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writingroom21 · 8 months ago

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The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (Practice safe sex), cream pie, mention of drugs, nipple play (If missing any please let me know)

Wc:4.6K

Chapter 4: Backseat Driving

The rest of the night was spent just chatting to the other, filling each other in on stupid things that happened in your life. You had forced him to help you clean up the kitchen after a while of laying on the couch, cheeks turning beet red once you saw the mess that was left. “Such a messy girl.” he taunts, sucking his teeth with the statement. This only made your cheeks flush redder, but he left the teasing at that. You teased him back for not knowing how to clean, embarrassment leaving you as he huffs out retorts.

Getting to know one another wasn’t as bad as it seemed before, conversation flowing as if you have known each other your whole lives. Well you did, both running into the other at parties or around the island, but this wasn’t simple courtesy. You actually wanted to get to know him, the thought frightening because only yesterday you were upset with him and he was ignoring you. But he keeps reeling you in with every question, “what's your favorite color?”, “Favorite song?”, “Favorite season?”, and so on. Each question met with your replies, “Yellow”, “Edge of Seventeen”, “Fall”, asking the same question till he told you his answers.

“Blue”, “Don’t have one”, “Summer because I get to watch you flaunt in those tiny skirts and bathing suits.” He’s half joking about the last one, his favorite season is definitely summer, getting to look at your little outfits are just a plus. That’s how the night ends, questions being shot at the other, until you both fall asleep.

In the morning you wake up facing the wall, the walls of Rafe’s room alerting you to the fact you are in the same bed that started it all. You just lay there for a moment, thoughts swirling in your brain, only snapping out of it due to the feeling of an arm on your waist. Glancing down you see the Cameron family ring on his pointer finger, you graze it lightly, pulling your hand back when his twitches.

Rafe is half asleep when he feels your fingers on him, enjoying the moment of you thinking he is still asleep. Watching you squirm, he tightens his hold on you, the hand you were playing with lightly making its way up before flattening on your chest. Your back is to his chest, sift breathing making the hairs on your neck tickle you. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles, lips pressing to your hair line. You chuckle, turning to face him.

“We should get up. What if it’s past twelve and we are just here sleeping the day away.” You reason, mostly wanting to escape the feeling in your chest. Rafe looks so pretty, his eyes closed making his eyelashes fan his face, pouty lips slightly plump from sleeping. He peaks an eye open, smirking at you before pecking your lips. “Maybe you're right. Wouldn’t hurt to brush that morning breath away.”

You push his shoulder embarrassed he called you out, a recurring theme it seems. “Asshole.” The words muffled with your hand covering your mouth. “Kidding, just wanted to tease you.” He brushes the hair that fell from your ponytail out of your eyes. “Come on, let's get in the shower. Got a long day ahead of us.” You miss the feeling of his body close to you as he pulls away to get up, the loss of body heat making you feel cold.

“What do you mean?” You ask resting on your elbow, watching as he walks around the room, opening drawers to take clothes out. “I gotta go see Barry, you know the guy over the other day. Just have to talk about some business but I wanted you to come with me. Maybe we could go do something after.” He’s saying it like it’s so easy, like wanting to be around you was natural for him.

“You want to hangout with me?” Your voice is low, maybe it was the shock of him suggesting a hangout without sex or it was because you're nervous. What if being with each other besides sex is awful? You could probably hate who he is as a person or worse he can realize you’re boring just to run off with the next girl. “What to good to hangout with me when I’m not fucking you?” He’s looking at you now, eyes shining as he teases you.

“Well If the shoe fits.” You can hear him scoff, your eyes trained at the bedsheets you pick at, hiding your smile from him. “Stop being a brat and get in the shower.” “alright, alright I’m going.”

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The gravel crackles under the truck tires as Rafe pulls down the driveway to get to Barry’s house. It’s a little rundown house, a trailer sitting off to the back by the firepit. His house isn’t too far from your childhood home, yet it feels like it’s in a different part of the island. You’ve heard stories about Barry, none of them good, the house seems to reflect its owner. Another hurricane and you swear it will blow away never to be seen again.

“You okay?” Rafe’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Yeah of course I am.” You look out the window as the truck comes to a stop. Truth be told you aren’t okay. Drugs have never been a good thing in your books, you’ve seen how it’s destroyed the lives of family members. How it slowly tears away at Rafe, destroying the relationships around him. You don’t like it but you don’t like the thought of him alone here. From what you’ve witnessed Rafe doesn’t know when to quit, taking one bump of coke after the other, wasting the day away so high that he can’t recognize the people around him. It’s always scared you, not wanting him to end like the horror stories told, but what else is there to do?

Rafe get’s out, going over to your side to let you out, wrapping his arm on your shoulder once you're out. “Country club!” The voice inside the house calls out, screen door opening displaying the man it belongs to. “Ooooo, you brought me a little treat. You really shouldn’t have.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, shielding your body from Barry’s wandering eyes. In hindsight, wearing the yellow summer dress that comes down to midthigh was not the best decision. You feel exposed.

“Watch it.” Rafe bits out. “She’s off limits, understand?” Barry just scoffs walking back into the house. “White boy comes into my home and tells me what to do. Get your ass inside before I change my mind.” You are left outside, blue eyes blocking your view as Rafe gets in front of you. “You don’t have to go in. You can stay in the car if you aren’t comfortable, I won’t take it personally.” It’s sweet that he cares, maybe it’s because you are sleeping together, but it’s still sweet.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and walking to the door. “It’s okay. I want to be here.” He can’t help but smile, yanking you for a kiss. “What was that for?” Your smile is so bright, the sun illuminating the freckles in your eyes. “Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling the two of you to get inside. If the outside was run down, the inside is just as bad. There’s a mess everywhere you look, bags of various drug liter the table in the living room, bongs on almost every surface in the room

“Want some?” The silence made you aware of the eyes on you. “Me?” you question pointing to yourself. “Yeah you. It’s a good thing she’s pretty.” Barry chuckles, plopping himself on the couch, hoping to get a glance of what’s under that dress. “My eyes are up here asshole.” You shift, pulling the skirt down to cover up, only to expose more cleavage. Sitting on the opposite couch with Rafe, you glare at the man across from you. “And she’s feisty. I like her. Do you want anything?”

“No. I’ve never done drugs and I sure as hell am not doing them with you.” You retort, their eyes staring at you like you have two heads. Fuck! Anxiety fills you, thinking you fucked up by offending him. “You’ve never done drugs?” Rafe asks, eyes scanning your face waiting for it to show your joking. “Nope. Never done them.” You shrug. It’s not like the opportunity hasn’t occurred. Mostly every party in Obx has some sort of drug, in highschool your boyfriend even smoked weed, it just never was your thing. But mainly you never felt comfortable enough with a person to let you inhibition lower, too scared of what you will say or do.

“Well I’ll be damned. Got yourself a good girl huh, country club?” Rafe tenses up besides you, ready to push himself up off this couch and bash his face in. The nickname he gave you now leaving a bad taste in his mouth, hating the fact that someone else called you it. You hand finds his thigh, halting his actions, he takes a deep breath. “Can we get this over with? Got shit to do.” Rafe tried real hard to keep his tone cool, the words still coming out bitter. “Yeah I bet you do.” Barry’s looking at you again, practically undressing you with his eyes. Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fist balling up so close to teaching Barry not even address your existence.

“Alright, alright let’s go. Why don’t you just wait here? Wouldn’t want to taint you.” He gets up, walking off to the back of the house, a door closing separating you and Rafe from him. “Why don’t you go to the truck? I can meet you there once I'm done.” Rafes already up before finishing his sentence about to walk off, you stopping him so he can’t get too far. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” “Promise.”

With that you leave, standing outside to enjoy the weather, it was perfect. A gnawing feeling is somewhere deep down, worried of what could be happening in there. Was he getting high? No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t put you in that danger. He was driving for god sakes, he wouldn't, right? The voices in your head are going a thousand miles per hour, throwing scenario after scenario.

You don’t know how long you were out there, it wasn’t a long time but your mind made it feel like hours. “You alright?” Rafe’s voice is right behind you, startling you in the process. “Oh god don’t do that.” You shriek, your right hand swatting him as your left clutches your chest. “Did you get everything?” He opens the door for you, the action making you blush, he smirks when he notices.

“Yeah, just some coke and weed to sell tomorrow night.” He gets in throwing the bags of drugs in the glove compartment. You can smell his cologne, it’s the one you got him for his birthday. “I like your cologne.” The words escape before you can stop them, shutting your eyes waiting for the teasing that's about to happen. “Thanks. Some pretty girl gave it to me, good to know it works.” He’s starting the truck and out the driveway as you think of what he just said.

There’s him calling you pretty again so effortlessly like he didn’t even need to think. “Works?” You question. “Been wearing it since I got it. Glad you finally noticed.” His eyes darted to you before going back to the road. You don’t know what to say, he’s been wearing it for months. When you first gave it to him you were nervous, you never had to give a present to someone who practically has everything.

It was one of the only things you could afford at the time, knowing he wears it seems weird to you. Why would he wear it just so you could notice? He has to be teasing you, yeah that’s it. There’s no way that everyday for almost a year he’s worn it. His birthday is in September and it's already June. He couldn’t have possibly worn it this whole time.

Rafe turns on the radio before your thoughts make you crazy, the song silencing them. The older song fills the car, filling the gaps in conversation. You roll the window down, sticking your arm out the window to feel the wind as you pass the trees lining the road. Whatever is happening between you is confusing. There are moments when you feel like there is something more, that there's this thin layer separating you from falling. Every stolen kiss, touch, words, chipping away from the layer ready to pull you under. Rafe keeps glancing at you, wanting to say something but nothing comes to mind

“Try to stop my hands from shakin’. ‘Cause somethin’ in my mind’s not making sense.”

Rafe listens to the song, lyrics infiltrating his mind.

“It’s been awhile since we were all alone. I can’t hide the way I’m feelin’. As you’re leaving, please, would you close the door? And don’t forget what I told ya.”

He’s staring now, barely looking at the road, just enough to make sure he doesn’t crash the truck. You are humming along to the song, lost in your own thoughts, trying to enjoy this moment worried it would be ripped away. He can’t stop himself from placing his hand on your thigh, right below the hem of the sundress. His fingers digging into your skin to give you a little squeeze, getting you to look at him.

“Just ‘cause you’re right, that doesn't mean I’m wrong. Another shoulder to cry upon.”

Rafe can’t take it anymore, the sun lighting your hair is giving you a halo. It makes you look like an angel. You were an angel, his angel. He’s not in control anymore, his emotions are running high and he doesn’t know how to handle it. This whole thing is new to him. Rafe has never had someone in his life to feel this strongly about. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he goes to pull over to the side of the road. “Rafe, what are you doing?” A laugh follows your question. “You just look so fucking beautiful right now. I need to kiss you.”

“I just wanna use your love tonight, yeah. I don’t wanna lose your love tonight. Yeah, I just wanna use your love tonight.”

Putting the car in park, his seatbelt flies off of him as he leans over the center console. The radio fading into the background. His left hand grabs your face to pull you into a kiss, his right hand unbuckling you from your seat. You didn’t even need to think about it, you kissed him back deeper, throwing your arms around his neck. The two of you sit there for a few minutes, just kissing each other breaking apart only to get a quick breath of air before diving back in. Neither of you really want to stop, too caught up in the feeling of each other. Ever since you both opened up to each other, even just a smidge, it brought you closer together. Tying a piece of you to the other. Pulling away you open your eyes to notice he still had his closed and a goofy lopsided smile. It was small but you still saw it. “Let’s get in the backseat.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you going to do?” Rafe questions, his right eyebrow raising. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” You challenge. “Yes ma’am.” He retorts, a quick kiss being shared before you climb into the backseat. Rafe gets out of the car, opening the backdoor to join you. “Really out in the open? Should have known you liked having people watch you considering you like watching.” As he tries to get settled in the back, the memory of what started this floods you. Not trying to overthink it, you throw your leg over his lap, your hands resting on the backseats. “Maybe I just don’t mind it when it’s you I’m doing with.” You shrug it off by kissing him.

It took his brain a minute to catch up before he deepened the kiss, focusing on the little confession for a second too long. Rafe’s hands are rubbing up your thigh, pinching the skin just to smooth it over once again. His right hand creeps higher up your thigh as you grind down on him, going underneath the dress and stopping. Rafe breaks the kiss pulling his head back, his fingers twitching. “Are you not wearing any underwear?” You blush at being called out, but you're too turned on to even feel embarrassed so you grind down harder.

“Thought they would just get in the way.” You go to lean in again but his other hand stops you. “You’re telling me that you were sitting at Barry’s with no panties on? God what did I do to deserve such a dirty girl.” This time it’s him going in for a kiss, cupping your neck and hip as your hips pick up their movement. You can feel him through his jeans, his hard dick rubbing against your clit perfectly, but you felt empty. You wanted to feel him stretch you to your limits again, addicted to the pain of having him open you up.

Your hands skim down his chest, landing on his toned stomach as you tease the button of his jeans. “How much do you want me?” You ask, your lips leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck, sucking on it till you leave a little bruise and lick it. “So fucking much Sunny. You have no idea.” He moans out, the hand under your dress finds your clit, rubbing small tight circles. It’s not long before you are ripping his jeans off him, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull them down, the boxers he wears go along with them.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and ride me. Huh baby? Show me who makes you feel good.” Oh god, if he kept talking like that you could probably cum just from his voice. The raspy low voice was like music to your ears, you could listen to it for hours on end. Your soft hand wraps around him, giving a little tug, lifting you up and lining him up to your entrance. Rafe closes his eyes ready to feel your tight walls squeeze him to an inch of death but nothing happens.

He peeps an eye to look at you and you're just there looking down at him with a light smile. “Come o-oh fuck.” His sentence interrupted by you sinking down on him, you moan at the stretch. When you bottom out he grips your hips keeping you in place, giving you time to adjust to his size. Considering he did prep you with his fingers, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your soft whimpers fill the car as you move slightly, the motion causing him to brush against your g-spot and you clit against the patch of his hair.

“You feel so good baby. So fucking big.” You whine into his ear, burying your head in his neck, the feeling of him too much. The words rush straight to his dick making it twitch, his hips rutting,arms going around your body to hold you. You moan at the feeling, your hips start to move on their own accord, grinding until you gain the confidence to raise your hips.

You lean back making eye contact as you raise your hips before slamming them back down on him. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth dropping into an “O” shape. You keep bouncing, your nails scratching his chest to ground you to something. In this position he feels deeper, it’s a little bit painful but it felt like heaven. Rafe’s hands dig into your hips helping to lift you up and bring you down.

The two of you stay like that, you bouncing on him, his dick rubbing your g-spot in the greatest way. One of the hands on your hips slowly travels to your clit adding to the stimulation you were already feeling. “Oh fuck baby. So perfect, my perfect little girl.” You just moan at him, leaning back between the front seats. Your hands find the middle counsel to keep you upright, giving you extra leverage to keep bouncing.

His other hand glides up your stomach, giving your left tit a squeeze before pinching your nipple. “That feel good?” He comments after hearing your moan increase in pitch. “Yes.” you breath out, you're so close to cumming, tingles spreading from you abdomen throughout your body. Rafe leans closer to you, his mouth wrapping around the nipple he isn’t playing with. The suction of his mouth felt amazing, his teeth grazing your pebbled nipple. The fluttering of your walls alert Rafe that you are about to cum.

“Cum for me Sunny.” Just like that you were cumming, your hand grasping his shoulder due to the intensity. Your nails leave red marks all over his shoulder and collar as you claw at him, getting over stimulated as he keeps you bouncing. He wraps an arm around you to stabilize you out, the orgasim taking the energy out of you. Your limb in his arms, barely noticing him moving you both back so he’s resting on the seat and you're on his chest.

“It’s okay baby, I got you.” Rafe whispers in your ear. He’s thrusting up into you now, chasing his own pleasure. “Harder.” You moan out wanting him to ruin you. He picks up his pace, pulling you down as he thrusts up, filling you up deliciously. You can feel him throbbing, his hips starting to lose their rhythm. You lift your arm resting it on the seat behind his head, your hand scratching the back of his head.

His hand finds you clit again, wanting to feel you cum around his dick one more time. “You got one more in you right? I know you can give me one more.” You nod, your senses coming back to you, your hips meeting his to give him what he wants. It wasn’t long before you were cumming again, shaking in his arms feeling his cum fill you up as your orgasim triggers his. You just rock back and forth trying to get the feeling to last longer. After a few rocks, Rafe stopped you, hissing at the stimulation.

Pulling you off of him, he places you in the seat next to him to get some extra napkins to clean you up. “Why don’t we go get some food and then go home.” He suggested throwing the napkins on the floor of the truck. Home. Hearing him call Tannyhill home as if you belong there, not just as a nanny, but actually belong there makes you happy. It’s probably foolish to get happy or excited knowing this will fade soon. But you can’t help but want that.

You want Tanny to be your home, the thought scares you but it’s the truth. Being there has made you the happiest you’ve been in a really long time. “Yeah. Think we can get burgers? Been craving them for the last week.” He fixes your dress pulling you both out the car and into the front. “We can get whatever you want.”

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“Hey you go in and get our order. I need to run to the store real quick.” Rafe is parked outside the restaurant. You had placed the order on the way over but there was still at least ten minutes before it would be ready. “Yeah I can. Grab me some chocolate.” You tell him as you get out. Walking into the restaurant you can tell how busy they are, the tables are full and there's a line of people waiting for a table. “How can I help you?” The hostess asked. “I have an order.” You tell her your name, waiting to the side as she said it would still be a while.

You pull out your phone and answer some texts from your friends. You notice the message chain with your mom. You wanted to reach out to them, say you are sorry and give them the money, but rafe words creep into your brain. You are finally living your life the way that you want to live it, not how they want you to live. Finally breaking the tension with Rafe seemed to be a blessing in disguise.

The hostess calling your name snaps you out of the thought of your parents. You grab the order walking out the building ready to call Rafe when you see the truck pulling up. The window is rolled down and you can see him leaning on the counsel to look at you standing there. “Got an uber for Sunny, have you seen her? She’s pretty short, beautiful, sassy beyond belief.” You roll our eyes while opening the door and getting in.

You place the food down between your feet and buckle up. “Haha, so funny. Everyone looks short when they are standing next to you, giraffe.” The name made him chuckle, his hand pushing your hair back and playing with the strands. “As long as you like giraffe’s I’m okay with being yours.” You stare at him, bewildered at what he just said.

He’s okay with being yours? After the past few days your feelings have been confusing. You have always found him attractive but didn’t want to risk your job or Wheezie. It’s been harder to not let those feelings come out when you are around him. You grab his hand and bring it to your lips, giving it a light kiss. You intertwine your hands and bring them to your lap, brushing your thumb along his hands. “I love them.” You smile.

The words have a deeper meaning than what you both want to admit. Your smiling contagious as one starts to form on his face. “Good.” His eyes are intense, willing you to confess something more, just a little more to give him the courage to do the same. No words are said, Rafe diverts his eyes from you, swallowing the lump in his throat. The words that threatened to spill, dying and being locked away once again.

He doesn’t know when the crushing weight in his chest began to form. The uncomfortable feeling in his throat caused him to clear it. Rafe shouldn’t think too much about it, he knows this is just for fun. But when he looks at you he knows that he’s lying to himself, he doesn’t even want to think about stopping what you have. It doesn’t matter what he wants, he will never be good enough for you, he’ll just have to settle for what you will give him. “Let’s get home. We can eat and watch that movie you were talking about the other week.”

He remembered the movie, you thought. He also has been wearing the birthday cologne you got him. He couldn’t be more perfect, you wish these were different circumstances. That you weren’t just some girl that worked for his family and he was just the son of your boss. You wish that at this moment you were more, someone who was worth more, someone who could actually be his. Maybe for just a moment you can actually believe that you deserve him. “Yeah that sounds good. Let’s go home.”

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe obx #outer banks smut #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron fanfiction

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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 months ago

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Red Sky At Morning | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of healing from a sexual assault (proceed with caution if this is triggering for you!!! I love you!! Take care of yourself!!!), canon violence, canon gore, spitting insults back and forth with Bela, discussions of dead family members

Word Count: 7523

A/N: I snuck a New Girl reference in here… see if you can catch it ;) Also… there is heavy homoerotic subtext between Bela and (Y/N). Giving my loyal subjects what they deserve lmfao

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Your mind refused to let you rest after seeing Sam leaving in the middle of the night. Despite your exhaustion, you stayed near the window until you saw the car return to its original parking spot around three in the morning. And sure enough, Sam walked out of it, looking severely pissed off.

‘I’m guessing he didn’t just have a bad hookup,’ you mentally remarked. You stewed for a few more minutes on what he could’ve possibly gone to do before sleep finally came to claim you. You settled into bed next to Dean with a yawn, and his lips twitched upwards in his sleep when you wound your arms around him.

***

The next morning around seven, you woke up to see Dean shuffling around and packing.

“Look at you, early bird,” you said dryly, stretching.

He turned slightly over his shoulder and smiled at you. “We gotta talk about Sam.”

You sat up, immediately alert. “Yeah, I know. I saw him leave last night.”

“And now, one of the bullets is missing from the Colt,” Dean huffed. “Dammit, Sam.”

“Let me take the lead on this one, okay?” you urged Dean, moving to the bathroom to brush your teeth and messy hair. “Promise I’ll let you get your two cents in, but I wanna see if he’ll fess up to it first.”

Dean seemed hesitant, but you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror nod anyway. He approached you and gave you a kiss on the side of the head; you assumed in assurance that he would do what you said.

***

Night fell, and none of you had said a word to each other. You sat in the back seat, of course, and Sam was in the passenger’s. You leaned back on the cool leather with crossed arms, waiting for someone to break.

Finally, you’d had enough. “Got somethin’ you wanna tell us, Sam?”

He turned to you, and it was evident he was playing dumb. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”

You quirked a brow, unamused. “No.”

“...Happy Purim?” he laughed. “Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

Dean cut him off, seeming not to be able to help himself. “There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. I know it wasn’t her. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans—”

“Dean…” Sam sighed.

“You went after the crossroads demon, huh?” you said as more of a statement than a question.

“After I told you not to,” Dean added harshly.

“Yeah, well…”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Dean roared.

“I didn’t,” Sam argued.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

Dean waited a moment, trying to gain his composure. “So, what? Does that— Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

“Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?” Sam scoffed. “No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“I do believe I already told you that,” you reminded the boys. “And no one will fucking say who.”

“Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute…” Dean snarked.

“That's not funny,” Sam said dryly.

“No, it's not!” Dean yelled. “It was a stupid fuckin’ risk, and you shouldn't have done it.”

“I shouldn't have done it?” Sam challenged. “You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

The rest of the drive to the next case you’d stumbled upon was completely silent.

***

You and the Winchesters posed as detectives once more to interview the great-aunt of the woman who’d drowned in the shower. The witness seemed particularly interested in Sam, which you were struggling to hold back a smile over.

“But I don't understand,” the elegant, elderly woman said. “I already went over all this with the other detectives.”

“Right, yes,” Dean replied. “But, see, we're with the sheriff's department, not the police department – different departments.”

“So, Mrs. Case—”

“Please.” The woman’s voice had suddenly dropped an octave, likely attempting to seem sultry. “Ms. Case.”

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um, you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

She nodded. “I came home; she was in the shower.”

“Drowned?” Sam asked.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?” Ms. Case’s eyes refused to leave Sam.

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or—”

Ms. Case suddenly cut Sam off. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

Before you could voice your confusion, Dean started talking. “Yep. Absolutely. That's—” he laughed, “Alex and us, we're like this.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Ms. Case grinned. “Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry, I thought the case was solved.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.” “I see.” The woman seemed a bit dazed.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat,” the woman explained.

“A boat?” you questioned.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a…” the woman trailed off, seeming to search for the word, “—ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” You noticed that the elderly woman’s eyes still had not left Sam.

The younger Winchester seemed thrown off by her intensity, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, um, could be.”

“Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you—” she traced her hand down Sam’s slowly, and you and Dean had to bite back smiles— “Anything at all.”

***

Your laughter burst out as soon as you got down the street and far enough away from the house that the old woman couldn’t see you.

“What a crazy old broad,” Dean chuckled.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam scoffed.

You and his brother laughed louder. “Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbled.

“No thanks,” you smirked, “bet she will, though.”

“So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?” Dean questioned.

The brunet shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And what looked like a ghost ship, right?”

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Really?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Every thirty-seven years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every thirty-seven years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started,” Dean sighed. “What's the lore?”

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman; almost all of them are death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?” the older brother snarked.

“Basically,” shrugged Sam.

“Next step?” you asked him.

“I gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?” you replied.

“I checked that, too, actually. Over one-hundred and fifty.”

“Oh, great!” you sarcastically noted.

You and the Winchesters approached an empty parking spot, and you got increasingly confused as you did.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked.

“For sure,” you nodded.

“Where's my car?” Dean growled.

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam questioned.

Dean’s voice began to rise in a panic. “Yes, I fed the meter. Guys, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!”

“Whoa, Dean!” you said, grabbing his arm and trying to keep him from pacing.

“Somebody stole my ca—” Dean bent over to clutch his knees to calm down.

“The '67 Impala? Was that yours?” A familiar voice slyly asked.

“Oh, you bitch,” you grumbled, looking up to see Bela Talbot.

“I'm sorry. I had that car towed,” she said.

Dean shot up. “You what?!”

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone,” Bela replied simply.

“No, it wasn’t!” Dean argued.

“It was when I finished with it,” she smirked.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” the older brother questioned pointedly.

“A little yachting,” she responded flippantly.

You clicked your tongue, realizing something. “You’re Alex. Workin’ with that old lady.”

“Gert's a dear old friend,” Bela nodded.

“Yeah, right. What's your angle?” Dean cut his eyes at her.

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats,” Bela grinned.

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real.”

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Sam jumped in finally. “How do you sleep at night?”

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money,” she scoffed. “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?”

“You shot me!”

“I barely grazed you.”

“She is right,” you murmured.

Bela turned to you. “Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?”

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real,” Dean pressed.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way,” she said.

Dean looked at her like she was stupid. “It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment, and she's demanding some real answers. Look, just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you. Before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” Bela turned around and smiled over her shoulder. “Ciao.”

You and the Winchesters watched her go.

“Can I shoot her?” Dean growled.

“Not in public,” you and Sam replied.

***

You encountered Bela once more the next day when another man had been killed. She was posing as a reporter, but you and the brothers managed to shoo her away from the victim’s brother. Unfortunately for him, he’d seen the ship as well.

Thankfully, you’d gotten the car back, and you headed over to it after questioning the man. It was parked a distance off from the buzzing crime scene, enabling Dean to begin loading shotguns in the back of his car.

“I see you got your car back,” Bela’s frustratingly beautiful voice cooed.

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean growled.

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure,” she quipped. “Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat.”

“That guy back there saw the ship,” you explained.

“Yeah? And?”

You blinked at her, slightly stunned by her coldness. “And he’s going to die. We have to help him.”

“How sweet,” she mockingly pouted.

“What is wrong with you, man?” you asked her.

She ignored you. “He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

“But why not at least try?” you argued.

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun,” she grinned tightly.

Sam and Dean moved to either side of the car, but you weren’t done with her yet.

Dean seemed to know what you were up to as he watched you intently, saying,

“(Y/N)—” but it was too late.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you to make you such a heartless bitch, but I really and truly hope you heal from it soon. ‘Cause you’re a completely miserable person to be around,” you called after her.

She turned around to you sharply with her arms crossed. “Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not. But at least I own it and try to be better.”

“Come on,” Bela scoffed. “You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're all a stone's throw from being serial killers. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job, and I do it. So, you tell me, which is healthier?”

“Oh, god, if I didn’t hate you so much, we’d be such good friends,” you said, a lilt of sincerity in your voice. “But I gotta tell you, man, I’m really not concerned with which is healthier. I’m not even concerned with which is more “morally ethical.” What just… puzzles me about you is how you think that nasty attitude shields you.

"These two might not be able to see it,” you continued, nodding at Sam and Dean, “but I do. You are quite genuinely disappointed in yourself. I get it. The economy sucks, the bees are dying, and movies are all pretty much sequels now. Gotta put food on the table some kind of way. But why do it your way when you can’t even stand to look at yourself in the mirror? Pride. Because without your money and your attitude, you know you’re not half the woman you claim to be.”

“You talk too much,” Bela spat, clearly affected by your words. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” you smirked. “See ya around, Alex.”

***

Later that night, you and the Winchesters decided to stake out the home of Peter Warren, the man you’d spoken to earlier. He was next on the chopping block, and you desperately hoped you’d be able to stop the ghost in time.

You knew that whatever Sam and Dean were talking about, they would catch you up later. And so, you decided to let your thoughts drag you into your own mind.

You were aware of how harsh you’d been on Bela. The truth be told, you didn’t hate her at all. In fact, you admired her ambition. However, everything you’d told her had all been your real perception of her. You knew that everything about her was a facade. And for some reason, she really got under your skin.

You supposed it was because you saw yourself in her. Maybe, if things had been different for you, you would have ended up just like her. Maybe you didn’t like seeing your reflection in her.

“Hey, you!” someone called from outside the Impala.

“I think we've been made,” Dean said to you and Sam.

You followed him across the road to where Peter stood, yelling.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?”

“Sir, calm down. Please,” Sam coaxed, but to no avail.

“You guys aren't cops!” he continued. “Not dressed like that. Not— Not in that crappy car.”

“Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.” Dean cut his eyes at Peter.

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover,” Sam bluffed easily. “We're here because we think you're in danger.”

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.” Sam led you and his brother into the gate, backing Peter closer to his car.

“Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Peter exclaimed, getting into the vehicle to drive it toward the gate.

“Wait!” you called.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!”

“Not helping, Dean!”

As the car approached the gate, it shuddered, coughed weakly, and died.

“That can't be good,” Dean noted.

“Not at all,” you replied. “Get the salt gun.” Next, you ran to the car to help Peter. In the seat behind him, a man with sunken eyes and dripping wet, long, black hair dressed in old sailor’s clothes appeared. Then, it was next to Peter in the passenger’s seat. You tugged on the handle with all your might, but it wouldn’t budge. Horrified, you watched as Peter slumped to the steering wheel with water pouring from his lips.

“(Y/N)!” Dean called from behind you.

You ducked just in time for Dean to fire at the ghost from the passenger’s side door.

Reaching through the broken glass, you hurriedly unlocked the door. You immediately dragged Peter out onto the concrete and put your head to his chest, listening for a pulse. He had none, but you tried CPR anyway. Of course, it was no use. Defeated, you looked up at Dean with sad eyes.

“Dammit!” he growled, kicking the car in frustration.

***

You hadn’t spoken much after leaving Peter behind. It felt awful to leave him on the ground, but there wasn’t much you could do with his body if you wanted to evade suspicion.

Luckily, Dean had found a house to squat in a few days earlier, and that was where you were readying for bed.

The house had clearly not been lived in for some time, and you were thankful you made the brothers start keeping air mattresses on them for instances like these.

You and Dean took the upstairs bedroom, and Sam slept in the one downstairs. The house was still furnished, but dust covered every surface. You decided to leave the cleaning for tomorrow and opted for a “ho bath” as your mother used to call them since you refused to step foot in the unclean shower.

Cross-legged on the air mattress, the hair you were in the midst of combing through waved gently in the wind coming through the open window.

“You wanna say it, or should I?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you as he entered the room after his shower.

You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You can’t save everybody, sweetheart,” he reminded you.

“Dean—” You rolled your eyes.

“What? Don’t gimme that. I know you were thinkin’ it,” Dean said, getting down onto the mattress next to you. He lounged back on the crook of his arm behind his head, leaning against the wall.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and kept your body facing the open window on the adjacent wall. “I just… It feels like I can’t save anybody lately.”

Dean stared at you intently; you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

You returned to brushing your hair, and he sat up to sweep it all over your shoulder opposite him. Dean kissed your newly-exposed neck gently, as if he was savoring the way you felt against his lips. Your brushing slowed, and you tilted your neck further to give him more access.

He kissed up to your mouth; his kiss gentle there, too. When he broke away from you, Dean leaned his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing to me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled lowly in his chest, almost as if you weren’t supposed to hear him say that.

You responded by nudging his nose with yours and then pecking his lips.

Something in the way the two of you kissed felt somber. Granted, almost every day recently seemed to have a somber element. Every day meant one step closer to Dean’s time being up. It was the elephant in the room that was only acknowledged for fleeting moments. And when one did acknowledge it, the other would beg for it to be over. While both of you knew talking about the situation was necessary, neither of you could bear it for longer than a few minutes every once in a while.

You brought this up to Sam the next morning, who sat with you on the couch as the sun rose while Dean continued to sleep.

“I think he just wants to be with you,” Sam said. “I mean, with Jess… when I was dreaming about her dying, all I wanted to do was be with her. To… reassure me that wasn’t real. Or, wasn’t real yet, I guess.”

You nodded. “And I don’t necessarily want to talk about it for extended periods of time. Talking about it makes me feel more in control, I think. I just don’t like feeling fucking helpless.”

“Trust me, I don’t either. And Dean definitely doesn’t. I tend to micromanage more than he does, but…” he shrugged, trailing off.

“I have something else to tell you,” you began, wondering if you should even continue.

“Go ‘head.”

“Back at that… prison. The guard I beat up? He, um, he raped me.”

“Oh, my god,” Sam breathed out. “God, (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. That’s not the point.” You scrubbed your hands down your thighs anxiously. “I’m telling you because I don’t wanna talk to Dean about it. I mean, with the deal and everything else going on… I almost don’t wanna burden him with it? I mean, he knows, obviously, but… I don’t know, I just feel like I have no right to be struggling compared to him.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam scolded gently. “(Y/N), neither of us could ever imagine what that’s like. And if my idiot brother is making you feel that way—”

“No, no, he’s not—”

“—Good! ‘Cause I’d kill ‘im if he was,” Sam finished. It was honestly the most riled up you’d seen him in a while.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you smiled weakly. “It’s just… it’s all so much right now. I wanna enjoy every second of my time with Dean. But between the deal and hunts and… that and everything else on the goddamn planet consuming me every second of the fucking day, it’s really hard to.”

Sam eyed you sympathetically.

Before he could respond, you took in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “Anyway, what’s up with Peter and his brother? I know you researched ‘em yesterday while I was zoned out in the back of the car.”

Sam still seemed like he was wrapped up in your earlier conversation, but he knew better than to force you to keep talking about. “Oh, yeah, uh… they came into, like, a hundred and twelve million after their dad passed. That was really the only thing interesting. Everything else about ‘em was clean,” he informed you.

“Huh,” you considered. “Any connection between the vics?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Far as I can tell, no.”

“Awesome,” you dryly stated.

You then heard a groan come from upstairs as someone began to descend the staircase.

“Morning, Dee,” you called up.

All you got was a grunt in response.

***

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, wrapped by Dean’s arms as he held you to his side. The two of you were just sitting with each other and thinking; a pastime that you were becoming quite fond of.

Dean’s lazy circles he was tracing on your outer leg stopped at a knock on the door.

You shot Dean a look and stood, grabbing your gun off the worn coffee table. You pressed it to the back of the door and peered through the peephole to unfortunately see Bela. At this revelation, you made a face at Sam and opened the door.

She strolled right in. “Dear... god. Are you actually squatting? Charming.” Her self-satisfied smirk never left her face. “So, how'd things go last night with Peter?”

You refused to dignify her with a response as did Sam and Dean.

“That well, huh?” she taunted. “If you say 'I told you so,’ I swear to god; I'll start swinging,” Dean growled.

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart,” she sighed.

“Oh, sure. We can sing kumbaya while we’re at it,” you quipped. “Cut to the chase, Bela.”

“Temper, temper,” she tsked. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

“I've ID'd the ship.” She unwrapped a leather case containing a quite elaborate file. She spread the papers within it across the table. “It's the Espírito Santo: a merchant sailing vessel; quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was thirty-seven.”

“Which would explain the thirty-seven year cycle,” Sam noted.

“Aren’t you a sharp tack?”

You snapped, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

She ignored your comment. “There's a photo of him somewhere…” she flipped through the file and finally settled on a picture of a much drier version of the man you’d seen last night.

Dean looked to Sam. “Isn't that the customer we saw last night?”

“You saw him?” For once, Bela seemed surprised.

“Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand,” the older brother nodded.

“His right hand?” Bela questioned.

“How'd you know?” you returned.

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” she explained.

Dean childishly laughed. “A hand of glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week.”

“Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful,” Sam lightly chastised.

Bela rolled her eyes. “So they say.”

“And officially counts as remains,” Dean considered.

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

“I'll tell you why. Who cares?” Bela said curtly. “Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

“I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?” you asked.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is,” she nodded.

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help,” she said, closing up the file.

Sam crossed his arms. “What kind of help?”

The woman smiled. You hated how charming her smile was. You wanted to hate her so badly, but she was growing on you.

‘Definitely like a wart. Maybe a fungal infection,’ you thought.

***

“I hate this plan,” you said.

“I don’t think you realize how often you say that,” Dean returned.

You glared up at him while you helped adjust his tie. He looked completely beautiful, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him here with you and ravish his body.

Bela’s brilliant plan was bringing Dean as her date and forcing Sam to go with Ms. Case to a charity event. However, given Bela and Ms. Case could only take one guest each, you were forced to sit this one out. Or, at least, that was what Bela thought; you knew she could’ve gotten you in if she really wanted to. You knew she was attempting to humiliate you or put you in your place after what you said to her. However, if there was one thing you knew, it was how to crash a party.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Dean asked you.

“You,” you smiled lopsidedly up at him.

He smirked down at you and kissed you. He held you by your waist as close to him as he could get you, and you returned the gesture by gripping his lapels.

“What is taking so long?” Bela called up the stairs, forcing you and Dean apart. “Sam's already halfway there... with his date.”

“So not okay with this!” Dean yelled back, and you giggled, resting your forehead on his chest.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already.”

Dean looked at you— for approval? For reassurance?— and headed down the stairs. He adjusted his cufflinks with you trailing just behind him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bela looked beautiful in her evening gown and glittering jewels, of course, and you hated her all the more for it.

“Alright, get it out,” Dean encouraged you and Bela. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use,” Bela sighed.

Dean’s nose crinkled in disgust. “What?”

“Y’know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex,” Bela stated plainly.

“Don’t objectify him!” you cut her off; perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

Both Dean and Bela stared at you in questioning.

“Let’s go,” Dean told Bela. “See ya, sweetheart,” he called back to you as he followed Bela out the door. He tossed one more longing look at you over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

You immediately sprinted back up the stairs and took out the evening gown you’d been hiding in your duffel bag.

***

After having snuck into the party through a window on the back of the museum that security had neglected to cover a door anywhere near, you casually slipped down the hall into the ballroom.

You could see Dean, Bela, and Sam bickering near the entrance to the grand ballroom, and you smiled lopsidedly at the sight. Sam then caught sight of you moving through the crowds of people toward them thanks to his superhuman height, as did Bela and then, Dean. Bela crossed her arms angrily, but you were focused on Dean and trying to fight a smile off your face.

Dean seemed to be breathless. “Damn, (Y/N).”

“Damn, yourself.” You turned to Bela. “Great party,” you commented, taking a glass of champagne off a passing tray.

“Thought you were supposed to be waiting back at the house,” Bela replied.

“And miss all the fun? No thanks,” you smirked, taking a sip and staining the glass with red lipstick.

Ms. Case then came up behind Sam holding two glasses of champagne. Before he knew it, he was being whisked away by his date. You giggled at the sight, and Bela rolled her eyes. “C’mon,” she told Dean.

You were delighted, actually. For once, you got to enjoy a fancy party without having to partake in the hunt or any sort of planning the heist. All you had to do was make sure no one got arrested.

You hung back on a far wall, sipping your beverage and watching a disgruntled Sam dance with a very handsy Ms. Case.

‘Dean would be pissing himself,’ you thought, giggling at the sight.

The next thing you knew, the old woman was whispering in Sam’s ear. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep the laugh from bursting out.

And then, your joy was smothered.

“Hi, gorgeous,” a man said, having come up next to you.

“Go away, please,” you snapped, beginning to feel tension grip your throat. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he was reminding you of what happened to you at the prison. Perhaps it was the way he approached you?

“Okay, then, Jesus,” he muttered and was gone soon after.

Your breathing began to slow, but your discomfort continued. Your heart rate remained elevated, and your mind felt in a fog. You returned your focus to Sam and Ms. Case once more trying to keep your mind grounded in the present.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your elbow. You whipped around and threw a punch, catching the attention of several people around you.

“Whoa!” Dean said, catching your wrist and dodging your fist.

Gaze landing on those beautiful green eyes and freckles that you had come to love so much, your breathing finally slowed. You began regaining awareness of the world around you and tried not to shrink under the stares of the wealthy around you.

“Way to not draw attention there, (Y/N),” Bela commented.

Eyes like daggers, your head snapped toward her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” you hissed.

She seemed to realize she’d crossed a boundary, and she backed off. “I’m gonna go get Gert a cold shower,” she quipped, her pride refusing to admit she knew she was wrong.

You stared after Bela mindlessly, and Dean put his first and middle finger under your chin to turn your face back to him. Your eyelashes flickered, and he searched your face for clues as to what triggered you.

Sam came up beside you and Dean. “Guys? Uh, hate to interrupt, but… let’s get outta here.”

You and Dean followed his gaze to one of the women you’d seen whispering and pointing at you after you threw a punch at Dean talking to a security guard and pointing at your trio. Dean instantly grabbed your hand and began leading you out of the museum.

When you arrived at the car, Sam turned to you. “You okay? Saw you try to deck Dean back there.”

“Yeah, uh… this guy just—” you ran a hand through your hair and sighed— “Nevermind. Let’s see the hand.”

Both boys dropped it, although you knew Sam would probe you further later.

“Yeah, tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing,” the younger brother commented.

“I got it... Mrs. Who?” Dean wondered.

You giggled. “Great Expectations?” you prompted.

Dean just stared at you blankly.

“Charles Dickens?”

He blinked.

“Dude, did you pay any attention in high school English?” Sam scoffed.

“Sure I did!” the older brother defended. “Caroline Stone sat in front of me; she was my tutor. Fucked her in the janitor’s closet and everything—”

“Oh, yeah, you were definitely paying attention to something,” you deadpanned, lightly flicking him on the shoulder.

He rustled around in his suit jacket, rolling his eyes, and took out something wrapped in a handkerchief. Dean’s amused expression soon melted into aggravation as he did so.

“What?” you and Sam asked worriedly.

The older Winchester held up a glass bottle with a miniature ship rocking around in it. “I'm gonna kill her.”

Behind Dean, you saw something on the horizon line. The museum was expectedly located near the water given its emphasis on seafaring history, and your heart dropped when you realized what was happening.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered under your breath. “Dean— Dean, I see it.”

“See what?” he asked, following your gaze.

“The fucking ship, Dean. It’s the fucking ship,” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), that’s it,” Sam realized.

“What’s it?” you questioned frantically, eyes still on the water.

“Ms. Case said the Warrens? The brothers? It was rumored they killed their father for his money. And Sheila? She got in a car accident. Her cousin Brian was with her, and he died. That’s the pattern.”

You nodded slowly. “Killing family members. Awesome.” You shook your head, turning to the expensive car next to you. “Fuck!” you yelled, punching the door of the car.

***

You paced around the room, Sam trying his best to keep you and Dean calm while he researched.

“Y’know what, you’re right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go,” Dean growled. “I’ll fuckin’ string her up, I swear to—”

“Dean, look, you gotta relax,” Sam sighed, although he seemed stressed as well.

“Relax!” Dean laughed coldly. “Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax. My fuckin’ girl’s just on Davy Jones’s hit list, and I can’t do anything to stop him because I lost the only fuckin’ thing we could use to save her. Fuck!” There was suddenly a frantic knocking on the door. Disgust burning in your eyes when you looked through the peephole, you opened the door for Bela.

“Just let me explain,” she said. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.”

Dean was completely furious, and he stalked around her. He made a shooting motion with his fingers which would’ve pulled a smile for you had it not been for your situation.

“So you needed a cover for the charity ball,” you spat. “And we were convenient.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back,” Sam implored.

Bela shook her head woefully. “It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Dean questioned.

Realization struck you, and you began laughing coldly. “Oh, okay. You saw it, too.”

She looked up at you, and for the first time since you’d met her, Bela looked terrified.

Dean whistled lowly. “Wow, you know, I- I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—”

“What are you talking about?” she cut him off.

“We figured out the spirit’s motive,” Sam began, putting a photograph in front of Bela. “This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.”

“So?” she prompted.

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See, first, there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. Then, (Y/N). And now you.”

“Oh, my god,” Bela breathed out, seeming to breeze right by the fact that you’d seen the ship, too.

“So who was it, Bela? Hmm?” Dean taunted. “Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It’s none of your business,” she defended weakly.

“It is our fuckin’ business,” Dean snapped, suddenly leaning on the arms of her chair. “(Y/N) saw it, too. And I don’t give a damn about you. But (Y/N)... is…” he trailed off, shaking his head and hanging it low, seemingly overcome with emotion. “And you just sold the one thing that could possibly save her life.”

“Well,” Sam said, “maybe not the only thing.”

All three of you turned to face Sam questioningly.

***

Kneeling on the soft grass beside the grave of the captain, you helped the boys set up a ritual circle under the light of the full moon.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Bela asked worriedly, standing to the side. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders tightly.

“Almost definitely not,” Dean grumbled, looking over at you.

You smiled weakly at him trying to reassure him that you would be okay.

Thunder clapped unexpectedly, and the wind whistled around you. Rain began to pour, soaking you to the bone in an instant.

“Sammy! You better start reading!” Dean ordered, pulling you up from the ground and shielding you with his body.

The younger brother obeyed, and then, Bela shouted, “Behind you!”

Dean was immediately flung through the air away from you, and you wheeled around to see the ghost you’d seen at the Warren’s house. Before you could raise your gun to shoot him, he put his hands on either side of your head. Immediately, you began coughing up water. It felt like your throat was closing as the air slowly left your panicking body.

Dean staggered over to you and tried to support you through your heaving, shuddering breaths. “Sammy, read faster!”

Black spots began to form in your vision, and you were sure it was the end. Then, the rain died down. The wind billowed gently, and the spirit’s head turned slowly toward a creaking sound.

“You... hanged me!” the spirit cried at his brother.

“I’m sorry,” the captain responded pitifully.

“Your own brother.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The spirit charged his brother, leaving you a sputtering mess on the floor. You heard the two men scream, and then, they both went quiet.

***

After parting ways with Bela for the evening, you returned to the house for a few hours of sleep. However, laying next to Dean— the moon illuminating his freckled skin and occasionally-fluttering eyelashes, breaths deep enough to move his chiseled shoulders along with his chest— you couldn’t sleep. Since he’d drifted off about an hour ago, you’d been lazily stroking his hair; the two of you facing each other.

Then, Dean took in a deep breath, stretching out on his back. It became clear to you that he’d woken up, though his eyes remained closed, when he kissed the inside of your wrist. Soon enough, his breathing became steady once more. He kept you snuggled tightly into his right side; legs intertwined and breathing beginning to mirror each other’s.

And then, it hit you: you’d felt oddly at peace, as much as you’d tried to deny it, when the ghost put his hands on the sides of your head. Even when you were in excruciating pain— lungs burning and eyes watering— you were almost relieved. Because if you’d died tonight, that meant you wouldn’t have to live without Dean.

***

Given your realization the previous evening, you wandered around in a daze all morning. You had never enjoyed depending on others. Needing help was so pathetic in your mind, and you refused to ask for it. Despite the way you encouraged Dean to open up and accept help, you couldn’t take your own advice. After your mother’s devotion to your father led her to standing by idly while her two children were beaten black and blue, you swore that you would never let a man rule your life in any sense of the word. And now, Dean was consuming you.

However, this devotion didn’t feel hopeless. It didn’t feel messy. You didn’t feel your essence deteriorating while he hacked away, carving space and indelibly marking your soul. This devotion was welcomed. Allowed. Encouraged. You were willingly handing your beating heart to him, and you knew you could take it back at any time.

Before Dean, you never trusted anyone. You would never have allowed someone to walk beside you through Hell before you met him. Try as others might have, Dean was the only person to mesh harmoniously with your body, mind, and soul.

When Bela came to say her goodbyes, though, you forced yourself out of your thoughts. After she’d thoroughly amused Dean with the ten thousand dollars she gave the three of you to repay her debt, she swaggered out of the door. You surprised even yourself when you followed her out.

“Bela!” you called.

She turned back to you. “Sorry, darling, all out of goodies for the day—”

“I don’t want your money,” you cut her off. “I wanted you to know that… whatever you did, I understand. The boys may never, but I saw the ship, too. Whether we like it or not, we’re pretty similar; you and me.”

She seemed stunned by your admission.

“Take my number,” you told her, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. “If ever you feel like slummin’ it for a crappy beer in a dive bar. Or if you run into any more ghost ships.”

That stunned Bela even more as you turned on your heel and headed back inside.

*** “Seriously? Atlantic City?” Sam scoffed.

Dean had you speeding toward a casino with the money Bela gave you as night fell that evening. “Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black.” He paused for a minute, allowing the air to shift in the car. “Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um... I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon.”

Sam sighed, much to your surprise. You figured he’d be thankful to hear Dean’s admission.

“Y’know, situation was reversed,” Dean continued, “I guess I'd 've done the same thing. I mean, I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal; me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

Sam looked upset at that. “You think so.”

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life. You’re stronger than me.” At Sam’s scoff, Dean exclaimed, “You are! You are. You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for... putting you through all this, I am.”

“Y’know what, Dean? Go fuck yourself,” Sam spat.

“What?” Dean questioned. You were stunned as well.

“I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself,” Sam continued his tirade.

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Dean grumbled.

“So would you please quit worrying about me?” Sam shouted over his brother. “I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you’re dying!”

“He does, Sam, knock it off!” you jumped in for the first time. After all, it was you that had planted the seed to Dean that he should have apologized to Sam.

Dean said nothing, and you could tell by the smirk on his face that he wouldn’t be displaying vulnerability with Sam again for quite some time.

“So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?” Sam pushed.

“I think maybe I'll play craps,” Dean stated.

Outraged, Sam just stared at him in complete disbelief. He turned to the window, and you continued to watch Dean. His smile faded to a steely, difficult-to-read expression.

Sighing, you settled stretched out across the seat and crossed your arms over your chest. Dean’s eyes met yours briefly in the rearview mirror, and you saw a flicker of his real feelings— hurt, betrayal, fear— cross his face before his expression returned to unreadable.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite #spn

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steveseddie · 2 months ago

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From Hell to His Arms

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2,7k | cw: minor character death | tags: pre-relationship, worried steve, eddie lives, but his mother is dead, soft boys

for @steddie-spooktober day twelve, prompt “graveyard”

read on ao3 here

Eddie is missing.

Not missing missing. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since Steve last talked to him so he probably shouldn’t be making that kind of statement. Hopper wouldn’t even let him file a missing person report if he tried. But that doesn’t change the fact that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“He’s gotta be somewhere,” Robin tells Steve on the phone after he calls her on the off chance that she knows where Eddie is. She doesn’t.

“He’s not,” Steve says, head thumping back against the wall. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you check the trailer?”

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes. Did he check where Eddie lives? Well, duh. “Yeah, he wasn’t there. Wayne said he was already gone when he came home from work.”

“Huh,” Robin says, probably thinking the same thing Steve did— that it’s weird for Eddie to be out of bed, let alone out of the trailer, so early in the morning. “Did you check with the kids?”

“Yeah, I called them, no one has seen him.”

“Maybe he had band practice?” Robin suggests next.

Steve shakes his head even if she can’t see him. “Nope, I called Jeff. No practice today.” He also called Dougie and drove by Gareth’s house, hoping to see Eddie’s van parked outside or to hear their music coming from the garage, but nothing.

On the phone, Robin makes a hmph noise.

“He could be, you know—” she lowers her voice so her parents don’t hear her, “—making a drug deal.”

Steve purses his lips. “He wouldn’t go alone, Rob, not after last time.”

‘Last time’ was two weeks ago when an asshole from school used buying as an excuse to get Eddie alone so he could beat him up. Apparently, he and Jason Carver had been friends. Eddie managed to get away with only a split lip by hitting the guy in the face with his lunchbox after he threw the first punch and getting the fuck out of there while the guy recovered. He showed up at Steve’s house, angry and scared, and Steve made him promise that if he was going to keep dealing, he better bring him along, just in case, and so far, Eddie has kept his word.

“Well,” Robin says, her voice snapping Steve from his thoughts. “Unless Eddie has any secret friends we don’t know about, I don’t know who he could be with.”

“I told you he was missing,” Steve says, scowling at the wall, pretending it’s Robin. If he can hear the way she rolls her eyes at him, maybe she’ll know he’s glaring.

“He could be hanging out by himself, dingus, maybe at Lover’s Lake or the quarry or—”

Feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment, Steve admits, “I already checked there.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. I drove to Lover’s Lake, Skull Rock, and the quarry. I even drove to the school, but there’s no sign of him,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. He can hear the worry in his voice, and if he hears it, so does Robin.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Steve,” she reassures him. He appreciates how she doesn’t tease him for driving around town looking for Eddie like a crazy person. “If something was wrong, he would’ve called or radioed you.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Steve says, sliding down the wall. “And I know I’m probably being clingy and obsessive and dramatic but—”

“You worry about him and that’s not a bad thing,” she cuts in. “But I’m sure you don’t have to! He’ll show up eventually with a very silly, very Eddie reason for why he went missing—”

Steve jerks up with a gasp. “So you agree he’s missing!”

Robin groans. “Shut up, dingus. I’m trying to tell you your boyfriend is fine.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve says, biting on his lip. Yet, the hopeful part of his brain supplies.

“Yet,” Robin’s voice echoes.

It’s all still very new— this thing between Steve and Eddie. They’ve only been on a few dates, they’ve held hands and shared one single, yet quite memorable, kiss. They still haven’t put a name to it, even if Steve was ready to start calling Eddie his boyfriend before date number one. He kept that to himself. He knows how he gets— he falls hard and fast, and he tends to say and do too much too soon. The last thing he wants to do is to scare Eddie off.

Maybe you did, the mean part of his brain says, maybe Eddie got tired of you already and he’s hiding from you.

Steve shakes his head, trying to shut up that voice. He can feel a headache starting and he pinches the bridge of his nose with a tiny grunt.

“Hey,” Robin says after a short silence. Steve almost forgot he was on the phone with her. “Why don’t I come over? I’ll keep you company until Eddie shows up.”

Steve’s lips twitch. He appreciates Robin’s offer, but he knows he won’t be good company until he hears from Eddie. “No, Robs, it’s fine,” he says, playing with the phone cord, twirling it around his finger. “I might drive around for a bit, see if I can find him.”

Robin sighs, but she doesn’t try to talk him out of it. She probably knows it’s useless. “Okay, fine. Let me know when you do, okay? And flick his forehead for me, for making my best friend worry.”

Steve can’t help but laugh when he pictures the cute little scrunch Eddie would undoubtedly make if he did that. “I will,” he says. Then, “Got any other ideas of where he could be?”

Robin hums, thinking. “The arcade? The music shop?” She suggests and Steve makes a mental list of those places. “The library? Wait, no, he’s banned from the library. Hm, maybe you should check the back of Hopper’s cop car.”

Steve snorts but doesn’t rule it out. “It’s worth a shot,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Okay, I’m going, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye, dingus. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Steve says, hanging the phone on the receiver.

He knows Robin is probably right about Eddie being okay but there’s a part of him— the part that still wakes up crying from nightmares about losing Eddie— that won’t stop tormenting Steve until he sees Eddie and makes sure he’s alright.

And if he has to drive aimlessly around town for hours to do that, then so be it.

And if Eddie asks, he’ll just say he felt like going for a ride.

Or you can tell him the truth, he’ll understand, he thinks, optimistically. Before his own brain replies with— or he’ll think you’re insane and run for the hills.

Steve huffs out a burst of air.

He picks up his car keys and zipping up his jacket, he walks to his car.

First, he goes to the arcade and then the music shop but there’s no sign of Eddie at either place. He drives around town, hoping to see the van parked somewhere, and peeks into a few other stores, looking for a familiar curly mane. But neither is nowhere to be seen.

The library is next, even if Eddie is banned from it. Then Steve considers stopping by the police station, either to check if Hopper brought Eddie in or to try to convince him to let him file a missing person report.

He doesn’t. He’s not that crazy.

Instead, Steve decides to go back to the trailer, hoping that Eddie has made his way back there from wherever he was by now.

He’s not paying a lot of attention as he takes the—by now familiar— route to Forrest Hills and he almost misses Eddie’s van, parked at the foot of the hill leading up to the graveyard. He does a double take, but there’s no way to mistake the old vehicle, not with the ’Corroded Coffin’ graffitied on its side.

Wondering what Eddie could possibly be doing at the graveyard, Steve parks the Beemer right behind the van and walks up to it. Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat is just as empty, and when he peeks through the window, he can’t see anyone in the back either.

He considers waiting for him by the van but that lasts for about five minutes. He starts getting antsy again when thoughts of angry jocks jumping Eddie or monsters lurking, waiting to attack him, pop into his mind.

So he treks up the hill, squinting his eyes to see if he can spot Eddie somewhere in the distance but after three concussions, his eyesight isn’t the best so with a sigh, he starts making his way through the tombstones, searching for Eddie.

He walks aimlessly between headstones, reading the names and dates on them and thinking about how only a few months ago he and his friends almost ended up needing one of those, the closest being Eddie.

The thought makes Steve want to throw up. He could’ve easily ended up here for a different reason— to visit Eddie’s grave instead of looking for him. And God, losing Eddie then would’ve been bad, but losing him now? Steve doesn’t think he could survive it.

“You haven’t lost him,” Steve mutters, talking himself down from the fear rising in his throat. “He’s fine. He’s probably just— getting high on Jason Carver’s grave or something.”

Still, he sighs in relief when he finally spots him, sitting on the grass in front of a small tombstone on the far side of the graveyard, an acoustic guitar on the ground next to him, and a flower bouquet by his feet.

Steve walks up to him and Eddie, who seems deep in thought, doesn’t notice him until he speaks up. “There you are.”

Eddie jumps, shoulders tensing as his eyes snap up to him, wide and alert, before he recognizes Steve and relaxes. “Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie says, blowing out air. “Are ya trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Are you ?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. “’Cause I’ve been running around town all day looking for you. You just—” He gestures wildly, hands slicing through the air, “—disappeared. The kids didn’t know where you were, and neither did Wayne or Robin. I radioed you and you didn’t answer.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “I left the walkie in the van.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve huffs, “I thought you were in a ditch somewhere or like, mad at me.”

“I’m neither of those things, Stevie,” Eddie says with a tiny shake of his head.

“Then what are you—” Steve cuts himself off when his eyes zero in on the name written on the tombstone. Elizabeth Munson. Oh. “ Oh .” And of course, Steve knows Eddie’s mom is dead. He just didn’t know she was buried here or that Eddie ever visited her grave. “That’s your mom’s grave.”

“Yup,” Eddie says, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement. At least he’s not mad, despite Steve being an idiot.

“God, Eddie, I’m sorry,” he says, hanging a hand from his neck. “Should I go? I should go, leave you to it—”

“Hey, no,” Eddie protests, tugging on Steve’s pant leg. “Come here.”

He pats the grass next to him, looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes he could never say no to.

So Steve flops down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees, making himself small, feeling like he’s intruding.

Eddie scoots closer with a little smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” Steve responds with a soft smile of his own. He glances around, and seeing no one, he dares to lean in and press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His blush matches the pink flowers on his mother’s grave. “Did you bring those?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “They were her favorites. I bring her some every time I visit.”

“Do you visit her often?”

Eddie leans back on his palms, tilting his head to the side. “Sometimes. Wayne comes with me on her birthday and I’ll come on my own if I have stuff to tell her, or a new song to show her.”

Steve’s eyes dart to the guitar and he notices a notebook lying next to it.

“I know it’s silly,” Eddie goes on, “but she’s always the first to hear them. She’ll let me know if they’re any good or if they’re shit. Literally. Once I played her a song, and as soon as I was done, a bird crapped on me!” A chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “So I ripped the song to shreds and never played it again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Steve says with an amused snort. He points at the guitar and the notebook. “What did she have to say about this one?”

“I haven’t shown it to her yet, I was catching her up first,” he pauses, giving him a shy smile, “telling her about you.”

“Oh, and what did you say?”

Eddie jumps to a crouch, startling Steve and getting all up in his space as he talks. Steve can’t help but laugh at the silly outburst. “Told her I met the most gorgeous boy,” he says with a playful but genuine smile. “Charming, funny, a little bitchy but with a heart of gold. Oh, and hot as all hell.”

Steve ducks his head. “Eds—”

“And how for some reason, this boy likes me. Me .” He says, placing his hands on his chest and falling back on his ass, his expression turning shy and serious. “And that I’m scared shitless to ruin everything because I like him so much.”

Steve reaches over the space between them, grabbing Eddie’s hands, and playing with his ring-clad fingers. “He likes you just as much,” he says, squeezing his hand. “And he’s scared too, that you’ll think he’s crazy or for driving around Hawkins all day looking for you.”

On the contrary, Eddie seems delighted. He grins widely. “No fucking way, sweetheart.”

And God, Steve wants to kiss him but he can’t. Not like he wants to. Not here.

So he reaches over with his free hand and flicks him on the forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes widen in shocked indignation and then his nose scrunches up exactly like Steve pictured it. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Robin asked me to do it,” Steve shrugs, “for making me worry.”

Eddie’s lips purse. “I guess I deserve it. Sorry about that.”

Steve waves off the apology. “So, your mom. Did she say anything to you? About me?” He wrinkles his nose. “Did she make a bird crap on you?”

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh. “Nope, that’s when you found me actually, which might be her way of telling me to stop hiding from you and hiding how I feel.”

“She’s a wise woman, your mother,” Steve says.

Eddie nods, squeezing Steve’s hand. “She would’ve liked you, you know?”

Smiling, Steve says, “I’m sure I would’ve liked her too.” He jerks his chin towards the guitar. “I’ll give you two some time, so you can show her the song.”

“Actually,” Eddie starts, grabbing Steve’s wrist when he tries to get up. “It’s time I listen to Mom and stop hiding how I feel. Stay and listen to it."

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you in the car.”

“Please, I’m sure. This song is for you anyway,” he admits, “you should hear it.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly, sitting back down. Eddie lets go of his hand so he can reach for his notebook, flipping through the pages until he finds the one he’s looking for and sets it down in front of him. The lyrics are written down in Eddie’s chicken scratch handwriting and some of them are crossed out so Steve can’t make out most of the words, except for the song title written in big bold letters.

From Hell to His Arms.

Eddie’s song to him.

Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest.

With one last shy smile, Eddie starts to play a soft melody, his voice joining in to sing about monsters, a heart rescued from darkness, and falling in love with a hero, a fallen king.

Steve loves it. Of course he does.

And as the clouds above them part and sunshine bathes Eddie in the most beautiful light, Steve thinks— Eddie’s mom must have liked it too.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiespooktober #stranger things #stranger things fic #i started writing this days ago and guess what I'm still LATE #enjoy some soft boys x #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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v-arbellanaris · 11 days ago

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i go out of my way to tag my critical posts because i dont want to interrupt people's enjoyment of the game, but ive gotta say im getting really fucking annoyed at fan attitudes about anyone who has criticisms of the game at all

white people in the da fandom will hear "hey, why isnt the fact that racism/classism exists (which THE GAME has made clear for like 15 years now), and is systemic, ever mentioned or acknowledged in any real way in this game" and immediately have the worst bad faith take on the statement ever to immediately scream about how evil it is that People (because ofc they never imagine that any person of colour might be upset at the blatant erasure) Want Depictions of Bad Things like racism in their media

as an example, there is no consideration of slavery as a systemic practice in dock town - even as 'the poorest of the poor' social level, soporati are not slaves. i dont know if youve ever interacted with members of your society, but we do not fucking exist in a vacuum. dock town is not magically Not part of tevinter or tevinter politics - the fucking black divine literally has a whole fucking home base there. it literally wouldn't have taken that many changes either. we could have heard ambient banter about how the pay's shit, etc, but We All Know It Could Be So Much Worse (you could be enslaved). an ambient dialogue/banter about maybe someone working themselves desperately to the bone to try and buy their sibling back from servitude from a magister. like those are ugly situations, yeah, but do you see how that 1) lends some fucking depth to the population that is both consistent with the lore of previous games and 2) emphasising that people in dock town are not magisters, and are as subject to the whims of the ruling class as slaves are (can't believe i want class consciousness in my media, i know) and c) creating social and power distance between the magisters of tevinter and everyone else. but i dont recall getting anything like that in the game, but i do recall the two dockhands trying to awkwardly go on a date together. this is because veilguard is not interested in delving into these topics, which is a decision that was made, that i - a person who paid money for this game - get to criticise. on my own damn blog. under a read more on a correctly tagged post that you can choose not to engage with so as to not spoil your own hype.

YOU can't deal with your guilt so it makes YOU uncomfortable to see depictions of racism, but i dont have that problem. i don't get to opt out of racism in real life, i don't get to opt out of classism and casteism in real life, and so it's important to me to represent these experiences authentically and respectfully. if that kind of storytelling is not your cup of tea, that's fine, you can literally just say that - we all have different things we want out of our media. i might privately judge you but that's a valid take to have. but im getting really fucking annoyed by people acting Holier Than Thou and like Superior Understanders, and constantly undermining valid criticisms of how flat the sociopolitical contexts are in veilguard are either just Coming From The Racists, bad faith interpretations and/or illiterate idiots in the most fucking condescending way possible

#the amount of times ive immediately been called illiterate in fandom by white people is neither surprising nor disappointing.#do you know what you can do when you see criticisms you don't like btw? you can literally just look away.#im glad for those of you who liked the game. i really am. i also dont HATE veilguard #but i swear to fucking GOD if another person on my dash acts like the Superior Understander by calling other people illiterate for #[checks posts] disagreeing with your video game opinions... i hope you eat shit.#bioware isnt going to fuck you no matter how hard you jerk them off btw.#fandom critical #veilguard critical #veilguard spoilers

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suzukiblu · 27 days ago

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WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . okay, so they were going to the Watchtower, Tim finds out literally on the Watchtower with his two-day go-bag hooked over one shoulder. Bruce literally did not even say they were walking into a disguised zeta tube until he activated the damn thing. Dick looks wry, his own go-bag over his shoulder, but also not all that surprised; Tim is definitely surprised, and also immediately mortified. Bruce brought them to the Watchtower? The Watchtower is full of people! People who will take one look at Stud and see Superman! See Superman and also almost definitely ask Stud’s name!

And yes, obviously he’s going to need a fake one for him because secret identities exist for a reason, but the thing about being a Bat is, they use the fake names for their secret identities, because Bruce lives and breathes friggin’ 5D chess and is way more “Batman” than he’s ever been “Brucie”, so if anyone asks Tim will, in fact, have to tell them Stud’s actual name. Especially because he’s pretty much positive Stud will be a goddamn brat about it if he tries using a fake name for him anyway, given the other’s clear disdain for anything not a cape and S-shield.

So yeah, the chances of at least one if not multiple of Earth’s greatest heroes looking him in the eye and asking him what his Pocket’s name is at some point in the next ten minutes are . . . not nonzero, put it that way.

Tim seriously considers just finding the nearest airlock and hacking through the safety protocols in self-defense.

Or maybe just the incinerator. There’s probably an incinerator somewhere on the Watchtower, right? There’s gotta be.

Dick pats his shoulder sympathetically. Tim immediately feels worse, because if it’s that obvious how mortifying this whole experience is about to be for him, it’s going to be even more mortifying than that.

“Codenames only,” Bruce makes a point of stating, not bothering to look back as he strides down the hall ahead, Cat all masked up and hidden under the fall of his cape. Which as a statement, obviously, is meant for Stud, but given how stubborn and contrary Stud’s been so far . . .

“Please,” Tim hangs back to add under his breath as Dick heads after Bruce with Star and Red on his shoulders, Red in her own mask and Star not having bothered, for obvious reasons. Stud frowns, looking puzzled.

“Rob?” he tries warily, still looking a little confused.

“Right,” Tim agrees, resisting the urge to try convincing Stud to hide under his cape and just following after Dick and Bruce. Chances of Stud being willing to hide are unlikely, and it seems much more likely to annoy or upset him. So like–fight the battles you can win, and all. And avoid aggravating your tiny, unpredictable soulmate who isn’t actually Superman but sure does look like Superman.

Tim really, really hopes that Stud is Supergirl, because that implies him being capable of turning into a form much easier to explain to his dad and also maybe at least not being just a guy, which is still something he doesn’t know how he really feels about. Even if it also implies Lex Luthor Junior being immediately relevant to the state of his love life. But he’s not really holding out much hope for that right now, considering . . . everything, basically.

Though dealing with Luthor Junior might be better than dealing with the creepy cyborg guy, whoever he is.

“Rob Rob Rob,” Stud chants happily to himself as he flies ahead to Red and she gives his head a pat, and Star flies over to meet him and gives him a big, body-squeezing hug, nuzzling into his curly hair as her own half-envelopes him. Stud crows delightedly and lunges into the hug to send them both tumbling through the air, and Star croons affectionately at him and swings him around as she hugs him harder, glowing sunlight-bright at the same time. Stud crows, and Tim hears Cat laugh lowly from inside Bruce’s cape.

It’s–weird, sort of, Tim thinks for a moment, half-distracted and resisting the urge to frown to himself. The way the Pockets have been interacting, he means. Stud’s been aggressively flirty and boastful and constantly chattering on and on in Pocket-talk and is clearly trying to be charming while mostly being overbearing, which isn’t very much like either Supergirl or Superman and also should have at least Red annoyed with him, and most likely Cat too.

Except Cat just seems to find Stud funny and Red sort of wryly accepts him, even though neither of them have much patience for anyone as loud and pushy and attention-demanding as Stud’s been acting. And Star flirts back with him a bit, but more playfully than anything else; she’s mostly treating him like she thinks he’s cute–like, cute like a puppy or a baby, not like another fully-grown sapient adult being. And they’re all putting up with behavior they usually wouldn’t tolerate from any man, for whatever reason.

That’s . . . weird, yeah.

Very weird.

Tim frowns to himself after all, then immediately gets distracted by the mortifying experience of Stud zipping over to loop around Bruce’s head and chitter indignantly at him until Cat slips out of the shadows of his cape and purrs up at him. Stud lights up in unrestrained delight, then dives down and snatches her up to carry off back to Star and Red, crowing triumphantly as he does. Cat cackles and Starfire giggles and Red lets out a huffed little laugh of her own.

Bruce at least ignores him and Dick muffles his own laugh, but Tim is still mortified.

Stud looks back at him looking way too proud of himself, then chirps excitedly and holds Cat up in–like in display, almost, like he just won a prize or an award or something and is showing it off to him. Cat just chuckles indulgently and scritches him under the chin.

. . . yeah, “weird” is actually not a strong enough word to go with here, probably.

“Weird” is so not a strong enough word to go with here, in fact.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: a pocketful of kons #lottie

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 9 days ago

Text

JNPR and JACC

Jaune: You need a hobby.

Dawne: I have a Hobby!

Jaune: Obsessing over the fact Pyrrha's better than you isn't a hobby.

~~~~~

Dawne: I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes.

Cadmine: Wow, I've gotta hear this.

Dawne: I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share.

Cadmine: You forgot pride.

Dawne: No, I'm pretty proud of this.

~~~~~

Dawne: Would it be discrimination to only hire employees at my doughnut shop who have the same name?

Eren: Legally, I don't believe that breaches any discrimination laws. Morally though… I don't know.

Dawne: I believe god is on my side when it comes to Dawne's Doughnuts.

~~~~~

Cadmine: How long until Eren snaps and finally kills somebody?

Zhe: I’ve been going through life assuming it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to Her.

~~~~~

Pyrrha: You bought a TACO?!?

Dawne: Yeah?

Pyrrha: From the same truck that hit Jaune?!?

Dawne: *Talking with his mouth full* Well, me starving ain't gonna help him.

~~~~~

Cadmine: Eren? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry?

Eren: *nearing the end of her rope* Cadmine, I swear to god—

~~~~~

Nora: I’m sad.

Zhe: Don’t be sad, because sad backwards is das.

Zhe: And das not good.

~~~~~

Eren: Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance!

Dawne: And “father” is for emotional distance!

Eren: That is also correct!

Cadmine: ... Who hurt you two?

Dawne: Our dads, weren't you paying attention?

~~~~~

Cadmine: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Eren: *About to lose it* Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"?

Dawne: Ya know… it might be.

~~~~~

Pyrrha: I don't want to fight you!

Dawne: I wouldn't want to fight me either!

~~~~~

Team JACC Does some stupid shit

Eren: *Stomping away*

Cadmine: EEERRREN! I love you!

Eren: *Turning around* No! I'm Done! I'm fuckin' DONE!

Dawne: No your not-

Eren: This is BULLSHIT! Fucking BULLSHIT!

Eren: WHAT IS THIS! WHAT IS MY LIFE!

Eren: I can't do it Dawne! *Breaking into tears* I Can't do it Anymore!

Zhe: YOu Know what Eren! You can give up now, or you can see it out, Because we certainly can't do it without you, and I know you can't do it without us!

Eren: I Appreciate it, but Look what I'm Dealing with ZHE!

Zhe: Eren-

Eren: You Gotta draw the line somewhere man! You Gotta draw a FUCKIN' line in the Sand! You've Gotta Make a Statement! You've Got to look inside yourself and "What am I willing to put up with today?"

Eren:

NOT

FUCKING

THIS!

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby shitpost #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #team jacc #rwby oc team #rwby oc #rwby ocs #eren jotunn #dawne angeles #caiji zhe #cadmine ittoras #the only source I can remember #source: the game grumps #source: game grumps

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doc-pickles · 1 year ago

Text

waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (p. 2)

series masterlist

summary: the hughes-tkachuk family thanksgiving dinner from hell

warnings: mentions vomiting

a/n: here’s part two of my matty fic! hope y’all enjoy :)

xoxo

nina

Your parents' living room is loud and boisterous as everyone mills around for an early Thanksgiving dinner. The dinner had been a Hughes-Tkachuk tradition for as long as you could remember, but this year your stomach rolled uneasily at the thought of having to sit at a table and lie to everyone at it.

“Did the annulment go through?”

Matthew’s voice makes you jump as you turn to face him. His stubble has grown out into the beginnings of a beard and you can’t deny it’s a good look on him.

“About that,” your eyes shift down to your boots as you speak quietly. “They can’t annul it, we’re going to have to get a legal divorce.”

Matthew doesn’t say anything, simply drags you down the hall into one of the spare bedrooms before closing the door and looking at you with wide eyes.

“What do you mean we need a divorce? I thought we could get it annulled and pretend like it never happened,” Matthew's tone was incredulous as he stared at you.

“Me too but apparently when you marry someone with a multimillion-dollar hockey contract that complicates things,” you swallow down the bile trying to climb your throat as you look up at Matthew. His gaze softens and you realize you must look scared shitless right now. “Listen I’ll figure it out okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Without warning, Matthew pulls you into a hug and you breathe in his warm woodsy scent, grounding yourself in the contact. You take a shaky breath as he runs a hand down your back, “Let me know how I can help, okay? I don’t want you stressing over this and it takes two to tango anyways.”

You barely hold back the urge to laugh at his statement, Matthew not knowing how true his words are. Instead, you nod and stay there for a few more comforting seconds before he pulls away, “You okay?”

Nodding you meet Matthew's eyes, “Can we talk after dinner?”

“Sure,” Matthew nods and presses a kiss to your forehead before he gives you one last smirk and leaves the room.

When you leave a few minutes later, everyone is starting to sit down around the table. You take your spot next to Luke and across from Matthew who winks at you as you sit. He groans and you see Quinn glaring at him, assuming your brother had kicked him under the table.

“Table is getting full,” Keith chuckles as he looks between all of the kids, Emma now seated next to Brady. “Might need a bigger one next year.”

Your mother lets out a huff and as soon as you look at her you know whatever comes out of her mouth next isn’t going to be good.

“I’d say so. In fact, I think someone here has a little announcement they want to make,” as you scan the table and meet Matthew’s gaze your stomach drops, both of your faces blanching. “Who wants to share?”

You and Matthew break away from each other's stares to look around at all of your siblings. None of them look like they’re quite sure what’s happening, but they all keep flicking back to you and Matthew.

“Mom-”

“Anyone want to tell me why there was a pregnancy test in the guest bath? A positive one at that?”

Your mouth snaps shut at your moms admission and side glances immediately start flying across the table. Most eyes turn to Brady and Emma, the newlyweds shaking their heads. Emma grabs her wine and takes a hearty sip before answering your mom, “Not me, I’m very much still enjoying my wine.”

Eyes dart around the table again and you can tell the moment Luke spots your can of Coke next to his bottle of beer, a long and loud groan leaving him, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Luke Warren Hughes! Language,” your father scolds, but you can barely register his chastising as you lock eyes with your twin.

“Okay but who’s pregnant?” Jack asks cluelessly as he continues to look around the table. “If it’s not Emma it’s Taryn or- Oh my god!”

You can feel every set of eyes at the table fall onto you but you can only meet Matthew’s gaze across the table, his blue eyes wide and searching as he stares you down. You hold his gaze until Quinn and Jack both start yelling simultaneously.

“Are you kidding me? You knocked up my sister you fucking douche canoe!”

“Holy shit! Holy shit this is from Vegas? First, you marry my sister then you knock her up?!”

At Jack and Quinn’s outbursts, you push your head into your hands as all four of your parents begin to hurl questions across the table. The noise leaves your head swimming as bile begins to rise up your throat, everyone around you shouting.

“Wait, Matthew got you pregnant?”

“What the hell happened in Vegas?”

“Did he just say you're married? How long have you two been together?”

“Does this mean we’re all going to be grandparents?”

As everyone continues to yell over the table you do the only thing you can think to do. Leaning to your right you promptly throw up your meager lunch into the potted plant next to you. Everyone stops as you continue to throw up and you vaguely register your mom ushering everyone out of the room while a hand settles on your back. You’re not entirely sure who’s holding you but the hand on your back is comforting.

“S’okay, I got you,” you’re slightly shocked when Matthew’s voice sounds out as his hand rubs your back. “Fun dinner huh?”

You huff out a laugh as you finally stop retching, looking over your shoulder at Matthew, “No one got a chance to take a single bite.”

There’s a silent minute where you’re simply breathing and trying to ground yourself before Matthew asks with a small voice, “You okay?”

Nodding slightly you sit up and face him, “I’m fine. Besides single-handedly ruining Thanksgiving and not being able to keep any food besides cranberry sauce down all day.”

Matthew chuckles as he runs a hand over his face, “Hey at least we had the common sense to get married before having a baby, huh?”

You both sit in silence for a second before a bubble of laughter bursts out from you, Matthew joining in. You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I found out last night, I was going to tell you after dinner. I didn’t want to freak you out before we had to sit down and lie to everyone about being married, but here we are.”

“It’s okay. At least we don’t have to stress about telling everyone,” you’re both quiet for a second before Matthew whispers his next words. “You… Do you want to keep it?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly as you focus on your fingers. “Yes I… I hope that’s okay.”

Matthew nods, pulling you closer before speaking, “I… Yeah. We’ll figure it out, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you stop puking yet?” Luke asks as he sticks his head around the corner. Seeing you and Matthew sitting together he rolls his eyes. “Good. Can you please go into the living room before someone in there combusts? I think dad and Keith are about to start throwing punches.”

Matthew helps you up and you walk hand in hand to the living room. Keith and your dad are yelling and Quinn is trying (and failing) to explain what happened in Vegas to your mom.

“You think if we slip out they’d notice?” Matthew whispers right next to your ear and you have to stop yourself from letting out a full body shudder at the feeling.

“Unfortunately, yes. Plus I’m getting kind of hungry so I want to wrap this up and get back to dinner as soon as possible.”

Matthew chuckles behind you and everyone seems to realize you two are standing there. Your dad takes a step forward, but you put your hand up to stop him from coming any closer as you step in front of Matthew.

“Okay so we’re not going to threaten to beat up the man you’ve known since he was five,” you fix your dad with a knowing look before eyeing your brothers over his shoulder. “You three are included in that.”

“Why don’t we just let the kids explain what happened,” Chantal broaches from her spot on the couch next to your mom. “Maybe we have the story wrong.”

“Ummm so we went to Las Vegas… And then we got married,” you can’t meet anyone’s eyes as you speak but Matthew grabs your hand again and squeezes it comfortingly. “So there-“

“You got married because you were drunk and couldn’t find something better to do,” your father asked as he stared at you and Matthew.

“Jim!”

“No, Dad-“

“Well it’s fine they can just get it annulled,” Keith says from his spot across the room.

“Not if she’s pregnant,” Chantal shrieks and you can feel your heartbeat pick up. “You are pregnant, right?”

You nod, feeling tears prickling your eyes as your parents begin to speak again.

“What if it’s not even Matthew’s?”

“Well you can’t have a baby out of wedlock! Even if it’s not his-“

“You saying my daughter is a-“

“I didn’t say that! I’m just suggesting-“

“Listen I know that all of this wasn’t planned but both of us are responsible adults who can make decisions on our own,” Matthew interrupts your parents bickering and you don’t realize you're harshly squeezing his hand until he pulls you back into chest. “Can we table this conversation and eat dinner? Please?”

Everyone files back into the dining room and you cast a grateful look to Luke who’s taken the seat across from you so Matthew can sit next to you. Plates get passed around and when everyone is eating you finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“So besides the impromptu elopement, how was Vegas?” your mom asks with a small grin and a chorus of laughter sounds from the table.

Left it kind of open ended but I love writing the Hughes/Tkachuk gang so maybe another part?

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nina writes

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nickeverdeen · 6 months ago

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Could I request an imagine for Nimona with a teen!fem!reader who's Ambrosius' younger sister and looks like Gloreth? Could be platonic or romantic, idc

Despite her heritage, Reader has always felt odd and out of place compared to everyone else, and feels a lot of pressure put on her as the descendant of Gloreth. So she often runs away from the loud parts of the city in order to get away from everything, and one day she meets Nimona.

Reader doesn't feel threatened by Nim at all, in fact, she thinks being a shapeshifter is awesome and cool. Even when other people find out about Nim and tell Reader she's a monster, Reader constantly stays by her side, completely willing to fight for her if that's what it takes.

Thanks

Nimona with a teen!fem!reader who's Ambrosius' younger sister and looks like Gloreth

Warnings: None (I think?)

I’m in advance sorry that it’s not long and slightly short and I really am sorry

———————————————————

The city bustled with life, its streets filled with the echo of laughter, chatter, and the clang of swords from the training grounds. To anyone else, this might have seemed like a vibrant, welcoming place. But for the young girl with Gloreth’s golden hair and Ambrosius’s steel-blue eyes, it often felt suffocating.

You carried a lineage that set you apart from your peers. Being Ambrosius’s younger sister came with its own set of challenges, but it was being Gloreth’s descendant that weighed on you the most. The legacy, the expectations—it all felt like too much sometimes.

On days when the pressure grew unbearable, you would slip away from the academy and head to your secret spot. It was a quiet hill just outside the city, where you could see the horizon stretch far beyond the walls that held you in. It was your sanctuary, a place where you could breathe without the weight of your lineage and expectations pressing down on you.

Today was one of those days. You climbed the familiar path to your hill, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. You sat down, drawing your knees to your chest, and let your mind wander.

You were lost in thought when you heard footsteps behind you. Turning quickly, your hand instinctively reaching for the small dagger you kept at your waist, you saw a figure approaching. It was a girl, not much older than yourself, with bright pink hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice steady despite the surprise

The girl grinned, a wild, almost feral smile that seemed to light up her entire face. “Nimona. And you must be Y/N, Ambrosius’s sister.”

Your hand tightened on your dagger. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are,” Nimona replied with a casual wave of her hand. “Gloreth’s descendant, the girl with the golden hair. You’re kind of a big deal, you know?”

You sighed, the weight of that statement sinking into you. “Yeah, I know.”

Nimona plopped down beside you, uninvited but not unwelcome. “So, what’s a big deal like you doing all the way out here?”

“Trying to get away from being a big deal,” you admitted, surprising yourself with the honesty in your voice. There was something about Nimona that felt…different. Safe, in a way that you couldn’t quite explain.

Nimona looked at you thoughtfully, her eyes sharp and knowing. “Oh yeah, you gotta reach everyone’s expactations, right? I bet it sucks.”

You turned to look at Nimona, really look at her. There was an energy about her, something wild and untamed, but also a sense of understanding. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Nimona laughed, a short, sharp sound. “You could say that. I’m kind of a big deal too, in my own way.”

You sat in silence for a while, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you, as if being with Nimona made everything a little bit easier to bear.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” You asked quietly. Nimona’s smile softened, but it wasn’t sad. “All the time. But I’ve learned to make my own way of coping. You can too”

You looked at Nimona, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “Maybe you can help me figure out how” Nimona’s eyes sparkled with mischief once more. “Oh, we’ll see what I can do with ya”

As the sun set, casting long shadows over the hill, you both said your goodbye and made your way back home. You felt a sense of hope you hadn’t felt in years. You don’t know what the future held, but with Nimona by your side, you were slightly more ready to face it.

Months passed, and the quiet hill outside the city became more than just a meeting place for you and Nimona - it became a sanctuary where you forged an unlikely friendship. Nimona would show up at odd hours, sometimes with new scars or stories of her latest escapades, and you would listen with rapt attention.

No one knew about Nimona. You kept your meetings a secret, not wanting the attention or the questions that would inevitably come if anyone found out about your mysterious friend with the wild pink hair. It was a risk you weren’t willing to take, not when the hill was the only place where you felt truly free.

But secrets have a way of unraveling, especially when you least expect it.

One evening, as you were preparing to sneak out to meet Nimona after family dinner, Ambrosius caught you by the arm just as you were slipping out the door. His brow furrowed with concern and suspicion.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low and steady. You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing for an excuse. “Just for a walk,” you replied casually and mentally slapped yourself for chosing the most classic excuse, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

Ambrosius’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been going out a lot lately. Is there something you’re not telling me? If it’s about a boy or a girl you can tell me”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze head-on. “I’m fine, Ambrosius. Just…needing some fresh air.”

Ambrosius studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. You held your breath, waiting for him to push the issue further. But after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and released your arm.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice softening slightly. “Just…be careful, okay?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. “I will.”

As you slipped away into the cool night air, you hurried to the hill where Nimona was already waiting, her pink hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for not telling your brother the truth, but you pushed it aside as Nimona greeted you with a mischievous grin.

“Hey there, big deal,” Nimona teased, using the nickname she had given you early on

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don’t start”

Nimona chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—a hint of sadness, maybe, or regret. You noticed it, but before you could say anything, Nimona was already launching into a story about her latest encounter with the city guards.

You spent hours together, talking and laughing under the stars. But as you were about to part ways, Nimona made a small slip-up—a mention of Gloreth that caught you off guard.

“Wait,” you interrupted, your brow furrowing in confusion. “How do you know so much about Gloreth’s personal life as a kid?”

Nimona’s smile faltered for just a moment, but then she shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, you know. Rumors and legends. Everyone’s heard of Gloreth.”

You weren’t convinced, but Nimona quickly changed the subject, and you let it go for the night. You didn’t want to push Nimona away with too many questions, not when your friendship meant so much to both of you.

As you walked back to the academy that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Nimona than met the eye. But for now, you decided to trust Nimona’s words and focus on the bond you were building — one secret meeting at a time.

As Nimona waited at your usual meeting spot, her thoughts drifted to the times she and you had shared stories, laughter, and secrets under the quiet night sky. It had become a routine she cherished, a rare moment of connection in a world that often felt indifferent to her.

Tonight was no different — or so she thought.

Lost in her thoughts, Nimona didn’t notice the approach of you until a sudden movement behind her made her jump. Instinctively, she shifted into the form of a sleek black cat, her heart pounding in her chest. But as she turned around, ready to explain herself, she found you standing there, wide-eyed but not afraid.

The cat’s form shimmered and Nimona returned to her usual self, her pink hair slightly disheveled from the transformation. She took a hesitant step back, expecting you to recoil in fear or shock, just like everyone else did when they saw her powers in action “Sorry… I didn’t mean to-“

Instead, your face lit up with awe and excitement as you cut her off. “That was amazing!” You exclaimed, unable to contain your enthusiasm and suprise. “You can turn into animals? That’s so cool!”

Nimona blinked, taken aback by your reaction. “You’re not… scared?” she asked cautiously.

You shook your head, a smile spreading across your face. “Why would I be scared? It’s incredible! Can you turn into anything else?”

A wave of relief washed over Nimona as she realized you weren’t like everyone else and that reminded her of Gloreth for a second. You weren’t afraid of Nimona’s abilities; you were fascinated by them. “Yeah,” Nimona replied, her voice tinged with relief and a hint of excitement. “I can turn into lots of things—animals, people, you name it.”

Nimona hesitated for a moment, still cautious despite your acceptance. “You’re not going to… tell anyone, are you?” she asked, her voice softening with vulnerability.

You shook your head adamantly. “Of course not,” you reassured Nimona. “Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, who would believe me anyway?”

Nimona smiled gratefully, a weight lifting off her shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly understood and accepted.

As days turned into weeks, yours and Nimona’s bond grew stronger with each passing adventure. You reveled in your secret escapades, using Nimona’s shape-shifting abilities for mischief and exploration, always careful to keep your activities hidden from prying eyes.

One sunny afternoon, while you were playfully testing Nimona’s ability to transform into various animals, your brother, Ambrosius, stumbled upon you two. His expression darkened as he watched Nimona shift from a mischievous squirrel to a majestic hawk in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what’s going on here?” Ambrosius demanded, his voice tinged with concern and disapproval.

You froze, caught off guard by your brother’s sudden appearance. You glanced nervously at Nimona, who shifted back into her human form, her pink hair tousled and her eyes wide with apprehension.

“This is Nimona,” you began hesitantly, trying to gauge your brother’s reaction. “She’s my friend.”

Ambrosius frowned deeply, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “She’s a shape-shifter,” he stated bluntly, his voice low with suspicion. “You know the dangers—”

“But she’s not dangerous!” You interjected passionately, stepping closer to Nimona’s side taking her hand in yours. “She’s just different. And she’s my friend.”

Ambrosius’s expression softened slightly, but he remained wary. “Y/N, you can’t just trust everyone,” he cautioned, glancing around nervously as other passersby started to take notice of Nimona.

Before you could respond, a concerned citizen approached, eyeing Nimona with apprehension. “She’s one of those monsters!” the person exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of nearby guards which gave Nimona a small flashback and scare.

Panic rippled through the crowd as rumors spread like wildfire. You felt a surge of protectiveness towards Nimona, knowing that Nimona was vulnerable in this moment of scrutiny.

Ignoring the stares and murmurs, you stood firm by Nimona’s side and gave her hand a slight squeeze, your loyalty unwavering. You locked eyes with your brother, silently pleading for understanding. “I trust her,” you stated firmly, your voice unwavering despite the tension thickening the air around you.

Ambrosius hesitated, torn between his concern for your safety and his desire to protect your happiness. “Y/N, you don’t know what its capable of,” he argued, his voice tinged with frustration.

“I do,” you insisted, your gaze never leaving Nimona’s. “I’ve seen who she is, beyond her abilities. She’s kind, she’s brave, and she’s a person not a thing.”

Nimona’s heart swelled with gratitude as she listened to you defend her. She had never known such loyalty and acceptance from anyone before, especially not from someone as important to you as your own brother.

Despite the turmoil and the whispers of fear surrounding them, you remained steadfast in your support of Nimona. You were willing to face the consequences, even if it meant risking your relationship with your brother and losing the approval of others.

As the commotion around you grew louder, you took Nimona’s hand more firmly in yours, offering silent reassurance. Together, you stood united against the tide of misunderstanding and fear, your bond strengthened by adversity and your shared belief in acceptance and friendship.

And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you both knew that your connection with each other was more than just friendship—it was a testament to the power of loyalty and prehaps something more.

#request #imagine #nimona #nimona x reader #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona movie #teenagers

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max1461 · 1 year ago

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To my knowledge, neither "the majority of atheists are right-wing" nor "the majority of New Atheists ended up becoming right-wing" are true. I think these statements came about by exaggeration and discourse telephone from an initial observation that a number of the most prominent atheist/skeptic YouTubers (among them TJ Kirk and Thunderf00t) took a noticeably right-wing/"anti-SJW" turn around the time of GamerGate.

Anyway, I've seen a few people on here dismiss the New Atheism/Alt-Right connection as entirely a product of the imagination of pro-religion discourses, trying to disparage atheism for a left-wing audience by linking it to the right. Obviously there was some of this, but people claiming this is the whole story are just incorrect. There really was a stark and sudden right-wing turn in YouTube skepticism around 2012 or so, I was there and remember it clearly. You can go back and check, the videos are all still up. This is the climate on the platform that early "breadtubers" like ContraPoints and Hbomberguy were explicitly reacting to.

Obviously this isn't a point against atheism or skepticism. I am an atheist and a skeptic.

I'm just pointing this out because I have seen what I basically think are attempts to revise the received narrative by parties who were not actually there, and although the received narrative (something like "New Atheism became the Alt-Right" or "New Atheism became subsumed into the Alt-Right") is in fact wrong, the revisionists are also plainly incorrect about a bunch of stuff.

I think this is related to the whole "I don't do video, I only do text" sentiment on here. You guys don't know what was going on with video cause you're hardcore textheads. That's fine, but most people aren't, and the stuff that was happening with video was a big deal. You've gotta account for that.

#navel gazing

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countrymusiclover · 7 months ago

Text

15 - Moving to the next Level

Part 16

It’s About Time

Some mature content is in this chapter just as a heads up

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2 @kmc1989

School usually seemed to drag onward throughout the day. And currently at the moment this day felt especially long. I had nervously been tapping my feet on the floor for the last hour not being able to wait any longer. When the last period bell rang I sprang from my seat and outside the classroom finding that Georgie had already found Ryker and Marlowe standing by his locker. “Did you already tell Hannah and Ashley to meet us here too?”

“I simply told them you needed to tell them something and nothing else.” Georgie raised his hands up in surrender.

I heard footsteps coming up behind me in a fast manner. “What did you need to tell us?” Hannah and Ashley both said together.

“So you know the plan I told y’all about where Marlowe and I would fake date to make him jealous and realize his feelings for me. Well I’m happy to report that it actually worked for us.” I moved to stand over to Georgie and he draped an arm over my shoulder mirroring the same grin that I had on my face.

Ryker gasped in shock. “Are you playing with us, guys?”

“Cause you haven’t been telling me anything. You said that he came over to your house to talk.” Marlowe throws his hands around away from his chest.

Ashley wraps her arms around Hannah. “Who cares he talked with her about unless it was to say he has feelings for you.”

“Okay, okay, all of you stop talking so I can tell you the story.” I cut them all off knowing if they kept asking me questions we’d never get anywhere. “So he came over to my house in the middle of the night and basically apologized that he didn’t realize he had feelings for me after all these years.”

Georgie throws his hands up like he was surrendering. “That’s the whole deal so now y’all can freak out or whatever you want.”

“It only took 16 years for you two to realize what we all saw back in 5th grade.” Hannah slapped her hands on her thighs.

Ashley smirked at Georgie and I. “So when should we expect it to be Mr and Mrs. Georgie Cooper?”

“Oh I - um not for a while I’d say.” I felt my cheeks heating up at her question.

Georgie nervously answered. “Eventually we might. I ain’t trying to rush her since we just told her parents but my family doesn’t know yet.”

“Oh I think they already know.” Marlowe chuckled with a smirk crossing his face.

Ryker cursed at his statement. “Damn, he probably ain’t wrong though.”

All our friends had valid points about his family. Missy had definitely already figured out what was going on between us. But my mind certainly wasn’t thinking of marrying him yet since we had only been on one date. “Hey y’all, there’s some stuff I gotta take care of. So I’ll see ya later. Bye darling.” Georgie kissed my forehead waving bye to our friends before he headed out to the parking lot.

Ashley patted me on the back a few seconds after he had gone out the door. “So do you know what he has planned for the next date night?”

“Nope. He wants to keep it a surprise.” I replied to her.

Ryker gave me a raised brow when Hannah came up to me holding me by my shoulders. “Do you know what that could mean?”

“He might want to sleep with you.” Marlowe finished her sentence.

Even though my face turned a little redder again I wasn’t worried about that happening. Hannah and Ryker had done it in the past. In fact she told me and Ashley about it the very next time we were together, just the three of us. “Pfft I’m not all that worried about it. I mean Georgie wouldn’t force me into it.”

“That’s not the point. Y/n the question is would you want him to take your virginity?” Ryker asked almost bluntly but I knew he meant well.

I smiled looking down at my shoes for a minute taking it all in and they all waited for my response to what he had just asked me. “He’s the only guy I’ve liked for a long time. So yes.”

“Well you better tell us what happened the next time we’re together.” Ashley gave me a hug and I fist pumped her. That was our own little agreement between us.

Finishing up my homework and getting done with my shift at Dale’s sporting store I parked my truck in the Cooper driveway seeing Georgie leaning against the driver door of his Mustang he had finally saved up enough money for. “So do I get to see whatever you have set up for tonight now or not?”

“Get in the truck and I’ll show ya.” He tilted his to the side as a gesture and we got in the car together where he drove us out to the old tiny cabin that we had found. He parked the car as close as he could, helping me out and covering my eyes when we walked to the front door.

“Don’t let me trip, Cooper.” I chuckled until he stopped and he pushed the door opened walking me inside, not uncovering my eyes till we stopped walking. He dropped his hands smiling when I gasped at what he had done in front of me. “Georgie, I - I can’t believe you did all this.”

The fold out couch was covered with pillows and some blankets we had brought here when we would camp out with the gang. There were a few fairy lights hanging on the back wall by the old metal stove and a lantern hung above the bed providing more light.

“So what do you think?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders while wearing blue jeans and a red tea shirt tucked inside his belt buckle.

Spinning around on my feet I quickly hugged him and he slowly hugged me back until I pulled back from the embrace. “It’s really cute. Thank you.”

“Good I was worried you ain’t gonna like it.” He smiled resting his hands on my hips moving one to point to a cooler in the corner. “Before I forget I also scored some of my Memaw’s leftover brisket that we can heat up in the stove cause I found some matches too.”

I giggled, wanting our lives to always be like this. Not regretting that it took us away to get to this moment. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“So do you wanna eat?” He asked me.

“Actually I was thinkin’ we could do something else first if you’re up for it.” I lightly smirked up at him.

Georgie asked curiously. “What did you have in mind? - oh yeah we can do that.”

I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my lips against his.

He kissed me back passionately and he gently dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly and brought a hand to his cheek stroking it softly. He leaned into my touch and he lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground.

“I'll go slow with you.“ He reassured me, grabbing my hand with his. “We can stop anytime if you want. I know we’ve only been on one date.”

“I want to do this.“ I said, wishing my heart would stop beating so rapidly like I was scared.

My best friend still silently looked at me, slowly kicking his boots off. “You’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes. I want you to be my first.” My hands started to trace his form, I began to run his fingers up and down his chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my shirt. He lifted my shirt off my head, throwing it to the ground only once breaking the kiss

He hovered over me and brought his lips down upon mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced more into the kiss. I felt a hard rock positioned at my lower religion, he placed his member at my center and looked up at me. “Darling, this will hurt a little. Just tap my shoulder twice if you want to stop.”

He nodded and aligned himself against me before thrusting into me softly , I hissed out in pain as I felt him breaking through my wall, tears began to well in my eyes. “If I’m lucky enough I’m gonna marry you someday.” He moved slowly against her, I bit down on my lip hard trying to bear through the pain.

Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. I came moaning out loudly as I felt a wave of pleasure come over me. He came seconds later as I felt him emptying inside of med, both moaning and groaning until we fell back onto the mattress together.

“I’d say yes if you proposed.” I whispered cuddling up into his chest and we fell asleep under the camping blankets he had put on the bed.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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