand but instead of shaking it like he meant to, she pulled him closer to her, tugging him slightly down to her height. Her lips met his before he could think about anything else. And before he could deepen the kiss, she pulled away and sauntered off down the hallway. She knew exactly what that dress was doing to him. He supposed he did give his hand away earlier when he fumbled for a compliment like a high schooler, anyway. With a shake of his head he made his way to the kitchen.

- - - - -

Aelin was lounging on his bed when he returned, golden dress laying delicately over her curves. Rowan took a deep breath before entering completely. This girl. He quickly made his way to his dresser where he pulled out a pair of sweatpants that were slightly short for him and a t-shirt that had his name on the back from his hockey days. He threw both at her with a little too much force. She started cackling immediately. This. Girl.

As she went to change, Rowan took the time to change into something more comfortable, too. He usually slept shirtless but would Aelin be uncomfortable? Before he could find an answer to that question, she walked out of the bathroom in his clothing. A protective and possessive feeling came over him as he watched her climb into his bed wearing his clothes. Clothes that had his last name on them.

“Well? Are you going to join me?” Deciding that two could play at this game, he chose to forego the shirt, climbing into bed next to Aelin. She looked pleased with herself. Before he could let himself feel any type of self-consciousness, Aelin reached out an arm and pulled herself closer to him, almost hugging him like a tree. This was great. Aelin was a spooner. A smile crossed his face.

Rowan breathed in her delicate scent. He can’t remember the last time he felt so calm. This definitely wasn’t how he pictured his night going. Especially not with gum girl. But he couldn’t say that it was a bad night. No, not at all.

- - - - -

Aelin awoke well-rested. Probably the most well-rested she had been since the semester started. She attributed that to having a very nice, very muscular pillow. One that smelled very, very good. Aelin took a deep breath and inhaled Rowan’s pine and snow scent, relaxing into him once more. She was content to stay like this forever. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this safe. And loved. She knew Rowan didn’t love her. They had just met for Gods’ sake. But she could envision it. Waking up with him like this every morning, being enveloped in his arms when she needed a hug. She was getting ahead of herself, though. First she needed to work up the courage to ask him on a date. Her liquid courage from last night wore off and she was more doubtful of herself now than she was when she kissed him last night.

Finally, he began to stir, letting out a few groans until his eyes fluttered open. Aelin’s own eyes met his own and the biggest, most uninhibited smile overtook his face. “Morning.”

“Morning, buzzard.” He let out a deep belly laugh at that.

“Where did that even come from?”

“I don’t even know. I just looked at you when you came out onto the balcony last night and it just fit.” Aelin gave him a sheepish smile which he returned.

“Hungry?”

“Absolutely famished.”

“I can go make us something. Eggs and bacon okay?”

Aelin nodded. As he rolled out of bed, she asked, “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“The catch?”

Aelin nodded. “There’s always a catch. You’re extremely handsome. You lent me clothes and had an extra toothbrush. Let me sleep in your bed. Let me pour my heart out. Gave me the biggest and most wonderful smile when you woke up. All of this despite the fact that I spit gum in your hair, and now you want to make me breakfast? So what’s the catch?”

Rowan gave her a grim smile. “There’s no catch, Aelin. I like you. So I want to do this for you. And if you let me, I’d like to take you out to dinner later. Or whatever you want to do.” He gave her a shy smile as he moved closer, close enough to take her hand. “I’m sorry that other guys gave you the impression that you have to give them something for them to do something nice for you. But I like you. And it sounds crazy but I just want to do things for you because I want to see a smile light up your face.” At his words, indeed a dazzling smile spread across her face.

She gripped his hand tighter and brought her forehead to his. “Okay,” she whispered. With a small kiss to her forehead, Rowan made his way downstairs to start breakfast. Aelin took a moment to freshen up and brush her teeth before following him. Once down in the kitchen, Aelin stopped in her tracks, eyes darkening. She didn’t know that a man cooking for her, shirtless, was a thing for her but apparently it was. Though she thought maybe her thing was more of just a Rowan thing.

As they sat there eating breakfast (Rowan was a fantastic chef, Aelin thanked the Gods), Aelin felt contentment wash over her. She never felt so content to just be. Usually, her mind was going a thousand miles a minute but now it was quiet thanks to Rowan’s presence. She could get used to this. As they set up their date for that night, Aelin hoped she would be getting used to this. Who could’ve known that spitting gum into a beautiful man’s hair would be the start of a great love story?

Tagging: (as always, lmk if you want to be added to/removed from my general list

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @maeclin @ayaashryver @anna-swims @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @kyereads @heirofflowers @bananaanna23 @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fic #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #rowan whitethorn #Aelin galathynius #my fics #elorcan #lysaedion

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hasarjunadoneanythingwrong · 2 years

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Have you read the Mahabharata? If you did, what do you think about the way Arjuna was characterized in FGO? As far as I know (I haven't read it but I'm considering it), he's considered one of the big good forces and a close to ideal hero for the majority of the book, so I was wondering what people make of Fate's decision to give him his conflict about "appearing as an ideal hero."

i keep meaning to read it and then getting distracted by other shiny things (drawing) and. Not reading it. But I do know of the General Plot lol. Honestly at this point I’m legit thinking I’ll just buy a physical version bc I think I do better w that-like when I found a physical version of the Bhagavad Gita at a library I got through half of it in one sitting you know? It’s just uh. Getting out in a pandemic :’) scary

as for fate’s version….uh I’d say it’s a mixed bag? Since I basically didn’t know anything about him before I discovered the fate version I wasn’t really familiar w his changes…

I do think having his character focus on the guilt he feels for what happened in his life and his own personal responsibilities in regards to what happened isn’t actually a bad take tbh-the Bhagavad Gita is basically him going ‘uh I don’t want to Murder My Family’ and his Friend who is God has to convince him of his duty as a warrior and human to continue moving forwards and do what he’s supposed to be doing, but even after all that it doesn’t seem unrealistic to assume he has regrets given like. 3 of his children die most of his family die he kills his brother etc etc like. This isn’t an interpretation of him that comes out of nowhere, even after the war most of his relationships end in tragic ways the dude just couldn’t catch a break and it makes sense that it weighs on him-there’s a whole thing about how even though he’s Krishna’s closest friend he still wasn’t able to be enlightened! bc he’s only human, yknow.

The problem is that in fgo his conflict starts and ends with him shooting karna. Like in his bio

3/5 of the descriptive boxes mention Karna (they also have some other random inconsistencies. His human father was NOT called king kuru). There’s no mention of his childhood living with ascetics in the woods, or the multiple times the kauravas tried to kill him and his brothers when they were young, or the many ordeals and trials he went through to EARN the gifts he received from the gods-even his friendship with Krishna is just a footnote they add one to clarify that he’s different from arjuna’s mind demon. They make a single vague mention of his other brothers and mother-not even by name, and then dedicate the rest of his bio to karna. Not the family he lived with, but a guy who was, and I’m sorry to say this, really not that important to the general plot of the mahabharata.

In comparison karna’s own profile only mentions arjuna three times. Total. :-) despite the fact that when I look at the original text he seems much more obsessed with arjuna that the other way around but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway my theory is that arjuna wrote his own profile in a depressed haze at 3 am and that’s why it’s so bad and also makes no sense and is heavily pro karna for basically no reason bc otherwise wtf

This is also reflecting in his in-game writing, especially early on, and it’s something I consistently see people who are more familiar with non-fgo arjuna complain about lol. If they acruallly branched out more into the conflict he had and how it continues to haunt him (why not bring up bhisma’s death? He was much more important to arjuna? And arjuna also had to kill him?) he’d be a great character, but as it is they still struggle to move on from the karna thing. Even in the junao cbc event they couldn’t fucking resist leaving karna out of it lol

Though tbh if you ignore his profile and lb4 arjuna is a pretty decent character? The karna but needs to be dropped but even when they have him as an enemy (too often) he always pulls through and does the right thing in the end

This is starting to fall apart but basically: the bones of his character are good, but they need to

A.) rewrite his fucking profile

B.) stop with the karna vs arjuna shtick we get it we get it please fucking explore literally anything else fucking ask karna’s thoughts on it about it even just stop going ‘haha what if…they….fight!🤭’

C.) GIVE HIM MORE LINES why the hell was karna the first one to bring up their mother. Why was karna the first one to bring up their brothers by name. Arjuna LIVED with his brothers. He actually got ALONG with them. Why does he never talk about them?? Lasengle PLEASE

D.) just like do more stuff about his life that has absolutely nothing to do with karna. I’m not even joking this would fix his character. He has so much to work with that they don’t touch

#‘why don’t you just order a physical copy of it online?’ uh illegal? rude? i have autism there are Rules #my asks #hm this got long #i like fate juna but every time someone complains about how he got robbed I’m like ‘yeah :(‘#they act like k was begging on the streets and j was fucking silver spoon boy but j was literally living w like turbo monks #while k went to private school w his bougie upper middle class parents #like 🙄 everytime i see some poverty p*rn art w k like. inaccurate his parents would NOT let him be that dirty

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love-the-abyss · 1 year

Text

life is a kind of madness that death makes (chapter 1)

summary: Ellie leaves Jackson looking for hope. Joel leaves Jackson looking for Ellie. And you’re looking to be left alone. But life has a way of dragging us back where we don’t belong.

pairing: eventual Joel Miller x F!Reader / words: 1.7k / warnings: nothing yet, but 18+ only. I’ll let you know when shit hits the fan.

author’s note: This is a slow burn, enemies-to-lovers fic so stick around, and I’ll reward you. Promise. TLOU2 broke me. But this fic will not be that. This is the first thing I’ve written in years, so please be kind—I’m fragile and needy. Ellie plays a vital role in this story but no Joel yet. He’ll be coming in hot in chapter two.

It’s right as Ellie steps out of the tree cover at the edge of the woods and sees the softly lit cabin at dusk that she realizes she definitely should have timed this trip better. There’s something a little aggressive about a knock on the door at night. Especially during the fucking apocalypse.

Should she even knock? Maybe she could call out and announce herself? And probably draw in any nearby clickers, that’d be super helpful in this situation. Shit, she needs to get it together.

Her chest is pounding with nerves. Maybe you won’t even let her in and none of this will have mattered. She knew she should have taken a horse from the stables, that way—

The unmistakeable click of a gun’s hammer from behind her head stops that helpful train of thought in its tracks.

“Shit.”

“Now who the fuck are you, hon?”

Ellie swallows, starts to turn toward your voice.

“Ah, ah. No moving. Matter of fact, raise your hands. Yep, slowly. Good. Behind the head.”

You reach out one hand and rustle in Ellie’s pockets, pulling out her switchblade and tossing it into the damp grass. Your hand lands on a revolver and a fistful of bullets, both ending up in the back pocket of your jeans. In the other pocket you find a shiny pink apple from the greenhouse in Jackson.

You groan. “Oh holy shit, I’m absolutely gonna take this.” Ellie hears you take a giant messy bite behind her head.

“So, kid. You must be from Jackson.”

Ellie shuffles her feet, nibbling her lip.

“Not necessarily…”

You can’t help but laugh a bit under your breath before you take another bite. Chewing, waiting. This kid already looks like she sucks at being patient and you can wait. She still holds the top of her head, and drops it back dramatically, face to the sky.

“Fine! Okay, I’m from Jackson. But that doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

You stop chewing and, revolver still raised, walk around to her front to get a good look at her. She’s young, but scarred a bit on her eyebrow. Holds herself like she’s 24, not twelve. You remember that feeling.

She’s not scrawny, so she must be well cared for by someone out there. Someone’s who’s probably on their way to find their lost kid right now. You notice her untied sneaker and resist the urge to tie it. She meets your eyes and narrows them for no reason, just to show a little teeth.

“You’re not who I expected,” Ellie accuses.

You huff, not surprised. “Oh yeah? And who exactly were you expecting. Some old witchy hag who lives in the forest with moss in her hair and a big wart on her nose or something?”

She snorts. “Well yeah, sort of. That’s kind of how you were described to me.”

You gasp in mock surprise. Okay, maybe actually a little surprised that someone in your former town would still talk about you that way.

“Seriously? Now who the fuck described me that way… it was Shelley wasn’t it.”

Ellie drops her hands and you quickly reset your hold on the revolver, raising and pointing it straight again.

“Hey kid, watch it. I didn’t tell you you could move.”

She doesn’t listen, plopping straight down in the wet grass and crossing her legs over the other. She grabs her switchblade from under your boot and shoves it back in the pocket of her sweatshirt. Where is this kid’s damn jacket.

“Listen. I’ve been walking all goddamn day, my feet are killing me and I’m pretty sure there’s an entire pine cone in my sock.” She takes off one sneaker and rubs between her toes. “I need to sit if you’re going to keep up with the investigation.”

You lower your gun to your side, a bit over the song and dance anyway. You could probably take this girl down with much less. Not that you feel the need to—you’d probably just let her run away back to cozy Jackson—but you could if you had to. Wouldn’t be the first time you killed a kid.

You grit your teeth. “You can’t blame a girl for being cautious. You did show up at my extremely remote cabin at nighttime, armed no less, and with not a single explanation why. I haven’t had an unwelcome visitor that didn’t snarl and try to bite me since… well, ever. And I’m not too keen on it starting now. You gonna tell me why you’re here or am I gonna have to aim this gun again?”

“Sheesh, you’re kind of bitch, anyone ever tell you that?”

You smirk at her, not unkindly, and put a hand on your hip.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

“How about ‘Doc’?”

Now that got you quiet. You tense, can’t help it.

“I’m no doctor anymore sweetheart,” you admit quietly. “You’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking to get patched up.”

“But you were one… before this. Weren’t you?”

She raises her head and stares at you, through you.

“What’s your name.”

“Ell- it’s Victoria.”

“El Victoria… that Spanish or something?” You knew she was lying.

And Ellie sucks at lying. A blush creeps into her cheeks.

“No… shit, it’s Ellie. My name is Ellie.”

You almost tell her your name and realize she probably already knows it. Apparently the busy bodies of Jackson have nothing better to do then share all of your details and coordinates with every passing teenager. But there’s only one person in Jackson that knows where you live, and he wouldn’t have told. Would he?

“I’m not doing this out here kid. C’mon, let’s get inside.” You toss the apple core into the woods and turn on your heel, stomping back toward your cabin whether she follows you or not.

Ellie scrambles up and scrapes the grass off her jeans, adjusting the strap of her backpack.

“Hey, wait up!”

Inside, the fireplace pops and crackles with the last embers of your earlier fire. It’s a bit too muggy in here with the windows down so you crack a few. You’d been out for a few hours looking for mushrooms and things to eat when you came back and found a curious little girl staring at your house, completely oblivious to the creeping figure with the gun behind her. It’s a wonder some people survive at all out here.

A tall pot sits on the edge of the fire, bubbling with hot water you forgot about and overflowing a bit onto the steaming stones of the hearth. You could rustle up a brothy soup for you both with what you gathered out there today, but you’re not too thrilled to be sharing.

In the light of the cabin, Ellie can see more about you—the dingy brown cargo pants ripped on the hems and stained at the knees, pockets bulging with stems and mushrooms and what looks like a few bruised berries. Ellie’s gun leaves your back pocket and you take off two knives of your own, one from your boot and the other from your hip. As you turn back to her, she sees the scar on your neck, a shiny, thin crescent that wraps from under your ear to the center of your throat. Someone had tried and failed to kill you. You tug your hair out from behind your ear unconsciously.

“God, who tried to kill you, huh?”

You look back at Ellie pointedly, unamused.

“Just sit your smart ass down. And give me your knife back.”

“Oh c’mon lady, you already got my gun!”

“On the count of three. One… two…”

Ellie tosses the knife on the tabletop, and you quickly snatch it up.

“Fucks sake, I’m not a child.”

“Yeah… but it worked on you, didn’t it, kid?

You smile, opening and closing her knife. It’s nice, faux mother of pearl pins and a thin handle. Perfect for little hands like hers. But the button’s been lubed and loosened, good for quick use if a little dangerous for a kid. But you could tell someone fixed this up nice for her.

You take your own seat then on the stool across from Ellie and lean your elbows on the table. For good measure, and probably just intimidation, you place the revolver in the center between you, pointing the barrel at Ellie and cocking the hammer.

“So, Ellie. Now that we’re all cozy sweetheart, I’m going to need you to tell me what you’re doing in my cabin. You’re not hurt, are you? Or bit? Shit I shoulda fuckin’ checked first.”

Ellie laughs, tugging the bottom of her hoodie sleeve nervously.

“I’m– I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You nod, worrying your lip.

“Alright, so then why are you here hon. And I’m not going to ask a third time.”

Ellie’s leg bounces under the table, tremoring the melted candle that sits lit on a saucer on the table. She mumbles.

“That was the third time…”

You sigh, deeply. “God you’re a pain in the ass.”

“That’s what they tell me… okay fine, fine. Listen. I’m not sick. But I need a doctor, okay?”

You lean back, crossing your arms. “Yeah? Well I can point you right to one. Turn your smart ass around, walk eight hours southwest back where you came from and you’ll find yourself in a little town called Jackson. A mean old bitch named Shelley runs the clinic and she’ll patch you right up.”

Ellie mirrors your stance, crossing her arms.

“I don’t fucking need fucking Shelley! I need you.”

She says your name then, and it still surprises you to hear it, years after you left civilization behind. You tilt your head, checking Ellie up and down like she’s going to start bleeding on your floors.

“You pregnant?”

“Oh, ew, fuck no.”

“Don’t get snippy, I’m just asking.”

“Definitely not pregnant.”

“Okay, you lookin’ for drugs?”

“Not drugs.”

“Penicillin? Insulin?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, you wouldn’t have hiked all day to get here. Alone. And without a jacket.”

You stare at each other, silently. It’s not peaceful. But you can be patient. This kid is twitchy, and she’s not going to hold out forever.

Matter of fact, you reach in your packet and take out a leather pouch, pulling out a paper and pinching in a small pile of tobacco. She’s watching you closely, methodically, and it’s not until you light the cigarette and take a deep, cleansing pull that Ellie finally speaks.

She sits up, squares her shoulders, and nods.

“You’re gonna help me find a cure.”

You cough up a lung.

“Like fucking hell I am.”

(Chapter 2: Incoming)

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #ellie fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #the last us hbo #mine

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