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sigmalaussene · 2 months

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Top ten weird ways Oswald Cobbepot gets called in Gotham

As I was rewatching Gotham, I decided to write down every name that people in the show canonically call Oswald Cobblepot aka the Penguin. It was a wild ride. Please enjoy

10. "Funny looking fellow"

(season one)

We start with a simple one. This isn't even an insult, it's just a fact. He is, indeed, a funny looking fellow. I'm pretty sure they say it more than once too.

9. "The Dapper Gangland Kingpin"

(season two)

This one it's just silly, especially since it was written on a newspaper. Just... that's weird ? Idk it's silly it makes me chuckle

8. "Yellow rat snitch"

(season one)

We start getting a little weirder. Why a rat? And, more importantly, why yellow???

7. "Stupid lame birdbrain"

(season four)

Just so mean. Especially since this scene it's his dumb husband making a room full of people chant it

6. "Golden goose"

(season one)

Right back to season one and it's incredible dialogue. This one is particularly amazing thanks to Oswald's reply to it, which was, of course: "Honk honk". I can't even start to describe that scene. It's a classic.

5. "Beaky nosed freak"

(season five)

Definitely the best nickname the last season had to offer. Like, you know that moment when a guy kills your bestfriend/girlfriend and you call him the silliest name you can think of? This is one of those times.

4. "Scaley faced bitch"

(season one)

This is the first one in the show, directly from the first episode. I am a firm supporter of calling men bitches when they deserve it, and he did, so I wholeheartedly approve this message. Adding the scaley face part just makes it more poetic.

3. "Sad little breadhead"

(season two)

This one from never fails. Imagine it delivered with the most condicending tone in the world. Just amazing. Makes me laugh every time.

2. "Fruitcake leprechaun"

(season two)

This. This is the one that started it all. It was thinking about this one that I decided that this rewatch I was gonna write down all the nicknames. I dont know if it has something to do with english not being my first language, so I don't have the background of the word "fruitcake" used as an homophobic remark, but this name is one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.

1. "Limping little chickenbutt second banana"

(season one)

This couldn't not be on the first place. I am obsessed with the writers of this show, i want to get inside their brains. Because like what does it mean? How did they come up with this? I need to know every thought that crossed their mind for them to write this. This is art. This is poetry. Incredible. Amazing. Absolutely insane. Kudos to the actor who played Maroni because if they gave me that line I wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face.

Bonus:

(For the fans, he is also called "the only thing Nygma cares about". Just... you know, in case you forgot)

Some recurrent nicknames are: "Pengy", "Ozzie", "freak", "cockroach", "punk", bird related names (bird/birdman, feathered friend, chicken, turkey...) and "little"/"tiny" followed by almost anything (man, friend, dirtbag, bastard, creep, twerp, freak, weasel...)

Edit: i realize i didn't mention "Major Crumblepot" and that's on me sorry guys

His haircut is described as "disco vampire hair" at one point (another classic)

He is also called "specimen", which is really funny, and "dewdropper"?? for some reason I don't remember but it was in my notes and I couldn't ignore it lmao

#ofc “penguin” is implied #i finished my latest rewatch!!! ajsnakak i love this little silly guy so much AND i made my brother love him too YAY #gotham oswald #oswald copplepot #ed nygma #nygmobblepot #gotham #riddlebird #gotham fox #show #tv show #top ten #top ten weird ways oswald cobblepot gets called #gotham fandom #scaley faced bitch <3 #fandom meme #gotham meme

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sociogalaxy · 2 months

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Confusion ~ MalleusXReader Pt1

You and Malleus were such good friends. It was confusing being in some strange world, but he helped you feel more comfortable. You felt safe and at ease by his side. It wasn't long before you developed feeling, although you'd never tell him. He was going to become a king after all, he deserved better.... Not some human girl.

Today was just any average normal day, nothing felt out of the usual. Not even Malleus. You were waiting for Malleus outside near the Ramshackle dormitory. Soon he arrived, although he seemed happier than usual. You wondered why, although in the end all that matters to you is his happiness.

"Y/N, I brought you something special...I really hope you'll like it." He sounded nervous, although no matter how many thoughts you had, none could figure out why he felt this way. You shook those thoughts away, it was pointless to go on a mental wild goose chase. He carefully handed you a beautiful emerald necklace.

"It's beautiful..." He smiled hearing your words. "but I can't accept this. It's too expensive and I don't want you to waste so much money on me Mal." You expected a frown but instead all you saw was Malleus absolutely heartbroken. It seemed like such an extreme reaction to denying a gift. It felt...odd.

"Oh....well, that is alright. I understand Y/N." He looked so sad. Why? Why was Malleus so heartbroken, it was just a gift rejection. It's not as if you killed his whole family. "I should go now...I'm sure Lilia needs me." With that he left before you should get another word in.

You were nothing but confused and could only stare at your befriended fae as he walked, back turned to you and not even once did he look back. It hurt, it hurt and you didn’t know why it hurt this bad. It felt as if you did something awful but couldn’t figure out what you had done.

gonna make this into 3 parts. This is the beginning and the other two will be different endings owo;; one being angst and one being happy >_< hope you enjoy!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #Disney twst #malleus draconia #malleus #malleus draconia x reader #Malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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me-uglypretty · 6 months

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maybe, just maybe

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Summary: The consequences of confessing your feelings to someone else then having Carol find out about it too.

Warning: (18+), fluff | 2k words

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Cardboard boxes in tones of brown and some appeared with faded graphics in various dimensions were allocated in the spacious kitchen. The style of the room follows a touch of a classic American kitchen, and the few selections of modern electronics. However, the attractive space looked messier at that moment. Boxes stacked over the other, some unpacked with objects laid untidily on the counter top, plates and bowls placed hazardously by the edge of the kitchen sink.

Amidst the apparent chaos that occurs while moving from one location to another, or for this specific case, one spaceship to a landed house—you had found solace by the window, and was seated comfortably on the chair opposite the petite wooden table.

The pictures that were scattered in front of you, holds a vast contrast from the ebony shade table. Old and new, tattered at certain edges, white uneven stripes from folding and unfolding the pictures, and the coarse texture on some as your fingers tenderly trace these memories. A glimpse of life capture through pieces of photograph, the ones you knew and the ones only spoken through elapsed memories. This was all, irreplaceable memories that your heart couldn’t fathom discarding from probing through the box labelled with pictres.

The utter look of concentration on Carol’s face as she wrote that word still lingers warmly in your mind. It diminished into a sweet smile when she noticed your attention on her. You had perceived her mistake after she had proudly pointed towards the rows of labelled boxes. The furrows of her eyebrows after, it didn’t provide an answer as to why you were trying to stop yourself from laughing.

Alike the picture you were admiring, Carol holds a similar emphasis of sweetness in her smile. It was different in some ways, older by years or grown with experience. Though, her smile still hints at her tender heart, someone who’s ready to risk her life for those she loves or simply those who she knew deserves more than corruption. Carol was the same in some ways, opting to fix mistakes that wasn’t hers, and accepting the ones triggered by her own hands.

The soft patter of feet on the wooden floor doesn’t halt your sheer admiration for the pictured woman. It was sounds, the taps of something, but nothing compared to the thoughts that flows through in your mind.

What was so funny that this picture appeared in blurry display of wide smiles? Why was she feigning annoyance while her eyes exhibited such joy? What song was playing here that she was smiling till the lines by her mouth appeared in utter delight?

Questions flows through one after another. Many of which would remain the same. Questions asked for your heart, in your mind, and never for her to hear.

“You should tell her how you feel.”

A shriek erupts from your throat. One hand hastily clutching a picture while the other laid flat on your chest, where your heart beats piercingly.

The reason, Aunty Maneaba standing by the kitchen entrance with a large copper plate in her hands.

“Aunty!” you groaned, wide eyes meeting those glinting in amusement. “Are you trying to kill me? Don’t sneak up on people like that! I’m still too young!”

Muneeba laughed and shakes her head at the noticeable shock on your face. She continued her purpose of arranging the items in the kitchen or pretended, the assumption made by her eyes peering over each item she picked to observe you. Silence engulfs the space, besides for the sound of cardboard scrapping over the other and the clatter of silverware.

A gentle smile resurfaced on your face as your gaze fell upon a photograph of Carol and a very unimpressed Goose. The feelings rushed through like they had never left.

It’s perfect.

If you haven’t noticed the attentive gaze established on you, if you had pretended that the task in your hands was far more important than casual conversations, and if you didn’t contemplate the words spoken from someone who you considered family.

Aunty Muneeba wasn’t of your blood, but she treated you as part of her family. The relationship begun at the peak of life and death, flattering to inviting you for dinner at her home and providing a shoulder of comfort for hours when you missed days that was saturated in innocence.

“Don’t look at me like that, beta. It’s your life, who am I to judge?” Muneeba addressed, her gaze fell on the pictures then meeting your eyes again.

You weren’t aware when your round eyes had shifted to her. The look of confusion, worry, and feelings that left you unable to express yourself correctly. You tried ignoring her presence by arranging the pictures into a stack, but the hum that resonates through her throat and a sigh that leaves yours, doesn’t allow it.

“It’s not— why are you,” you paused as your tongue tucked behind your teeth.

“You know how Kamala is, always blabbering about Captain Marvel this, Captain Marvel that, Carol and Y/n should date…” her eyebrows arched, as if challenging you to continue the lines of apparent lies that she caught.

Embarrassment floods your body with warmth. The hesitate shake of your head doesn’t attest to your denial. “Auntyji, it’s not like that. We’re just good friends!” you excused, emphasising your respect for her with the given term.

A scoffed was met by your rambles that soon followed. “Ha ha ha, sure beta, very good friends. Me and your uncle are good friends too,” she grumbled while advancing to where you sat, and takes the empty seat opposite you. “Now, tell me, who taught you to tell lies because you are terrible at it.”

You allow yourself to laugh as the teasing glint in her eyes returned, dismissing the incited tense moment. “For your information, I hate lying.”

Muneeba’s hand reached for yours. The gesture mimic one shared between a mother and her child. “It’s not wrong to like the girl. I can understand why you’re so attracted to her. Carol is a very nice girl.”

The shaky breath that released from your throat, equals with the trembles of your hands to your heart that wasn’t expecting for such conversation to happen. It was a secret attraction. You were quiet about it.

It just feels that, falling for someone like Carol—the fall doesn’t ever reach an end and neither would those arms embrace your body.

“Didn’t you threatened Carol like a few days ago?” you questioned. “I think there was a threat in there for me too.”

Muneeba rolled her eyes then she stared at you, her gaze softening at your attempt of diverting the conversation. “That was before you became family.”

You struggled to hold yourself from shedding those tears awoken by her gesture. Another excuse almost slips from your mouth, but she manages to hold her glare on you with a look that both provided you comfort and made your nervous.

Maybe Kamala wasn’t lying about her mother’s special ability.

“Okay, fine. I have feelings for Carol, very deep feelings that my heart hurts when I’m away from her,” you confessed, a single tear escapes as pathetically rushed to wipe your cheek.

It's silent for a moment. A deep breath from you, the proud smile on her face, and the unexpected voice that followed with a taunting question.

“You have feelings for me?”

The found solace disrupted at first by your aunt’s confrontation then this, the undesirable revelation to said person who was the reason of such conversation. It triggers the abrupt beats of your heart, abandoned were your hands to their own agony while Muneeba seems to assume it was the best by the show of her thumbs up, accompanied by a reassuring smile as you actively tried delaying her escape.

“What Yusuf? I’m coming!” she proclaimed, and shared a look that conveyed the necessity for you to speak about your feeling for Carol.

You take a deep breath after her departure. The fire instigated at your confession only stirs the uneasiness in your chest as your head hangs low, unwilling to meet the gentle eyes swirling in hues of brown, or any sort of reject exposed by the look on her face.

“You heard everything?” you had timidly asked, hands absently spreading widely on the table as an attempt to find stillness from the horrid circumstance. “Let’s pretend that it didn’t happen. Yeah? Anyway, I need to find Kamala because it’s getting too quiet, and you know it’s never a good thing when—”

Rambles of words that spew from your mouth in rapid speed. Body following the same pace as you stood, pushing the chair back and cringing at the scratchy sound that reverberates, it worsens as your hurried steps caused your body to almost knock into the blonde that hastily held onto your waist.

Carol had stepped forward at the correct moment. Cold hands pressed familiarly by each side of your waist, far too knowing of that affectionate touch that settled your thrashing heart and mind for a moment.

“No,” Carol spoke with the soft shake of her head as she continued, “You said you have feelings for me.”

Those warm eyes remained on yours, seemingly staring into your soul that you found yourself tracing each spec of brown hues in her eyes, noticing the way her pupils were widen or how her eyes were so attentively on you, admiring the way the sun had shone perfectly on her glowing skin, how her golden hair appeared so soft that you wondered how it felt for your fingers to thread through—

A soft whisper of your name had forced your gaze to shift to her mouth, focusing on the curl of her lips or how she parted her mouth to speak. Another murmur of your name and you meet her eyes again.

“Maybe,” you breathed out.

The attempt of looking away had met with failure. It wasn’t easy, not when her eyes and embrace felt strangely familiar. Like a feeling of home was roused by her sheer presence. An addicting feeling that lured your body closer, despite the uncertain steps backward.

“Maybe?” Carol questioned, a conflicted tone in her voice. “Just maybe?”

It shouldn’t be that hard, to agree with her question and make an exit with reasons of searching for the young girl. But why was she smiling at you? What was the reason for the teasing glint in her eyes as she muttered the same word of maybe?

“If I was to ask…for a kiss…you wouldn’t say no?”

However, the response comes so naturally as you smiled at her.

“Nah, I wouldn’t kiss you just cause you’re Captain Marvel.”

The teasing begins at that moment, shy smiles equip with the tender touch of her hands over your waist then one raised to your cheek, warmly stroking the skin beneath her pad of her fingers. It’s so easy for you to lean into her touch that blooms a contented warmth in your chest.

“Would you kiss me if I’m Carol Danvers, and I’ve had the biggest crush on you since the first time you fixed my ship?” Carol’s voice wavered slightly at the question.

You swallowed thickly. “I— you don’t— okay, Carol— you really don’t have to pretend, alright, it’s fine—”

The half-spoken words were halted by Carol pressing her forefinger over your lips. Her touch felt soft and feather like. It’s so intimate, so concentrated, that you felt the line print at the pad of her finger, and the rough skin at one corner of her finger.

You heard yourself inhale sharply and the thumps of your heart sounding so clear. As your mouth parted slightly, her hand glides across the curve of your jaw and her body shifted closer. Carol’s hand pressed firmly on your cheek, it trembles for the mere seconds or was it your body reacting to the unanticipated affection. Her palm was cold, then it wasn’t. Perhaps, the warmth that radiates through your body had engulf the cold from her, and you leaned into that singular touch.

Carol stood there. One hand pressed on your cheek while the other grasping your waist, holding your body from collapsing. Her breaths unite with yours, sounding swallow and shaky. It’s hard to comprehend the thrashing feeling in your chest that seems to shift between calm and absolute panic.

It's a fleeting moment—but you perceived the way her gaze had searched for your own then flickered lower to where your mouth remained speechless and lingering for seconds, before returning to start into yours wondering eyes.

To cry, to laugh, to scream…

Instead, your eyes fluttered closed, basking in the goosebumps that appeared on your skin, and the scent of her shampoo that drift through the air as she stepped closer, and you didn’t move this time. The front of her body and yours pressed together.

This was your day dream—Carol wanting you the same way, Carol feeling the similar thumps that resonates through your chest, Carol holding you in ways that doesn’t signify a friendship, Carol having these deep feelings that she was confidently acting upon—and you thought of how this felt perfect.

When your eyes fluttered open, Carol face was the first sight that encouraged the smile on your face, and she was smiling too, despite inching back slightly, doubt creasing her forehead with crooked lines. You realise that she was waiting for answer or a permission. Carol had to know that you wanted this, the intimate touch of her skin over yours, the space that plead to be bridged.

It begins at first with the nod of your head to ensure her then your hands grasped her cheeks and the push of two bodies as your mouth touched hers. You kissed her. A tender trace of lips and the sharp breath from her, then she seemed to leaned back like she was trying to remember the moment.

Was she equally as shock? Did she dreamed of this countless times before that she wouldn’t survive if it wasn’t real? Why was she gawking at you after the shared kiss?

At this point, you would have roused awake with an ache in your chest. Another dream that instigated the reality of your feelings for her. However, this wasn’t another tale dreamed throughout your days together, it was real when she kissed you next. Carol exhaled into your mouth, sliding her body into yours that you wouldn’t know where she started and where you ended.

Her mouth closed around your bottom lip, stirring sounds from you that resonates from your mouth to hers. Fingers threading through her golden hair, one hand pressed at the nape of her neck, and fully feeling like each kiss was the needed breath of air. It’s perfect. The feeling that was once flickers of hopeful thoughts, now appeared in tangible touch.

The soft knocks through a wooden door or the low gasps that followed, neither providing such significant where all that you heart and felt was her. The hands guiding you into her, ready to swallow every sound that erupts from you as her mouth plants one kiss after another. Wordlessly sealing the confession that was expressed in a kitchen that held two hearts blooming in robust feelings for each other.

The murmurs of a confession were shared your lips parted away from her. “I really do like you.”

Something seems to spark from within her as she kissed you again and you felt the smile on her face that transfers into yours. It wasn’t possible, it shouldn’t be, but you felt the sheer bliss that was dispense at your final confession. Another chaste kiss was shared before she leaned her forehead against yours, and both eyes shut closed to savour the significant moment.

Carol’s hands fondly caress your face while your hands were clasped behind her neck. It’s intimate, the embrace of bodies, the space that ceased to exist, the lacked feeling of awkwardness because this was the most pleasant feeling. The sheer act of familiarity and comfort from the first kiss to the next.

“I’m really happy,” her voice carried a tone of vulnerability as she spoke. “Maybe…I like you more than just liking you,” and with that confession, you pushed her shoulder back slightly to fully observe every little notion on her face.

The furrows of your eyebrows were softened by her thumb while you were simply trying to understand if her confession was the same that you had known for yourself. That aching feeling you feared and still couldn’t disregard.

It was like, Carol was ready to confess that she loved you too. That each pulse in her body was accompanied by love for you, she loved you, Carol loves you—

“AWWWW!”

Your head snapped towards the abrupt sound and met the scene of the Khan family gawking at the exchange with the look of excitement and embarrassment on their face. The warmth that rushed to your cheeks seems familiarised when you felt Carol’s hand grasping yours. A common act for your eyes to meet hers that was already staring at the family.

“I told you! Just tell the lovely girl about how you feel…”

The roars of conversation followed at that, some arguing of their success while the other gushing of the confession they had witness. As if, you weren’t there or that Carol wasn’t staring at you like you were the only person there, like she was so impatient for you to know that her heart felt the same too.

Carol tugs your hand and her eyes pointed towards the other exit as you both silently walked out the kitchen and left the eager family to their argument for helping you both.

For once, it wasn’t a feeble dream. Proven once again by the kiss shared outside the kitchen, and the one pressed over your linked hands. Carol whispered of that blooming feeling which you swore upon seconds after, and kissing her to fully express how this was it—everything and more.

hi! if you enjoyed this, do consider buying me a coffee 💜

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x you #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine

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eaterofman · 4 months

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I <3 You!: Serial Killer Yandere x Detective Reader

This was your chance to shine, to finally rise up in the pecking order... but have you bitten off more than you could chew?

The answer is yes, yes you have.

CW: Murder, Stalking, Obsession, Violence NOT directed towards reader, Manipulation, Mild gore/grossness towards the end

A/N: I have learned how to make aesthetic moodboards like the cool blogs. I am unstoppable.

Of course you took the case, why wouldn't you?

You were sick of being at the bottom of the food chain, forced to run meaningless errands and getting stuck with the paperwork for the rest of the division.

This was your big break. Finally an opportunity to prove your worth.

How hard could it be?

He knew you were watching him.. or at least, watching the aftermath of him.

And what a beautiful aftermath it was, specially tailored, just for you.

He hadn't known who you were before all this. He'd even been insulted at first when he learned the detective on his case was some nobody that'd been tossed on his kills like a stray dog being offered a bone.

He really had been planning on making you his next target, spitting on the face of the department that decided that he was so unimportant that his work was only deserving of an amateur. He'd show them what happens when he's underestimated-

...but you'd thrown yourself onto his case with a diligence he wasn't quite prepared for. You were taking him seriously, treating the lowlifes he brutalized as important as the rich bastards the rest of your department was worried about.

It was cute.

Despite your efforts, you were nowhere near discovering who he was. He wouldn't let you, at least, not until the time was right.

No, he would make you great, just as you would make him known, and then and only then, would he reveal himself to you. The two of you were so intricately connected after all, both of you unknown to the world around you.

By hell or high water, the city would know the both of you. He'd make sure of it.

You wearily rested your head on your desk, pressing your face into the wood as your eyes blinked in and out of reality.

You were tired.

You wouldn't admit it to your colleagues, you refused to show weakness. You knew what happened when sharks smelled blood in the water. Showing them, that after all these years of being relegated to coffee running and borderline secretarial duties, that you couldn't handle the first case you'd been trusted with?

No, you wouldn't let yourself be thrown back to the bottom again. You were going to prove your worth to the team.

But the disappearances weren't disappearances anymore. They were clear murders at this point, and they were escalating.

What had started as simple disappearances with no confirmed body had evolved into... statements, for lack of a better word. Brutalized bodies proudly displayed in a clear mockery of your efforts.

The killer was getting bold.

It seemed at first as though they were getting sloppy as well, a few times you had stumbled across a victim that had obviously been alive just a few moments before you'd gotten to them, blood still fresh and their eyes still hauntingly gleaming at you.

No, the killer wasn't getting sloppy. You weren't any closer to finding them then you were a year ago.

This was intentional. They wanted you to see it. Despite their brutality, they were careful, never leaving any trace of themselves behind.

The case had escalated to the point where the rest of your division had to acknowledge it. At first, your colleagues simply hadn't cared about a few disappearances of the city's less respected residents. It was practically a joke when they assigned you the missing persons case, like a wild goose chase you couldn't possibly in.

Despite this, you'd put your all into the case. Even if your colleagues didn't care about the occasional missing prostitute or tourist, you did. They were still people, even if they didn't make headlines.

Your division still didn't actually care about the people when they assigned a more advanced detective to your case. No, they cared about their reputation. A serial killer on the loose did not bode well for their public appearance.

You were happy that attention was now being directed towards what you'd known to be a problem since the beginning... but it was too little too late in your opinion. It wouldn't change the fact that lives were lost because you lacked funds and access to necessary equipment and time.

As your eyes drifted shut, you figured that even if this new detective took over your case completely, it'd be okay as long as the killer was stopped.

You didn't need to known, after all, you just needed to protect your city.

That was enough for you.

White hot anger broiled in his chest, threatening to explode as he paced his hotel room.

There was another man with you, another detective.

No, not a detective, a piece of trash that didn't recognize how important the two of you were.

The piece of shit thought he was better than you, than him.

After all the effort and work he had put into gaining notoriety, the fucking pigs had stepped in, placed an intruder between the two of you. Worse yet, an intruder who would surely take all the credit from you.

He wouldn't allow it.

As he eyed the two of you investigating the display he'd arranged for you from his vantage point, watching you be forced into the role of a sidekick, he played with the knife in his hands.

This would be his best work yet.

Just as you had feared, you'd been relegated to side work once your more senior colleague stepped in.

At least you hadn't been completely removed from the case, you supposed, but it had still been a bitter pill to swallow. You'd worked so hard, only to be pushed aside and undermined once again.

You wouldn't have even minded as much, if he'd at the very least listen to what you had to say.

Instead, you'd gotten lectured like a small child, chastised for not solving such a simple case.

You chewed on the words as you walked, coffee in your hands from yet another chore you'd been forced into running.

The bastard had even made you pay for it.

"Forgot your wallet my fucking ass..." you mutter to yourself as you stomp up the stairs to the small office your superior had claimed for the investigation.

Or at least, his part of the investigation. You typically weren't allowed to "cramp up his space" while he "worked". You were used to getting kicked out into the general shared office space to work on the additional paperwork he deemed himself too important to touch.

You knock on the door, hoping to not have to struggle to open it with your hands full of hot coffee.

But there's no answer.

Of course there isn't, god forbid he actually gets up off his ass and helps you for once.

You roll your eyes and go to reach for the doorknob... only for the door to crack open on its own. Huh.

You shrug, turning to hip bump the door open the rest of the way. Easier for you, you supp-

You're snapped out of your thoughts when you step in something... wet. Back still turned, you jump in surprise at the unpleasant sound of wet carpet smooshing up against your shoe.

"Ew, what th-"

You stop mid sentence, now facing the inside of the room. You drop the cups your holding in your hand, barely registering as the brown liquid mixes with the now deep red carpet.

There's blood everywhere.

Soaked into the carpet, splattered onto the walls, dripping from the desk your colleague is sitting at.

Or what remains of your colleague, at least.

Most of what was once him is now covering the small office space, you feel bile rising in your throat.

Even in your shock, it's hard not to notice the oddly pristine, brightly colored paper in the space where your superior's face used to be.

You refuse to step into the room to get any closer to it, survival instincts howling at you to not getting any closer.

But you don't need to, you can clearly make out the almost childishly placed paper cutout letters on the paper.

You feel your stomach contents finally leave your body, mixing with the other fluids on the ground.

The message of "I <3 You" mocks you from the other side of the room as you scream, falling backwards as your mind tries to process what you're seeing.

The killer was just here, had to have been you were only gone for twenty minutes at most and-

-and he knows you, you realize with dread.

You scream.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #reader insert #killer yandere #yandere #male yandere

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whitedarkmoonflower · 11 months

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Saved

Part 1 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: while rewatching the Season 2 of TLK and going wild with exploring my newly acquired skill of taking and editing screenshots I became obsessed with the idea of writing my own version of how Sihtric met Uhtred. Please bear with me as I'm working on learning to concentrate on the essentials and leave out unnecessary details, but I also believe that small details can make the characters more vivid.

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warnings: violence and mention of blood

Word Count: 1,129

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Sihtric found you sitting in your favourite spot near the lake, beneath the shade of the ancient oak tree whose sprawling branches provided protection from the scorching sun. He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before taking a seat beside you. In your presence, he still retained an endearing shyness, as if uncertain of how to navigate the depths of his feelings. Sihtric stole glances in your direction, admiring your strength and beauty. His mind raced with the desire to strike up a conversation, but he couldn't find the right words. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving me," Sihtric said, his expression serious as he turned to you.

"Saving you? What did I save you from?" you asked, puzzled.

"From feeling miserable, unwanted, and like I didn't belong anywhere," Sihtric replied, glancing into your eyes for a moment before lowering his gaze, his fingers fidgeting with the Thor's hammer amulet hanging around his neck. Nervousness radiated from him, mingled with a charming blend of insecurity and shyness that made a smile curl on your lips.

"You had every reason to hate me for attempting to kill your brother, but you never did. Instead you showed me kindness that I never truly deserved," Sihtric continued.

He had changed so much since the day you first met. You could still recall that evening as vividly as if it were yesterday, when Kjartan's men had tried to take Uhtred's life. They might have succeeded if not for Halig, who noticed the suspicious absence of the newly arrived Danes and urged the others to search for them. You had been on the verge of sleep after a long and busy day. Being a healer in a warrior's camp meant there was always an abundance of injuries to tend to, even without a battle. Men would hurt themselves during sword training, get kicked by horses, or foolishly engage in fights over trivial matters. Today, you had to fix a dislocated shoulder all because of an argument about the best whore at the White Goose tavern in Lundene. The shouts and clash of swords roused you from your slumber, causing you to hastily dress and rush out of your tent. Expecting yet another drunken brawl, you sought to find Uhtred and put an end to it. However, by the time you arrived, the fighting was already over. You approached the gathering of men, only to discover five lifeless Danes being dragged away from the lawn behind the stables.

"Uhtred!" you called out, fear lacing your voice as you saw him leaning against a stable pillar, breathing heavily. "Are you hurt?"

"All is fine. Don't worry, little sis. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for our Danish guests, but don't fret, they won't be needing your attention," Uhtred grinned, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as he noticed your concerned expression.

"Let me check on you," you insisted, pulling him closer to the torchlight so you could assess his injuries. At first glance, there were some bruises and a swollen eye, but no apparent serious damage. His movements lacked any signs of pain or hesitation, indicating that he likely didn't have any broken ribs. Still, you were reluctant to let him go, but Uhtred firmly took hold of your hands, kissing your palms, and with a determined voice, called out to the men dealing with the corpses behind you: "Secure the prisoner. I'll need answers from him later."

"I'm fine, sis. Truly, I am. Please don't worry," he reassured you, turning to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. Apart from Ragnar, Uhtred's Danish brother, the two of you were all that remained of your family, and the bond between you had always been remarkably strong. You loved this proud, stubborn, and courageous young man, and he cared deeply for you.

Reluctantly, you turned your head to catch a glimpse of the young, bruised Dane, his hands awkwardly tied before him as Clapa dragged him away. The Dane was in a pitiful state, with fresh cuts and scrapes covering his arms, a split eyebrow, and a bleeding lip and nose. Anxiety radiated from his tense body. In a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours, and you detected a flicker of despair within them. It struck you how young and handsome he appeared, despite his current circumstances.

Uhtred's men returned to their respective fireplaces, the evening just beginning. You knew all too well that this minor incident wouldn't deter them from their usual activities of drinking, gambling, and arguing about the “best whores”, as they did almost every night. You had no desire to be part of that. Tomorrow, there would be more dislocated shoulders and broken fingers to tend to, and since Uhtred seemed fine you eagerly longed to return to your tent and go back to sleep.

As you made your way past an empty wagon, you noticed Clapa and Halig engaged in what seemed like an argument. Initially, you hesitated to involve yourself, suspecting it was another petty quarrel you didn't want to be dragged into. However, as you attempted to quietly pass by, your eyes caught sight of the silhouette seated by the wagon. It was the young prisoner, the sole Dane who had survived today's assault on Uhtred's life. His gaze, as he was being dragged away from the small battlefield by Clapa, his hands bound and his face smeared with blood, lingered in your memory. An unexplainable feeling stirred within you, prompting a change of heart, and you headed straight for Clapa and Halig.

“What are you two arguing about? Aren't you supposed to be guarding the prisoner?" you asked with frustration evident in your voice.

"We are, lady!" Clapa replied defensively. "Uhtred ordered us to decapitate the corpses, but Halig lacks the courage to do it."

“That's not true, lady!" Halig interjected hastily. "I just needed a drink first. You can't deny a man a drink, especially one who's tasked with severing heads from still-warm bodies. Besides, it's better to do it later when the blood has thickened. And there's no need for two men to guard a securely tied-up prisoner”

"Alright, enough quarrelling, lads. Halig, go and fetch your drink, and Clapa, get yourself an axe or do you plan on using your eating knife? I'll keep an eye on the prisoner," you ordered firmly. As Uhtred's sister and a skilled healer, you were accustomed to giving orders, and his men knew better than to argue with you. Both departed without hesitation, not bothering to question your decision, although it must have seemed peculiar to them that you wished to remain alone with the prisoner. Turning your gaze towards him, you approached cautiously, maintaining a safe distance just in case.

“Are you hurt?" you inquired, observing the Dane who sat beside the wagon, his back resting against the wheel. He raised his head, confusion, and distress evident in his eyes. He didn't respond just shook his head.

“Your lip and nose have been bleeding quite profusely. Wait here, I'll fetch my bag," you said with a chuckle. "How foolish of me, as if he had much choice in the matter," you thought to yourself while making your way to your tent to retrieve your medical supplies. You always kept a bag prepared, stocked with clean rags, salves, potions, and other necessities, ensuring you wouldn't waste time searching when urgently needed.

Returning with your bag and a piece of bread in hand, you offered it to the prisoner, but he made no move to accept. Leaning his head back against the wagon wheel, he closed his eyes. Shrugging your shoulders, you placed the bread back in your bag and instead took out some clean rags and a leather flask filled with water. The Dane opened his eyes, watching your every move. Kneeling before him, you dampened the rags and reached out your hand to cleanse his face. Startled, he instinctively flinched and jerked his head back, accidentally striking it against the wheel, eliciting a groan of pain.

"Hey, stay still. I only want to clean your face," you said, perplexed by his sudden reaction. His whole body tensed as you gently touched his forehead and continued to clean his bruised cheekbones.

"The brow will require stitches," you informed him.

“Why are you doing this?" the Dane spoke, his voice husky but soft. "I am a dead man. Why would you bother stitching my brow if your husband will later torture me for information and then kill me anyway.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to wipe away the blood from his face, now focusing on his busted lip and chin.

“I don't have a husband. I have a brother whom you sought to kill tonight," you said, finished with cleaning his face you observed his features intently. "And if there's one thing I know for certain about my brother, it's that he has never tortured anyone, nor will he ever," you couldn't help but think about how handsome this young man was and you felt a pang of sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances. He believed his fate was sealed and had resigned himself to it. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if he dared not meet your eyes.

“I didn't want to kill him. I just did not have much choice about it," the Dane's voice remained calm, resolute, and tinged with sincerity. "I only wish Lord Uhtred would grant me the honour of dying as a warrior, sword in hand. And I would willingly share everything I know with him.”

“Not that I fear the pain," he hastily added, "I simply owe no allegiance to Kjartan.”

Unexplainably, you found yourself believing this man. Every word he spoke carried weight, and you suddenly felt deeply sorry for him.

“You are very kind to me, lady," the Dane continued, his voice filled with a sense of shame for being here, for being a part of what had happened. "I don't deserve your attention, but I am immensely grateful for it."

"What's your name?" you found yourself asking, driven by an inexplicable curiosity. It was as if fate had brought this unfortunate young warrior across your path, and a growing resolve began to take shape within you. You did not want to let him to the fate he thought inevitable.

“I am called Sihtric, lady,” the Dane answered with no hesitation. “Would you like to live?" you suddenly asked, as a seemingly absurd idea took hold in your mind.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #arnas fedaravicius #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #tlk fics #Sihtric fics #sihtric x you #violence

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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months

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headcanons that have come from nowhere:

Phoenix and Rooster slept with each other at least once and said meh and moved on - they are bi besties

Hangman actually doesn't have daddy issues, he has 'my parents were emotionally neglectful and perfectionist' issues that he doesn't realize he has because he still thinks their behaviour and expectations were normal and deserved - he thinks love is conditional and tries really hard to meet those conditions even if they're unrealistic and when he thinks he can't, he acts out

he's also the youngest or second youngest child

Bob can't drive, as in, he doesn't even have a driving licence

Fanboy is the 'looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you' character type (have you seen the way he smiled when Hangman and Rooster were roasting each other in the bar? that dude is the dude)

pulling the papers thing was more complicated than 'I promised your mom' - Mav won't admit it to anyone but while Carole did ask him to keep Bradley from flying, he used it as a rationalization

Goose was from Tennessee (I'm not even American and I'd swear he seems like he's from Tennessee) and Carole was a NY transplant from Virginia.

Carole met Mav in a group home in Brookhaven - they were in foster siblings and kept contact after Mav aged out. He was the one to introduce Goose to her. Goose actually thought she was Mav's girlfriend at first since she was sending him a lot of letters

Slider and Ice's friendship is definitely a case of the extrovert adopting the lonely introvert

In fact, Slider's mom 'adopted' Ice as her second son when she met him in the exact same manner

Merlin retired earlier and there were a couple of years when Slider was flying with Mav

#top gun #tgm #top gun 1986 #tg86 #q

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clouds-by-me · 4 months

Text

For the stories weren’t true. Of course they aren’t real. Why would it be true?

Stories of The most divine, their grace. The Creator.

They praise the title like its a name, like if they called it enough times then someone the creator will respond. Why do they believe that their prayers will be answered?

As if one day the story will prove to be true and-

A Shooting star…

A star has finally shone in bright gold hues as it soars across the Teyvat skies!

“Did you see the star?”

“That means the creator will come soon right?”

“Of course! Everyone rejoice! The creator will be coming soon!”

A chorus of music and cheers spread throughout the land as if it was a disease. But have they forgotten? Have they really forgotten something so important? Maybe thats just what creations do…

They have no means of importance. They do not know that they should remember. Why would they, too consumed in the thought of having to wait no longer, they celebrate.

A lost cause, yes, this place is nothing but a lost cause.

They refuse to listen, to think past words on peices of paper. Paper that they themselves deemed important! They said that they would follow the words of their god. They said! They preached! They prayed!

Hoping to please what they were never going to get in the first place…

==========

Problems that these creations face. The Archons struggle to rule. Problems in each Nation, what to do. Oh what to do?

They never would’ve expected a blond traveler to show up. They’re bright and kind. full of sprit as they help where they can. They look for their sibling that they hold so dear to their heart!

Such a kindhearted soul.

Giving everything, just for some information on a person who doesn’t even want to be found. Only to be sent on a wild goose chase, and to be face with more and more problems As they go along. The shining star faces their own problems, and others on top of that.

They’re so strong, so brave and heroic.

Struggles that aren’t even theirs are placed onto their shoulders as if they caused the problems in the first place. They continue to go on this life endangering quest just to get no where, the only thing they they’ve gained from this journey has been physical strength.

They can’t don't take breaks, and help too many for their own good. They wonder why they struggle to get out of bed, and why they’re always exhausted.

Not realizing that they are dying quicker than they should be.

Stars are supposed to burn for millions of years, yet the creations are killing the shining star in just 500!

========

Problems that these creations face. The Archons struggle to rule. Problems in each Nation, what to do. Oh why did they do that?

They believe that they are in the know, that they are right. They aren’t. ‘For the creators wish!’ They say to justify this cause. Such inhumane actions, it doesn’t even make sense.

They are blinded by an idea. Something that is really just a dream. No matter what they call it, it’ll only be a dream, justified by a misguided idea. Framing The Fallen star? When they’ve done nothing wrong!

They say that The Fallen star has stolen the face of the divine? Do they not know? How do they not know?

But they still believe that they are correct.

Correct to react when there was nothing to react to in the first place. They know not of the divine. They know nothing. They become hostile, and for what? A cause they made up? Go as far as trying to harm and hurt The Fallen star. Hunting them where ever they go, even if they’ve tried to make peace.

Torture, beating, robbing, hurting, manipulating, and deceiving them? What gave them that idea? Who told them to do that?

Not the creator. So then who? Surely someone must’ve told them to, right?

Who gave them to the right, the power, or even the thought to hurt what the creator made especially for this beautiful world.

These creations don’t deserve peace! They do not even deserve to look upon such a wonder of divinity. They’re a diamond that has been chipped and thrown away just because the ones who look upon them think they are trying to take the shape of another that they are waiting to get.

They hurt the very things they claim to praise, and once if they ever find out that what they’ve done has gone agains their almighty god, then they wont be able to justify their cause with a good reason. Any reason at that.

========

How do you justify that?

With Freedom?

With a Contract?

Eternity?

knowledge?

Justice?

War?

Love?

There is no way to justify what has been done to the stars that The creator have been brought to this world. The pure souls have been corrupted to the point of no return, and now they are bound.

Once they meet again the realm of the creations of this world shall die meet an untimely disaster . What mercy will these creations have?

None.

None of this was done in the name of the creator….

#x reader #gn reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #reader insert #Cult au #gender neutral reader #sagau genshin #sagau aether #sagau au

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fleshdyke · 1 month

Note

Well actually a Canada goose killed my grandma and ate her between two other grandmas in front of me hamburger style, you liking geese is exactly the same as eating my grandma sandwiched between two other grandmas sloppy hamburgler style. Also my grandma was litterally neurodivergent and a minor so. You deserve death threats and so does that gooses grandma…

this is true

#asks #negative

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slocumjoe · 6 months

Note

What do you think the companions opinions of ghosts and supernatural things are?

You know, I've actually done this before, years back!

Looking back on it now, I have some differing ideas, having spent more time really thinking these dudes over and writing about them. So,

COMPANIONS AND SPIRITUALITY 2; ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Cait; Surprises herself when she realizes this, but she believes in God. Not just agnostic, she believes in the Christian God. It never occurred to her until one day, when she caught herself and realizes that this was the belief she held. Her parents weren't religious, so it didn't make any damn sense to her. She just sorta defaulted to it. Obviously, Cait is not religious, but yeah, she kinda assumed a Christian mindset. Just never cared. Once she catches herself, becomes staunch atheist, but that shift was sudden and kind of wobbly. Its a "Wait, what do I actually believe in?" moment. As for cryptids, no. Maybe ones before the war. But as for the post apocalypse, anything is possible, so, why bother with trying to make it all mysterious?

Curie; Avid hater of cryptids and Aliens, but fascinated by religion. You ask her for her opinions on the topic, and she'll break off into a sociological discussion of the nature of religion and faith, and what's she's noticed in the apocalyptic modern era. You ask her if she believes in religion, and you can see her eyes go all blue screen of death, Ms. Nanny body or no. For one, the Ms. Nanny programming would never allow her to form an opinion on that. For two, the programming also kind of held everything in place. In a synth form, where her brain is looking for her own answer, but her instinct/programming remnant is looking for coded-in pre-recorded responses...it's a good way to send her into a kind of crisis. The move from metal to meat doesn’t do her any favors, here.

Danse; A loose agnostic. He sees no need to argue about it, but he doesn't believe, but he also doesn't...disagree? Danse's stance here is "we'll never know so what's the point." He tried religion, and he'll pray in...dire circumstances...but if you ask, he'll call himself an atheist. He'll also go into the sociology and go all nerd on you, but where Curie almost physically can't have an opinion, Danse doesn't have one and doesn't feel the need for one. If he needs God to be real, he'll hope for it. Otherwise, nah.

Deacon; would fuck with Buddhism. Would be that annoying dude at the Whole Foods check out buying hummus who holds the cashier at obligation-point to talk about karma. Normally this would be a Deaconism, an inside joke. Not here. This is a genuine Deacon. He'd also be very interested in all religions, but Buddhism is the one he's most likely to consider, if not partake in. Aliens and cryptids? Uh...Deacon likes to have fun, so yeah, but he's probably not a hardcore believer. He's just being a silly goose. Will double down and go full tinfoil hat to be obnoxious, but doesn't really put stock in it.

Gage; nah and nah. He was raised catholic and it didn't take. Or, maybe it took too well, or in the wrong way, depending on your perspective. He still privately considers Sunday to be special, but he doesn't act on it. Cryptids, also nah. Same reason as Cait. Have you seen what radiation does to animals? To people? Why the fuck would anything be surprising? "There was a giant moth the size of a man on my house!" Shit, that means the runoff from the nuclear power plant from up north has reached the watering holes. "I saw a large, hairy man!" That was probably Gage himself. Fuck sake. "There was a man with a goat head!" Thats a Pack member, which is arguably worse than what you think you saw.

Hancock; Religious in the traumatized way. The begging for God to kill you if you deserve to die but nothing happens, so clearly death is too good for you, kind of religious. Hancock has mental breakdowns in churchs, screaming at the remains of the cross in the middle of the burnt pews. Hancock is religous when thematically appropriate and suitably unhinged. Cryptids, he likes the fun of it, but seriously, if Hancock starts mentioning God and crucifixion, you need to check on him.

MacCready; Hardcore no on the religion, hardcore yes on the cryptids. This man would have Bigfoot bumper stickers. He would be on the reddit threads. I don't even know what to write here. Do I need to justify? You know. You know MacCready is a Bigfoot truther. Aliens? Don't talk to Bob about aliens. He'll hold you hostage in a story about the time he went camping up in [insert North Eastern Forest Here] and definitely saw [insert North Eastern Alien of Cultural Importance Here]. This man would go ghost busting.

Nick; religious, but like, very low key about it. He's not a praying man, but he does think the Big Man Upstairs exists. Mostly because there's so many times in his life where he's certain someone is laughing at him, and whatever dumb situation he's gotten himself into now. Does go to church every so often, and steps lighter in the ruins he finds. Aliens? Nope. Cryptids? Nope. Ghosts? Yeah, absolutely. He doesn't buy into those haunted house attractions, but he believes in the afterlife, and that some folks might get lost on their way there.

Piper; no religion. No aliens. No cryptids. Hard facts or fuck off. At least, thats what she says. But the moment something rattles in the basement at 2 in the morning? Piper is superstitious. She doesn't believe, but she's not gonna play chicken with demonic possession or alien abduction. Now, she has some ghost stories, but she doesn't think they're ghost stories. "Yeah, turned out the person I'd been talking to was legally dead for 30 years. Kinda weird." "Piper." "Say its a ghost and I'm throwing my drink at you. Who doesn't fake their death every once in a while?"

Preston; raised religious but didn't take. It's not that he believes in ghosts, it's that Preston has a good head on his shoulders. This man Knows when Something Is Wrong. Preston might not have the highest PER, but he knows when to get the fuck out of somewhere. Aliens, cryptids, whatever. Preston doesn't even know if ghosts are real. He just knows that some places don't forget what happened to them. If you're ever in a weird location, use him as a "back in the car right fucking now" meter.

X6-88; no religion, aliens, or cryptids, whatever. However. Very prone to believing tall tales. Myths. Legends. Mothman? Genuinely thought that was just a species of moth. He thinks they're bullshit, provided the info is being provided with air of literalness. If you open with "yeah, there's this story of a giant half man, half moth creature," he knows its a story. If you go, "There's a giant moth from Virginia that eats people", that's just what moths are like. Why would he assume there isn't a carnivorous moth? Gets very, very upset whenever someone pulls one over on him like this. By someone, I mean Deacon. Its always Deacon.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #nick valentine #x6-88 #piper wright #companions react #robert joseph maccready #porter gage

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chungledown-bimothy · 1 year

Text

My stoner ass figured it's been a Day, I deserve a treat. So I lit up a joint as the conversation with ylfa and the goose ended and Pinocchio started talking to the cricket.

I was taking a drag when brennan opened with "kill me" in that dying cricket voice.

The coughing fit from how my laughter fucked up the inhale HURTS lmfao

#neverafter #neverafter spoilers #dimension 20

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mqverick · 6 months

Text

Waking On Air || chapter 6

Sleeping peacefully in your bed, you were cradling a pillow to your chest. The sun was beaming through the blinds causing you to stir slightly. It was chilly outside, blanket clung over your shoulders as you groaned when the first beam of sunlight hit your face. Your head was still throbbing from everything you’d experienced with Maverick last night; his hot breath still ghosting over your lips — you couldn’t get him out of your mind, which lead to you having some very intense dreams about him closing the gap between your lips and kissing you senseless.

With a heavy heart, you peeled yourself out of bed, (not) ready to face another hard day. You knew Iceman would question how you’d been feeling last night due to the continuous dodges of his calls — and frankly you hadn’t even thought of any excuses yet, nor cared to come up with any.

Your mind was consumed by Pete Mitchell and every little bit about him; how welcoming and loving his hug had been, how touch deprived you felt after the loss of physical intimacy with him, how he looked at you as if you were his everything, how he’d hovered over your lips, just a breath away from pressing his own softly against yours. You were all about Pete, Pete, Pete, Pete.

At Top Gun, your mind was still racing, especially after knowing that Maverick was just a few feet away from you (and Tom, but his existence had grown irrelevant since the almost kiss incident). You eased a little when Goose came up to you with a wide grin, announcing that Carole and Bradley would be coming to visit for a week.

You loved Carole — she was your girl-friend, the only person you felt free to talk to about anything and honestly, she decided to come the right time with everything that had been happening lately. With her, you were in a judgement free zone; you had an utterly great deal of trust in her and the feeling was mutual. You felt like crying when Goose mentioned that Maverick would be tagging along — and that apparently, both of you were invited over to their place for dinner.

It came with its price; being friends with Goose. He was Maverick’s best buddy, his RIO, it only made sense that they’d come together as a package deal, which meant that there would be no possible way to avoid him. Not that you really wanted to.

Except you did.

You had to start focusing on Tom again. Even thought it turned out as an unpleasant experience to you, you’d promised to give him another chance — you really wanted to and you truly believed he deserved it. Tom, it would be — no more letting yourself get wrapped around the ridiculous Mitchell charm that had you swooning in the air.

Having just arrived outside of Goose’s door, you knocked on the wooden surface, closing your eyes momentarily and preparing yourself to greet Maverick, who Goose had informed you was already there. You flinched a little when the door opened to reveal him holding little Bradley on his arms. His face looked pink, you supposed it was because the kid had been exhausting him with his games.

“Hey, you,” he breathed softly, giving you a little smile and scooting away to let you in. You returned the expression, muttering shyly a hi back. “Look who’s here, Bradley!” Pete exclaimed enthusiastically, handing him to you gently. You hugged the younger boy, taking him in your arms and spinning him around. He giggled, tiny fingers wrapped around your longer ones.

“You’ve grown so much, Bradley! I missed you.”

Maverick grin was threatening to tear his face in two — seeing you with a kid was making his heart beat rapidly against his rib cage. “Goose and Carole are in the kitchen,” he informed you and you looked up at him, nodding and letting Bradley know that you’d be right back. You made your way in the kitchen, squealing when you saw Carole. The blonde’s lips parted in silent surprise, eyes widening with joy and within minutes she was asphyxiating you in a tight embrace.

“Man, all this time I thought my occupation would kill me but you’ve been the secret assassin all along,” you joked, trying to free yourself from the hug because it was starting to hurt. Carole slapped your arm playfully in response.

“I haven’t seen you in years, I can’t believe it!” You both smiled and hugged again, the corner of your eye catching Goose in his ‘Kiss The Chef’ apron awing at you two. “God, you’ve got to fill me in on everything.”

A good amount of thirty minutes passed, having ended up telling Carole about literally everything, including the situation between Tom and Pete. It surprised you nonetheless how unbelievably unbothered she looked when you mentioned you might be having feelings for Maverick. Were you really that transparent?

“I love Mav, Roger, I’m not going to lie to you. That boy has been nothing but a delight to me and my family for as long as he and Goose have known each other — trust me, Nick has painted the picture between you and him so I could already figure out that you like him.”

“I don’t like him,” you denied, your inner voice laughing sarcastically in your head. Right that moment, Maverick walked into the kitchen, holding hands with Bradley and asking if the food was ready. Your voice got caught in your throat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Carole.

“You might’ve convinced me if you didn’t stop breathing the moment he walked inside,” she whispered to you after Maverick left. Your cheeks burned knowingly with embarrassment, eyes darting on the floor. “You both need to stop being so childish about it. You’re grown enough to know that the heart wants what the heart wants.”

It was true; you knew that. The heart wanted what it wanted and it was painful enough to have you emotionally wrecked; torn between dread of betrayal and heartbreak and chasing what you wondered could be love. All that you knew was that every time Maverick looked at you, you died a little bit inside knowing that it would be wrong to simply grab him then and there and kiss him like it was your last day on earth.

You excused yourself, seemingly upset but not bothering to care as you walked back into the living room. You stilled against a wall at the sight of Pete Mitchell — the cockiest man of them all — curled up on the rug, making takeoff noises and waving around a model plane in front of Bradley, who was having the time of his life. Your lips curled upwards at the image, a newfound fuzzy feeling tugging at your heartstrings.

Maverick’s head snapped towards your direction when the sound of a cough echoed in the living room — it was Goose, who’d been trying to hold back a snicker from watching you find yourself in a head over heels moment. The RIO rushed away from you before his friend could even see him and you wanted to punch him with inhumane force. Trying to play it off, you cleared your throat and approached the pilot, kneeling down on the carpet next to him and turning your attention to Bradley. The little boy hugged you, giggling.

Your head unintentionally turned towards Maverick, whose heart clenched painfully as he reminisced about the fact that you couldn’t be his. He gave you a tight lipped smile, bringing out a hand to gently caress Bradley’s blond hair.

You didn’t even realize how fast the time was going until you looked at the sunset outside of a window that was partly covered by a thin beige curtain. Bradley and you were seated on the couch, the younger Bradshaw having the laughs of his life bouncing up and down on your lap.

Maverick was somewhere in the kitchen with Goose — you occasionally scanned your eyes through the little window-thingy on the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room to find Pete stealing glances from you, which had you all flushed and hot.

“Roger, promise not to kill me,” Carole begged sweetly, standing over your shoulder. “Goose and I haven’t seen each other for a long time and we thought it’d be kind of nice for us to go grab a couple of drinks together. Tonight.”

“What about Bradley?”

“Well…” she trailed off suggestively, looking over at Maverick.

Realization hit you instantly, taking over your facial expressions as you glared at Carole. “No. No, Carole, don’t do this to me.”

“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m really not,” the blonde said with a smirk and slight raise of her shoulders. You lifted Bradley off your lap, placing him on the ground as you stood up, ready to strangle Carole and go for Goose next. By the time you were about to react, the newly reunited couple announced that they would be taking off for a night of ‘fun’, as Nick liked to put it, leaving you, Maverick and Bradley trying not to suffocate into the awkward tension that had built up.

Clueless to your lack of emotion, the kid ran to his room happily, imitating airplane sounds. You plopped back on the couch with a heart-clenching sigh, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion.

“I hate your RIO. I fucking hate him,” you gritted through your teeth, not bothering to open your eyes.

“What can I say, Goose is a fabulous wingman,” Maverick replied proudly. You hated him as well, especially his smug demeanor and smirk.

“I’m going to ignore you through the rest of this night and go take a shower. Can you put Bradley to sleep?” you announced, already making your way to Goose and Carole’s room. Maverick obliged to your request. You carefully shut the door, not trusting it open when the cocky pilot was in the same place as you, knowing you’d be bathing. You peeled your clothes off of you in a hurry, deciding to wash your hair as well.

When you stepped into the shower, you let your body relax and follow the rhythm of the hot water dripping down your back. Truth was that part of you, the same one that’d been complicating both your loyalty to Iceman and relationship with Maverick, was sort of grateful for Goose’s wingman skills. Maybe you needed that night alone with Maverick. Maybe it was just a test for your limits; see how far he or you would take it.

Your hands massaged the soap against your abdomen, giving a warm rush throughout your insides. Obviously, the thought of Maverick hadn’t left your mind and you desperately wanted — needed — to act on it, but you’d be damned if you let your intuitive thoughts get ahold of you. Turning the shower control shut, you wrapped a towel around your wet body, entering the bedroom once again. The tension had eased for sure, but there was still a rather irritating feeling around, which you decided to ignore as you began dressing. You roamed through the dressers and found a large black tee and pair of sweatpants that belonged to Goose (by great chance). You put on your sports bra and then the stolen clothes, flinching when the door opened out of the blue. Your hands intuitively covered your private parts, even though they were fully clothed.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know that Brad’s asleep,” Maverick informed you, jaw slightly dropping when his eyes rose to look at you. You’d never been as gorgeous to him as you were that specific moment; looking so casual in Goose’s clothes, with one sleeve of the shirt hanging a bit down your shoulder due to the size and revealing a strap of your black bra, hair damp and dripping.

He wanted to just grab the back of your head and kiss you as if his life depended on it. Little did he know that you’d been dreaming about that too.

“Thanks,” you muttered lowly even though your heart was pounding violently against your chest. After dismissing him, you supposed he’d go away and let you be, but you were proved wrong as he did the exact opposite, walking further into the room and gently kicking the door shut. You swallowed harshly, fighting back your raging blush.

“Hi,” he said again, only this time with more softness in his voice, which caused your heart to do a little flip-flop. Ignorance was your to-go with response, but knowing how stubborn Maverick became once he set his mind on something — or rather someone — he tried one more. “How was your shower?”

“‘T’was fine, Pete. What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

His gaze burned into you, the hunger in his eyes making you barely lose your nerve. It was driving you out of control, palms sweating, blush eventually spreading across your skin as the tingling sensation that originated from your lower body but had managed to multiply its growth all the way up to your stomach caused you to cross your legs in hopes of stopping a certain wetness from pooling between them. You gulped down what felt a wall of bricks, fidgeting with your fingers all while refusing to hold his eye contact.

Maverick spoke without a warning, letting you know that he was also in need of a shower. You nodded shyly and got comfortable on the bed, switching on the small TV across from it that stood on the dresser. Nothing interesting was on — or maybe there was — but to you, the faint sound of droplets running down a certain body you’d been craving for the past couple of days just a door away from you was the most fascinating thing, a true attention span.

The noises from the TV had blurred out in the background somewhere along your fantasies as your brain partially collapsed into thoughts and feelings, letting your body take complete control. Your eyes rolled back, eyelids closing in pleasure while your thighs unintentionally squeezed tightly together in anticipation and arousal. You wondered if Maverick was thinking about you in the shower as well.

Suddenly, the doorknob of the bathroom twisted open and you prayed you didn’t look as flushed as you felt. For the first time, you got to witness Pete in an outfit other than his signature white t-shirt, bomber jacket and blue Levi’s. He’d probably grabbed Goose’s clothes just like you had earlier, throwing on a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve black sweatshirt with sleeves that were too long for his arms. He managed to look exceptionally handsome and adorable at the same time, which honestly baffled you.

“Wanna sit?” you found yourself asking him. Maverick had never been the type of guy to refuse a request that tempting, so he slid right next to you on the bed, one leg on the mattress while the other was positioned on the carpet.

Even though your eyes were burning through the TV, you had no idea what you were supposed to be watching. Your organism was one hundred percent running on Maverick and how impossibly good he looked with those sweats. In attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the waistband had slipped off down the bone area above his hips, revealing a patch of skin.

His hair, just like yours, was wet and clinging on to his forehead. It looked even darker, which you thought was weirdly attractive, yearning to let your fingertips get a taste of how it would feel through and against them.

Bradley’s in the next fucking room and you’re thinking about sex with Pete Mitchell, pathetic perv, your inner voice screamed furiously inside your head. No, forget about Bradley! You have a whole boyfriend to yourself and you’re thinking about sex with Pete Mitchell, insatiable freak.

You shook yourself out of your nasty scenarios, laying there in complete silence with him. Your feet moved up and in a crouching motion. His eyes met yours and your breath hitched up unnecessarily — God, you were embarrassed of yourself. There were droplets of water running down across the length of his jawline, casting you almost jealous of how smoothly they crossed through his skin, wishing you could be just one of them.

“Roger,” he hummed your call sign, causing a dreamy look on your face, pupils dilating significantly as you got lost on his voice, needing desperately to get drunk on it as if you were a teenager experiencing the first drink at a party.

“I want to hate you,” you blurted out. Maverick furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’ve wanted to hate you since the day I met you.”

“But you don’t?” he questioned almost shyly.

“I don’t. I can’t.”

He couldn’t help the faint smile that painted across his lips, bringing a warm palm on your shoulder and grazing it all the way up until he brushed a strand of half-wet hair behind your ear. You leaned against his hand, hankering after the physical contact like a touch deprived person. You pulled away shortly after, though, realizing that both of you had been chasing each other’s lips in attempt to make the gap between you disappear.

“I know, we can’t,” he dismissed with hints of sadness in his tone. Little did he know you’d been equally disappointed. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

Before he left from the room, he stopped one more time to look at you, leaning down, allowing his hand to rest against the back of your head as he pressed his soft lips against your forehead and muttering ‘good night’ in the cell of your ear.

Your hand ran up your forehead and through hair in despair of what would happen if you listened to your heart and followed Maverick in the living room. It had already been a stressful evening, you decided while tucking yourself in, face buried in the pillow as you squeezed your eyes in order to make your vision pitch black instead of seeing fantasies of what-ifs and maybes.

chapter 7

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@holishol

@iheqrtaustin

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daughterofcain-67 · 7 months

Text

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.2)

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sam and Dean are on the road looking into a lead that Castiel had given them. Sam is hoping that this will get them a step closer to getting Dean some help. Meanwhile, Dean is reluctant because the lead doesn't sound promising in aiding Cass in the hunt for Metatron. He thinks this will be a waste of time, but little does he know what he and his brother will find waiting for them in Cincinnati. Meanwhile, you are on a mission to find out why exactly Crowley has sent a demon to come and find you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SPN spoilers, the usual supernatural violence, torture and gore that may not be suitable for all audiences.

Sam was riding in the Impala beside Dean while he was driving. Castiel asked them to go to Cincinnati, Ohio to look into a lead. There was a report that a demon went to some sort of tattoo parlor and hadn't been seen again.

No one was sure if it was related to Metatron, or if an angel under him had something to do with it. Dean was a little skeptical at first but in the end he agreed to go with Sam, hoping this wouldn't be some sort of wild goose chase. It's like they've left every stone unturned when it came to locating the former Scribe of God but they would come in empty handed every time and it was really getting under Dean's skin.

"This had better be worth it, other wise we're just wasting time when we could be looking into an actual lead, not to mention it's a waste of Baby's gas." Dean said with a bit of a grumble. Sam rolled his eyes at the last part of the remark.

"With the amount of credit card frauds we've undergone, I think the car's gas is the least of our worries." Sam said with an arched brow and Dean shrugged a bit, gaze still transfixed on the road.

The constant burning in Dean's arm was relentless with the mark. He knew that he had the urge to kill. Something needed to be done, he needed to kill something on this hunt to get some sort of relief, even if it was temporary.

Sam had told Dean not to bring the first blade along. At first, Dean complied but the second that Sam wasn't looking, he tucked it into his jacket for safe keeping. After all, what if Metatron just showed up spontaneously? What if they ran into more than just a handful of demons on this 'new lead' Cass sent them on? Bringing the first blade was a necessary precaution even if Sam didn't see it that way.

"Dean? You alright, man?" Sam asked. Dean perked up when he was broken from his thoughts. But the older brother nodded a little.

"Yeah. Just hoping that this lead won't be a waste. If we don't take care of this mess soon, who knows what that bastard will do. Metatron has to die and we can't afford any more screw ups. Not when we've lost enough people over it." Dean said.

"Then there's the fact that Cass is obviously having trouble finding what he needs. I should be over there helping him out. He needs some answers and those stupid angels don't know how to get it out of the other angels they capture. they don't know a damned thing about interrogation and who knows when things will get worse on his end." He continued on.

Sam frowned, understanding where Dean was coming from. He couldn't blame Dean for feeling bad about Kevin. Nobody wanted something like that to happen. He was just a kid. And Kevin didn't deserve Gadreel killing him like that.

"Dean, if they need help with some interrogation tactics then I'm sure that Cass will give us a call. Especially considering your... experience. And I'm just as angry as you are about what happened to Kevin. I get what you're going through. But unless we have any other leads to follow, this is the best one that we've got for the time being." Sam said.

Dean took in Sam's words and his jaw tensed, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as his brows furrowed together. The mere mention of what happened to that kid was enough to make his blood boil.

"How could you possibly understand what I'm going through, huh? There's been enough shit in our lives, this mark is the only thing that has brought any hope in this whole damned disaster, and you do nothing but nag about the so called effects you think it gives me. It's always one argument after another over the one thing that can bring all of this shit to an end." Dean practically snapped.

Sam was a little shocked that he'd burst like that, yet he wasn't really surprised at what had been eating at his brother. He knew Dean wasn't one to open up about how he felt, but he didn't to a good job at hiding the fact that he was bothered either.

"Okay, wrong choice of words. But putting an end to this mess is a part of why we're out here right? As long as it's a step forward, then it's at least a step closer to the goal. It's a Hell of a lot better than taking five steps back, right?" Sam said with that typically optimistic tone that he seemed to have most of the time. The tone that Dean didn't always understand when things seemed to be at its darkest.

The real reason for coming to Ohio right now was because Cass had a hunch that it wasn't one of Metatron's angels that may have killed that demon. Maybe this person would be able to assist in killing Metatron. But what Sam was hoping for the most was that this would be the break they needed. That this lead would be the foretold, missing daughter of Cain. Dean needed a win, and Sam was hoping that this would be some kind of win for the both of them. Someone to help ease the suffering, help Dean gain some kind of control.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Sammy. But if this thing turns out to be a disaster then you won't be hearing the end of it."

"Yeah, I've already gathered that." Sam said with a slight smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes a little before he leaned forward and pushed a button on the Impala's radio to play one of his cassette tapes. The next thing they knew, they were listening to Would by Alice in Chains.

"Well this is kind of different from your classic rock you normally play isn't it?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.

"Nothing wrong with a little variety once in a while."

But once there was silence in the car again, outside of the music that was being played, Dean focused on the road. It would be another day before they'd get to Ohio. Then they could get this little 'lead' over and done with. Then he'd be able to kill some sort of monster or he could check on Castiel and see if he needed help with gathering information from Metatron's angels.

Either way, the mark was thirsting for blood, and Dean was trying his best to hold it together to keep Sam off his back.

You were growing antsy. The burning mark on your arm was more intense than it had ever been before. And somehow, you were sensing that there was another barer of the mark. They hadn't killed in a while and you could almost feel the thirst that person was going through as well.

But you were having enough of it. You had to know who this person was and you were willing to do anything to get to the bottom of it. Because surely this person, this mortal, had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Needless to say, your little shop was closed for the day and your appointments were cancelled of course. And now, you were in your own cellar beneath your store.

There you had a summoning circle, an iron chair, and there was a demon trapped inside since the devil's trap was engraved into the iron shackles attached to the arms of the chair.

"What do you want with me? We know you killed one of the other demons just for stepping here. If you don't want to be found then why did you summon me?" The demon asked.

"Oh, Sweetie, who said that you were the one in charge of asking questions?" You asked with a chuckle as you moved your rolling table. On top of that table was your, what you liked to call, interrogation utensils.

You stooped down to the demon you had in a bind and you held your blade up to its chin. Now, this was no ordinary blade. Granted it wasn't as legendary as the First Blade, nor was it the demon blade that Ruby used to carry, but it was something similar that killed demons, angels, and monsters alike.

"Now, don't make this easy on me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed a good, slow kill." You smirked and the demon's eyes widened. The rumors were right. You were just as menacing as your father before you.

"But what if I don't know anything?" The demon asked as it regained its composure and attempted to be as unphased by you. You cocked your head to the side and shrugged a little before placing the side of the demon's cheek and watched the steam appear from the vessel's flesh since the blade was previously dipped in Holy Water. The demon hissed and gritted his teeth as if he tried not to scream.

"Well then, I get to have my own kind of fun. It's not like I can let you go now that you know where I am." You said.

"Now. Why is your pathetic king searching for me, hmm?" You asked and the demon's eyes shown black as he glared at you.

"If I'm going to die anyway, I'll never tell you." But then you slashed his cheek, causing him to wince as the wound started to bubble up due to the Holy Water.

"Oh, but I think you will. Now I'll ask you a second time: Why is Crowley looking for me."

"I will not betray the King of Hell."

Your brows narrowed. You had told him not to make it easy, but you needed to know why you were being sought after. You had to know what Crowley already knew incase you needed to go into hiding again.

So, you took your knife and cut off one of the demon's fingers before you dipped the wound in salt. Hearing the cries of the demon was a little annoying but you had to admit, there was finally a soothing feeling in your arm from the mark you were born with. It was finally some sort of release.

"Y-Your mark! He wants to know more about your mark to help a Winchester." The demon said.

You perked up when he finally gave some kind of information. You supposed losing a finger would have that effect on almost anyone.

"So your King that's too good to get his hands dirty is helping a human? Who is this Winchester?" You asked as the demon's head hung low.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance and you lifted the blade to his chin to make him have eye contact with you.

"If you have that much of a problem looking at me, I'll gouge those eyes right out of your skull. Now talk." You said as your eyes started to glow red.

"His name is Dean. Crowley was having trouble with the Knight of Hell, Abaddon. He went to Dean for help and they found your father. Your father gave Cain the Mark and Crowley wants to know more about it to hold the information over the Winchester's head to get what he wants, I assume." The demon spilled.

You lifted a brow as your eyes changed back to their normal color and you stood upright.

So, Crowley wanted some leverage, huh? You supposed that he couldn't exactly find the information he needed from some kind of book outside of the fabled Book of the Damned. No one seemed to know where that book was and that would have at least some kind of information Crowley could be after.

"That's all I know. let me go. I won't tell anyone where you are. Just spare me." The demon pleaded and you looked down at him again.

"Oh, Sweet Cheeks. I can't go around trusting demons not to give away my location. I'm sorry but you're just going to have to suffer." You said.

And with that, you placed your hand on the demon's head and your eyes glowed red once more. Suddenly, the demon started to let out a bloodcurdling scream and his eye sockets were glowing red. Blood started dripping from his eyes and the drops started rolling down his face like tears. Red droplets came out of his pores like sweat before turning into a black ooze.

Yet you looked at the demonic scum without a hint of expression in your eyes. But finally, finally there was a relief from the constant pain in your arm.

Once the demon was finally dead, you looked at the body. That has been the second demon you killed. But at least you got the information you wanted.

"Dean Winchester.." You muttered the name before looking down at the mark on your arm.

It hadn't even been two minutes but the pain was back like you needed to kill yet again. You placed your knife on the table and let your thumb graze over your mark.

"Dean, you don't realize what you've done."

Thank you guys so much for reading! I know I got this out a little later than I would have liked to've published but I had a friend from Germany come and visit me. I am hoping to get Part 3 released soon! Thank you for your continued support! If you would like to be tagged let me know! Wishing all of you the best!!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @alternativeprincess @doctorlexilouwhosblog

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #spnfandom #mark of cain #sam winchester #castiel #spn fanfic #spn rewatch #supernatural family #supernatural fic #moc dean #moc!dean #dean winchester fanfiction

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