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camilaxmartin · 5 months

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hello good!!Could you do something about Vanessa x reader.the reader where the reader is a security guard and has a relationship with vanessa.One day while walking home, a group of drunks harass the reader and Vanny's personality comes to light?

unwanted touch

hi dear, sorry for the wait!! i need to get back to my writing habits skshdk anyway, i love the idea of vanny coming to light when ‘we’ are in danger and doing stuff vanessa wouldn’t normally do but oh my- she wants to. also, the whole way of switching personalities was inspired by @foxcantswim fics about vanessa/vanny:)

navigation // information // masterlist

summary: (request)

warnings: old gross men, harassment, unwanted touch, a bit of gore, pet names (one use of ‘bunny’)

notes: i actually loved writing this one and i’m so happy with how it turned out:) let me know what you think!!

requests: open!!

i looked at the cameras checking every room for the last time on this shift. everything was perfectly still, there wasn’t any mess anywhere, all the machines were turned off and the animatronics stood right where they needed to. perfect. i looked at the time showing 5:58 am and i comfortably sat in my chair turning off all the cameras and throwing my head slightly back letting out a deep sigh. night shifts were a pain in the ass but at least i could even in the slightest help vanessa with paying the rent. oh, and my parents finally stopped thinking of me as a failure, even though they haven’t really said it straight to my face. i took a deep breathe and blinked a few times trying my best to at least stay awake until i get home. i looked at the time again, seeing 6:00 am finally came along. i smiled to myself and got up from my seat, grabbing my bag and my phone. i closed the doors to ‘my’ office and waved to the animatronics while walking past them to the main entrance. i locked the door and tried opening it, to see if anyone will be able to break in. when the doors didn’t even move, i smiled to myself once more and began walking home, daydreaming of finally laying in my bed and going to sleep.

i walked the small sidewalk lighted up by high beams, even though it was already 6:00 am the sun was not yet awake so it was still pretty dark. i watched as the lights make circles on the ground and smiled at the sight just admiring the way it looked. i felt my phone buzzing in my pocket so i immediately took it out and checked the message i apparently got.

vanessa<3:

are you coming home already? or should i pick you up?

i smiled seeing the message and quickly sent a reply, that i’m already walking home. not waiting for another text from my girlfriend i slipped my phone into my pocket once again and continued on walking by the sidewalk hopping over the broken tiles, not even paying special attention on doing so. when i jumped over the last cracked one i realised that the lights end here and i have to walk through a total darkness for a while. i rolled my eyes not liking this idea in the slightest but not having any other option. i started walking the dark path trying not to think about all the horrible things that could happen and just simply focusing on my surroundings in case something actually happens. i slowly walked past an abandoned church and scrunched my nose at the sight of it. i turned my head around and noticed some other strangely looking building not being able to define what was it purpose before becoming abandoned. i shook my head slightly and looked down at the ground trying to just get over this dark path as quickly as i could. after many of my steps i’ve noticed a light in the distance and immediately smiled knowing i won’t be so scared in just a few more steps. focusing only on the light i haven’t noticed some people started to slowly walk behind me. i took a notice of their presence when they started talking to me.

“what a pretty lady like you does alone in the streets at night?” one of them asked, from his voice i could easily tell that he was drunk. i rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him, quickening my steps.

“there’s no need for rush” another man spoke up and i felt my heartbeat rising. maybe i should’ve asked vanesssa to pick me up.

“so? where are you going?” the first of them asked again. i tried to walk straight in my direction but knew they wouldn’t leave me alone if i just ignored them.

“i’m going back from work” i said not looking back at them but feeling their presence there still. and their smell.

“at this hour? it can be dangerous, let us help you out” the first one spoke up again, i could feel the smirk in his voice. i had to physically hold myself not to roll my eyes again. i tried ignoring them once more.

“yeah, we can definitely help you” the other one chuckled and i felt goosebumps cover my body in disgust.

“thank you a lot, but i can manage” i said and started walking even faster, feeling that they also picked up their pace. shit.

“oh, don’t be like that” the first one spoke up again. “we just want to help you, nothing more” he chuckled knowing exactly what he really meant by those words. i smiled sarcastically not even being sure if they can see my full face.

“thanks, again but i can take care of myself” i said seeing the light move closer and closer as i went into its direction. i felt my phone buzz again and i prayed it was another of vanessa’s messages. i moved my hand into my pocket trying to get it out but then they spoke up again.

“hey hey-“ one of them started and grabbed my hand that tried to take out my phone. i felt my heartbeat rise up again as i was completely terrified. “tell your boyfriend he can wait while we show you how real men act” he said and laughed the other ones along with him. there were at least four of them so it was obvious i didn’t stand a chance against them. i tried to wiggle my hand out but it did nothing as he hold me in place not even letting me walk.

“i don’t have a boyfriend” i said my brain going completely numb in that situation. the one holding my hand laughed again gripping my wrist a bit tighter, i groaned at the touch.

“then it’s even easier” he chuckled and tried to pull me closer to them but then i remembered one thing vanessa has taught me recently. i should always pull my hand in the direction of somebody’s thumb. i quickly looked at his hand around my wrist, the darkness not helping in the slightest and noticed that his thumb was pointing to the right. i immediately moved my arm right snatching out of his grab as my eyes widened not believing it actually worked. all of them looked at me in shock and my brain started to work again as i began running towards the light at the end of this dark alley.

i didn’t turn my head until i reached the light and noticed a lot of homes and buildings around me. i started to breathe deeply and finally turn around not noticing anyone behind me or even further in the dark. i shook my head at the whole situation and continued walking home, doing it quicker that usual. i took out my phone finally and looked at the notification, noticing it was actually a message from vanessa.

vanessa<3:

it’s taking you a while, are you okay? are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?

i smiled at the message and sent her a quick one back saying that i’ll be home in less than five. i shoved my phone back into my pocket again, trying to focus on anything else rather than that situation.

when i opened the doors to our shared apartment my eyes have met with the blonde’s ones and i immediately smiled at that. i closed the door and locked it behind me throwing the keys on the kitchen counter.

“finally you’re back” she said coming up to me and locking me into a hug. “i was starting to worry”

i chuckled and hugged her back, hugging her even tighter than usually. “nothing to worry about” i said and laughed a bit too fake for her not to notice.

vanessa leaned away and raised one of her eyebrows at me, looking adorably considering that she was still in her pyjama. “what’s with the fake laugh? did something happen to you?” she asked visibly concerned, worry spread out on her face.

“no no!” i said throwing my hands around “just a bunch of guys wanted to probably rape me, but nothing happened” i said visibly exaggerating the situation but vanessa didn’t laugh. oh boy.

“did they touch you?” she asked her voice stern. i swallowed the saliva i had in my mouth wondering how to get out of this conversation.

“nothing happened, i’m okay, that’s what matters” i said while shaking my head and walking away to put my bag on the ground.

vanessa walked behind me almost immediately and grabbed my chin with one of her hands making me look at her. “did. they. touch. you?” she asked putting a more annoyed tone on every of the words. i let out a deep sigh.

“yes.” i said and looked down at her lips not wanting to keep the eye-contact with her. “one of them grabbed my wrist but, thanks to your practice, i got away” i explained and looked up into her eyes again, seeing a somehow crazy look slowly entering them. oh no.

“where was it?” she asked her gaze still on my eyes. “tell me” she said trying to sound more softly but making it come out as even more annoyed.

“in the dark path i had to walk from my work.” i said not knowing how to fully explain it. “close to the abandoned church if you know what i’m talking about” i added and she simply nodded her head letting go of my face.

“from this day on i’ll always drive you off the work” she said and walked to the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee to start the day. i bit the inside of my cheek not knowing what to respond still not being sure if i’m talking to vanessa or maybe vanny just now.

“i’m going to sleep” i said and yawned. vanessa looked at me with a smile on her lips while sipping her coffee.

“sleep tight, i’ll be back before you go to work today” she said starting to get ready for her day shift. i just nodded my head with a smile.

i went to our bedroom, laying down on the bed not even caring about taking off my clothes. just as i was about to fall asleep i heard the doors creak and slowly opened one of my eyes. i saw vanessa quickly walking over to me and giving my forehead a kiss. i smiled sleepily and immediately fell asleep.

i groaned looking at the time sitting in my chair. five minutes left till the end of my shift. i grabbed my phone looking for messages from vanessa to see if she was still coming to pick me up but nothing came. i burrowed my eyebrows not understanding why she hasn’t wrote anything yet. i rolled my eyes shoving the phone into my pocket and taking a last look at the cameras. everything was pretty still so i turned them off, gathering my things to finally leave this place. i threw the bag over my shoulder and took out headphones from it preparing myself for the walk home again. i checked the phone for the last time - nothing. i sighed and closed the door to my office, saying my goodbyes to the animatronics as i was leaving. i locked the mane entrance and began walking home still hoping somewhere deep, vanessa would come pick me up. i played one of my playlists trying to make this walk at least a bit more enjoyable.

i was walking the path with high beams and smiled again at the sight of circles appearing on the ground. as usual, i started jumping over the cracked tiles trying my best not to step over a broken one. after many steps i’ve noticed that the dark part of my walk was approaching and i immediately felt goosebumps covering my skin. i rolled my eyes forgetting about jumping over the tiles and tried my best not to freak out at the thought alone of meeting those guys from yesterday.

i passed the last light and my dark path started. i kept my eyes at the ground not even looking around at the church or that old building, concentrating only on the task of getting out of this dark alley. a slow song suddenly started playing in my headphones making me more aware of my surroundings than i wanted. great. i still tired to just focus on my steps not caring about anything else, but of course it couldn’t go that smoothly.

“long time no see huh?” a man said suddenly appearing behind my back. from his voice i concluded it was the same one from yesterday. i tried ignoring him at my best.

“you probably couldn’t wait to see us again right?” another one of them spoke up and my heartbeat rose up again. i glanced at them seeing there were five man behind me. i was horrified.

“let us show you how real men treat women” different one of them laughed and immediately grabbed my wrist, this time holding with both of his hand so i couldn’t shove out. i felt tears coming to my eyes.

“take off those headphones” one of them said and with my free hand i did as he told me not wanting to be in even more trouble than i already was. they pulled me with them to an even darker corner of the alley, probably behind that church. my brain went numb again i literally didn’t know what to do.

the one holding me shoved me into the wall still holding my wrist waiting for the others to start their actions. i closed my eyes not wanting to see anything and just hoping for the end to come.

one of them grabbed my neck and squeezed it so harshly i thought they wanted to just kill me at the spot. another one started to unbutton my pants and the tears from my eyes started to run down my cheeks. when he finally stopped unzipping my pants i heard a noise at the end of the alley from where they previously took me. i gently opened my eyes and saw a pair of red ones in the distance. oh god.

when that man wanted to pull my pants down another one of them started screaming in pain and my eyes immediately opened wide. i saw vanny’s costume slit his throat with one swift motion of her hand. i looked in disbelief at this situation thanking in my soul for her rescue.

vanny didn’t stop there, when the rest of them looked at her terrified i almost saw her smile widen even more but maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. she shoved the lifeless body of that man into the wall running up to the next one and pushing her knife into his stomach, the man yelled in pain and fear, while his shirt started to become red from his blood. vanny twisted her knife repeatedly in his body trying to make it as painful for him as it was humanly possible. when that man stopped yelling from all the tiredness she took her knife out and shoved him into the ground with one kick, letting him bleed out. she looked back at the three that were still left. one of them started screaming and running away vanny only following him with her glowing eyes, definitely letting him get away… at least for now. she then moved her red glowing eyes to the two standing the closest to me. if that was what she did for the ones who didn’t even touch me, i definitely wouldn’t want to be in the skin of those two.

she tilted her head while looking at them and waved her knife from side to side, obviously debating on what to do about them. i felt that one of them took their hands off of my wrist while the other let go of my neck. i smiled to her not being sure if she saw my face. one of the men suddenly started to run towards her which was the stupidest decision he has ever made in his life. vanny swiftly grabbed his neck, just like he did to me a moment ago, and shoved him into the wall keeping him there and looking straight into his eyes. then, she moved her knife to his face and harshly pushed it into one of his eyes. he started to scream but then she pushed the knife even deeper not liking that he was making a noise, or wanting him to make even more of them. she hardly pulled the knife out along with his eye and dropped the knife to the ground. with her free hand, she pushed two fingers inside the hole in his head and tried to crush his bones. he screamed unbelievably louder and she definitely had enough of it cause then she pulled her fingers out and shoved her whole hand so deep into his throat i didn’t even know it was possible. she somehow managed to grab his vocal cords and rip them out making him bleed also from his mouth. she let go of him and let him slide down the wall not even being able to scream anymore.

the next thing she did was quickly run up to the man who was previously holding my wrist and just shove him to the ground sitting down on his hips keeping him there. he started screaming so she slapped him on the face with her fluffy paw. she then looked back to where her knife was laying and quickly turned around to him. knowing she wanted to use her knife again i walked over to it and picked it up moving to give it to her. but when i came over, she was already playing with not one, but both of his eyeballs using them like rubber balls. i looked at that situation a bit horrified by it all but also feeling a strange satisfaction that they got what they deserved. she then turned her head around and noticed me holding her knife. she shoved it out of my hand and started slowly cutting his face. the knife went in like into a cake and again i swore her smile widened. when his whole face was cut up and i was pretty sure he already passed away she stood up and shoved her knife right into his manhood. the man screamed for the last time and then life left his body for good. vanny dropped the knife and laughed out loud, looking around and seeing everything she did.

i looked at her still a bit terrified by all of this but a small smile creeped up to my face at the thought that she did all this for me. she finally moved her head to look at me and walked over to me staring my face down with titled head. then she moved closer and connected my nose with her fluffy big one. i chuckled slightly as my hands gently stroked her mask. vanny then moved her hands and took of the mask showing me her beautiful face, with messed up hair and a maniac look in her eyes. i tried to keep my calm but my pulse sped up uncontrollably. she laughed still looking at my face and threw her mask on the ground grabbing my waist with her one blooded paw while the other she put on my cheek gently stroking it.

“you’re mine” she said, her voice sounding maniacally, i still wonder how she manages do to that.

“only yours” i whispered and smiled to her trying my best not to be scared. she laughed feeling my heartbeat rise and rolled her eyes.

she moved her head closer to me and connected our lips in a passionate kiss, showing me how deeply she cares and that she would literally do anything to keep me safe. i smiled into the kiss and wrapped my hands around her hair, keeping her in place for as long as she lets me. vanny sighed into the kiss and slowly leaned away still gripping my waist. she opened her eyes and the maniac look was still present. i smiled to her taking my hands out of her hair.

“i would do anything for you. we would” she said and laughed again this time it sounded more like a chuckle.

“i know” i said and smiled to her. “and i really appreciate it” i added and gave her lips a quick peck.

vanny smiled at me and let go of my waist as well as my cheek to grab my hand while her other one picked up her mask. she led me out of that dark corner as i looked back at all the bodies and then turned to her not knowing if it’s safe to just leave them like that. she laughed seeing my sight and gently shook her head putting the mask back on.

“don’t worry about it, bunny” she said and pulled me closer to her once again now standing almost in the light of the street lights. “vanessa will take care of it, i discussed it with her earlier” she said and my eyes went wild at the mention of vanessa realising she knew exactly what vanny did. i smiled to her and uncontrollably giggled at everything that happened. vanny laughed with me as well and pulled me in for the tightest hug i’ve ever received from her.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa afton x reader #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanny x reader #fnaf vanny #vanessa shelly #fnaf vanessa #vanessa afton #fnaf movie #fnaf

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morganbritton132 · 8 months

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Omg ok so my sisters used to play soccer and one of the moms had a cowbell. This woman would ring the bell every time the team got a goal. And now like 20 years later our mother was talking to someone about how my sisters used to do the local soccer thing and the other person was like “omg do you remember the cowbell lady? That team was so good but dear lord that cowbell was annoying!”……..I can picture Eddie getting a cowbell

Absolutely yes. No notes. Eddie definitely does this.

Steve kinda dooms himself to it because they played a scrimmage against a team that brought their own cheerleaders. Eddie prides himself on a level of dramatism that is not going to let that slide so he asks.

He did ask if he could be Steve’s cheerleader.

Steve, who melts every time Eddie takes an interest in one of his hobbies, does not think of the consequences when he says, “You’re already my cheerleader, but sure.”

If Steve thought about it for a little bit than he would probably think that Eddie was going to show up at the game in an actual cheerleading uniform, but he didn’t think about it. He actually forgot about the entire conversation until the next weekend when Eddie tries to get into the car with an electric guitar.

Steve stops him, “What are you doing?”

“Uh, cheerleading?”

“Where would you even plug that in at?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Eddie considers and then darts back into the house. He returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar, but Steve gives him a look that says very clearly ‘absolutely not.’ Eddie strums the guitar anyways and says, “I love you, bitch. I ain’t never gonna stop-“

“Eddie, we’re going to be late!”

So, he didn’t do anything that weekend other than come up with some on-the-fly cheers with another player’s girlfriend and agree to design them shirts. Nancy did say that if he tried to start a wave in the crowd that she would divorce him. From the land of the living.

He thinks she means it too.

Eddie’s already picked out the cowbell by the time next weekend rolls around. They’re playing against a group from the nearby methodist church and the only thing that Steve requests is that Eddie stays off his soapbox about organized religion. He says nothing about cowbells.

Nancy isn’t even aware that he has it until he whips it out after the first goal and starts ringing it. The whole field stops moving and just stares at him for a second, which is great. Eddie loves an audience.

Steve looks fucking delighted, too.

It is rather unfortunate that the team they’re playing against sucks major ass and they score more goals than they have in any other game because that cowbell rings with enthusiasm every single time. Except for the last goal because when Eddie went to reach for the bell, Ozzy put his paw over his hand to tell him to stop.

It doesn’t matter though because Steve runs over to him as soon as the game ends, all smiles and kisses. It’s painfully and sickeningly sweet when he tells him, “Best cheerleader I’ve ever had.”

Steve kisses him again and tells him, “Never do it again though.”

#Eddie does it again #except now they have a game they play before the game where Steve tries to find the cowbell before they leave #he is dumbfounded when he removes two from the car and yet somehow Eddie still has one come game time #(Nancy brought it for him because she thinks it’s funny)#eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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zepskies · 5 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 12

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Thank you everyone for your kind words on Part 11! 🥰 It really meant so much to me.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ just to be safe on this one. Angst, hurt/comfort, minor violence and tension, fluff with a tinge of spice.~

Part 12: “All in the Family”

You didn’t realize until the funeral just how well loved your grandfather had been.

So many of his friends, along with your grandmother’s, came up to you personally to express their condolences even before the church service began. Some were more heartfelt and broken up than that of your extended family members, many of whom hardly checked on him when he was alive, even before his cancer returned.

You had no mascara left by the time the service started. Yet it wasn’t until you had to get up and speak that you noticed something else when you stared out into the crowd.

Almost all of Dean’s friends (and now yours) had come to support you. Meg and Cas, Sam and Eileen, Benny and Andréa, Jo and Ellen…they all sat in the row behind him, even though very few of them had even met your grandfather in person.

“George was born in Lebanon, Kansas in the early ‘40s,” you began. “At the time, its population was about 600. Now, it’s less than 200…and that’s why he left, he told me. I didn’t want to be the last relic left standin’ with the tumbleweeds.”

That bit earned you some laughs. You paused, smiling slightly. With a shaking breath, you managed to continue.

Though it was hard for you to even look at Andréa. It was with a mixture of lingering resentment, tempered only by your guilt at the last words you’d levied at your best friend. A large part of you still felt justified, even today, to hold your grudge. Maybe you were wrong for it, but that was just how you felt.

And right now, you were shaking. You barely managed to get through the speech you wrote down on a notepad. After you were done, you couldn’t force yourself to pry your fingers off the podium. You glanced over at the closed casket behind you, to your right.

The pastor was standing to your left, waiting on you to go back to your seat so he could resume the service. You could sense him watching you, and distantly you heard him call your name. You couldn’t respond. Your voice was stuck in your throat.

Both anxious and panicked, you looked up at the sea of people watching you. Your gaze darted from face to face, until you landed on Dean. He was staring up at you in thinly veiled concern.

You okay? he mouthed.

You shook your head subtly. You had the undeniable conviction that if you let go of the podium, you would fall into a heap. You’d make an embarrassing scene at your grandpa’s funeral—something George definitely would’ve gotten a kick out of, if he was here.

My granddaughter, ladies and gentlemen. She can talk real well, but apparently she can’t walk at the same time.

Before you could choke out a laugh, followed shortly by hyperventilating, Dean got out of his seat and went up to the stage.

His supportive hand came to rest on the small of your back, while the other was offered to you palm facing up, next to where you had a death grip on the podium. You met his eyes, and he gave you a steady look.

“You got this,” he said in a lowered voice.

You took his hand. He guided you off the stage and back into your seat. His lips pressed to your cheek.

“You did great,” Dean said quietly in your ear. “He’d be proud of you.”

You held onto his hand for the rest of the service.

Your big house was good for one thing: it made for a roomy reception.

Thank God you hadn’t had to cook yourself. Ellen had brought everything you might’ve wanted or needed by way of food and drinks, and true to Dean’s word, she’d given you what you suspected was a heavily discounted price. You’d tried to give her an extra tip earlier, but she’d folded the envelop and stuck it behind the neckline of your dress.

“We already covered payment, and I don’t wanna hear about it again,” Ellen said. “Now help me unwrap these chicken strips.”

You gave a tremulous smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Later, while Ellen went to grab the utensils and plates, you found yourself side by side with Jo in your kitchen. She gave you a smile that was both kind and reserved.

“I’m sorry about your grandpa,” she said, pausing on uncasing a container of sandwiches. Her blue eyes looked sincere.

“Thank you,” you replied. Your small smile was genuine as well. Until Andréa and Benny came in, with Dean right behind.

“Can we help?” Andréa asked. Her question was pointed, and filled with double meaning as her eyes met yours.

After a moment, you decided to swallow your pride for now. It was only a few more hours, and then your house would be empty.

“Can you get the dining table set up?” you asked.

Andréa nodded, but you stopped her before she could venture out into the dining room.

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

She shot you a frown. “To do what you asked.”

“Tablecloths are in the linen closet,” you reminded her. “You can grab the beige one.”

“Oh, I thought you would’ve taken that out already,” she said. As if you didn’t have a million other things to remember to do today.

“Well, it’s there,” you said, trying to be patient.

Andréa’s lips pursed. “In the linen closet? The one in the hall?”

You sighed as you finished unwrapping the second package of potato salad. Your patience thinned.

“No, the one in the attic,” you snipped dryly. You knew you were kind of being a bitch, but you could’ve grabbed the damn tablecloth yourself in this time.

Andréa agreed wordlessly and left the kitchen with clipped heels.

Meanwhile, Dean surveyed the scene between you and your friend, and sensed that something was off there. Even Jo shot him a subtle brow raise. Dean’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t want to say anything to you just yet. He knew you had a lot on your mind.

Instead, he glanced at Benny, who gave his friend a telling look.

Dean took in a breath. “Okay, uh. What else do you need, babe?”

You looked up at him, softening. “Maybe help Ellen bring in the drinks and stuff? She just went out to her car.”

Dean nodded. “Sure.”

He and Benny left the kitchen, giving Dean a chance to get the scoop.

“Something going on between Thelma and Louise? That was downright frosty back there,” he remarked.

Benny scoffed. “What, you didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Dean asked.

“They had a big blow out a couple weeks ago.”

“Seriously? I didn’t hear a word about it.”

“Well that’s confoundin’,” Benny said, rubbing at his beard. “‘Cause I certainly did. In excruciating detail.”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smirk, but it soon faded.

After the lasts guests left the house, and the cleanup was done for the night, it got down to you and Dean alone in the house. Your family had never been a large one. Just you and your grandparents. And then, it had been just you and your grandfather for so long…

You now dreaded the moment that it would finally be just you.

At least tonight, you had your boyfriend. The two of you were watching a movie on the couch with another slice of leftover cake split between you. For once, you didn’t have the stomach for it. You let Dean polish off the plate.

He tossed it onto the coffee table and then paused the movie for a moment. He knew you weren’t really watching anyway. He rested a hand on your thigh, earning your attention.

“You given any more thought to a new car?” he asked. Yours had been totaled in the accident last month. Between Dean and Meg and Ellen bringing in food and supplies, you hadn’t needed to venture out of your house much ever since the accident.

Now, however, you heaved a sigh. You leveled him with honesty.

“Even with the insurance money left over, I’m not sure I can afford one after the funeral expenses.”

Dean inclined his head. “Okay, hear me out…Bobby owns a salvage yard.”

Your brows rose. “A junkyard?”

“Salvage yard,” he corrected. “He occasionally gets some good finds. I’ll comb through and look for something I can fix up for you.”

“Thanks, but…” You were grateful for him trying to help, but you still weren’t sure about adopting a “salvage yard” rescue car.

“You think I’m gonna put you in something that isn’t safe?” Dean asked, squeezing your thigh. The weight in his eyes sobered you.

“Okay, thanks. Let me know what you find,” you agreed. He nodded, but before he put the movie back on, he decided to broach something else.

“So, Benny filled me in on your little fight club moment with Andréa,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms. “It wasn’t fight club.”

But an awkward silence fell between you and Dean as you didn’t offer anything more. He sighed and rubbed your knee with his thumb.

“You guys had a falling out?” he asked.

Your brows knitted together. “You want to hear about my girl drama?”

Ordinarily? Not really, Dean could admit. He liked “tea” as much as the next person, but he wasn’t angling for drama so much as for your trust. He was still new to this whole “boyfriend” thing. But still, this felt like something you could’ve come to him with.

“Look, if you’re upset…for any reason, you can tell me,” he said. “Thinking that’s my job as the boyfriend.”

…Well, shit, you thought, as guilt sunk heavy in your chest. How could you argue with that?

You sighed and threw your hands up, before they landed on his. You took his hand with both of yours.

“Well,” you said, “I broke up with my best friend.”

Dean blinked at that. That would definitely make it awkward to double date.

“Aw, you didn’t break up, did you?”

When you merely gave him a look, he nodded. “All right. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You sighed, but you explained it to him. You told him about your ongoing frustrations with your friend’s self-centeredness, and her lack of self-awareness at times. And while you took responsibility for the way you’d gone off on her that day on your porch, a large part of you still felt justified. Even if that made you the “bitch.”

“Well, look. If this is something that you can’t get past, then I get it. Sometimes you needa cut people out,” Dean said eventually. “But I’m thinking, right now, you need support. Maybe she didn’t give it when you needed her, but maybe she’s hurtin’ about this too… At least, that’s what Benny says.”

At first, you frowned. Your throat was tight with emotion, probably from today, but maybe because he was saying things you had already been thinking, deep down. You just didn’t want to admit it.

“You just want us to smooth things over so it won’t make it awkward for you with your friend,” you shot back.

Dean frowned, raising placating hands. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Come on. You know that’s not it.”

You wiped at your eyes, as they were starting to sting with unshed tears. You knew you weren’t being fair. He was just trying to help.

“Sorry,” you said, in a calmer voice. “…I’ll think about it, okay? Because you’re right. It’s not just her…I also just can’t shake this feeling. Like my world is getting smaller, and someday I’m going to be the only one left.”

And there it was. Yet another fear you didn’t want to admit. It was your worst fear: being alone.

You were hesitant to let your gaze leave your lap, to meet Dean’s. When you did, you were met by his softened look. He went for your hand again.

“Listen. You still have people,” he said. “Doesn’t matter if they’re related to you by blood or not. Real family’s gonna fight and bitch. But they’re also gonna be there, like your friend was today.”

You sighed heavily. Once again, you knew he was right. Despite the awfulness of your fight, Andréa had come to your grandfather’s funeral. She helped you set up for the reception, and she stayed until the last hour helping with the cleanup, along with Benny, Sam, Eileen, and the rest of Dean’s friends. They were now your friends too.

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily. “Dean, I love you. I love you so damn much.”

Dean’s fingers tangled in your hair. A sigh expelled through his nose as he pressed a lingering kiss into your neck.

Warm. It felt warm in his chest. Almost overwhelming.

He’d been letting instinct guide him since the day he met you. So even though he hesitated to answer at first, he knew.

“I love you too,” he admitted. You held onto him that much tighter.

In hindsight, he’d already known. The day of the car accident, when you’d called him in tears and asked for his help, he realized just how much he’d do for you. The lengths he would go to make sure you were okay.

That you were safe, and his.

Nick Savage was an opportunist at heart.

Sure, he’d flunked out of college. Big fucking whoop.

Now he stood at the literal head of a multimillion-dollar company. He ruled in the very same office where he once sat on the floor as a ten-year-old kid, playing with his Batman action figure. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d watched his father hook new “clients” between glasses of scotch.

Now, Nick was the one making deals.

He stared out of the immense window of his office as he practiced his putting swing. These golf clubs had been a gift (to himself), and he thought he could’ve pursued it harder when he was younger, if he hadn’t lost focus in high school.

Maybe if his dad had attended even one of his games, he would’ve pursued sports past the varsity level. He had the talent. He could’ve gotten scouted…

Nick blew out a breath.

“Well, this is what I like to see,” a droll voice said from the doorway. “A man hard at work.”

Nick’s head raised slowly. His brows twitched with surprise, but he soon covered it up with a hint of a dry smile.

“Welcome back, Dad,” Nick drawled. “Where were you? Venice? Greece?”

Daniel Savage was only slightly taller than his son. His build was broader, his blonde hair graying at the temples, but his blue eyes were sharp.

He dressed the part of a wealthy mogul: brown slacks, smart shoes, dark green turtleneck, with sleeves bunched up on his forearms, and a black Rolex on his wrist. Its watch face flashed in the afternoon light as he smoked a cigarette indoors.

He stepped inside the office, letting Nick’s assistant close the door.

“The hottest fucking country known to man,” said Daniel. He cocked his head as he took in all the changes to his office. He noted the untidy bar area with a critical eye.

“It was fun,” he added. “Got a nice tan. But it was starting to chafe…you know why?”

Nick rolled his eyes and straightened from his putting. He leaned on his club.

“I have everything under control,” he said.

“You see, if that were true,” Daniel said. His slow but measured gait drew him closer to his son. He flicked a bit of ash from his cigarette onto Nick’s shoe. “I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Nick said, subtly shaking off his shoe. He tried to maintain his nonchalance, but even now, his father’s gaze pinned his feet to the floor. “Everything’s fine. I’m handling it.”

Daniel paused for a moment. The cigarette was poised between two fingers while his arm crossed beneath his elbow. He stared at his son like he was trying to figure out where the hell he went wrong.

“You know how I know you’re lying?” Daniel asked.

He then smacked his son so hard up the head, it made Nick trip over his golf club. It skittered to the floor, and he had to catch himself on the nearby couch. His arm chafed against the brown leather.

“Fuck,” he yelped.

Daniel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him around, until he was leaning against the couch arm.

“Because you’re single-handedly driving my empire into the ground with stupid. Fucking. Mistakes,” Daniel said. His tone was calm and even, but deep in his eyes was hellfire. “Alastair can only do so much to clean up after you.”

Nick swallowed. “I thought…using your brand would send a message. Remind people that our name still has power.”

By that, of course, he meant the various kills he’d ordered in the past six months. Each marked with a burn on their body—a symbol that even now was etched on his father’s ring: two snakes devouring one another.

“My name,” Daniel corrected. “The problem is, you use my mark, people think you’re me. And…well, you’re not, are you?”

Nick’s gaze cut away.

“And I was on sabbatical for a reason,” Daniel reminded. “I was kinda supposed to be dead.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette. When he blew out the smoke, the smell reminded Nick of nights he spent in the back rooms of old bars and clubs as a kid, watching his father play cards with old “friends of the family.”

But sometimes, family friends shot one another over money owed and disrespected protocols.

“Never kill your accountant, you idiot,” Daniel said. He punctuated this by tapping Nick hard on the chest, with the same two fingers that held his smoke. “The devil’s in the details. In this case, the numbers.”

Daniel shook his head and blew more smoke. “The cops are onto you…one in particular, in fact, who’s a few steps shy of pinning your ass against the wall.”

And one step away from mine, his tone implied. Hence why he’d returned from sabbatical, Nick realized, with a sinking feeling.

Okay, maybe he’d fucked up putting the hit on Jerry Stillwell, but the grubby little man had been demanding a bigger cut for his “continuing silence.”

Daniel sighed and raised a hand to rub between his eyes. He turned towards the desk and put out his cigarette on an ashtray.

“Technology’s gotten too good, Nicholas. It’s not like it was 30 years ago. Nowadays, when you start a damn fire, the cops tend to look at that shit a bit harder.”

Nick straightened up onto his feet. His hands clenched into fists with the same fire that always drove him: the desire to be useful. To be seen by his father. To matter.

“The cop, I know who he is. It’s the same one that tried to burn you last time,” Nick said. “John Winchester.”

Daniel scoffed, giving a short nod. “I know. The man’s fucking obsessed.”

Nick smiled. “I’ve already been working on a plan with Alastair—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Daniel snapped. He glanced at his son over his shoulder. “From now on, I’m back in the saddle. Nothing happens without my word. That includes this company.”

Nick frowned at that. A trill of anger made his nails bite into his palms.

“Savage & Co. is mine,” he argued. “You gave it to me.”

“That’s right. I’m correcting that bit of oversight.”

“We’ve been margining the best profits we’ve ever had,” Nick said. He mentally scoured your latest sales report in his brain. “Our projections—”

“Don’t mean shit,” Daniel said. He turned on his heel, with a hand in his pocket. “You do realize that this building? It’s just a pretty face. The real magic happens behind the curtain.”

He took note of the gold pen showcased on Nick’s desk. He picked it up…and threw it as hard as he could towards the bar. Nick flinched as glass bottles of fine liquor shattered.

“As we speak, there are deals closing all over the world,” Daniel continued. “Shipments being made back and forth through customs, all perfectly legal, as long as it has this company’s stamp…but that’s all about to unravel. And evidently, the only one who can keep the entire goddamn operation from crumbling into nothing, is ME!”

Nick tried not to flinch again at his father’s raised voice. That brought back memories too.

His gaze lowered. Meanwhile, Daniel took pains to inhale deeply, taking more even breaths. His hand brushed back his hair, as if smoothing down proverbial ruffled feathers.

“It’s all right, son,” he said with a slippery smile. “Azazel’s back in town.”

The next morning marked your official first day back in the office. After a little over a month of working from home, it felt odd to actually get dressed in the “workwear” side of your closet, complete with slacks, blouse, flat shoes, and a blazer.

No more making yourself a nice breakfast at home. No more Dean dropping in on his off days to hang out during the day, making you feel like you weren’t completely alone in your old, too-big house.

Back to the office, where you had to be completely and 100% on your game. Or else you wouldn’t be taken seriously by the would-be Jon Hamms of your office.

However, for every floor that Betsy the elevator climbed, the more your stomach churned. For once, it wasn’t just because you didn’t want to deal with Nick. You genuinely just didn’t want to be here.

“Buck up sweetheart,” as your grandfather would often say, when he watched you pause at the front door, taking a breath before you left for the day.

“Give it your very best, and no matter what crap happens afterwards, you can’t be disappointed in yourself.”

You remembered his encouragements. His smile. The way he subtly reminded you not to be so hard on yourself. The way he always knew how to make you laugh when you were at your most exhausted, or discouraged. The way he’d been your best friend and your father all at once.

You let out a shaky sigh, and you stopped the elevator three floors before the 22nd.

Before you fully realized what you were doing, you found yourself standing in the doorway of Andréa’s cubicle. She looked up at you a bit startled at first. Her brows drew together, but then, she seemed to soften.

You must’ve looked like hell.

“Hey…is it your first day back to the office?” she asked.

You nodded, because you weren’t sure what would come out if you spoke. Your hands were shaking, you also realized.

Andréa’s hazel eyes gentled. She stood and went over to you, resting a hand on your arm. After a beat, she just took your hand. You bit your lip, and your eyes watered, meeting hers.

“You’re not ready to be here, are you?” she asked.

After a beat, you made a negative sound and shook your head.

“Okay. Let’s get you back to your office so you can put in your PTO. I know you’ve got days racked up, since you’re a workaholic.”

You gave a tremulous smile. You let her lead you out of her cubicle and back towards the elevators.

“Nick is going to be an asshole about it,” you said weakly.

Andréa threw her head back and scoffed. “Nick can suck my dick twice on a Tuesday.”

She had you laughing through your tears. Then laughing until your stomach hurt.

She chortled, though she shushed you when you two walked out into the main hallway. A couple of guys from Legal shot you strange looks, but you ignored them. The lawyers at your company were starch-pressed assholes.

“Wanna grab brunch?” Andréa asked, when the elevator opened up for you two.

I’m sorry, her gaze said. You gave her a softer smile, accompanied by a nod.

Me too. You squeezed her hand. You two could talk the rest out later, but for now, you just wanted peace.

“Yeah, but for the love of God, not Geraldo’s,” you replied. “Last time, I think I got food poisoning just from the salad bar.”

Andréa laughed and pressed the floor for your office.

“Oh, hun. That’s what you get for eating rabbit food.”

Bit by bit, you started to pick up the pieces of yourself.

You ended up at Dean’s apartment more often than not, as being at home made your skin crawl with loneliness most nights.

He and Sam always welcomed you. In fact, Dean got a kick out of trading off cooking dinner with you. And you had to admit, he made a damn good burger.

So you decided to do something you hadn’t done in months. You grabbed every pan the brothers had, flour, eggs, sugar, salt, and the two leftover apples that looked like they were just about to turn. You started peeling them.

Meanwhile, Dean watched you spark to life as you baked in his kitchen. He sat from his corner at the dining table, still able to see you with his iPad in hand. A slow smile grew across his face.

“Apple pie?” he asked.

You looked up at him. “Apple cake. I don’t think I can compete with your mom’s recipe.”

“Damn, I really wish we had it,” he said. “I’d trust you do to it right.”

You tossed him a smile back. “Well, that’s high praise. Maybe one day I’ll give it a try…I don’t think I’ve made pie in a while.”

Dean watched you mix ingredients, whipping up a storm with the wooden spoon in the bowl. You dearly missed your Kitchen Aid mixer.

“You guys really need a better arsenal up in here,” you muttered. “Feel like I’m a damn Quaker churning butter over here.”

Your boyfriend burst out laughing. You looked up at him, your lips tugging back into a smile. You hadn’t even meant to make him laugh, but at least someone thought you were funny.

Dean tilted his head thoughtfully while he scrolled through football highlights on the small screen.

“Well, if you’re going to be over here more often, guess I’m gonna have to step up my game,” he said, “hit up a Homegoods.”

Your smile started to fall, as something occurred to you. “Oh, you don’t have to do all that.”

Dean noticed the shift in you, with a frown of his own.

“What?” he asked. You glanced over at him.

“Nothing, just…” You sighed. Hands on your hips, you paused in your churning to turn towards him. “It’s okay that I’ve been hanging out here more often, right? I mean…you’ll tell me if you need space. Or if Sam—”

Dean held up a hand. “Hold up. I’m gonna stop you right there.”

He set down his iPad on the table and got up from his seat. He joined you in the kitchen, letting his hand skim the counter as he drew into your personal space. You looked up at him and unconsciously held your breath.

Dean stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Have I said or done something to make you think I don’t want you here? Has Sam?”

You frowned, but you shook your head. “No, baby. I just want to make sure I’m not…I don’t know, overstaying my welcome.”

His eyes met yours frankly. “You’re not.”

His hand fell from your face, just to bring you in close by your waist. He dropped a kiss onto your forehead.

“I’d just be worrying about you over there anyway. Alone in that big house,” he admitted.

You blew out a breath and leaned into him, resting your hands against his chest.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Grandpa told me to sell it, but…I don’t know if I can do that.”

Dean didn’t want to tell you what to do here. Personally, he thought you’d be better off selling it, both for practical reasons and for your own wellbeing. But he could also understand the sentimental side of it too.

“Well, you’ve got time to figure it out,” he said.

You nodded. A smile returned to your face, and you looked up at him.

“But first, cake,” you said.

Dean smiled down at you. He could certainly live with that.

He later moaned while sampling said confection. The apple and spices were the perfect ratio of sweetness to softness. The cake was buttery and delicious. And you really were talented, he thought.

“I’m telling you, babe, you really need to get back into this,” he said around another bite. “I mean professionally. Who needs corporate assholes when you’ve got cinnamon apples?”

Sitting across from him at the dining table, you giggled at the sight of this massive man child with his mouth full. Though he might’ve had a point…maybe it was time to revisit your “pipe dream.” Or at least the very thing you went to school for.

If only working at a bakery slinging pastry dough paid the same as your sales job.

“This was my grandma’s recipe,” you told him. “She’s the one who taught me how to cook, how to bake.”

Dean made a “top notch” symbol with his hand. “She sure knew what she was doin’.”

Your good humor soon faded, though you tried to hide it. You were tired of bringing down the people around you. You wanted to just be yourself again…but it seemed your heavy heart wouldn’t let you.

You realized you hadn’t succeeded when Dean’s hand fell over yours. You looked up and met his eyes. They asked a question without speaking as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand.

“My family’s gone, Dean,” you said wearily, fighting the tears stinging in your eyes.

You still technically had extended family members, but most of them had always looked down at your grandparents, after seeing how they’d “failed” with your mother, then raised the daughter she’d had from a one-night stand she’d met in a bar. Those same people had pitied you when you were young, and barely looked you in the eyes at both of your grandparents’ funerals.

So in your mind, the only real family you had was gone.

But Dean squeezed your hand.

“No,” he said. “They’re right here. In these hands.”

Once again his thumb swept across the back of your knuckles. “You’ve still got what they gave you. Your mind, your spirit, and a lot of other things that make you, you…”

His lips pulled at a smile.

“And you’ve still got me,” he added.

Slowly, you smiled back. You leaned over and held his face in your hands, stroking his stubble covered cheeks.

“That I do,” you said, and your voice only shook a little. “Thank God for that.”

When you kissed him, it felt as natural as taking a breath. You two had shared tender moments in the past few weeks, born of pain and comfort. But this time had a spark of hunger as your hand drifted down his neck.

Dean kissed you back, pleasantly surprised by the demand of your tongue. He hummed in question, though he gripped your arms to keep you close.

You answered him by licking further into his mouth, kissing him deeper. You broke for a moment, just to meet his eyes. The heat in his was familiar, prickling delightful sensations across your skin. Especially when he dragged you into his lap and continued to devour you against the kitchen table.

Your hands slipped under his black Henley and between the muscles in his back. Some of them twitched under your touch, and you let your nails drag slowly back down his spine.

Fuck, he shuddered. It felt nice (and arousing), but it reminded him of other times your nails had raked across his back.

He gripped your thighs tight, and he contemplated laying you out right here on the dining table, for all he cared. Matter of fact, he’d eat apple cake off your body, if you were down for it.

Unfortunately, that was when Sam finally unlocked the door and got home from work. He caught you and Dean breathless and pupils wide, your hair frizzy and your shirt halfway up over your bra. You hastily tugged it down, while he did the same for himself.

Meanwhile, Sam just rolled his eyes.

“You do have a room, you know,” he said wryly.

Dean cleared his throat and shot you a meaningful look. You nodded, slipping off his lap. But you grabbed his hand and pulled him up with you.

Dean shot his brother a wink over his shoulder. “When the room’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.”

Sam scoffed. “As if I’d give myself that kind of family trauma.”

“Leftovers are in the fridge, Sam!” you called, even though you were halfway down the hall with Dean on your heels.

Sam huffed as he heard your squeal, followed by a door slamming shut. And yet, he smiled. His brother might’ve become part of the “happily committed,” but some things just didn’t change.

Afterwards, you really felt nothing but peace.

Your head rested on your arms, across Dean’s lap. You were comfortable and naked and tangled in his sheets, while he soothed a hand through your wild hair. Ace Ventura played on the TV, and you enjoyed listening to him laugh.

You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to be as vocal. Your body shook in silent laughter, goaded on by his. And that was enough for Dean.

It was enough for you too.

AN: 🥹 I hope you enjoyed that bit of hurt/comfort at the end there, but really throughout this. Dean's really proved himself, hasn't he? But let's talk about "Azazel"...

Did you like the reveal? It changes how you look at Nick, huh?

Well, he's about to get worse.

(Don't worry too much though. There will be protective!Dean.)

Next Time:

He grabbed your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet��no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge.

Keep Reading: PART 13

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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#All in the Family #Smoke Eater #Part 12 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #Castiel #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #zepskies writes

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itsguysnightitsironic · 4 months

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Curse of the Nitghborne.

Guys, I haven't had time to play a lot, but I think the god of this land MAY BE the bad guy, but don't listen to me much.

Get up, folk! Flor did another Curse of Strahdanya crossover after Derek mentioned Lethica fused with Strahdanya as one throw joke in a stream!

The style is indeed inspired by the great art in Hades (the videogame), and the background is by Hades II.

The drawings without text:

Also, this was written at four in the morning, and I refuse to correct my insomniac ramblings this is the beta experience:

Lethica Nightborne as Strahdanya

----LORE------- In Barovia, a land of the dead, of suffering and grief, a new god has appeared out of nowhere covering the land in an eternal night... Of happiness? Lethica Nightborne, known as the Divine, has presented herself as the saviour that the land needed it, for what seems like decades. Her light, her kindness, her power, has changed the region and the hearts of the people to their core, as the land has been reborn... As there's new blood... But of course, you can't blame the nature of evil, so there's still death, suffering and pain in Barovia, but of course, our saviour, our dear wife, cleans it as she chooses. And if she asks for a sacrifice, of course, we will bring it to her, if she asks for the firstborn of every family, we will name the second after her, and if she asks that we take care of her dinner guests, we shall take care of them. -----DESIGN------- All I knew of Lethica was that I wanted her to wear a veil, and she couldn't only be a countess but a whole god, the saviour of Barovia. The churches don't talk about sun gods, only of her, their lady of dark, their god. Her dress comes from mixing Stradhanya's and hers, ending in a very 19th figure, with a bit of Mesopotamian fashion (the metal belts and sleeves with the double skirt) to show her as a figure of the past, as somehow older than she appears. Of course, she had to have some kind of knife so a knife fan, and a cup to show wealth and power (her cup is always full, full of what? Well, if you look at the very pale man under with not a lot of blood left-)

Marius Renathyr as Victoria Issacs

-----LORE------- Marius as a man of Ilmater seems to be QUITE interested in Barovia, a land of suffering and grief, to the extreme that seems too personal to just be a missionary mission to conquer pain. The university doesn't trust him completely, but somehow, even as a new member of the university and resident of Druskenwald, Marius had found a way to get the vote of everyone involved and the funds for the crusade. But what would be the real reasons for such travel? Or... WHO is the real reason? ------DESIGN ------ Inspired by the old missionary ropes of the 1800s and the typical vampire hunter, Marius stands as a very weird-looking holy man. From Victoria's design, we get the rosary turned into this over-complicated necklace and the ropes around his hips that reference the bloody ropes of Ilmater. (Victoria's, and now Marius, god.) And his sword has turned into a cane. (a cane with a blade.)

Yorgrim as Silas "Shepherd" Morgan

-----LORE-------- From the depths of Yona, a mercenary is invited to participate in an expedition to a land of death and suffering. He accepts stating that he has other business in Barovia and he could be glad to accompany the group under the condition he would work in peace when need it. Of course, he refuses to say the kind of work, you know, "professional privacy policy" and all. But by his reputation... It can't be good... -----DESIGN------- I was going to go with a funeral worker, but the scarf with teeth appeared and it changed the vision. The design takes more inspiration from Shepherd than Yorgrim, with the hunter theme, with the shotgun filled with blue magic and a list of hunts on red clay (that would be broken when the hit is eliminated.)

Briggsy "The Kutlass" Kratch as Professor Clayton Azran

LORE------- Briggsy may take the role of the professor, but he's not the expedition's leader. He's contracted by the University of Druskenwald to keep an eye on Marius (since the university is suspicious of the holy man). He accepts, without even wondering or caring what Barovia is, only happy to finally obtain a title under his piracy by the lords of Druskenwald. (He's getting paid to be a pirate, oh the dream!) DESIGN------ With his design, he was the last one and I was VERY tired, so... It's something weird? You know, a pirate trying to look like a "noble man". (but he's very much failing, he looks like a maniac I think)

Jericho Sticks/Virgil as Sarnax of the Edelwood

----LORE----- The cult of Gherix initially refused the university and the idea of letting them explore the runes in their forest. Until they accept but a month away from the expedition which is extremely suspicious. When the group found themselves in the forest, there he is, Jericho, a sacrificial figure of sticks and straw offered by the cult as a guide. (Of course, the poor, only brought to life months ago, strawman is a sacrifice in the name of Gherix that, by burning in Barovia, will give the god control over the whole region. / Indeed, Virgil is now Gherix we get an asshole god, give it up!) -----DESIGN----- Inspired by Wicker Man (giant figures of sticks and straw with animal sacrifices that are burned during Celtic rituals such as the Beltane.) Jericho is turned into a sacrificial figure who will burn when it's necessary by the light that keeps him alive.

Farryn of the Hartsblight as Kana Soyokaze.

-------LORE------- It isn't clear when or how, but Farryn ends up getting involved with the expedition. As a storm in sea, one day, the swordswoman appears out of the blue stating that she's also trying to find her way into Barovia. The deer refuses to explain her business with the "Divine" of all people, only holding her katana with anger and sadness, but she's clearly not looking to make friends. (She ends up being friends with the whole party.) -------DESIGN----- Based on the Sika deer (a Japanese deer), the design lingers more around the fusion character while keeping Farryn's figure, with the open skirt covered by her leg armour that goes up to her hips and the war paint, fur, and bone that stays in view.

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that-one-girls-blog-posts · 5 months

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you're confused about your emotions ? me too babe, here's a quick reading

I chose random images from my pinterest to read into your energy so you can choose randomly aswell, whatever speaks to you♡ also Idk what's with the 2016 songs today but I kept hearing random ones throughout this reading maybe there's some resonance for you

Pile 1

The Moon🌜

first off I'm hearing that song "we don't talk anymore" by Charlie Puth. So maybe you're dealing with some kind of loss right now, maybe a breakup, a fight with a loved one, a new chapter meaning you have to leave someone behind a little... if this is the case, or similar, allow yourself to be "thrown off" a little, those kinds of situations take adjusting and remember that nothing has to be forever. where I come frome we say : "thunderstorms clear the air" meaning that after a fight there's great potential for healthy communications and solving problems once and for all, for a peaceful and harmonic environment♡ A reading about your emotional state and I pull the moon, how well fitting. The answer truly lays on the inside with this one. no one can tell you how you truly feel exept for yourself! (and maybe your therapist) I think for most of you there's a new season starting and you're realising that it can't be all returning characters. Take some time to heal your relationship with relationships and analyze what and who is truly of good value to your life. you got this!

Pile 2

four of swords🗡 and page of pentacles🪙

for you I'm hearing that song "cold water" with Justin Bieber. And you actually need to take a jump into cold water. There's something you've been manifesting and now that it's slowly getting closer you're resisting the change. Maybe by refusing to let go ? It's like little kids now around Christmas, you can actually watch this happen with slight alterations, all the time. Their parents take them to the toystore so they can see what they like, and they child ofcourse find something but their parents tell them okay now time to go home and wait and see if Santa will bring it. But the kid clings to the shelves and doesn't wanna leave behind the thing they so desperately wanted. Little does it now that their parents just need to get them out of sight so "Santa" can buy the gift and deliver it WHEN IT IS TIME. let go of obsessing, overthinking and trying to "go the right path" and just let the story unfold, take it step by step even if its a little scary and you'll find yourself where you're supposed to be, you're so close already♡

Pile 3

seven of swords🗡

It's too heavy darling you can't carry all of that. You might think you do and you think you're so strong and abundant and successful for "having" all of that but then you wouldn't be feeling like this, would you? A burden, too much responsibility, too many goals or to do's for a person who only has 24hours in a day. I know the card typically speaks about actual betrayal but in this case it feels a little paranoid, like you're desperately trying to do it all on your own because your scared of beeing betrayed or someone messing with your vision or even catching evil eye. For you I'm hearing "Lady Marmalade" yk from Moulin Rounge !? I'm not sure how that fits in here and I never watched the movie but oh well, maybe you know what to do with this information. There could be something about sisterhood and sharing a problem (could be workload or talking about problems...). You might have that lonely wolf mindset, but no matter how strong you are, out there, beeing alone can get you killed. I keep seeing pictures of spiritual communities and churches, you might wanna be looking for something like a mediation or yoga class, bible study group, a coven.... depending on your beliefsystem! you're right not everyone is your friend but also not everyone is your enemy!

ps. reading back this comes off a little weird and I feel like I need to say this. please don't join a cult lol. If you are in some kind of group and things feel off, please take care of yourself♡

hope that helped <3

#aa #free reading #selfcare #self love #tarot #emotional health #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #manifestation #intuitive readings #selfhelp

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cod-dump · 1 year

Note

Simon “emotionally constipated” Ghost Riley is a cuddler. But Johnny’s the only one he’ll ever do it with

Only You

SoapGhost fic

___

From day one Ghost had made it clear that his personal space was for him and him alone. He detested people touching him for any reason. Everyone usually picked up on this and left him be. But Soap didn’t get the memo.

“Hey, LT!”

The warm pat to his shoulder made Ghost jerk and his first instinct was to grab the hand that touched him and remove it. But then he saw Soap appear next to him with his usual warm smile and he stopped himself from acting on that instinct.

“Sergeant…”

Touch has always been something special to Ghost. Physical affection was rare (or a kind touch in general) for him when growing up. For the longest time, no matter who it was, someone touching him made him flinch and he would act out in response. Any contact that he did not approve of beforehand was a insult to his nerves.

The glare he gave Soap made him remove his hand and give an apologetic smile. From that day on Soap was careful about touching Ghost. But he was also making an effort to befriend Ghost. Ghost found himself unable to respond in a ‘normal’ manner so he just stared at Soap’s attempts. It genuinely confused him on what he was feeling when Soap joked with him, when he checked on him during leave.

One moment that stuck out was Soap stopping by his office and giving him a mug of tea. And what really got him was Soap made it very sweet (just how he likes it). No cream or honey, just a shit ton of sugar. Since then, Ghost didn’t get onto him for any accidental touches. He didn’t immediately pull away or glare at him until Soap stopped touching him. He never said anything about the change but Ghost knew that Soap noticed.

Bit by bit, Soap touched him more. Fingers brushing when he gave him a mug of tea, friendly shoulder bumps, pats on the back. After one very exhausting mission Ghost found himself struggling to stay awake in the carrier as they headed back to base. He would jerk his head when he felt himself dozing, adjust his sitting position to keep himself awake.

Soap noticed, “Hey, LT. Why don’t you rest your head on me?”

Ghost turned and stared at him, “What?”

“I don’t mean anything weird by it! Just… if you’re tired you can always use my shoulder to rest on. Wouldn’t hurt your neck as much.”

Ghost stared and Soap nervously looked away, “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, just leans over and rests his head on Soap’s shoulder. Soap tenses before relaxing. Ghost slept the rest of flight, enjoying the warmth of Soap’s shoulder through his balaclava.

Ghost returned the favor to Soap a month later. The man had gotten shot and bled a good bit before someone was able to stop the bleeding. He was delirious from blood-loss and just leaned his entire body against Ghost before falling asleep. Gaz was with them and went to move him off of Ghost but he was stopped with a glare.

People started talking after that.

Everyone already noticed that Ghost let Soap touch him, but after word got out of Ghost stopping Gaz from moving Soap off of him people started talking. The clear favoritism that Ghost showed towards Soap was a popularly discussed topic on base. Ghost knew any attempt to cease the gossiping would only make things worse so he left it be.

Things were irritating for a bit with the talking and Price starting to take an interest in what was going on like a old church lady. But Ghost never stopped Soap from touching him. He couldn’t bring himself to. He even found himself longing for more contact with him. He found himself thinking about feeling their skin touch, of how warm it would be. He’s seen Soap’s skincare routine, he knows that his skin is soft.

Ghost felt weird for thinking that, guilt even. He kept how he felt locked up inside, not letting it potentially ruin his relationship with Soap. He even swore to himself he wouldn’t let childish desires influence him in any way…

But then Soap brought him some bourbon.

He came up to him late at night in the rec room. A fancy bottle in hand accompanied by his award winning smile.

“I know you like this over anything else so I got you a bottle. Care to have a drink with me?”

Ghost just stared at Soap, the man sweating some and growing nervous at the intense, silent gaze directed at him.

“LT?”

Ghost steps forward and Soap steps back in response. But he kept moving forward and Soap kept moving away until he was against the wall with no where else to go.

“He-Hey! I’m sorry if I crossed a line!”

Ghost takes the bottle of caramel colored liquor before hugging Soap. Soap is stiff like a board in his arms but he didn’t care. Soap’s warmth was addictive and he buried his masked face into the crook of his neck. After a moment Soap wraps his arms around Ghost’s torso, patting his back.

“Gave me a scare there!”

“Thank you, Johnny…”

Soap goes quiet before he actually returns the hug. One arm going around Ghost’s neck and squeezing him.

“You’re welcome, Simon.”

They ended up having that drink. And that drink ended up being the whole bottle. Both men were absolutely trashed and passed out, neither remembering anything. Ghost woke on the couch, the fog of sleep and the after effects of drinking more than half a bottle of bourbon riding alongside it. He felt warm, safe. He nestled into the warmth of whatever he was laying on and drifted back into the realm of sleep.

When he woke the second time, there was hushed voices. And one voice was coming from directly below him.

“-leave us be, Gaz. Fuckin’ tired.”

“But-“

Ghost growls, “Fuck off, Garrick.”

His voice was muffled by Soap’s chest but Gaz heard him loud and clear judging by the surprised yelp that came from him. The man left and Ghost sighs, feeling Soap’s arms tightening around him.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.”

“Is it?”

“Yea… We slept in a couple hours past your alarm.”

Ghost groans, that was new. He couldn’t remember the last time his alarm didn’t wake him. He feels Soap shift, face nuzzling into his hair and the arm around his shoulders readjusting.

“Should probably get up.”

Ghost grunts at that. They really should get up. But he didn’t want the experience to end, not yet.

“Five more minutes.”

He could feel Soap’s smile and the fondness in his voice, “‘Course, LT… Five more minutes.”

#was supposed to be a short drabble but i got carried away #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ask #fic #fanfic #cod mwii #call of duty #modern warfare

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for lying about my hair routine?

So, I (25F) don't have a lot of things that I am proud of, appearance wise. But the one thing i AM proud of is my hair. I have these, like, really soft and pillowy brown curls. Like, big fluffy 3A-3B ringlets.

My hair has always been curly, but I was bullied and harassed as a kid for it because I am the only person in my family with curly hair. As such, no one knew how to help me take care of it, so I'd have people both in and outside of my family telling me that I looked like a slob, that I looked lazy, that I looked like I'd just rolled out of bed, etc.

My hair WAS frizzy and messy, but whenever I tried to do something about it, I'd have people tell me I was just trying to be special, and that I knew it looked better straight, so I should just get over it and do the thing that I knew would make it look good. I grew up in Mormon country, so the pressure to look "professional and respectable" (read: conventionally attractive, thin, and white) was very heavy. I either straightened my hair or put it in a tight braid for about a decade before finally going to a curly hairdresser, having her cut it all off and starting fresh some 4 years ago.

Now that the damaged hair is fully gone and I know how to take care of it all, my curls are flourishing. I can't go anywhere without someone complimenting them. It's really lovely.

Now to the part where I might be an asshole. A lot of the people I grew up with (family, my mom's friends, people that go to my parent's church) have also noticed my hair, and are always asking me about my routine.

Now that the natural hair movement has sort of taken off, suddenly the women that got on my case about looking "lazy" and "ratty" and "homeless" all want curls, even if (especially if, in a lot of cases) they don't have a naturally curly hair texture.

Like my mom, for example, has had thick, gorgeous straight hair her entire life--like, it could barely hold a curl even if you used an iron and gelled that shit in place. And she was always complimented for it! But now that the women on her instagram page are showing off their curly girl methods, it's the only thing she can think about, and she talks about how jealous she is of my hair all. The. Time.

So, it usually goes like this. Someone I know compliments my hair and asks me about my routine. I try to laugh it off, then they ask for products, and I tell them that I just use normal head and shoulders shampoo from walmart. They ask me what method I use, I say that I just wash it, sleep on it, then brush it out in the morning--the same routine they always told me to use as a kid. And they seethe, because that's what they've BEEN doing, and it clearly isn't getting the same results. And I just go "well, I guess it has more to do with your natural texture :)" and move on.

I told my sister about this, and she told me I was being an asshole--that these ladies have moved on from their weird prejudice, so I should let it go and explain what I do and why it probably wouldn't work for them. I know it's petty. I know the nice thing to do would be to explain how my hair texture works and so on. But I take a lot of satisfaction in watching these women be jealous of something that they used to shame me for, so I'm okay with being petty. I guess I know I'm an asshole, but am I justified in it?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

does selkie!soap know that ghost is a changeling? if not can we have him figure it out?

Yes! I absolutely fucking can! Continuation from this post

Soap looked at his husband, watching him carefully. Ghost had eaten twelve pancakes. Not eggos. Eggos would be reasonable. Twelve, full sized pancakes.

To be fair, Ghost had been the one cooking them, so it wasn’t that noticeable to anyone else. They all had large appetites. Big men, big muscles, bit metabolisms.

But Soap was watching Ghost make more for himself and he was clearly trying to make it seem like he hadn’t eaten that much. It was odd.

His husband. What a funny phrase to be able to use now. Anyway. His husband was odd.

He poured more syrup on his pancakes, he made chocolate chip for Soap, blueberry for Gaz, strawberry for Price and from the looks of it, plain for himself. Ghost ate in the kitchen, probably to keep them from seeing his face. It wasn’t unusual, but Soap couldn’t help but wonder how often Ghost was using it to hide his odd eating habits.

The next was simpler. Ghost’s gloves had torn. His hands looked normal but very pale.

“Guess you don’t get out in the sunlight much, huh LT?”

“Not really.” Ghost rubbed his hands together gently.

Soap tossed him again and turned away, only to hear it thunk against the floor. He looked backed to see Ghost just staring at it.

“I’ll stick to knives.”

“There’s a lot of people. I’d feel better if you have a gun.”

“Do you have one with a grip?”

“What? No.” Soap stared at him for a minute and Ghost relented. He picked the gun up and followed him.

It wasn’t until later that he finally got to put the gun down and Soap saw them. Everywhere the metal had touched his hands were burns. Severe ones. In parts, especially where he’d have it pressed hard to his palm, the skin had started to bubble and crack.

Ghost noticed him staring and dropped the gun. “Ironic. A sniper who can’t actually touch it. S’why I wear the gloves...”

“Ah...” Soap thought of the steel and therefore the iron in the gun. His whole not human theory was starting to make much more sense.

It was such an odd topic to bring up, but they were on it and Soap was determined to use it.

“Yeah, personally I grew up Roman Catholic. Got the baptism and everything.” According to his dad, who had laughed about it, his mom had begged him not to, worried it would kill Soap or make him human. According to his mom, his dad had jumped at the idea that baptism might make him human. It did neither of course. “What about you, LT?”

“My mom was Protestant, but I never was baptized. She stopped taking us before I was old enough to do it.”

“Why?”

Ghost paused, glancing around. No one was really focusing on them so he shrugged. Soap had noticed that although the bond effected him in the usual ways, the world revolving more around Ghost, him always being aware of Ghost, feeling Ghost’s presence around him at all times, yada, yada, it had also affected Ghost, which was interesting. It made him a little more open with Soap. Just Soap. If that sent a thrill through him, no one needed to know.

“My mom took me and Tommy every Sunday. My dad occasionally tagged along. One day, one of the patrons caught me stealing an extra piece of the communion bread. This lady made it fresh and it was fucking great. They told my dad and he hit me with a bible so hard it knocked me to the ground. Right in front of everyone. My mom stopped taking us to church after that.” Ghost told it all to him quietly. “I had liked going, even though I didn’t believe in it. Always felt insincere, but it made my mom happy.”

“Oh.” Soap stared. “How old were you?”

“I think I was seven.” Ghost hummed and looked away. “Never got baptized. Probably good thing. They always heated the holy water up.”

Soap prepared himself for the joke of “boiling the hell out of it” but after a moment he realized Ghost was sincere.

The holy water burned him.

Soap suddenly had a vague idea of what he was.

Soap had a heavy suspicion at this point. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Ghost was, so he decided to do a little experiment to see.

Before he left that morning, he turned his shirt inside out and then slipped his hoodie over it. The only exception being creatures that had to notice.

Ghost stared at him for a moment before he simply turned away and ignored him. Soap tried to get his attention and Ghost just wrinkled his nose and turned away from him.

Gaz gave them an odd look and Soap just smiled awkwardly before stepping away. He fixed his clothing and tried once again to strike up a conversation.

Immediately, Ghost actually talked to him. It was his usual rather quiet amount but it was definitely there.

“Why did you ignore me?”

“What are you talking about MacTavish?”

“Right now. You ignored me.”

“You weren’t talking to me a minute ago. You need to go to the medics?” Ghost seemed genuinely concerned.

“Nah, probably just dehydrated. I’ll go grab a drink.” He smiled at him and stepped away.

Gaz looked at him. “I think Ghost is going a tad crazy.”

“Nah, think he’s fucking with me.” Soap covered for him.

Gaz didn’t look like he believed him but he dropped it.

“Johnny, why are we on a secluded beach in the middle of the fucking night?” Ghost had followed him though. In his civvies, the soft hoodie and sweatpants clinging to all the right places. His mom didn’t warn him how bad marriage would feel at first. Or more, how bad one sided marriage would feel. He wanted to attack Ghost. Throw himself at him and claim his husband in every way he could.

“Simon. I need to talk to you about something.” Ghost turned towards him. Soap vaguely put the face he remembered from Los Almas over the ski mask. He was glad Ghost went with this instead of the plastic mask and balaclava. That day, the kohl makeup had run all the way down Ghost’s face, covering his cheeks and his nose. His hair was shaggy and curled oddly, sticking up all over the place. It had been shoved down as if to cover his ears and it felt in his eyes. Despite clearly being cut into a buzzcut recently, it looked like it hadn’t worked too well. Soap had wondered at the time if it had been unfinished and he had to rush it.

Now that he knew he was a changeling, it made more sense. Their hair tended to grow unnaturally fast and choppy.

“What do need to talk about Johnny?” Ghost seemed worried. He glanced at the coat around Soap’s shoulders.

“I... I know you’re not human.” Soap decided to start there.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ghost laughed. There was a slightly bitter edge to it. “Oh, fuck off, Soap. You know, out of everyone, I never expected that shit from you.” He started to turn away from him.

“I’m not either.” Soap thought he was playing coy. It made sense, Soap would never admit it so easily and this Ghost. King of not saying shit about himself.

“MacTavish,” Ghost looked at him, “you may be experiencing psychosis. Sometimes men on the battlefield...” Soap stared at him, hearing him like he was muffled through more than just his mask.

Did Ghost... not know?

There was no way Ghost didn’t. He hid away all his oddities. Been so careful. There was no way he didn’t at least expect it.

“Have you ever heard of a selkie?” Soap interrupted.

“The seals that turn into humans. Yeah, I guess.”

“I need you to understand I’m not... I’m...” Soap sighed. “Just. I need you to trust me for a just a minute, okay?”

Ghost stared at him for a long while before nodding slightly. “Okay.”

Soap slowly slipped his coat off and then started to undress. He kept his eyes downcast, but he could feel Ghost’s eyes on him. Scanning over him with growing alarm.

Soap wrapped his coat around him before he shucked off his underwear.

“Johnny.” Ghost said softly and there was something there that Soap needed a lot more time to unpack.

“Trust me.” Soap said softly. “Just... could you turn around for a minute?”

“You’re willing to undress in front of me but not do... whatever you’re about to do?” Ghost sounded... amused. It made butterflies in his stomach.

“It’s unpleasant.” Soap said softly. Ghost finally turned around him.

His coat fused with his skin and the transformation was... unpleasant to look at it. His fur laced with him and he sorta fell to the ground, luckily able to muffle himself so it didn’t startle Ghost.

There he was. A harbor seal. He barked and Ghost turned around slowly, staring at him.

Ghost continued to stare. And continued. And stared.

Soap slowly rolled over to his expose his stomach. He couldn’t exactly talk, but his dogtags, which he had clearly been wearing, were around his neck now.

Ghost slowly moved closer, touching the chain and reading the name. He didn’t move, staying crouched over him.

Soap could see the ring of gold around his pupils again.

“Oh.” Ghost said softly.

The transformation back was much easier and faster. His snout seemed to wrinkle before splitting and he poked his head out, shaking his head. It looked like he had just had the coat over his face, but Ghost knew better.

“Take your mask off.” Soap muttered against him, the coat splitting down his chest to go back to a more coat like shape. His bare chest was out but he was smart enough to cover his lower half.

Ghost stared at him even longer and Soap knew for a fact he hadn’t blinked the entire time. He reached up and pulled Ghost’s mask off for him.

There was Simon.

Oh.

Oh God he’s incredibly hot.

Simon hadn’t put the make up on so Soap was treated to his freckles. They were... He sat up and grabbed Simon’s face who didn’t seem that surprised by it honestly.

They sparkled. They weren’t like a human’s at all. One, they were mostly shaped like stars instead of just dots and fleck. Two, they were a stunning gold color that reflected the moonlight.

Soap reached up and ran his hands through Ghost’s hair. It was just like before, spiky and uneven despite clearly being freshly trimmed. His ears were pointed like an elf, too severe to look normal.

“When the body modifications came out, I just blamed it on that...”

“Do you... know?” Soap spoke gently to him but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His husband was right here.

“No. I don’t... know. I didn’t even know there were other things like me. Thought I was just... wrong.”

“I think you may be a changeling.” Soap admitted. “I may have... tested it. A couple of times, trying to see if I could figure it out.”

Ghost glared at him and he went to take his mask back, but Soap stopped him. “Johnny... Please.”

“Simon.” Soap said softly, pulling him a little closer and Ghost finally slid to his knees instead of crouching. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Simon looked at him and suddenly stiffened. “When I took your coat.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t... You didn’t purposely do anything.” Soap reassured.

“But I did do something.”

Soap sighed. “This isn’t... the conversation I wanted to have tonight... What do you know about selkies?”

“Take their coat and you can control them. That’s it.”

“Pretty accurate. It’s a little more than just control though. When someone holds my coat, there’s an instinct under my skin. A desperation to please is the best way I can put it. It’s a survival tactic to keep from being punished according to my mom. You do what you can to keep your master happy so they don’t strike out at you.”

“Have you...” Simon was touching him now. Holding his face and putting his arm around him. “Been...”

“Twice. Once when I was 12 for two months and once when I was 17 until I turned 19. The first one was by a kid my age and it wasn’t... nothing happened. People usually get concerned.” Johnny smiled at him.

“And the other one?”

Johnny shook his head. “Another day. Please.”

“Another day.” Simon promised. “But what did I do?”

“You gave it back. The way you did it... You pick it back in my hands. You didn’t let me grab it.”

“Is that bad?”

“We’re married. Kinda. It’s not legally binding, of course. It can be ignored. Even broken.” Soap mumbled the last parts. It hurt. He’d like to blame it on his coat. That it was making him a little crazy. But he knew it wasn’t just that. The idea of being rejected by Ghost was... He cared a lot for Ghost and it had nothing to do with being not quite human.

Ghost was staring again. “Since the hospital. That was weeks ago.”

“Yeah. I suppose it was. Look, I can tell you how to break it.” Soap felt Ghost’s mouth on his and the arm pulled him closer, right against his broad chest.

“I haven’t been a very good husband to you.” Ghost joked, but there was a layer of stress underneath it.

Soap shrugged. “I haven’t been a very good bride.” He leaned in closer.

“Would you... like to be?”

“If you’d have me.”

Ghost huffed. “I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Good. Although, you are going to have to court me. My mom is not very impressed with you right now.” Soap got up.

“You talked about me to your mom?” Ghost was scrambling to get up and follow him.

“Of course. Had to tell her some Brit married me. She was worried.” He flashed him a smile and tossed him his mask.

“How the fuck do I court you?” Ghost tugged it on and followed him. He gathered up Soap’s clothes, watching him twirl around barefoot on the beach.

“Figure it out.”

“Can I have your mom’s number?”

“Why the fuck do you need that??”

“To ask her how! Also I want your mom to like me.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Selkie Soap

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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months

Note

I stumbled upon your blog because of those JJ-Reid posts, and lol, finally, someone said it. I don't know where you stand on this, but I genuinely don't understand people who hype JJ and Derek's relationship with Spencer. I might be wrong, but both of them are the worst to him, in my opinion. Sure, they have their 'good' moments, but the amount of condescending and demeaning commentary they give to Reid is crazy. And no, Spencer isn't my favorite character, but even then, what JJ and Morgan did to Reid always made me uncomfortable. I think the only two who really care and listen to Reid are Blake and Emily. In my personal opinion, Reid x Emily relationship (platonic OFC) is really underrated.

worst to spencer goes jj first ofc and then derek idc.

the thing with the nightmares, telling gideon and forcing him to talk about it just rubbed me the wrong way. i can't remember exactly but there's another point where derek gets really personal about something and is such a dick to spencer for no reason.

i haven't finished the show yet(i got to s11 and then restarted it with my meemaw:3)so idk if penelope ends up being mean to spencer but so far her and emily are the only ones who take accountability for how they treat others, they don't just use their emotions as a fallback for being a bad friend like everyone else, emily was genuinely sorry for not being able to tell spencer and genuinely had a sit down talk with him about it and penelope saved his life, did one thing she never wanted to do, killed a man for him because he's her friend and she loves him.

completely agree that the best friendship in cm is emily and spencer all the fucking way. the way she was desperately looking for him in that one episode with the church cult UGH and the hug? that. ladies and gentleman. is how you love a man. she loves him. jj does not. she loves the idea of him. a real gentleman who can treat a woman right, but oh how dare he come with baggage.

i love blake and spencer's relationship too, the way he kinda immediately attaches himself too her bcs of her motherly nature is really sweet and i like that it's unspoken that he sees her as a motherly figure and she sees him as a sort of son.

hotch i can forgive for being a little mean to spencer because he was never too mean and he never claimed to love him or be his best friend or brother or any of that, although hotch does love him he doesn't broadcast it for brownie point like the others and the times he was mean he was really stressed and took it out on more than just spencer, unlike the others who pick the pushover who won't yap back and bitch at him when they're mad.

don't even get me started on elle. they were endgame.

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vampire-exgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

Hello, hello! First I wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing. So thank you for sharing it with us common folk! Second regarding your open asks if possible and whenever: Bare and/or copper for Osferth? Pretty please? :) but only if you feel like it! xx

After Dark

I decided to play around with some season five Osferth for this one and really like how it came out. I've started to realize I always make baby monk a lil closet freak lol

Pairing: Osferth x reader (first person)

Rating: E

Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of blood

masterlist

Word that Rumcofa was to have a new Lord spread like wildfire, making its way through the church gossips to the tavern drunks and every home in between.

When he finally arrived, I found Lord Uhtred to be a decent enough sort, though maybe too pretty for his own good. Eyes followed him everywhere, raking over the hair that gave him away as a fellow Dane, to his charming smile and down his lean body. The men he traveled with respected him, and he in turn treated them with great affection. The Irishman, Finan, was quickly entangled with Ingrith, and Sithric Kjartansson brought with him a wife from Wessex. That left Alfred and Edward's bastards for the women of Rumcofa to fight over, one barely out of boyhood and the other an utter contradiction, wearing the cross of his god and the armor of a warrior.

They went for the handsome contradiction in droves.

For months the group would take up residence in the tavern. They were polite enough, rowdy on occasion, and happy to drink like they'd just survived a drought. Osferth, the elder bastard boy, would send shy eyes across the room, darting away when I looked back at him. It was hard not to preen under his sweet attention, even when other women dragged him from his table and out into the dark.

He spoke softly, never really saying much at all, but when he did speak, I found myself listening, hoping to catch the sound of his voice as I wiped down tables and cleaned up the discarded cups.

After enough push and pull, eyes meeting over crowded rooms, Osferth reached out, his fingers wrapping around the bones of my wrist as I attempted to scoot by with hands full of cups.

Shock bled over his face, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually gone through with the action, as opposed to just imagining it. But he recovered quickly, smiling up at me. My own mouth curled up at the corners. "Yes, monk?" I asked with a raised brow. If his friends noticed, they said nothing, keeping their eyes averted.

"Lady, not to insinuate anything or assume," he cleared his throat, "but might I walk you home tonight?"

My other brow rose, the two pinching in confusion. "You want to…walk me home?"

He nodded.

I glanced around the room, at his friends, at the other women I knew would jump at the opportunity. But when I looked back he still had that earnest expression on his face. "You don't seem to hurt for company. Why are you asking me?"

"It is your company I've sought for months now, I've only just worked up the nerve to say so." His hand was warm on my forearm where his fingers grasped. My eyes darted between his hand and his reddening face. It became obvious that any experience the barely-not-a-boy had was recently gained. He released me and I was surprised to find I missed the heat of his skin against mine.

"I suppose you could walk me home." My eyes fell on his friends, loud in a good natured sense and nearing drunk, their laughter carrying through the room. "If your friends decide they're ready to wrap up, that is.

Osferth turned to the Irishman, his blue eyes pleading. "Finen, if I've come to mean anything to you, you and Sihtric will go home."

"What? Now?" Finen's gaze slid between his friend and myself, narrowing and then widening again in realization. He slapped the skinny Dane on the back. "Finish up, Sihtric. Our baby monk has plans of the carnal variety."

Osferth looked as if he prayed the ground would open and swallow him whole, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. I just rolled my eyes and set to the task of cleaning the now sticky tables.

Half an hour crawled by and when I made my way to the door, the room was empty. Disappointment settled heavy in my gut when I realized Osferth had left with his friends. But I supposed it was for the best. There wasn't much point in getting tangled up with him anyway, even if it promised to be a good time. I had learned through my time in Rumcofa that Danes and christians were like oil and water.

I stepped out into the drizzle, the moon obscured by heavy clouds, the torches that lit the way sputtering as raindrops hit the flames. Pulling the heavy door closed behind me, I jumped when a throat cleared in the dark.

"Hel take you," I snapped, my heart thundering, my hand coming to rest over my chest as if to keep it from bursting open.

Osferth looked at the ground, biting back a grin before he glanced back up at me. His hands were clasped behind his back and for a moment he looked younger than his years, a little unsure of where we went from here. I took no mercy on him, sidestepping him as I found the path that would lead me home. When he didn't move to follow me, I looked over my shoulder before jerking my chin forward. He smiled again and jogged to meet me, his steps falling in time with mine.

The earth was damp, wet seeping into the hem of my dress as we walked up the gently rolling hill toward my home. After being so insistent on my company, Osferth was quiet, his eyes darting between me and the road ahead, his face pensive.

“You are thinking so hard I can hear it,” I teased, nudging his shoulder with my own. My house loomed before us, our walk coming to an end.

“I was just wondering…,” he trailed off.

“Wondering what?”

“If it would be alright if I came inside.” Even in the dark, with just the pale light of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, I could see the blush that stained his cheeks.

“Are you sure you would not rather spend your evening with Gudrun?” I asked, not entirely joking. I wasn’t interested in being forgotten as soon as the sun rose, like the rumors said Osferth had a tendency to do. But there was something about this monk, this fighter, that had pulled me in since I first laid eyes on him. “She lives just over there.” I pointed to a house on our right, candlelight flickering through the window. “Or Elfreda? Her husband is still gone to Mercia. She speaks of you fondly.”

“Fond is not necessarily the word I would use, Lady.” His eyes found mine as we stopped outside my door. "I have no idea how she speaks of me. In truth, we’ve had one conversation…about her goats."

Something small and warm lit up in my chest. “You have never…?”

“Not with Gudrun or Elfreda.”

“Well that’s something, I suppose,” I said, a fragile smile curling at the edges of my mouth. “You can come in, but I will hear nothing about my heathen ways, monk.”

He grinned and it went to my head, leaving my fingertips tingling with the desire to touch him, to make him grin again. “Osferth will do, Lady. And after spending so much time with Lord Uhtred, I would never think to say a word about your ‘heathen ways’.”

I smiled back and shouldered open the door, gesturing for him to enter first. It was strange to see Osferth in my space, which was really just a large room I'd done my best to make comfortable. It held a hearth with a pot for cooking, a bed in the corner piled with furs and blankets, and a small table in the center of the room for meals. I made quick work of a fire, the sound of logs crackling filling the silence. For a man who had a tendency to blend in most places, Osferth stood out stark in the doorway. His sharp blue eyes darted around the room, taking in each detail, snagging on Frejya’s rune carved into the doorframe.

“What is this?” He asked, running a long finger over the lines. I was mesmerized by the grace of his hand, large and scarred and still so gentle as he traced over the carving.

“Fehu,” I answered, stepping up behind him, nearly close enough to touch. “Freyja is the goddess of love, but also of death and battle. She instructs us to have strength, to know our own worth. It is a reminder for me.”

He turned and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of him. A shy smile pulled at his lips and suddenly all I could think of was kissing him. I wondered if he would be any good at it or if he was as well practiced as rumors would have me believe. He cleared his throat. "It's good to believe in oneself." He raised a hand, trailing his thumb over my cheek. "What else do you believe in, Lady?" His eyes were dark, like a storm over the sea, and for a moment I forgot how to speak.

"Odin tells us to always seek knowledge."

"And Odin is like God?" He asked, his gaze falling to my mouth.

I grinned. "Yes and no. He is king of the gods, for a time. We make sacrifices to him, but also Frig, to look after our fate, and Freyr to bless our harvests, and Thor for protection. And one day Ragnarok will come and the world will be washed away to start anew."

"Like the great flood," he murmured, stepping closer. "A man was told by God to build a boat, to gather his family and two of every animal and prepare for a long journey. Then he flooded the world to give them a fresh start."

My hands rose to his chest, fingers pressing into the leather armor he wore, embossed with the shape of a cross. "I wonder how lonely it would be to be the last two people on earth. It seems like quite a responsibility."

Osferth made a low noise in the back of his throat, as if he was considering me. He stepped forward, backing me up until my legs met the table. "Lady?"

My gaze danced between his eyes and his lips, parted softly around a breath. "Yes?"

"I would like to kiss you now."

A heat rose up in me, from my fingertips and toes, melting inward, and I thought for a moment I might be glowing with it. "I think you should."

"Oh, thank Christ," he muttered, his large hands coming to cup my jaw, his lips crushing against mine. He wasn't as gentle as I had anticipated, as if he knew I wasn't gentle either and hoped to meet me in the middle.

His hands abandoned my face to grasp at my waist and heave me up onto the table before he stepped between my knees. He tasted sweeter than I imagined as I curled my hands in the blond hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to me. Wrapping me in his arms, wiry and lean, he stepped closer, pressing me back and holding me to him. If he let go I would fall.

I prayed he wouldn’t let go.

Osferth took my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, his fingers digging into the meat of my waist and pulling himself forward into the cradle of my pelvis. I could feel him beneath the thick fabric of his robes, straining toward me. Without thought, I reached between us and cupped him, flexing my fingers around the outline of his cock, stroking and getting a feel for him. He moaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

“Lady.” His voice was rough in his mouth, his breath warm against my face. “Keep doing that and I won’t be able to help myself from laying you over this table.”

I nuzzled at the cut of his jawline. “Lay me down then, monk.”

His eyes were dark when he pulled back, his lips pulled into a thin line as he regarded me. He nodded, more to himself than to me, before tugging at the laces at the back of my dress. I gasped at his hidden strength, lurching forward and catching myself against his chest. He pulled the laces loose and let the sleeves fall slack, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the skin of my shoulder. I attempted to make quick work of the clasps that held his armor on, rejoicing in the thud as it hit the floor. He tore the robe he wore over his head, dropping it beside the breast plate before helping me to wriggle out of my dress. When I was bare before him, he loomed over me, and my mouth watered at the fine cut of his body. He was tall and lean, all sharp angles and hard planes, and I ached to touch every inch of him.

Osferth tugged me to the edge of the table before falling to his knees. His eyes met mine for a split second before he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the center of me. The flat pass of his tongue left me reeling and I was torn between the desire to drop back and enjoy the sensation and the need to watch him, to memorize the way he looked as he tasted me.

Rough hands spread my thighs farther apart before reaching higher, holding the very center of me open, leaving me vulnerable. Osferth groaned at the sight, a small pained sound, before leaning forward and devouring me. He was messy, spreading the slick that had gathered, moaning when his nose dragged over that tight bundle of nerves and my back bowed off the table. He slid two fingers in easily, and I dropped my head back, my hands finding his hair and tangling in the sandy strands.

"More," I gasped, biting the word out from between clenched teeth. I felt him smile against me, a slow wicked curve of his mouth, as he pressed a third finger inside and stretched me open. His lips latched on to that spot that had me crying out and it took nothing else for me to find my release, my hips bucking against his face for more even as the feeling became too much, too sharp. I twitchted and shuddered as sparks danced over my skin and still he licked and sucked at me.

My stomach tumbled over itself when Osferth rose to stand over me, my slick glistening on his chin, the light from the fire painting him beautifully.

"I think I'd like to take you to bed now, Lady," he said and held out a hand. I accepted and let him pull me to standing, his hands capturing my face as soon as my feet were steady on the floor, his mouth catching mine in a feverish kiss that I could taste myself on. "You taste divine," he murmured against my lips.

I walked backward toward the bed, pulling him with me before turning and pushing him gently back against the furs. He dropped, resting his weight on his elbows. "I think I'd like to return the favor," I mused, my eyes unable to settle, too distracted by each ripple of lean muscle as he unlaced his trousers, lifting his ass to slide them down his thighs. Light hair was dusted over his legs, shining in the glow from the hearth. He was more lovely than any of the paintings the little church in town boasted as he watched me with hooded eyes. The mattress dipped beneath my added weight as I settled between his knees, taking his cock in hand and stroking. Osferth groaned when I tightened my grip.

I took him between my lips and he moaned, his hands finding the back of my head. Our eyes met and he licked his lips, sucking in a sharp breath as I took as much of his length as I could. He tasted like salt and skin, tangy against my tongue as I twisted it around the tip of him. His hips bucked and he slid down my throat. I couldn't stop the gag the motion triggered and he groaned again at the feeling. I let him hold my head still, sliding in and out of my mouth at a languishing pace, as if he were using my body to tease himself, to take himself to that edge only to pull back at the last moment.

"God above, Lady," he grunted, trying to pull back. He caught me under the arms and dragged me up his body, his hands finding the soft flesh of my hips and belly as he kissed me deep and slow. It was an easy kiss to melt into. Osferth laid me back against the furs and settled between my thighs, the hard ridge of his cock sliding through my slit. I angled my hips upward, hoping to catch him, to pull him inside. He pushed forward just an inch, the very tip of him barely breaching me. I thought I would scream. I thought I would break apart and scatter to the winds if he didn't fill me, if he didn't move.

"Don't be cruel," I whined. Reaching up, I grabbed the cross that he wore around his neck, using the cord to pull him closer.

His hand came down on my hip as I tried to shift, to take him deeper. "Hush, Lady," he murmured. "We have all the time in the world." He pulled back, only to tease me again with the barest hitch forward.

"Osferth, please. Please, I'll do whatever you want just - gods, please, fuck me."

I didn't know if it was the whimper of his name or the begging, but without warning, he buried himself in me and I thought I would break open around him. "Christ, you're so tight," he moaned, his breath coming in pants against my temple. "Feels like I'll split you in half."

His words woke something within me, something dark and hungry. "Do it," I whispered. "Break me. Do whatever you want."

Osferth growled, the sound like some great beast, as he bent his body around mine and began to fuck me in earnest. His teeth found my shoulder and he bit down, pain blooming hot and sudden as I felt the skin split beneath his teeth. He rutted into me and I was sure I would feel him for days, sore and aching and needy for more of him.

"Lady." The word was so close to a whimper that I couldn't help the moan it pulled from my chest, the way my nails raked over the freckled skin of his back. He kissed the wound left behind by his teeth before dragging his lips over my collarbone, one large hand clutching at my breast, bringing it to his mouth to pull my nipple between parted lips. This time he bit down more gently, just a scrape of teeth against sensitive flesh.

I was close, too close to warn him, to say anything. My back arched as I clenched around him, attempting to pull him deeper, to lock him within my body and never let him part from me. "Osferth," I panted, color bursting behind my eyelids. "Osferth."

"Christ, Lady, you'll be the end of me." His hips had lost their rhythm, grinding now, searching out his own release. "I want to fill you up, to feel myself spill in you."

The idea was delicious. I twisted my legs around his slim hips, unwilling to let him go. "Yes," I whispered, meeting his darkened gaze, his mouth falling open as his brows bunched in pleasure. I would make a tea in the morning to ensure there were no consequences, but I needed this, needed him. He kissed me, his tongue tangling around mine as he came, throbbing inside me as I clutched at him. "My Lady," he whispered against my mouth and I swallowed the words to keep forever inside me.

For a moment, we just laid there, our eyes meeting, darting away, and meeting again. Osferth dragged himself from the hold of my thighs and walked to the table, grabbing the clay pitcher I'd filled with water earlier in the day. He made his way back to the bed, dribbling some water over a cloth I tossed him and gently cleaning up the mess he'd made of me. After he set the pitcher back down and dropped the ruined rag beside it, he climbed back into bed beside me, dropping a kiss against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for this." His voice was quiet as he traced a gentle fingertip over the wound in the shape of his mouth. "It's unlike me."

"I am happy to have a reminder of what we did tonight."

His blue eyes were soft, unsure, as they met mine. He swallowed, his hand coming to cradle the curve of my jaw. "Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, Lady, but I don't want just tonight with you."

"Forgive you?" My heart thundered in my chest, so loud I was sure he could hear it. "The whores of Rumcofa will mourn for weeks if I choose to keep you," I teased, grinning up at him.

"I think my involvement with the 'whore's of Rumcofa' has been greatly overstated," he pouted, rolling his eyes.

"Is that so?"

Osferth nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to mine. "It is."

I sighed. "I suppose you can stay then." He smiled against my mouth and something warm took root in my belly at the feeling.

He rolled on top of me fully, peppering kisses to my cheeks and neck and chest, settling his weight between my thighs as I laughed. "On my honor, Lady, you won't regret it."

#osferth x reader #osferth #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #my fic

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