#this is a part of my viking!Soap au

[lefttoesucker]

Mermaid Ghost. That's it, that's all I've got. With and without a mask cause he's a pretty boi

And of course some close ups :3

#this is a part of my viking!Soap au #soap as a captain on a viking ship #and a mermaid/siren ghost #shenanigans ensue #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #mermaid #09 ghost as a siren #siren #sirencore #merman #merman!ghost #simon riley #fantasy au #cod au #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #fanart #my babygirl #my au #my art

[ghouljams]

Viking soap! Viking soap! Viking soap!

Grrrrrrrr Yes ok yes because I am feral for this idea and you're partially engaging a special interest of mine.

You spot him at the same moment he does you. A flash of blue eyes reflecting the shallow river, long hair shorn short on the sides, the fur the edges his clothes marks him as easily as the paint on his face. A viking. He stands as quickly as you step back, his eyes fixed on you. If he's here there must be more at your village. You know well enough that these men don't travel as solitary creatures.

You turn and run towards your home. You hear the crash of him through the forest behind you giving chase. Even knowing the land as well as you do the terrain is uneven, the roots are made to catch your feet, and the branches are low to obscure your vision. You don't have the deer's advantage of darting movement to keep you out of reach. Each step you can hear him getting closer, until you feel his hands grab you.

The man, the viking, catches you around your middle. You kick and scream and make every effort to batter him with your fists, to make yourself difficult prey. You've heard enough stories about what these men do to know you want no part of it. He lifts you, hauls you up off the ground as you fight and twist.

"Would you be still, I'm not going to hurt you," The man tells you in gaelic. You freeze at the familiar tongue.

"You're a liar," You push at him, claw at his grip, "why would you chase me if you weren't hunting me?"

"Why would you run?" He asks, grabbing your wrists to pin them against his chest. You glare at him, your chest heaving as you gather your breath back. He's handsome, for a viking. There's something sort of rakish about the stubble on his face and the set of his brow. "Did I do something to scare you, bonnie?" It's not an honest question, he knows full well why you'd run.

You keep quiet, keep your glare level with him. An easy task with him holding you up, his arm hooked around your thighs. His head tips back to look at you with a smile. "Aren't you pretty," He whispers, hardly phased by the run or your anger. When you don't respond he seems to find his head again, his smile dropping to something more serious.

"Fine, courting later, business now." He sets you back down, keeping a tight grip on your wrists now that you've proven yourself a runner. "I'm here to negotiate a trade, I need an escort," He explains, though you would think a man needing an escort would have a shorter handle on the ax at his hip.

"A bad liar," You amend your previous statement, tugging at his hold.

"Fine," He relents, "I want an escort. Escort me." He insists, tugging you against his chest again. You're really getting tired of bumping into him.

"Why? So you can lead a raiding party back as soon as I turn around?" You spit.

“To what end?” The viking asks, tips his head to the side, his eyes hard on you, “What use do we have for dead healers?” 

You stop your struggling, stunned. He’s not wrong, but he speaks to an understanding of your village you hadn’t expected. How much did this man and his company know about you? How many scouts had walked your paths, watched your neighbors work? He’s right, dead healers are useless, but so are port healers. Vikings are only as strong as their weakest man, wouldn’t they prefer to keep healers on hand?

“You said-” You swallow, “You said you were here to negotiate a trade. What- A trade for what?” He looks away from you, and you have your answer. You were right to run, he’s here for one of you.

“Let’s go,” He doesn’t pull you, but you follow him anyway. Your mind races, thinking through the people your elders would offer up. Who was the most skilled, the most expendable, weighing what you might get in return. What couldn’t these vikings offer you? Safety, rare goods, money, animals, friendship. Invaluable intangible things that would aid all of you, for whatever price they set. It’s still only the illusion of a choice.

Your wrist is still held tight in his grip as you walk beside him. An escort, what a joke. You’re not going to put in a good word for him or do anything more than act as a pass for him to walk your streets. You’re busy working on your escape plan when you smell it.

Smoke, just as you step clear of the forest.

"Gods," the man breathes, both of you standing on top of the hill at the edge of the forest, watching your home burn. Your eyes grow wide watching the fleeing shadows of raiders, the sacrifices of you kin. What are they doing? Why would they- A mass of fire belches from the center of your village, the man covers your eyes, shields you from the heat of it with his cloak. The tattered tartan catches your attention, makes your heart pound in your chest. You recognize it, Mactavish. He was one of you.

"We have to go," He tells you. You try to pull yourself free, scream for your family down the hill. He catches you around the middle again, hauls you back into the safety of the forest. 

"Tell them to stop," you beg. Your sobbing pleas fall on deaf ears.

“Those aren’t my men,” He doesn’t set you down, transfers your squirming to his shoulder with a grunt and keeps his pace. You can still see the lick of flame and smoke through the trees. The only home you’ve ever known, gone in an instant and all you can do is watch. The forest grows thicker around you as you lay against the familiar unfamiliar tartan and let yourself be carried off like a spoil.

#I'm gonna close the ask box if y'all keep giving me aus #Just so you know this would be a slow burn like Knight Ghost #but I have a few scenes in mind #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x you #soap x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x you #cod x reader #x reader #this fic brought to you by De Selby parts 1 and 2 #viking!soap #I should rename my medieval to just historic

[writingoddess1125]

Welcome! Request: CLOSED

My name is JC and I love writing!

KOFI

I Write Mostly Angsty Slice of Life but always open to request!

Masterlist below -

10/28 updated

MARVEL

XMEN

Kurt Wagner

1999 (Ongoing)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Pt. 4

Pt. 5

Blowin Me up (Ongoing)

Pt. 1

ONE PIECE

You Take Care of Their Hair

You get High with Them

Old Men Series Masterlist

Zoro,Luffy,Corazon Child Series

Crocodile, Law, Sanji Child Series

You Take their Hat

You Cook for Them Even though You such at It

How Strong the Old Man Gene's Are

They Lay on your chest

You give them a Massage

You give them Facemask

Drunk + Spiked

The Moment they fell in love with you

Just a Peak

You Die at Birth

(S)cream

Weird Relationship Milestones

Buggy The Clown I'm your Biggest Fan (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

My Heart Breaks (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Theater Brat (Completed)

Theater Brat

Theater Bart Pt. 2

Theater Brat Pt. 3

Fell In Love Alone (Ongoing)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Jessica and Roger Rabbit Effect

Part 1

Part 2

My Anchor

Solo Act

Not Flashy

Your Seat Awaits

Trouble Comes in Pairs Pt. 1

NSFW Alphabet

Buggy find out about thirst traps

Buggy finds out about thirst traps pt. 2

Not all Silver and Gold

Pain and Pleasure

Switch Things Up

Boardwalk Artist

Poppy Kisses

First Bounty

Modern AU Buggy -> Part 2

Secret Headcanon

Ocean Eyes

Drunk teasing with bestie

You get him a Corgi

Paints on S/O

Roronoa Zoro

Favorite Bartender

N$FW Alphabet

New Parent Zoro

Dancing With Swords (Ongoing)

Part 1

Luffy D. Monkey

Luffy realizing he's in love with you

Warm Mornings

Thunder Buddies

Sanji

Moral Support

Friend Like Me

A Girl to Love

Usopp

Bar Adventure

Shanks

Tag Youre It

You remind me

My Shooting Star

Mihawk

Call Me Sir

Only Us

NSFW Alphabet

Tag Youre It

My heart lies with you

Fight for pleasure

Look up Darling~

Daddy Mihawk

How and Why?

Crack

Morticia and Gomez Effect

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Its Done

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Crocodile

So Annoying

MISC.

Capitan Kuro X Reader

Alvida X Reader

VIKINGS- Coming Soon

CALL OF DUTY

Relationship Fluff

Medic of 141

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Dumb cat that loves Simon

Finds out about thirst traps

Blip on the Radar (Ongoing)

Part 1

Part 2.

John 'Soap' McTavish

Koing

Finds out about thirst traps

But do have other interest and willing to write about other Animes, Cartoons, Shows and More!

#marvel imagine #anime imagines #vikings imagines #one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #hvitserk fanfic #ubbe imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner

[mi-i-zori]

Among the Ice of Her Thoughts

CoD Viking!AU (Not Mine) - Viking!Soap x Healer!Reader

DISCLAIMER : Just a little something I wrote a while ago for @ghouljams ‘ Viking!AU. I just recently tweaked it a little. Healer!Reader is Ghoul’s character, not mine. I will write something for my own Viking!AU, but it will of course be very different from theirs. Please go check their work, it’s absolutely amazing !

WARNINGS : None.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

When she finally comes back from the realm of dreams, Dag’s chariot is already high in the sky, and the sun is peaking through the fabrics of her tent.

She finds tearing her limbs from their lethargic state to be no easy task. Her muscles are begging for a few more minutes of rest ; hours, even. They pull and wail along with her every move, the creaking of her joints echoing within their walls. She could indulge them - the Gods know how many times she decided to follow her needs, going back to sleep when she was supposed to start her day. But she is not tired enough to succumb to sleep anymore ; especially not when a choir of unfamiliar voices echo from the outside of the so-called « sanctuary » she was given a few hours earlier. To her, this assortment of fabrics and furs is no safe haven, especially not when she jumps so violently every time they start dancing with the wind. Still, she is in no position to complain : not only was she given permission to use this tent as hers even though it originally belongs to the one who brought her here, but the warriors roaming the campsite also respect the boundaries this shelter was made to provide, allowing her to hide from their curious eyes.

A part of her wishes she could stay under the covers and ignore her surroundings, act as if this is was nothing more than a dream. Yet she forces herself out of their warmth, the morning breeze leaving a trail of shivering kisses along her skin.

She barely has the time to put her heavy coat on that the sun suddenly sculpts a broad silhouette on the outside of the furs. It moves silently, with the confidence of a warrior, and her whole body tenses as the man stops before the entrance of her tent. He hovers for a second as she stands frozen in place, her breathing so low even she can barely feel it in her chest.

- Vænn ? You awake ?

It’s MacTavish, she realises, his deep timbre sending a wave of warmth down her spine ; a stark contrast to the violent shivers the sound of the nickname he gave her send crawling down her spine. Despite knowing that he is unable to see her, she can’t bring herself to move. Swallowing the knot tightening in her throat, she graces him with a hum, although it comes out much weaker than she originally intended.

- ‘Am about to go gather some wood. Wanna come with me ?

His tone is low, careful ; not unlike the kind one would use to coax a terrified little creature out of its shell. She can’t really decide if she likes the idea or not. In her eyes, this behaviour of his is way too human for a man like him, cursing the flame that sways in her chest at the prospect of accepting his offer. Her satchel lies against the wooden post standing in the middle of the tent, it’s empty stomach catching her gaze. It could be a good opportunity to gather some herbs for her decoctions, she thinks, and the rational part of her soul lights up at the idea of potentially being useful to her captors. MacTavish’s words from the day before echo in her mind.

Say yes next time someone asks if you’re a healer. You’ll live longer.

- Give me a minute, she finally says, the words grating against her tongue. Please.

- Gotcha. I’ll be waiting for you near the campfire.

It’s only when his shadow disappears that the tension finally lets go of her chest. One of her hands glides along her face, a sigh escaping through her fingers. The bed is neatly made before she covers herself in warm furs and sturdy leathers. She then takes a deep breath as she opens the entrance of the tent, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her muscles. The tremors seizing her body are not from the midgardian frost waiting for her outside ; but she decides to play pretend, holding her head high as she steps in the fresh morning snow. Sól greets her with a wintery kiss on her cheek, highlighting MacTavish’s figure in the distance. She marches towards him, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares of his companions.

Vænn. A catch. A prey. That is what she is in the eyes of those who see themselves as a pack of wolves, their fur covered in blood as they take whatever they want, destroying those who refuse to yield : nothing but a frail creature meant to follow their every word in order to stay alive. Soap has made his intentions of courting her clear, promising that no harm shall befall her while she lives among his peers ; but as he greets her with a smile, guiding her towards the forest with a hand on her back, she knows she cannot allow herself to be afraid. One wrong move, and she shall become nothing more than a meal to be shared in their den.

A frozen blade pierces her core as these thoughts dance in the back of her mind. The forest is peaceful, and they slowly carve their own path through its shimmering white coat. Her gaze roams her surroundings as MacTavish starts gathering a thick bundle of branches under his arm, looking for a patch of herbs to collect. Their eyes meet, causing him to send a smile in her direction before resuming his own search. The snow crunches heavily under his boots. Her attention flickers to the blade hanging from his hips, the iron of its handle glinting in the sun. She frowns as her mother’s voice echoes through her memories.

You are not safe, she says, and she can almost see her spectre glare at the warrior’s silhouette walking ahead of her.

You are not safe.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty x reader #fem!reader #cod au #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #viking au #viking!soap #soap x f!reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw3 #Ghoul ​I love this AU so much #thank you for sharing your brain with us

[omegaverserping]

Name: Lis

URL: tumblr.com/lisarro

Age: 21+

Preferred Way of RPing: Discord

Time Zone: PST

First, Second, or Third Person point of view?: Third-person

Preferred Role: Alpha

Preferred Pairing: M/M (trans inclusive)

Do you prefer to RP with OCs, Fandom, or both?: Mostly looking for OCs right now, but open to certain fandoms.

Fandoms: (No preference over which role)

- Ghost/Soap (Call of Duty)

- Ghost/Soap/König or Roach (Call of Duty)

- Will/Hannibal (Hannibal)

- Ragnar/Athelstan (Vikings)

Favorite AUs: Fantasy, medieval, historical, apocalypse, wild west, pirates, supernatural, hybrids. (Open to anything that isn't a highshool or college setting)

Triggers: Will discuss in DMs

Preferred length when replying: At least one paragraph. I match my partner as long as I have something to build off of. I can do relaxed novella, too.

How long would like to RP for?: Long-Term

Would you be willing to brainstorm a prompt?: Of course! That's one of my favourite parts.

Omegaverse tropes that you DO NOT like to use: Overlly feminized omegas, alphas expected to be dominant 24/7

Omegaverse tropes that you DO enjoy using often and would like to use in your RP: Heat/rut, Nesting, mating bites, scenting, growling/purring, knotting

Anything else that you would like to mention or say?:

I'd adore an AxA pairing! I'm open to any combination, though. I'm primarily looking for characters with strong personalities and partners that help tell the story. I enjoy talking OOC whether it be throwing around plot points to add or being cringe over our characters. I like a good mix of fluff, angst, and nsfw. Zero preference over top/bottom/dom/sub/switch roles. I want more focus on plot over nsfw, though.

While not necessary by any means, I am open to dark content and heavy kinks. If that's something that interests you, we can talk more about it in DMs.

Shoot me a message on here or add me on discord!

Lisarro#9464

#available rper #omegaverse #omegaverse rp #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #a/b/o rp #a/b/o verse rp #ocs #headcanon #alpha/beta/omega #alpha/beta/omega rp #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/beta/omega verse rp #dynamic rper: alpha #dynamic rper: beta #dynamic rper: omega #pairing rper: m/m #pairing rper: f/m #pairing rper: f/f #oc rper #submission

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Updates on my requests and other writing stuff!!

I haven't been very active on here (or with my writing) for a while, so I wanted to give people a little update. stuff that i've started writing is in bold letters

Requests

Soap x plus-sized!reader in a coffeeshop AU (requested by @ghostsoapgirl) i love this request so much!!! i've written quite a bit, but need to get around to the smut part :)

Continuation on the Soap x medic!reader series (requested by anon) haven't started on this yet, but once inspiration hits me, i'll continue this series for sure!

Judith x reader fluff (requested by @levithestripper) i promise i haven't forgotten about this! love, love, love judith so i'll try to get around this soon

angsty Harwin Strong x reader (implied cheating, betrayal etc etc, requested by anon) as of now, i have mixed feelings about this one tbh... i don't really know how to get around writing this just because my first thought when thinking of a cheater is homicide, but yk... i'll get there

platonic geralt x anxious!reader (requested by @catgoblinchelly) i love this idea, and especially that it's platonic, but i've barely written three lines :')

Vikings + opinions on modern day christmas things (requested by @demon-of-the-ancient-world) by the time i post this, it'll probably be july, but i love the request!!

Geralt x sorceress!reader with these prompts: "Are you really blind enough to not see the sparkles in her eyes when she’s staring at you?” & “When I’m with you, I almost feel normal.” (requested by anon) as always, i'll probably takke creative liberties with the prompts, but omg this is gonna be so fun to write

Witcher characters x maleficent!reader (requested by anon) love the concept!

Criston Cole fucking Daemon's wife or ex-wife (requested by anon) RAHHH ANON YOUR MIND IS FUCKING GINANTAMOUS LOVE LOVE LOVE UNREALISTIC SMUT SWEEP LET'S GOOO!!!! i also cannot get this image out of my head for some reason 🧍‍♀️

vikings + ivar being a remembered figure in history (requested by anon) i love this as well!! it's such an interesting concept

Stuff that I came up with at 2am and haven't finished

Oneshot: Snowfall; Simon Riley x formerfosterkid!reader (this is getting out of hand)

Oneshost: Affair; John Price x married!reader (john price hottest dom sweep)

Stuff that I've finished but don't really wanna post (idek)

Aegon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet (i was horny i'm sorry)

Corlys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet (no excuses here, he's a GILF)

A bunch of Hand turns Loom drafts that make me want to get a lobotomy)

#guys i am dying pls #at least my skin #eczema skin #also thinking about writing a rhaenicent/daensa reincarnation thing #but no more WIPs for me #i just love lesbians i'm sorry guys

[viking-raider]

A Cavill Christmas - IV *END*

Summary: You're at the British Arctic Survey Center, finally doing the job you had come to the Arctic to do. But, your knowledge of Glaciers gives you answers to an age-old question. Is Santa Claus Real?

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3,196

Previous Parts: I II III

Warning: PG-13 - Christmas!AU, Scientist!Reader, Non-Actor!Henry, the Arctic, Fluff, Secrets, Magic, Romance, Glaciers, Acceptance

Inspiration: This is obviously for Cavillmas and has influence for a bunch of different places. Merry Christmas!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

You stood beside the huge, elevated, red and blue, British Arctic Survey Center pods as they loaded Dr. Elliot into a life flight helicopter, so he could be flown the two hours to Longyearbyen. You were glad that he would be getting specialized care, even though you knew Dr. Lehto had done his absolute best to care for Dr. Elliot, saving his life and keeping him alive. But now, he needed cardiologists, neurologists and so much more, if he was going to come back around and make the best recovery he could in the coming future.

“Dr. Evans said, he would gladly remove those stitches for you.” Dr. Baker said, coming up alongside you.

“I'll go see him in the medical bay soon.” You answered, watching the helicopter take off. “I would like to get to work as soon as possible. If that's all right with you, Dr. Baker.”

“You can just call me, Jude.” He replied, smiling at you. “And that's quite all right with me.”

“Great.” You smiled at him, turned to climb the stairs and went inside, where it was warm. “So, where are the closest glaciers?” You asked Jude, shrugging out of your jacket.

“Follow me.” He jerked his head and showed you to the next pod, where the maps and computers were set up. “Let's see.” He sighed, unrolling one of the maps and tracing his fingertips over it. “The main cluster of glaciers are just here.” He said, tapping his finger against the paper. “They're just sixteen kilometers from here.”

“Excellent.” You nodded, studying the map. “I would like to check them out tomorrow, if that's okay.”

“Sure, we can do that. Why don't you get some rest, and we'll head out at first light.”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” You sighed, staring at the map for a moment longer. “I'm going to take a shower.” You said, then headed through to the back pod, where sleeping quarters were, went into the bathroom.

You turned on the shower and stripped down, before stepping underneath the steaming spray of water, moaning at the hot water seeping into your chilled and sore skin. You couldn't stop thinking about Henry and what he said about being Santa, it wasn't possible, because Santa Claus isn't real. Right? You had written Santa every year from when you were four years old until you were almost fourteen, before you finally gave up, you hadn't gotten a single thing you asked him for in all those years. That proved you were right, didn't it? But then, you thought of the shawl Henry had given you. How had Henry known you wanted a Tartan shawl, then gotten something very similar, if he wasn't Santa?

“This is ridiculous.” You huffed, shaking your head, and shampooing your hair. “It was just a coincidence.” You told yourself, wiping a bit of soap out of your eye. “Nothing more.” You sighed, rinsing your hair.

The next morning, you went with Dr. Baker, to see the glaciers he had shown you on the map. It felt good to finally get down to what you had come to the Arctic for, and that was to study and examine the glaciers and their behaviors.

The glaciers were so marvelous as you and Jude approached them in the snow machine, seeing them looming up ahead in their eerie blue color and heavily dusted with snow. They were easily the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, as you got out of the machine. You could hear the faint crackle and rumble of the glaciers shifting and moving with their flow, with the faint sound of trickling water, as you approached the glacier, awed by it as you were.

“This glacier must be...” You shook your head, reaching out to touch it with your gloved fingers. “Four or five hundred years old.” You said aloud, eyes wide with wonder.

You walked along them, taking note as you did. You continued on, examining the glaciers, but you frowned as you watched the ordinarily rugged and uneven face of the ice started to grow smooth, your reflection shining in its glossy surface. It was so fascinating, you didn't realize how far you had wandered from Dr. Baker and the snow machine, so distracted by the oddity of the ice formation, until you made it around a large wall of the glacier and found a sizable gap in the still otherwise mirror-smooth ice.

Peeking into the opening, you saw it sloped slightly downward, before disappearing around a slight curve. Shaking your head, you turned away from it and started back towards the snow machine, when a stiff, whistling breeze blew against your back, making you shiver and groan, tugging the collar of your jacket closer to the back of your neck.

“The fuck.” You chattered, turning around to face the gap again, another blast hitting you in the face.

“There you are!” Jude's voice yelled out as he came around the corner to you. “Scared me, I thought you got lost again.” He said, his face showing his worry. “What have you found?” He asked, noticing the opening in the glacier.

“I don't know.” You replied, chewing on your lip. “Do we have rappelling gear in the snow machine?” You asked, looking up at him.

“We might. You're not thinking about going in there, are you?” Jude asked, blinking at you through his Arctic Blue sunglasses.

“I am.” You replied, moving around him and trudged back to the snow machine, searching the back of it for the equipment. “Ah.” You huffed, pulling out rappelling equipment and the two walkies-talkies.

“Why are you going in there?” Jude asked, as you returned with the harness, ropes, clips and anchors, dropping them in the snow at his feet.

“I'm a Glaciologist.” You replied, untangling the harness. “It's my job to check out glaciers and something tells me, there's something down there and I want to check it out.” You told him, stepping into the harness and slipping your arms through, before securing it closed. “So, I'm going down there.” You said, looking up at him, with a lifted brow.

Jude stared at you for a long moment, before helping you drive the anchors into the snow and ice, then thread the ropes through the clips and your harness. You handed him one of the walkies-talkies and slipped yours into the front pocket of your jacket, before approaching the mouth of the glacier and slowly started to descend into it.

“Did you make it?” Jude's muffled voice asked over the talkie.

Your feet landed at the bottom and pulled out the walkies-talkie. “Yeah, I'm at the bottom.” You replied, unhooking yourself from the ropes. “Let's see how far this goes.” You said to yourself, turning towards the curve in the path.

The further you advanced, the colder you expected it to get, but the temperature seemed to stay the same, the walls were smooth like the outside had been, a thin cascade of water falling over the surface. The path steadily grew wider as you progressed on, something about the space felt strange and different, you felt it every fiber of your being. You could still hear the groans and moans of the glacier, and you were concerned for the safety, but the overpowering feeling coursing through you compelled you to keep going.

“Have you found anything?” Jude asked, startling you in the nearly silence of the glacier.

“A winding path and surprisingly smooth walls.” You answered, tipping your head back to look at the glacial ceiling above you, drops of water hitting the ultra-UV protective lenses of your sunglasses. “I think this thing might run the length--” You froze, your mouth falling open.

“What? Come in, are you alright?” Jude's frantic voice demanded.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.” You mumbled. “I just...just give me a moment.” You told him, tucking the walkies-talkie into your pocket and stepping into a large cavern inside of the glacier, turning in a circle and gawking at it. “Holy Christ.” You gasped, eyes fixing on the center of the cave.

In the center of the cavern was a massive rock jetting out of the ice, it was tall and flat on both sides, almost looking like an ancient shark fin breaking through the ice. You moved towards it, not believing your eyes.

“This can't be.” You said, shaking your head and circling the rock. “This can't be the Sieidis.”

You refused to believe what your instincts wanted to tell you, that this is what Henry had been telling you about the night of the Christmas tree lighting, that this was the Sieidis, that supposedly gave him the power of Santa Claus. You examined one side of the stone, leaning close to it and finding there were etchings in it, lines, diamonds, what looked like stick figures and other things you couldn't describe or put a name to. You rounded to the other side and found similar figures, you pulled your glove off and reached out, touching one of the carvings, feeling how icy cold the rock was underneath your bare fingertips.

“Dear God.” You gulped, looking back at the rock and glancing around the cavern. “He was telling me the truth after all.” You realized, quite suddenly believing him in full force.

You quickly made your way back through the pathway and hooked up to the ropes and ascended back to where Jude was still waiting for you to come back and helped you up and get out of your harness and pull the anchors out of the ground.

“So, what was down there?” He asked, walking back to the snow machine.

“Nothing, it just seems to go through the whole glacier.” You told him, dumping the rappelling gear in the back. “But, I need to return to Trømsvik.” You added.

“What, why?” Jude replied, frowning at you from the driver's seat.

“I forgot something very important, that I need back, as soon as possible.” You said, antsy, to apologize to Henry for everything you had said to him and for not believing in him, when he confided in you.

“I don't know if we'll make it there from here by sundown.” Jude told you, shaking his head, confused by the whole situation.

“We have to try.” You answered, resolved. “I need to right this.”

Not understanding, but willing to help, Jude turned the ignition of the snow machine and the two of you headed in the direction of the village.

It took till just before nightfall to make it to Trømsvik and you left Jude in the town square, racing through the street to Henry's place and frantically pounded on the front door, until it opened to Penelope, who looked completely shocked to see you standing there on the stoop.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to see Henry, it's urgent, Penelope.” You told her, bouncing anxiously in place.

“He's not home.”

“Then, where is he?” You demanded.

“He's at the factor--”

She started to reply, but you spun around and charged down the street. She watched you go and knew why you were back, you had found what you needed to believe in Henry and what he was, in doing that, you realized something much more, and with that Penelope took a deep breath and smiled, coming to terms and accepting that the two of you loved each other, giving her silent blessing to the union. You slid across the sidewalk as you hit an ice patch, sprinted past Jude and the snow machine still in the square and towards the large toy factory. You burst through the door of the factory and found it empty, all of the workers having gone home for the night, but you saw the light on underneath Henry's office door.

“Henry!” You called out, skidding to a stop, the soles of your boots squeaking on the polished concrete flooring.

The door to his office swung open and Henry filled the doorway, calling out your name in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He asked, moving closer to you and crossing his arms. “Shouldn't you be studying glaciers and things?”

“I was.” You answered, biting your lip and looking down at your feet. “But, I forgot something.”

“Oh well, Penelope's at the house, I'm sure she can find it for you.” He told you, turning back towards his office.

“I've already seen Penelope and she can't help me find what it is I forgot. Um...” You took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Henry. For not believing you.” You told him, your voice weakening.

Henry stopped and looked at you over his shoulder. “So, now you believe me. What changed your mind?” He asked, pressing his lips together.

“Studying a glacier.” You replied, looking up at him. “We went out to look at a cluster of glaciers, not far from the Survey center, one of them had a gap and I went into it.” You explained to him. “and there—there was this rock there, it was...”

“Flat, on both sides, and covered in strange markings.” Henry nodded, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “You found it.” He chuckled, shaking his head, and pulled up his jumper to show you a mark on his chest, shaped like a stick figure tree, that was identical to one of the markings on the stone.

“How did you find it?” You asked him, reaching out to touch his mark.

“I was just exploring the area, I wanted to see what was out there.” He told you, chuckling at the cold feel of your fingers on his warm skin. “I found what you found and went exploring in the cave. I saw the rock and checked it out, touching it, and this blast of cold wind hit me and swirled around me. When I returned to the village and showed Sikká the mark, she was surprised. It seems the world has been without...what I am...for almost a century, since her great-grandfather died.” He pulled down his jumper.

You tilted your head at him. “He was the last Santa?”

“He was.” Henry nodded. “You see, he's not one person, but many passed down from generation to generation. For some reason though, when her great-grandfather died, her grandfather and father went to the stone and touched it, but nothing happened. They even tried other villagers here and got the same reaction; nothing. They feared that the Spirit of Santa had died with him, and they were unworthy.”

“Until you showed up.”

“Exactly.” He smirked, his cheeks coloring. “They said nothing to me about it, keeping the secrets, like we kept it from you. I was bored one day, and it wasn't long after we got the snow machine, so I took it out. The Survey center wasn't there back then, so. I found the glaciers, they're quite beautiful. It was when I got out and looked at them, that I saw the opening and slid down to look inside.”

“You could've gotten yourself killed!” You snapped, eyes wide with horror.

“You did it!” Henry countered, grinning at you.

“I have a bloody PHD! It's my job to go inside and check them out. I know when it's time to bail out of one, when they start making the wrong sounds.” You retorted, smiling back at him.

“Well, I came out of it just fine, thank you.” He laughed, his head going back with his mirth. “But, that's how I found the rock. It had chosen me for some reason, even after not choosing the family it had for, God knows how long.”

“How did Sikká and her family feel about it?” You asked, sobering.

Henry drew in a deep breath. “Sikká was in shock, rightly so. But her parents and grandparents were rather angry for a while, that the Sieidis had chosen to bestow this gift upon me, when I had no earthly idea what it even was or meant. None of the villagers wanted to believe it was true and it took time for them to come around, which was about the time for me to do my duties as Santa.”

“So, how do you do it?” You asked him, cocking your head to the side.

“Do what?” He replied, narrowing his eyes at you.

“All in one night?”

Henry touched his fingertips under your chin, tipped your head back and leaned closer to you, a smirk on his face and sparkling in his eyes. “Magic.” He whispered, teasingly.

“Oh, come on, tell me.” You answered, bouncing on your toes, but Henry just shook his head, still smirking, making you huff at him. “Ugh, you're insufferable!”

“Did you just tell Santa, he's insufferable?” Henry roared, the muscles of his toned stomach flexing under his jumper.

“Yes! Someone has to keep your head out of the clouds!” You remarked, rolling your eyes.

Henry stared at you for a moment, before moving in and pressing his lips to yours. You didn't react like you had the first time, you pressed your lips back against his, hands reaching out and gripping the front of his cream-colored jumper. Henry's arms snaked around your waist and shoulders, pressing you against his body.

But, he soon broke the kiss and pressed his chin on top of your head.

“Stay.” He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stay here with me.”

“Here—in the village?” You replied, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“Yes.” He nodded, looking down at you, his eyes pleading. “It's not far from the Center, I can take you there.” He told you, nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, St. Nick?” You asked, a mischievous look in your eyes.

Henry chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose. “I suppose I am.” He replied, smiling at you. “You're all I want for Christmas.” He added, softly.

Your body relaxed in his arms, pressing your palms to his broad shoulders. “I just have one question to that.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you been naughty or nice this year?” You asked, just barely managing to keep a straight face.

“I've been a good boy this year.” Henry replied, grinning at you. “I saved this beautiful woman's life and I think she saved mine as well.”

“Oh, and how did she do that?”

“I was terribly lonely, before I saved her silly, but well meaning, butt. Afterwards, I didn't feel lonely anymore.”

Your face softened at Henry's words, gentled by them. “Well, you don't have to be lonely anymore. I'm not going anywhere.” You promised, pushing up on your toes and kissing him.

Henry hummed happily, kissing you back. “Merry Christmas, then.”

“Merry Cavillmas indeed.” You quipped back, chuckling.

❄ -FIN- 🎄

#Henry Cavill #A Cavill Christmas #A Cavill Christmas *Fic* #HenryCavill #Henry Cavill Fic #Henry Cavill RPF #henry cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill/You #Cavillmas #Merry Cavillmas #Fluff #Santa Claus #Santa #Secret of Santa #Arctic #Romance #Magic #Secrets

[hollyhomburg]

Omg I love packtan so much and I started to love it more after you explained the viking omega verse! It sounds so interesting. How do you think the reader reacted after she woke up, being taken away by the one that knocked her out? Do you think they had much struggle getting to trust the boys? I have so many questions I could read about it all day it's just so interesting skmskana

I think that when she woke up she would immediately go into attack mode. she’s in a strange place, surrounded by several strange alphas- it’s basicly her worst nightmare. 

Jungkook would try to calm her down and she would immediately drag out a knife at which point Hoseok would walk in and be totally not about it (no one threatens his pack- like no one). luckily he’s kinda good with weapons in this au and he gets it away from her without any issue or injury, 

Hoseok shouts and everyone rushes into the room just as she slams the back of her head into Hoseok face with /commitment/. so hard she almost knocks herself out again. Hoseok miraculously dosent let go around her waist, but jimin does rush forward. She’s so shocked to see another omega- not like shackled or bound, but one that looks healthy and well taken care of that she pauses for the moment it takes Hoseok to retaliate and she’s out again. 

Please imagine Hoseok looking down at her, blood gushing from his broken nose, saying “fuck, well that went well!” and the others are so fucking shocked that they barely steer him into a chair before he falls over- dizzy from an almost concussion, Seokjin rushing forward with a rag for his nose. 

They learn from their lesson and bind her wrists as much for their own safety as for hers. Something about her probably tugs at their heartstrings- especially the omegas because she’s fighting so hard to getaway. They don’t have to ask themselves /why/ because in parts of the world omegas are treated like little more than cattle and though Namjoon is trying to change that fact, there is still a long way to go. 

I think when she wakes up again they’ve learned their lesson and have only Jimin and Seokjin in the room with her, she dosen’t talk to them, but she will answer with a nod or a shake of her head. Eventually, she nudges her head at their wrists and they explain that omegas aren’t treated badly here, they’re free to go anywhere they want and make their own choice and decline any alpha or beta though they’re both spoken for. She’s confused, but not too afraid to  meet with namjoon. 

she keeps her head down, won’t look at him, much to the anger of the other alphas in the room. Namjoon barely contains his frustration. seokjin and jimin had come to him, asking him to help you- to be gentle and he wasn’t the type to just ignore their wants- it was your fault you where being so damn difficult. , finally growling, “can you even speak?” 

“Yes” you reply, actually making Seokjin smile where he sits to the side of Namjoon because you might be shaking in your boots but you obviously have bite, a wild spirit that will not bend to anyone in the room. “will you speak to us?” you look blankly, tempting a scoff and a smirk from yoongi. 

Eventually, as you won’t answer the basic questions of ‘who are you/ which pack do you belong to/ are you hurt/’ namjoon gets to the one thing he’s been pressed to ask, pressed by yoongi- one of the only healers in the pack.  “my beta- Taehyung- the man you found in the woods, will survive thanks to you. yoongi tells me he would have been dead for days if it weren’t for you.  when he wakes up i know he’d want to thank you. And he and only he is the reason why i won’t punish you for what you did to my second Hoseok.” hoseok sits on a nearby chair, his nose slowly blackening- but though he grumbles, he’s not that hurt, His nose will finish healing within a few days. 

“This place is safe, I already know that you’ve wondered after jimin and seokjin- they told me you did” you send an accusatory glance in their direction, like you’re offended they sold you out to their alpha. “we don’t treat omegas the same way the rest of the world does and we won’t treat you that way, but the truth is- we need healers, and you seem to be a good one judging by the way you healed Taehyung. Stay for a few days, rest, enjoy our food and safety, see the town and how we treat omegas, and if you still want to leave by the end of the week i’ll let you. if you agree...” for the first time you’re looking into namjoon’s eyes, through your hair, a little greasy and hanging in your face, unevenly chopped, your clothes likewise rough worn. “you’ll become a member of our pack, I’ll have the builders make you a cabin, and you’ll be given suplise and anything elce you might want in exchange for your services, you’ll be a free omega, and you won’t have to answer to any alpha”  

“besides you” namjoon nodds, tilts his head forwar, 

“Besides me.” namjoon stands from the table, his black robes dusting the floor, everyone else in the room stands, “think it over” until he wipes out of the room, you see it though, the way his hand brushes down Seokjin’s side as he passes, and you aren’t left in centre on your own for long, jimin quick to rush to your side, his nose scrunching when he gets close, “you could use some new clothes, follow me” 

Then please imagine a verry grumpy and halarious scene where Jimin and Seokjin wrestle her into a hot soapy bath and she growls and hisses until she smells the soap and then goes all pliant. And then she’ll shove it into Seokjin a hand and turn around showing her scarred back- and of course later Seokjin will tell Namjoon about the wear on her body- what can only be a brand on her back- but looks like it was cut out by her own hand. It makes him and Jimin exchange sad looks- but then she lets out a happy grumble at them softly studsing her off. they fit her in a loose omega dress but she quickly points at her bare and bruised legs and won't leave the room before they give her a loose and long tunnic and a pair of thick knit pants. 

there are a few other things I picture happening, like when she meets Jungkook and he thanks her- telling her it could have been him on the scouting trip that landed Taehyung in her care, to which she replies “if it had been you, I would have slit your throat” and it’s true- she has kind of a hatred for alphas. but it lessens a little after she tries to run away and Jungkook and Hoseok stop a bear from mauling her. 

When Tae wakes up there are a few other sweet moments, Taehyung tugging on her freshly washed and cut hair, her jerking away in suprise “you know what I thought when I first saw you, right after you set the bone in my leg and I almost screamed my head off?” you nod, prod at his hand curled in the furrs, “I thought it was impossible, impossible that there was an omega as beautiful as Seokjin and jimin out there, and even more impossible that she was saving me from bleeding out onto the forest floor”

of course she blushes and gets out of there so quickly that yoongi comes running, only to find tae laughing so hard it hurts his broken ribs, “God she’s fun to tease” and yoongi snapping a bandage at him and telling him to stop laughing before he reopens his stitches. 

hopefully this answers enough of your questions

#Anonymous #packtan

[madeyesaes]

༄ ONCE UPON A TIME IN RPGEMBER ༉

... But I do nearly everything in one go.

Parce qu’être régulier n’est pas mon fort. Afficher davantage si par chance vous avez envie d’en savoir plus ! Challenge de @andthereisawoman​​ & @wiisemary​​ ♥ Déso, je fais un seul post, je veux pas trop spam.

J’ai dû refaire masse de fois parce que Tumblr aime courir sur mes nerfs avec ses bugs foireux.

#1 Quel est votre type de sujet rp favori ?

Hum... J’aime bien les gros rps dégoulinant de drama, à la limite du soap opera mais j’avoue que j’ai un faible pour les confrontations avec des paroles mielleuses et les gone wrong. Ces derniers englobent pleins de choses : d’une soirée banale qui tourne au cauchemar, d’un mec qui trébuche et enclenche une série de désastreuses aventures, d’une parole malheureuse, etc.

En vrai, ça dépend beaucoup du pitch de base et du partenaire. J’ai eu des partenaires qui m’ont fait aimer des styles de rp dans lesquels j’étais pas à l’aise et d’autres qui m’ont fait comprendre que c’est dur d’être sur la même page.

#2 Le métier, les études ou autre info d’un personnage qui vous a demandé le plus de recherches HRP

Dur de dire de tête, mais je pense la divination et la culture mongole. Pour cette dernière, je suis pas trop familier avec la Mongolie en général, je connais des bribes d’histoire mais j’avais jamais eu l’occasion de me pencher dessus. Comme dans tous les pays, il y a masse de facettes différentes et c’est difficile de tout bien saisir sur le sujet, mais mon personnage découvrait un peu en même temps que moi -donc je pouvais corriger les nuances que je saisissais pas à 100% au fur et à mesure.

Pour la divination, mon personnage était professeur et j’avais pas trop envie d’avoir l’air bête en donnant cours mdrr. J’improvisais un peu des fois, mais j’ai appris pas mal sur les différentes techniques et rituels partout dans le monde, même sans y croire.

Maintenant je pense aussi à la théologie, les dragons (oui), la médecine, etc.

#3. Lors du choix d'un nouvel avatar pour votre profil (la création hein, pas le faceclaim), comment le choisissez-vous ?

Je suis pas sûr de comprendre à 100% la question mais du coup, c’est assez classique : coller au design (comme j’ai pas des masses de ressources, le n&b est toujours apprécié) puis aller vers ce qui va le mieux au personnage. J’aime bien quand l’avatar est un peu travaillé, soit avec de belles typos ou une composition sympa. J’essaie d’accorder avec la signature et le reste du profil. Je change moins souvent qu’avant donc je fais plus gaffe.

#4. Votre meilleur souvenir en rpg ?

Alors, c’est assez dur de se souvenir et/ou de choisir. J’ai fait beaucoup de superbes rencontres, certains qui ont laissé un goût sacrément amer après d’autres qui sont présents encore aujourd’hui au quotidien. Je pense pas aller dans les détails, mais un qui me vient en tête est, ironiquement, quand j’ai quitté le staff d’Hungcalf. Zéro drama sur mon départ, juste besoin de lâcher prise et j’ai reçu tellement de soutiens et amour que j’ai, je l’avoue, un peu chialé.

#5. Votre mise en page préférée pour un rp ?

J’aime bien avoir une mise en page, un code assez simple avec une ou deux icons, ou un gif. Je suis plutôt dans les moodboard en ce moment d’ailleurs même si je passe trop de temps à en choisir un sdjfskdjf. Sinon, pour les rps de groupe, je suis plus blockquote tout simple. Trop de codes différents fait fouillis je pense, même dans les rps classique à deux ou trois je préfère quand tout le monde a le même code ou le même style.

#6. La (les) musique(s) qui vous inspire(nt) le plus pour écrire ?

J’ai des playlists par personnage, donc un peu long à montrer mdrr. J’alterne parfois et j’ai jamais un style fixe. Sinon j’ai au moins toujours un bruit de fond : vidéo youtube style podcast, les conversations des gens autour de moi ou un film au pif.

#7. Votre moment favori lors de la découverte d’un nouveau rpg ?  

Trouver LA ligne dans les annexes qui te lance dans la conception du personnage. Souvent j’ai un style de perso en tête avant de lire le contexte, mais parfois je change du tout au tout en lisant les détails de l’univers et/ou des modalités de jeu. En revanche si je sens pas la communauté, c’est un très gros stop.

#8. Plutôt...création de personnage au fil de l’eau ou création quasi complète lors de la fiche ?

Ca dépend de l’univers et de pleins de chose haha. Mes fiches sont souvent longues et détaillées, mais mon personnage a toujours une très grande évolution malgré ça. Oui j’essaie, en tout cas la fiche est là pour lancer des pistes -j’essaie de plus les enfermer dans un boite comme je pouvais le faire avant.

#9. Votre réaction en un gif et quelques mots lors d’un rp plein de feels ?

(C’est pas vraiment ça mais je voulais caser ce gif quelque part) (Izuku best boy je veux rien entendre) 

#10. Votre heure/moment d’écriture favori, là où l’inspiration vient sans se faire attendre ?

Au PIRE moment. Peu importe l’heure ou le lieu. 

#11. Si votre personnage actuel était un moodboard ?

Argh, euh... Bon celui-ci correspond bien à un type de perso que j’aime beaucoup jouer : https://madeyesaes.tumblr.com/post/189061826436/icons-200200-madeyes-like-or-reblog-if

Oui c’est émo, lâchez moi avec ça.

#12. Comment relancez-vous la machine à inspiration lorsqu’elle n’est pas là ?

Attention les mots magiques : ça dépend. Parfois je rajoute une couche de dramas, des fois je pose l’affaire et fait autre chose, des fois je me force même si c’est une réponse bateau (ofc je préviens la personne avec qui je joue), etc. J’ai pas de recette miracle.

#13. Team campeur sur un seul forum à la fois ou réparti sur plusieurs ? Un personnage par forum ou plusieurs à un seul endroit ?

En ce moment campeur, pas le temps de m’intégrer autre part et j’suis pas à l’aise dans la commu rp. Avant je variais plus, mais ça va surement revenir.

#14. Si là demain, vous deviez créer un forum, ça serait sur quel thème ou quel contexte ?

TIENS C’EST MARRANT J’AI UN PROJET OU J’AI BESOIN D’AIDE : https://madeyesaes.tumblr.com/tagged/les-chants-de-l%27atlantide

(Sinon un forum my hero academia ce serait grave cool mais flemme d’être encore solo).

#15. Quelques uns de vos plus beaux titres de rp ? (Et par beaux, ça peut vouloir aussi dire loufoques ;))

Je sais plus, mais à peu près sur d’avoir eu “hein” ou “aie pas l’seum” dans le lot.

#16. Votre/vos derniers faceclaim(s) coup(s) de coeur ?

Vous avez cinq heures ? Mdrr. Il y en a que j’ai envie de jouer depuis masse de temps, d’autres qui vont et viennent... En vrai c’est souvent les graphs qui me font choisir ksdqjfkqf.

#17. Votre signature favorite / que vous avez le plus utilisé ? (Que ce soit code ou citation)

Une très simple avec une ou deux icons avec une citation de base et quelques lignes éventuellement ! J’ai bien quand il y a un dégradé dans le lot.

#18. L’envie / idée de personnage qui te traverse l’esprit en ce moment ?

Too much and they live in my head rent free. On a un prof blasé mais super protecteur, un p’tit con chasseur de fantôme, un moussaillon qui a le mal de mer mais une barbe de viking...

#19. Plutôt RPs longs ou courts ?

Quand c’est de l’action, commun ou un rp de “transition”, court, sinon je suis autour des +700 mots à +1000 mots quand on est dans du gros drama.

#20. Ton petit rituel quand tu te mets en tête de te majer ?

Zéro rituel, je vis dans l’instant. J’aime bien avoir une boisson chaude et être posé dans être emmerdé. Mais au bout de cinq minutes je suis distrait donc...

#21. Un de tes avatars favoris (création pas faceclaim) que tu as “porté” 75 ans ou simplement qui t’a tapé dans l’oeil et qui te donne envie de créer un personnage là tout de suite

ARGH. Me faite pas choisir.

#22. Comment fermez-vous un rp ? Team départ ou team cliffhanger qui laissent vos fans en attente ?

Team on va pas ramer cent sept ans. Donc ça dépend.

#23. Votre lien le plus wtf trouvé avec un·e corpgiste.

Un stalker qui est lui-même stalker par la personne qu’il stalk.

Sinon j’en ai eu d’autres mais je les ai pas en tête.

#Je ferai les derniers en 1 post aussi je pense #rpg #french rpg #challenge #flemme de tag

[chelsfic]

Trustfall Part 2 - August Walker/Reader - Mission: Impossible Fallout fanfic

Image: Stock image of multiple locks on a door beside an image of Henry Cavill with scruff and mustache and a curly lock of hair falling over his forehead. The Henry pic came up in a Google image search, but I think it should be credited to: @kinghenryviii-i-am

A/N: You’ll notice from some details (references to dollars, stores, elementary school) that this fic is set in the U.S., not in London. I felt it would be more authentic for me to write within my own frame of reference rather than try to manhandle English colloquialisms and such. You can think of it as AU. Or, I can just admit that I’m a bit lazy. Either way I really hope it doesn’t take you out of the plot.

P.S. I’ve never had a plan in my entire life. Somehow, this is the Home Depot episode of Trustfall. Enjoy!

Part One

***

You make up the guest room because that’s what you do when you have a guest. Never mind that the guest is a (former?) terrorist...a double agent and a traitor. Never mind that you don’t strictly want him here and he’s less of a guest and more of a...passive captor. Never mind all that. Making the bed with fresh sheets and putting out clean towels is what you do when you have...a guest.

“So...,” you gesture to the open doorway. The same doorway where you stood frozen, three weeks ago, while he pointed a gun at you. The memory rises like an unwanted specter before your eyes and you need to take a steadying breath before you can go on. “This will be your room. Th-there’s a bathroom attached. The linen closet is just across from you if you need more towels or blankets. I had an extra toothbrush so I put that on the sink for you….a-and the kitchen is downstairs just across from the living room if you g-get hungry…”

You’re rambling and this really is absurd. The bastard may be paying you but there is no reason you have to be nice to him. It’s like your brain is short-circuiting. You hate him for what he did to you and for making you feel scared in your own home. But you’ve never had it in you to seek out conflict when you find it so much simpler to take the high road and be able to live with yourself as a “nice person.” It’s a dysfunction. You should probably see a therapist about it. Or hit him. Maybe you should hit him. 

In an effort to assert yourself you add, “And keep out of my room. And my office downstairs. I’m not agreeing to you having access to every inch of my personal space.” 

The effort is somewhat diminished when you spy the unreadable, hard expression on his face and tack on a “please” to the end of your demand. Damn it.

“Of course,” Walker smiles and how can it be allowed for him to look so boyish and charming? He’s a criminal! “This is still your home, Y/N.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It sure doesn’t feel that way.

***

It’s amazing how quickly you can become accustomed to the most bizarre changes. Before you know it a  week has passed. Walker...August...keeps to himself in his room. He’s gone out a few times, always at odd hours. Sometimes he’s not back yet when you wake up in the morning. But for the most part he’s just...there. All the time.

You’ve spent every night since he came here laying in bed with your hands fisted in the blankets and your eyes locked on your door. His room is just on the other side of your bedroom wall and you can sometimes hear the muffled noises of him moving around at night. So far he’s respected your request that he not invade your space more than necessary but that can’t last, can it? You find yourself mentally reliving those terrible moments. The cold apathy in his eyes as he stood over you. The false concern in his words before he pulled the trigger. Why would he say he was sorry? If he was sorry...if he’d cared he wouldn’t have done what he did.

In the mornings, you feel tired, wrung out. This can’t go on. You’re due back at work on Monday and you can’t teach a class of second graders on no sleep. Friday afternoon you drive to the hardware store and purchase a sliding lock kit for your bedroom door. August is in the kitchen when you get home. He watches you set your bag on the kitchen table and remove the contents. 

You look up at him feeling absurdly guilty. You force yourself to square your jaw and look him in the eyes, “It’s for my bedroom...I can’t...I can’t sleep at night.”

August’s eyes flash with emotion before he carefully schools his features. He’s been trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. For all he manipulated you into this situation he isn’t a sadist--he doesn’t want you to feel afraid. He just doesn’t know what he can possibly do to reassure you. 

He nods sensibly and comes over to inspect your purchase. It’s a simple sliding lock like the kind you’d see on a public restroom stall. He picks up the package turning it over in his hands. He’s standing right next to you, looming, and you’re aware again of his massive presence. You can feel the heat of his body and you can smell the scent of him. He smells like fresh soap and gun oil. You’re suddenly aware that he’s wearing casual clothes, a t-shirt and jeans and thick, white socks. The outfit makes him seem so normal, so human. Without your permission you feel your body sway toward him like a mosquito flying toward an electrified lamp. Why are you attracted to something that can hurt you?

“Smart,” he remarks, setting down the package, “but this type of lock won’t do much to keep out someone who’s determined.”

“What?” you ask sharply with a look of suspicion. Surely he must realize the lock is meant to keep out *him.* From the apologetic look he flashes you, you can tell that he does know. So why is he telling you this?

“Why don’t we head back to the store and find something more heavy duty?” he suggests.

***

Walking through Home Depot with August Walker at your side pushing a big, orange shopping cart is surreal. There’s no way you can forget who you’re with either because he draws attention. He’s tall, muscled and striking; people’s eyes are drawn to him like magnets. You wonder how he ever got by working under cover. 

He swings down aisle after aisle with a purposeful stride that leaves you nearly tripping over your crutches to keep up. When you reach the aisle with locks, doorknobs and other odds and ends he selects a heavy metal deadbolt from the wall display and tosses it into the cart.

He turns to you, looking doubtful, “Do you have a power drill at home?”

“Err...no,” you reply sheepishly.

He moves on: screws, drill, drill bits, a hole saw. Then he’s leading you to the back of the store and down an aisle lined with different style doors. You hook your hand into the crook of his elbow to slow him down.

“August!” you exclaim, practically out of breath trying to keep up with him. “I don’t need a new door.”

“Yes, you do,” he says simply and turns back to display. He selects a heavy steel door that looks more suitable for a jail cell than your bedroom.

“That’s hideous!” you snort, forgetting your anxiety and nerves.

August huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “It’s secure.”

When the cashier rings everything up the total comes to over six hundred dollars. You widen your eyes and reach into your pocketbook with trepidation. You just don’t have that kind of extra money. August pulls out his wallet and hands over a stack of hundreds without batting an eye. You stare at him in shock and he just shakes his head as if it’s nothing. You are going to have a talk about household expenses. 

***

You watch him hang the new door, greasing the hinges and testing the swing of it opening and closing. You’re perched on the end of your bed and he’s standing in the doorway wearing a tool belt and changing out the bit in his drill to start making the hole for the deadbolt. You let yourself enjoy this bizarre, peaceful moment. Watching him do home repair is so...oddly calming. August could be your handyman or...your husband. 

But...he’s not, you remind yourself. No, this man is the reason you need a steel door installed in your bedroom in the first place. The reason you can’t sleep at night, the reason you have nightmares that cause you to wake up with tears in your eyes and a sob in your throat. You can’t--you cannot forget that. 

August finishes up installing the lock and the doorknobs. He takes his time tightening the final screws and checking that the lock slides effortlessly into position. As he fiddles with these adjustments he watches you from the corner of his eyes. You’re seated on the bed with your good leg tucked underneath you, chin resting on your palm and paying attention to everything he’s doing. Your posture is looser than he’s seen it since his arrival and he feels a rush of warmth in his chest that he can’t identify.

 All he knows is he hates seeing the flash of fear in your eyes every time he catches you unaware. He hates seeing how tired you are in the mornings. And he really, really hates the muffled sounds of sobs that come from your bedroom late at night. He wants you to feel safe again. He knows he robbed you of that feeling. When he came here a week ago it was with the calculating intention of taking advantage of the damage he’d done and forcing you into a position of being at his mercy. But since he’s been living with you and witnessing the consequences of everything he’s done all he feels is an unfamiliar guilt eating away at his stomach and making him feel like worse than vermin. 

He swings the door closed and twists the lock into place with a satisfying click. He turns to you with a smile and a feeling of accomplishment that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“There,” he says, twisting the lock again and opening the door so that you don’t feel trapped with him in your bedroom. “Now you’re safe.”

Tag List:

@thorins-queen-of-erebor @viking-raider @onceuponathreetwoone @angelic-kisses13 @afangirldaydreams

#august walker x reader #august walker imagine #henry cavill imagine #mission: impossible fanfic #chelsfic #henry cavill

[ghouljams]

Pre(tt)y [Chapter 4] Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, Soap x f!reader, grief, mistranslations, Soap is doing his best Summary: You haven't been offered a job, but you also haven't been killed yet. You meet two more vikings, and try to get some rest while you grapple with the loss of everything you've ever known.

Mactavish leads you through camp, the men around the fire glance at you and you step closer to his side. They don’t touch you, just as he promised, but that doesn’t stop them from looking. You’re led towards a tent that seems too small for the man that greets you inside. The man has to duck his head not to scrape the ceiling, his brown hair shorn short but his beard full. You keep your chin held high when he meets your eyes. There’s something commanding in his stare, something in his glare that reminds you of your father. Appraising, you think. He looks at Mactavish.

“What’s this?” He asks, the northern tongue rolls nicely with the rough timber of his voice. A viking made to be a viking. 

“The healer,” Mactavish responds easily. The other viking huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, his weight shifting to look down on the both of you.

“Believe we were looking for more than just the one,” He raises a brow.

“Aye, and you’ll never guess who found ‘em first.” Mactavish runs a hand through his hair, tugs at one of the braids to inspect. As if this is nothing. Same as the other some of the harsh lines in this viking’s face soften. He finds his anger again and spits on the floor with a word you don’t recognize. You can’t help but flinch away from his fury. The movement draws his attention again, and his eyes fix on you. 

“They any good?”

“Better than any of you,” You grumble. You may have been little more than an apprentice but you’d bet that’s more medical experience than any of these men have. Like Mactavish said, it’s better to just call yourself a healer than beat around the bush. At your side Mactavish’s fist clenches so tight you can see his knuckles turn white. If you’d hoped your gaelic was only understood by the Scot at your side you’re sorely mistaken.

The older viking grabs your face, and just as quickly Mactavish grabs his wrist. The viking seems to ignore his subordinate’s grip, studying you with cold eyes. You sniff, stand a little taller. You’re not sure why, it’s not smart staring down a viking. Some part of you hopes it’s a bad idea, hopes it’s your last idea.

“Let go,” Mactavish warns, “they’re my watch, Captain, my catch.”

You narrow your eyes at the captain. You should have known, the air of authority he carries should have tipped you off. None of these men are friend to you, not one of them. Even Mactavish calls you a catch, owns you like a carcass. You should spit in their faces, join your family in the afterlife and be done with this whole affair. 

The captain releases you and Mactavish releases him. Something wordless passes between them, some silent agreement that makes Mactavish nod. Whatever it is you don’t think it bodes well for you, like the closing of a door darkening the room you feel these men’s agreement like a chill over your skin.

“Get something to eat,” The captain advises him, “and see if any of the men need a healer. They can bunk with you tonight.”

Some of the puff seems to leave Mactavish’s shoulders, his breath releasing the tension from his form. You don’t feel the same relief. Bunking with one man is almost as bad as bunking with the rest. His joke about courting you rushes to the front of your mind, you wonder what that means for tonight. How courteous it would be for him to leave you alone. You doubt that will happen.

Mactavish’s hand touches the small of your back, and directs you out of the tent as you glare at his captain. You swat at his touch when you leave the tent, walking an extra half step ahead of him. You can feel his eyes on you, it makes your skin crawl. Is he sizing you up? Trying to gauge your next move? If you’ll run again? You doubt you’d make it with so many vikings after you. You’re about to try your luck, walking past the fire.

No luck. His fingers touch your back again, warm even through your heavy clothes. Mactavish directs you where to walk with a firm hand before he grabs your shoulder and pushes you down onto a log with a gentle, “Sit.”

It’s a command you’re loath to follow, except that the scent of food makes your stomach rumble. There’s a large pot over the fire, with some sort of stew in it. It smells rich and meaty. When’s the last time you ate? You almost thank Mactavish when he ladles a bowl for you, your hands reaching eagerly for the warm meal before stopping short. Your fingers tremble.

Just before you left home. Your mother had given you some bread and cheese, a snack to take while you were foraging. The smoke from the campfire fills your nose, a choking memory of your home. Just before the viking you’d had bread from your mother’s hand.

Your throat hurts, your chest clenching tight as tears roll softly down your face. You take the offered bowl quickly, you don’t look at Mactavish’s face. It’s a crack that splinters your heart, a weakness you can’t afford. You curl in on yourself, sip at the hot soup between your cold hands, and try to ignore the plip of your tears into the broth.

Mactavish takes a seat next to you, his hand hovers. You scoot away, towards the end of the log. The large man corner to you stiffens. You try to keep quiet in the silence that lapses, it doesn’t work well. As hard as you try to push it down you choke on a heavy sob and your hiccup is answered by a shift in the unfamiliar viking’s posture.

“Grey sky doesn’t bode well,” He says, his voice is rich and rough at the edges. You don’t think he’s talking to you, Mactavish maybe with how loud he is. You still glance at him, his eyes unreadable behind the bone mask he wears. You avert your gaze quickly.

“So you’re a Völva now?” Mactavish asks, “You know the weather?”

“Know it well enough.” The viking sniffs, leaning back with a roll of his shoulders.

“You’re full of it,” Mactavish laughs, his voice raising to meet the volume of his fellow viking. You tune out their voices as you sniffle, try to at least. They’re loud, their bickering covering your tears. Ignoring you. Of course they’re ignoring you. Why wouldn’t they? You’re a stranger, an outsider, a prisoner in their camp. You’re only here because there was no one else to steal.

You stare, fuzzy eyed, at the fire. You hiccup through your tears, trying not to dwell too much on your family, or the loneliness that settles in your bones. The vikings talk past you, over you, like you don’t exist. You might not. Not to them.

It’s strange that the thought is almost freeing. At least they aren’t watching you cry, jeering at your misfortune. Small miracles, you suppose, small kindnesses.

It’s dark by the time you finish your slow tearful dinner. The season’s chill aided by the sea breeze cuts through the wool of your earasaid. You’re almost thankful for the fur Mactavish gave you, your arms outstretched to warm you frigid fingers by the fire. The man beside you tugs his gloves off his belt and holds them out to you. You glance at the offering before turning your eyes back to the fire.

“You’re gonna lose your fingers, Vaenn.” Mactavish tells you. You tip your head, strange he’d use a nordic word alongside his Gaelic. That’s a verb isn’t it? To catch: vaen. He’s using it as a noun, or an adjective? Catch, catch, catch. Prey as its noun form, maybe. An unkind but fitting nickname you suppose. 

“Prey, huh,” The skull faced viking hums, almost teasing.

“Shut it,” Mactavish snaps, his cheeks pink from the wind’s chill. He grabs your hand and presses the gloves into it. “Healers are only as good as their hands,” He insists, “please.”

You curl your fingers around the well worn leather, soft and carefully maintained, they’re warm from his body when you tug them on.

You stop yourself from asking what he’ll do for gloves. You shouldn’t care, the less fingers he has the better. Still you can’t help looking at his hands, thick fingers and neat nails. He picks at the dirt under them, and you catch the flash of scars over his knuckles. Marks of a man at war.

Mactavish stares at the fire, the flickering light cutting shadows across his face. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he sees when he looks into the pyre. Is it the shadows that darken his eyes, or his thoughts? He doesn’t look at you, which feels- you don’t know. Desperate. Although you don’t know if it’s your desperation or his.

The skull viking stands with a creak of black leather. He pats Mactavish’s cheek when he passes him, something fond in the gesture. Casual affection that the Scott brushes off in favor of standing. All the darkness leaves his eyes when he looks at you. Like a mask, you think, when he smiles. There’s something hollow about it, something he’s pulled out of himself without any weight to it. You blink at the expression. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

“Lemme show you the tent,” He offers. You glance around the dim camp. Again you feel the need to say something, remind him that you were told to check if anyone needed medical, before you chastise yourself for even the thought. These men deserve nothing more than you’re made to give them. It’s your training that makes you think to ask, but you’re hardly employed.

“As long as you keep your hands to yourself,” You grumble.

“Of course,” Mactavish tells you with a confused look, “I wouldn’t touch you if you didn’t want it.”

You bite your tongue before you tell him he’s already touched you plenty. His hands seem so keen to brush against you, to direct you, his warmth attempting to seep into you unbidden. You keep your words to yourself, though you yearn to snap at him. There’s bitterness on your tongue, your grief finding a new name for itself with anger.

Mactavish holds the tent flap for you, and you duck under his arm. He’s quick to slip in behind you, taking up the small space as easily as his captain had. There’s a bed roll, and not much else. 

Mactavish pushes against your side in the small space, turning to drop to the ground. He crosses his legs, leaning back against the sturdy post in the center of the tent. His ax is unhooked from his belt and laid over his thick thigh. He heaves a sigh, and you feel weariness settle over his shoulders. Cold as the rolling sea and heavy as her waves. You watch him thread his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his head as he drops it forward. 

Good. You hope his choices weigh on him. You hope they crush him.

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #viking!soap #viking au #soap x f!reader #f!reader #this has very little romance in it #but I desperately wanted to show a touch of camp before we depart for home #medieval doctoring next chapter maybe #nobody talk to me about the darling I'm thinking up for Ghost

[ghouljams]

Gnnh. Mii brainrot intensifies.

I am in love with your Viking!AU, because I’ve always been fascinated by this civilisation. This is probably why I’ve been having thoughts about a völva!reader (völur for men), a prophetess in Germanic paganism, the kind of woman who was told to be feared and revered by both mortals and gods alike because of their inextricable link to Fate. Even Odin was said to consult them. They had a powerful role in politics, as well as in everything spiritual and magical in their society. From what I’ve read, women already had a high status in the societies of the North (I like this name, for some reason - it gives them a mystical and powerful aspect in my eyes), and those northern witches were thought to be descendants of the Jötun. Their stories are really interesting ; if you haven’t read about them already, I think you would really like them.

So, to come back to the Viking!AU, I could really see one of the guys with a völva as a darling. For some reason, I immediately picture Price or Ghost ; maybe because I am biased and love them so much, but probably also because of the fact that I could see them to be almost « worshipping » their darlings. It would probably be challenging for them to try and get the attention of such a powerful and mystical being, but I could see the end result to be worth all the efforts and frustration (and the whole « I’m so needy for her » part too).

Perhaps they would stumble upon her as she is praying the gods (Freyja, Odin and Sif were apparently the deities dedicated to the völva/völur, mainly the first one as she is deeply associated with all kinds of magic). It could be a beautiful, mesmerising scene filled with things bringing all 5 senses (and maybe more ?) to attention. Since those priestesses were threatened by the rise of Christianity, the warriors would probably feel the need to protect such a sacred being. I could see this character getting close to the Healer!reader, discussing herbs and magical recipes.

I hope I’m not being too overwhelming. I just love paganism and magic so much, everything about it is so interesting.

As always, lots of love on you Friend. You may not be too well, but know that I’m not really either, and that your writing always makes things better for my little head. Please, take care and stay safe <3

As usual y'all find ways to engage me special interests and also

Mii, you're putting Witch in the Viking au. You're giving me another opportunity to use my favorite special little girl who I am insanely brain rotten for. Obviously I'm going to put her with Price, obviously. Although I do love Ghost as a worshiper.

I will disclaimer, the viking au is not magical. There's no "real" magic that the völva!reader could perform, like Witch does. But from a religious standpoint I do fucking love it.

Price obviously is heading, captaining, the expedition Soap is on. Big scary viking man who sits around pissed because he's gotta be away from home and out from under the blessed eyes of his lovely völva. He's good at his job, he loves his job, loves his boys, but he misses the pretty priestess back home. Of course you never give him the time of day, too busy communing with the gods and doing your religious duties, managing politics and all that. You probably don't even notice him lingering around the temple, trying to find the right words to ask if you'd like to share a meal with him. Have you noticed that he always brings you something from his trips? Do you pet the soft furs he brings you and think of him? Do you run your fingers along the ridges of the shells he gives you? Do you know him? Do you want to?

Oof lots of pining in this au. The viking au is for pining.

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #oc: witch #hey friends I'm sorry that I have made price and witch my otp #but really you can't offer me a witch and mention that price could be her lover #and expect me to be normal about it #viking au #völva!witch