#A Cold Highland Wind

[jolieeason]

October 2023 Wrap-Up

Here is what I read/posted/won/received/bought in October. As always, let me know if you have read any of these books and (if you did) what you thought of them. Books I Read: Books Reviewed: The Parachutists by R.L. Minnich—review here (4 stars) Tantalus Depths by Evan Graham—review here (4 stars) The Intern by Michele Campbell—review here (4 stars) A Cold Highland Wind by Tasha…

[eoinmcgonigal]

09: Bill/Johnny

Sloowly getting through @almost-a-class-act 's wonderful prompts! This one is: Character A has just moved in and it's Character B's turn to tell the new neighbour the neighbourhood's dark secret…

Now, I've set this in rural Scotland. I've given Bill the appropriate language, but I have zero idea how to actually spell it. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever written, but no, I'm not taking it back. Bill Fraser is a teuchter now (for this fic at least).

War is Helloween

-

He’s seen him before. In the darkness of the countryside, folk illuminated only by the built-up bonfire, the occasional sweeps of torches, and the sparkers the children run around squealing with, Bill finds himself looking towards the stranger. It’s hard not to notice newcomers around here, and especially not ones so handsome they turn heads wherever they go. The blond hardly seems like he belongs amongst countryfolk and farmers, but he’s ended up at the fireworks display on the brae all the same. Bill first saw him two days ago in the village shop, where he was with a young woman, a babe in her arms. His sister, the gossip says. Bill’s already heard the older folk muttering about it, wondering where the husband is, and what the brother is doing here. He’s sure he’ll hear all the news the next time he goes to the Fife Arms, whether he wants to or not.

He can’t deny feeling curious, though. Not much changes around here—not usually for the better, at any rate. Besides, the man is good-looking. Johnny Cooper. There’s something about him that catches Bill’s eye, and makes him half want to go over.

He doesn’t, though. Johnny is surrounded by some of the farmers’ wives, and is gratefully accepting bonfire toffee. Bill’s mouth is still sweet with the rare joy of it, Jenny Grant’s recipe as good as he remembers from childhood. It’s as warming to him as the bright fire that’s been built to last, and he’ll try to get another few pieces off of her before he heads back home.

Until then, he stands in the cold November night, waiting. A few friends and folk have drifted by, stopping to chat, offering him a beer, and he nods and listens to the words they have to say, contributing here and there. He finds himself standing in a loose group of men, their attention turning towards the pitch dark beyond the fall of the firelight when a faint torchlight flickers there. Johnny is still on the other side of the little gathering when the fireworks begin. Bill looks away from him, to enjoy the display. It’s nothing like the big, fancy ones he sees on the telly. He wonders what Johnny makes of it. If he likes it here, or if he thinks as little of this place and its people as townfolk usually do, the way of life too small and simple to be worth noticing in their opinion. Plenty outsiders have bulldozed in and then drifted away again, not taking to the lifestyle, or simply missing the glittering lights and apparently comfort of bustle.

Bill likes it here, though. It’s home. He watches the fireworks light up the darkness, and feels something ancient and primal tug at his heart. You can’t feel this anywhere else, he thinks as a chill breeze stirs around the little gathering.

When the last firework is spent, all that’s left is the warmth of the fire, and the people around it. Bill soaks it up, lingering as people start drifting home—the folks with younger kids first, then others following. He snags some more of Jenny’s bonfire toffee, and sees that Johnny is just drifting from the circle of firelight. There’s a set to his shoulders, a sense of purpose about him that makes Bill’s blood run cold.

Half running, he catches up with the man. “Oi!” he calls out.

Jumping, Johnny turns around, laughing. “You scared me!” He’s grinning, the distant fireglow softly picking out the features of his face.

“Far ye gaun?”

A blank look. Bill gestures out at the darkness.

“Yer car? Far’s it at?”

“Oh!” Understanding dawns on Johnny’s face, his smile softening but not fading. “My sister has it. I was going to walk.”

“Tae the village?”

“Um, yes?”

The cold feeling in Bill’s blood grows more profound. “Ye cannae dae that,” he warns.

“No?” Johnny looks around, out into the darkness. “I mean, it’s only two and a half miles?”

Bill shakes his head. “Ye’ll no mak it.”

“Um,” Johnny breathes. He’s not smiling any more. “But I came—”

“Ah’ll gi ye a lift,” Bill insists. “Or, if ye rither, ony ae the fowk here wull gi ye a lift. Just dinnae wauk it an yer ain, aye?”

“O–okay?”

The distant, warm glow of the fire is reflected in the blond’s wide eyes, and Bill suspects that, while he might have got the gist, he’s a bit dazed. Another chill curl of wind swirls around them, and they both shiver.

That seems to decide it. Relenting, Johnny moves closer to Bill. “Where’s your car?”

Bill points back towards the other side of the gathering. “Mandy’ll be glad tae tak ye, if ye’d rither.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m good.” After a few paces, Bill hears a shift in fabric, and a hand is drawn out of a pocket and offered to him. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”

“Aye, Ah ken,” Bill nods. It’s an awkward angle to shake someone’s hand at, the gesture out of place here. He lets it happen, though, giving Johnny a brief, firm squeeze of a handshake. Johnny’s hands are cold, but there’s a warmth that transfers to Bill at the touch. Stickiness too. They’ve both had toffee. It’s the reason Bill hasn’t pulled his glove back on.

He pulls them on now, knowing it’ll be cold for the first few minutes, until the car heats up. There’s a heavy jacket on the passenger’s seat, which he pulls out of the way as soon as he gets in, the wellies in the footwell joining the jacket on the back seat.

Johnny looks so out of place as he gets in, the harsh interior light of Bill’s car making him look pale. He’s probably cold, Bill realises.

“Ye cauld?”

Rubbing his hands against his thighs, Johnny nods. Bill pulls the jacket forward again, offering it over.

“Hae a shottie o this till the heatin kicks in.”

“Thank you.”

They fall into silence as the light dims and Bill starts the engine. He rolls slowly out onto the single track road that winds its way down the brae and towards the village. They’re near to the planted forest of Norwegian pine when Johnny finally speaks again.

“What’s wrong with walking?”

The headlights fall strangely on the pines for a moment, and Bill watches the shadows shift. “Naebody wauks atween the braes an the village this tid o year.”

In the pause, Bill tries to work out how to explain what people usually figure out, if they move here early enough in the year, or if they have any sense.

“Why not?”

It’s best to keep it simple. “Fowk disappear.”

“They get lost? Isn’t there only one road?”

There is, and it follows the contours of the land, the fall and rise and then fall again down into the village. They are clear of the trees now, and in the gully that curves to the left, is a burn. It’s impossible to see in the dark—the headlights don’t peer down over the edge. “Aye,” Bill has to agree. “Bit thare’s mae tae it then that.”

Beneath Bill’s jacket, Johnny shifts, shivering. Bill reaches out to turn the heat up.

“I’m fine,” Johnny insists. “I just… don’t get it.”

“Dae ye wint tae?”

“I guess?”

They’re one bend away from being within sight of the village, and Bill feels like he can speak easier when he sees the warm glow of the streetlights. He doesn’t need to ask where Johnny lives. Everyone knows.

“Thare’s simmat oot there, simmat auld.”

“Something?” Bill catches the crease of worry lining Johnny’s brow. “Like… an animal?”

“No quite. Hiv ye nae feelt it?”

“No?”

They turn into the lane that leads quickest to Johnny’s home. From the tone of his voice, the uncertainty wavering in it, Bill suspects that Johnny has felt it.

“What is it?”

Bill doesn’t quite know how to answer that. As he pulls up, he leaves the engine running, heat starting to spill enthusiastically into the car. The light from the streetlamps has a different quality to it than the firelight, but, as uneasy as he looks, Johnny still looks handsome. Beautiful, even. It’s warmth like that that keeps the cold and the darkness from taking over everything.

“The lan.”

Johnny blinks. “The land?”

“Aye, this place. Atween the noo an Februar, it’s hungert fae wairmth. Dinnae wauk ootae the village aifter dark.”

“Seriously?” In the safety of warmth and light, scepticism steals over Johnny.

“Aye. Ask aebody,” Bill promises. “Fa telt ye tae come up the braes oniehoo?”

“Um… Mitch? Mitchel?”

“Eejit,” Bill mutters. He can believe that Mitchel forgot to make sure Johnny was getting there and back safely, although he’s of no mind to let the man get away with it when Bill sees him next.

Johnny is toying with the collar of Bill’s jacket. “So this wasn’t some elaborate ploy to get me alone?”

“Elaborate?” Bill echoes. “No, Ah wantit tae mak sure ye got hame safe.”

“I was joking,” Johnny smiles, and Bill realises that maybe he was, but perhaps he wasn’t. He lets out a breath, not sure what to say.

As his jacket is offered back to him, Bill takes it mutely, looking at Johnny’s hands, then up at the beautiful but utterly unprepared young man.

“Thank you, um…”

Bill waits as the silence drags on.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

Oh. Right. “Bill,” he supplies, aware of the way his cheeks have started to flush. It’s annoying, and he reaches out to turn the heating down. “Ah mean it,” he impresses on Johnny. “Ye haftae stay safe.”

“I will,” Johnny says, with what feels like the right amount of sincerity.

“Good,” Bill nods.

“Thank you, Bill.”

Johnny already said that, but it’s nice to hear it again.

“Good night.”

“Nicht,” Bill answers.

Reaching for the door handle, Johnny goes still. “Um…” he turns around again, his mood tentative. “What was that sweet stuff?”

“The bonfire toffee?”

“I think so. I’ve not had it before. Do you know the recipe?”

Bill does not, but he knows where it’s written down in the old cookbook that used to be his grandmothers. “No, but Ah can get it fae ye.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“Nae bither.”

When Johnny smiles again, Bill gets the feeling that Johnny would be quite happy to linger here a while longer. He’d be happy if he did. All that lies ahead of Bill is the dark drive home.

“See you soon?” Johnny seems to hope.

Bill nods. “Aye.”

With a bright smile that brings something of the sun to the night, Johnny goes.

Bill isn’t entirely sure if Johnny will pay heed to the warning or dismiss it as nonsense, but what he does know is that the long winter ahead is going to be much easier to bear if he has a chance of seeing that beautiful smile again.

[spectres-n-soap]

Soap x Reader x Ghost - The Highlands of Your Heart Masterlist

The Highlands of Your Heart

Let's Walk in The Grass

Let's Sit and Watch The Clouds

The Clouds remind Me of You

You keep The Rain at Bay

Yet the Rain Comes Anyway

In The Rain I Cannot Find You

Your Warmth is Fading

The Rain Is Cold and You Are Gone

I Scream and Scream, Can You Hear Me?

A Spectre Remembers

To Live is to Love. To Grieve is to Love

Hand in Hand

Times Long Since Past

All The Things I've Said

All The Things I've Said Pt2

All The Things I've Said Pt3

A Soft Breeze

The Past

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back

More to Come...

Storm Clouds

Thunderstorms Are Here

The Olive Branch

Into The Wind

Thunder and Lightning

Clear Days

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 15

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey guys.................. dont kill me. i'm so sorry for the incredibly lengthy hiatus.... i had no motivation, each time i opened the file to type i'd type a couple words, maybe a paragraph and close it. i finally found the motivation to finish this chapter recently, i'm hoping it stays. it's been a rough couple months, so hoping this can help me feel a bit better!!

i felt really guilty for sort of abandoning the fic where it was, but i couldn't force myself to write anything, there was no creative juice, i think i sort of burnt myself out. and for the previous posts saying i was back, i thought i was, but i'd have the smallest spark of inspiration and try to write, but then nothing happened, and i felt bad so i didn't want to say something like, sorry, i lied. :(

hopefully this chapter is okay, i know most of you won't like it, but i'm so glad i finally finished it, it was one of the hardest to write because i had so many ideas on how it'd end and effect the whole story itself, so i had to make sure it made sense.

i can't believe you guys are still here after so long, it made me emotional to see all of your asks and comments and likes, i was just floored to be honest, so thank you so much for your unwavering support. i love you all so so much. honestly. holy shit. this has been a journey. <3 i hope you guys are all doing brilliantly.

warnings: lack of snape, swearing, mentions of adultery, slight domestic violence, verbal abuse at the end

You didn't know where to go. You felt... lost. You couldn't exactly go back to your quarters, not with Ben there, you didn't need more questions about why you were crying your eyes out at this time of night. It's not like you could tell him the truth.

So, you did what anyone would: go for a midnight walk. Well, at least that's what you thought anyone would do when they had nowhere to go. You'd hoped that the fresh, cold air would soothe your burning lungs, and the gentle breeze would dry your teary eyes. In an even deeper, darker part of your mind, you also hoped that Black would find you. Perhaps that would make everything... easier.

With tears still streaming freely from your eyes and heavy feet, you padded towards the large, magnificent doors that led to the outside with your arms wrapped around your body tightly; trying your best not to breakdown until you were alone. Your hands were still shaking as you pushed them against the doors, opening it a tad as the cool wind blew through the crack and into your face. You gasped a little at the sharp breeze, but nonetheless you slipped out, and made your way into the courtyard. The temperature was a little more biting than you had anticipated, and so you squeezed your arms around yourself a little tighter, walking towards the infamous wooden, crooked bridge.

As you sauntered through the courtyard, the only noises you heard were the owls hooting in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing through the burnt-amber leaved trees and the faint clack of your heels against the cobblestoned ground. In all honesty, it did feel a little eerie to the say the least, but at this very moment that was the least of your worries. All you wanted was a little time alone to cry, or grieve what could have been with ...Severus.

Gods, it hurt to even think his name, let alone speak it.

You reached the wooden bridge, and you stopped in the middle of it; leaning against the intricately carved columns to gaze out at the highlands. The moonlight casted a gorgeous glaze-like reflection upon the Black Lake, and it twinkled beautifully, almost hypnotising you like an illusion. Your eyes flicked up to the moon and glanced around it, staring at the glittering stars surrounding it like a perfect painting. Only times like this did you miss teaching Astronomy. As your mind reeled back to your first year teaching at Hogwarts, you relished in the time where you did not know the man named Severus Snape, and suddenly your heart sank in your chest like an anchor dropped at sea. You were so naive back then, unknowing of what was to come.

As the memories of you and Severus flooded your mind like a dam breaking, you let yourself cry. You could still feel his lips on yours, his fingertips gently tracing the curves and grooves of your skin, the words he'd whispered into your ear - it was all there, stained on your skin, like a tattoo - or perhaps a branding. And now you had to live with it. You weren't sure if you'd survive this time, especially not with how deeply you felt for him. You were torn between pretending he didn't exist and trying to talk to him, perhaps even telling him how you felt, but truth be told you were petrified of how he'd react. Would he even look at you again with those glittering black eyes you'd come to adore so hopelessly? Would he dare speak to you again, knowing that he'd charmed you? Maybe he'd relish in the fact that he'd done so, take pride in bewitching you, and make you hurt for it. You knew Snape could be rather cruel, your school days here with him as your teacher was enough for you to know that.

All these unanswered questions swam through your head and you felt yourself becoming suffocated from them, and it suddenly felt as if your lungs had filled with water, drowning you. You sobbed helplessly as you slid down the wooden wall behind you with your hands against your face, the rough edges scratching your back through your clothes rather uncomfortably.

"Y/N?" A voice came from beside you, and you froze. You turned your head away from them and quickly used your sleeve to wipe your eyes, drying the tears that had fallen from them. Only one person has a voice as soft as the one you had just heard.

You gave yourself a moment to gather yourself before even attempting to use your voice.

"Hello, Remus." You croaked quietly, sniffling.

"What on Earth are you doing out here so late?" He questioned gently, and you heard him take a step towards you. "Are you alright?"

"Quite dandy," you sarcastically quipped, sighing deeply, "I'm brilliant..." You turned your head to face him, and immediately, his face softened at the sight of your own. You were sat up against the side of the bridge, knees up against your chest and your arms wrapped around them; nose and eyes red, wet with tears. Remus quickly dropped down to his knees beside you, placing a soothing hand upon your forearm.

"What happened?" Remus asked, careful to keep his voice quiet and soft. With empty eyes, you stared into his worried ones, and instantly you felt terrible. The last thing you wanted was people worrying over you.

You looked away, down at the ground. "I..." you mumbled, sighing, "it's a... long... story." You spoke slowly. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small smile quirk up on Remus's lips.

"I've got time, my dear." He replied as his thumb brushed your forearm, silently encouraging you to talk. You felt at ease in Remus's presence, it was almost like he had a calm aura around him, and naturally your body relaxed beside his. You took a deep breath.

"Erm," you choked, sniffling again, "it's Se... Snape." You couldn't bring yourself to say his first name without crumbling into a million pieces.

Remus let out a gentle breath. "Snape, of course," He tutted, glancing between you and the ground. "What's he done?" The fact that Remus reacted like he had expected Snape to have hurt you, further broke your heart. Were you the only one to have seen through his icy exterior?

"Broken my heart," You laughed dryly, and you had to fight back another bout of tears. Remus's brows furrowed in confusion at you. "We... I... Look, I'm not sure how to explain this to you. But... I fell..." You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. Your heart hurt too much. You only hoped that Remus knew what you were about to say.

Remus blinked and stared at you, shocked. Clearly, the two of you had hidden your 'relationship' well - so well that everyone was oblivious to it. "You fell...?" He frowned.

"In love... with him..." You almost whispered, avoiding Remus's eyes. You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle the look in them.

"You're in love with... Severus?" Remus repeated, and you squeezed your eyes shut at his words. They were like daggers, stabbing your bleeding heart. It was almost like you could feel it trembling inside of your chest, begging you to free it from this cycle of torment. "But... Aren't you with... Ben? And... Severus... he's..."

"I know," you sighed, noticing his confusion, "I had feelings for Severus before I met Ben. And it sort of just, like, spiralled out of control, and now, erm, here I am- Gods, I should have just listened to Minerva, I wouldn't be here right now, hurting like this." You ranted, another strangled sob leaving your throat. Remus watched you, and his eyes softened. He felt terrible for you. "She warned me, Remus, why didn't I just listen to her?!" You cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Y/N," Remus whispered, reaching out a cautious hand to pry your face from your hands. With a soft gasp, you looked up with teary eyes, and he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "We don't get to choose who we do and don't fall in love with. We follow our hearts blindly, most of the time, unknowingly." He said, and moved his hand from your wet cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "It's beyond our control who we love."

There was a moment of silence.

"...What do I do, Remus?" You sobbed softly, sniffling, looking at your knees.

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"I think you should."

"But what about Ben? Shouldn't I... deal with... that first?" You sniffled again. "And what if Severus doesn't feel the same way about me? Then what?"

Remus paused for a moment, thinking. You looked up at him. "What if he does?" He said, a small, comforting smile tickling his lips as he stared at you.

"Well- from the way he treated me earlier... I truly doubt it, Remus." You scoffed, glancing away from his pitying brown eyes.

Remus sighed, and you clenched your jaw. "Regret is a terrible thing, Y/N," he said, "it's such a short word, yet it stretches on forever." Your eyes were glued on the ground and your body was still, but your mind was running a million miles an hour.

You sat there in silence for a short moment, thinking deeply. Remus was right. You'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't tell Severus how you felt. That chance of him reciprocating your feelings was small, but it was still there. If he didn't feel the same, fine, you'd move on. Eventually. And if he did?...

"...Alright," You nodded sheepishly. "I'll tell him. I just... need to, erm, work out when and more specifically, how. Like, do I just straight up blurt it out? Work my way up to it? H-how do you know it's the right time?" You rambled with tears still falling from your eyes, glancing through them at Remus who sat beside you with a soft expression upon his features.

"You'll know." Was all he said before slowly standing and holding out a hand for you to take. Graciously, you took it, and Remus pulled you to your feet. "Feel better?" He hummed, casting a glance out at the moon, then a worried look suddenly struck his eyes. You noticed and frowned slightly at his behaviour.

The moon?

"A little." You forced a smile upon your lips, and lifted up a hand to wipe the remaining stray tears upon your red cheeks. Remus looked back at you, and returned your smile. "How come you were out so late?" You asked curiously, brushing off his odd reaction to seeing a moon.

"A walk in the night does me good," Remus shrugged, and began to walk back towards the castle with you beside him. "Clears my head."

"Ah, well, I suppose I'm glad you found me, then." You chuckled awkwardly, folding your arms against your chest.

Remus smiled at you and placed an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. "Let's get you back to your quarters, Y/N, you look like an ice block." He hummed and lead you back to the castle, but not before throwing another glance over his shoulder to the almost-full-moon.

Faint, footsteps trailed down an empty corridor, and a billowing black cape followed with it. As Severus marched, his chest felt horribly heavy, almost like there was a boulder chained to it, weighing him down. He couldn't figure out why he felt like this, and it was starting to make him a little irate. He knew it was something to do with you since it had started after you'd stormed out of his office.

As Severus was about to round a corner, the sound of familiar, sweet laughter rattled through his bones, and immediately he froze. Without a doubt, he knew it was you. Only you could have laughter that sounded like the sweet songs that birds chirped in the summer mornings. The breath in his lungs suddenly vanished and he quickly swooped himself behind a bookcase, poking his head out from the side of it to see who you were with.

The moment you appeared, that boulder chained to his chest became heavier, and he felt himself lean against the bookcase he hid behind. Severus's eyes widened as they glued themselves to the man beside you - Remus Lupin. His blood boiled at the sight.

What could have Lupin have said to make you laugh like that? He'd only heard you laugh like that when you were with him, not Lupin.

From a distance, he couldn't make out what the two of you were talking about, but it was obviously hilarious. Severus's jaw clenched as he watched Lupin place a hand upon the small of your back, guiding you.

Guiding you... inside your quarters?

Snape hissed silently to himself as he stared, his sharp and hardened eyes welded to the back of Lupin's head like molten metal. As your door shut, Snape could only huff in disgust with bared teeth. What were the two of you doing in there? It was past midnight and you and Lupin seemed happy as Larry to go into your quarters. Snape couldn't bear the idea of you and Lupin alone together - let alone the fact that Lupin had had his damned, grubby paws on you. Severus clenched his jaw in a violent fashion, very clearly upset at how you'd moved on so quickly, especially with another professor at Hogwarts. Was this your thing? Bewitch every lonely professor that you laid your wretched eyes upon and then move onto the next? Did it make you feel better about yourself in some fucked up way?

An uneasy, bitter feeling twisted inside of his chest as he pictured the two of you alone and he whipped around out of spite; the swoosh of his long, black cloak filling the silent hallway. How could you move on so quickly, so... easily? 

"Never did I think I'd see the day that someone told me they fell in love with a man like Severus Snape." Remus laughed softly as he waddled to your sofa, glancing at you as if to ask if it was alright to sit. You nodded at him.

"And yet here we are." You hummed with a flat mouth, clearly not as amused as your friend was. "Sometimes I wish I was as emotionally guarded as he was, but then I remember how bloody miserable that would be." You mumbled, earning an abrupt laugh from Lupin who'd settled on the couch with a soft sigh.

Ben was nowhere to be seen, so you assumed he was asleep in the bedroom.

"Severus is an interesting character, most definitely," Lupin nodded and you turned around, walking towards him to join him on the sofa. "And I applaud you for being able to tame him. If it's any consolation, only one other woman had been able to, though I think it was... unintentional, if you will."

"Unintentional?" You questioned, your tone curious. Though almost instantly, that curiosity was killed as the thought of Severus with another woman stabbed at your fragile heart. "Actually, I'm not sure if I want to hear this right now." A dry laugh slipped from your lips and you exhaled sharply as another wave of tears prickled at your waterline.

"Alright." Lupin said softly, taking notice of your quivering voice. He stood up with a breathy groan and shuffled towards you, slinking an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. It was calming, and the way he hugged you reminded you of all the times your parents would comfort you as a child. As Lupin gave you a supportive squeeze, it was as if he'd accidently pushed the button for the waterworks - hot tears began to stream down your cheeks once again, and you sobbed quietly into his wrinkled shirt.

"Hey," Lupin sighed as he watched your shoulders shake with sorrow. His hand sat on the top of your arm, squeezing it gently: a dire attempt at consoling you. "Don't cry, Y/N, it'll pass."

"Idon'twantitto-" You mumbled into his shirt, sniffling loudly. Lupin's brows furrowed together in confusion as he paused for a brief moment, silently trying to decipher what you'd just said.

"What?" He asked gently, leaning his head down so he could hear you a little better. You lifted your head from him, sighing, another heartbreaking sniffle sneaking out of your reddened nose.

"I don't want it to." You repeated yourself, lifting a hand up to wipe your wet eyes lazily.

"I know. But it will." Lupin sighed too. "Severus is... a very... damaged man," He cringed slightly at his choice of words, but he continued, "I'm not even sure that you could help him- or fix him."

At this point, you were staring soullessly at the floor, and the only thing you could feel was Lupin's chest against your shoulders. Were you and Severus really a lost case? You felt like you'd made so much progress, he'd opened up to you, he'd... he also ran away again. Perhaps your friend Remus is right.

"I think I want to be alone." You suddenly blurted out, slowly glancing up at the professor with glossy, red eyes. Lupin blinked at you, confused for a moment, though he quickly came to. He didn't blame you for saying such a thing - you'd just had your heart ripped out, to put it simply.

Remus didn't say anything, he only nodded, offering you a kind, yet pitiful smile - and that hurt you slightly. You didn't want his pity, in fact, you didn't want anyone's pity. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." He muttered, brushing a hand through your hair softly. You shut your eyes for a moment and sighed, a small gush of guilt filling your body. Here Lupin was, trying to console you, and you're kicking him out. You hoped he didn't take it personally.

"I'm sorry, I... I just need to be alone." You quickly offered. Remus shook his head and frowned at you.

"No, I understand. See you in the morning, Y/N. Feel better soon." The professor smiled at you and this time it wasn't rich with pity, but kindness. He tipped his head at you and began to shuffle his way towards the door, opening it with a quiet creak from the oak. Before he disappeared out of your chambers, Remus turned around and smiled at you once more, slipping away.

Seconds after the door shut, a drowsy-looking Ben opened your bedroom door, popping his head out. He squinted at the bright light, clearly having just woken up. That settled your nerves slightly, since you'd just spoken about Severus with Remus, only a few metres away from Ben.

"Are you crying?" Ben yawned, his bushy brows furrowed in either confusion or annoyance - at this point you couldn't tell.

"No," You coughed and turned around to pretend to do something else as you wiped at your eyes. "I'm fine, go back to bed, Ben." A curt sigh fell from your lips, and almost immediately you heard footsteps padding closer to you. "I'm fine." You repeated, listening as his feet stopped behind you.

"What happened?" Ben asked, the tiniest hint of sympathy in his voice made you shiver slightly.

"Nothing, it was just a rough day at work, honestly. I'd rather not talk about it." Your brows shot together as you tried to keep the tears at bay, but you couldn't help but think about Severus as Ben placed a hand on your waist in an attempt to pry you away from the countertop and towards him. You didn't want anyone else's hands on you but his.

"Hey," Ben said softly, though it felt heavy in your chest. "It's work. It won't matter in a day or two." You were silent. "Y/N?"

"I need a drink." You muttered and forced yourself to look at Ben, cringing slightly as you walked past him and towards a glossy wooden cabinet in the corner of your chambers. You rarely drank, and if you did, it was to either celebrate something, or forget something.

Another uncomfortable silence fell on top of the pair of you.

"Want one?" You asked with no emotion in your voice.

Ben hesitated for a moment, his groggy eyes staring at the back of your figure, silently trying to deduce you. "...Sure."

You were going to regret this.

You'd changed into comfier clothes, more specifically a pair of forest green silk shorts and a matching camisole top. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you faced Ben as he was sat on the windowsill opposite you, nursing his glass of wine. After a few strong sips, the pair of you were chatting and reminiscing like old pals. "Remember that time when I turned Peter Kipling into a weasel in McGonagall's class?" Ben giggled drunkenly, elbowing you gently as you nodded with tears in your eyes, an amused grin spread across your face.

"Oh my- I forgot about that!" You wheezed, smacking your lips together. "Didn't you get... like... at least- like a month's detention for that?" You laughed, slurring, taking another sip of your glass of Elven wine. You winced slightly at the strong aftertaste as it burned your throat. That was to be your last drink, you couldn't take much more.

"Ohh, yeah, I d-id," Ben hiccuped, his laughter dying out as he sighed; his tired eyes falling onto you. Shuffling under his gaze, you felt slightly uncomfortable. A brief yet thick silence suddenly engulfed the two of you like a slow-burning fire. Ben stood from where he'd been sat, stumbling over to where you were, stopping just in front of your knees.

"I miss talkin' to you, Y/N." He sighed, taking his hand and placing it upon your cheek; carressing the apple of it with his rough thumb. The strong scent of alcohol on his breath made you gag a tad - you were drunk as well, but the smell of it wasn't pleasant, especially from his mouth.

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact.

"..Yeah." You answered quietly albeit awkwardly as you stared up at Ben. Though, all the wine you'd consumed was making him look like someone... else - the darkness wasn't helping either, in fact it was fueling your hallucinations. The dark cast of a shadow from the lit candles behind him made his nose appear larger, and his cheekbones a little more pronounced.

Slowly, he crouched down until you two were eye-level, his hands slipping to your ankles. Your body stiffened slightly at the feeling. "Ben.." You warned, sighing as the drunk buzz and pleasurable tingle from the pads of his fingers was starting to cloud your mind.

"Whaat?" He whispered, heavy-lidded eyes still glued to yours as his fingers began to trail up your calves. Ben began to stand up slightly, pushing his face dangerously close to yours, and so you leant backwards to avoid him, your back gradually making contact with the bed. He shuffled forwards slightly, pressing a knee against the edge of the bed to balance himself.

You shouldn't be doing this, you knew that, but Gods, the alcohol was truly fucking with your morals and mind.

Would it hurt?

Just a little... taste...?

You shut your eyes as you became lost in the feeling; his fingers reaching the backs of your soft thighs, a breathy sigh falling from your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes again as Ben's smalelr nose pressed into your neck, followed by his wet lips. You gasped as his hands found your torso, his fingers pressing a little too harshly into your flesh. 

Severus.

Memories of him suddenly flooded your mind like a reservoir breaking a dam, flushing out anything that didn't embody him. All the times Severus had attacked your supple flesh beautifully; pulling gorgeous moans from those pink lips of yours. Your brows furrowed together as your body silently yearned for his touch. It hurt.

You were stuck between stopping this and just shamelessly indulging in the dark, twisted fantasy of pretending that Ben was Severus. You were being so selfish. And yet, you didn't care, all of the emotional turmoil that you'd been through tonight was pushing you to the edge - all you wanted was the man who didn't love you, who only saw you as a quick fuck, maybe some midnight company. 

You shut your eyes again and tried your best to imagine him. With a sigh, you ran your hand up Ben's neck and into his hair, though it wasn't the same. You missed the way you'd tangle your fingers in his raven-black locks, gripping on it as he'd ravish your neck and breasts like some mad professional. Sighing frustratedly, you moved your hands down to his shoulders, expecting the rough, black fabric of Severus's robes, and yet you were met with the flimsy, thin fabric of Ben's white cotton t-shirt.

You felt so fucking pathetic.

Knock, knock.

You froze, eyes snapping open as quick as lightning. Was there someone at the door?

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ben groaned drunkenly as he continued to kiss your neck. Unfortunately for him, the feeling had worn off the second you heard those knocks.

"The knocks at the door."

"You're.. imag-ining things, baby." Ben sighed and hiccuped once more, his uncomfortably hot breath on your neck made you shiver. At this point, Ben was much more drunk than you, and so with your remaining energy, you rolled him off of you. "Whoa- heey-!" He groaned as you slipped from underneath him, padding to the door. You didn't bother to check if he was alright, the only thing on your mind was who was at your door at this time of night.

Was it him? Did you want it to be him?

Reluctantly, you reached out your hand to open the door.

Nobody was there.

You frowned and leaned forwards, poking your head out to glance around. The corridor was empty, completely empty. That was incredibly weird, did you imagine those knocks? You sighed softly - perhaps you were a little disapppointed. Turning around, you shut the door, only to be faced with Ben sat sloppily in a chair with a face like thunder.

"Waitin' for someone?" He asked with a flat tone, his head lazily cocked to one side, still clearly drunk.

"What?"

"You know what I'm talkin' abou', Y/N." Ben said with the same tone, standing up, albeit unsteadily. You swallowed as he inched closer towards you, dragging his feet, your toes burying themselves against the hard wooden floor beneath your feet. "I know about the notes you kept. From him." He spat, pointing his finger at your face. Your heart instantly began to gallop; the pounding of its beats echoed in your ears like a harrowing scream in the night.

The notes...

"Excuse me?" You choked out, brows furrowing together in complete shock.

This was not how you wanted this to go down.

"I went through yer little drawers. In yer greenhouse," Ben scowled, his nose turning upwards in what you could only describe as disgust. "All of his little notes were perfectly preserved, and mine? Well-" Your mind was running so quickly that you could barely even listen to what he was saying - the fact that he went behind your back and invaded your privacy was the only thing sticking out to you as of right now. Your skin felt like it was on fire as the anger began to flood your veins.

"You went through my drawers, Ben?!" You yelled, shoving a finger in his face.

"That's the only thing you care abou'?! Not the fact that you secretly- obviously, have some sort of fucked up... thing for a man who treats people like they're the tiniest bit of shit on 'is shoe?!" Ben screamed back drunkenly as he bared his teeth, stomping towards you and smacking your finger away. "The fuck is wrong withya?"

You knew this could get ugly quite quickly, especially as Ben was drunk - a lot drunker than you. But at this moment, your anger was far too hot to even think about cooling things down.

You scoffed at him, your lips twitching upwards into a disgusted sneer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Going through my stuff?!" You shouted at him, taking a step backwards as he began to get a little too close for comfort. "That's not okay, Ben!"

"How long has it been going on?" Ben asked, his tone suddenly calm. That put you on edge.

You paused for a moment, pondering on his question. It was probably best that you didn't answer that. "We're done here, Ben." You clenched your jaw, silently readying yourself for some sort of explosion.

"How long, Y/N?!" Ben yelled. The way the whites of his eyes were basically screaming at you made you feel terrified. In this current moment, there was only one pair of arms that you wish you were being held in. The man in front of you backed you up to the door, and you could only stare at him, for your wand was foolishly placed inside the pockets of your robes hung in your bedroom. Tears burned in your eyes as the guilt you'd tucked away was finally waking up and holding your body hostage with it's incredibly heavy weight. "Did you fuck 'im? Is that why ya never slept wit'me for months? Because you were too ...busy being his fucktoy?" Ben slurred, his face red and lips wet with saliva from how he'd been shouting.

"Shut up!" You cried at Ben as the tears began to break free from you and run down your cheeks like melting diamonds. This was so not the way you wanted this to go. "Please, just stop!" You were sobbing at this point as his words pierced your heart, quickly reminding you of what Severus truly thought of you.

"Oh, fuck sake, stop with the cryin'," Ben growled, drunkenly shoving a hand into your shoulder, sending you barreling backwards and into the door. You winced slightly as the bone of your shoulder blade made contact with the metal bar on your door. "Whiny bitch, yer the one in the wrong, not me!" He grumbled with a heavy sigh, turning away from you.

"Shit, Ben-" You gasped as you leaned forwards and pushed yourself off of the door, however, a sharp and excruciating pain shot across your shoulder as you tried to move it. "What the hell were you thinking?!" You whined, stumbling to the countertops of your kitchenette to lean on it. Your shoulder was fucking killing you.

"Me? What was I fuckin' thinkin'?!" A sarcastic, manic laugh fell from his lips and immediately you regretted your choice of words. The man spun on his heel, and suddenly he donned a wand in his hand. Now, you were scared for your life. "You're one to talk... you know what... I'm going to have you fired... yeah... blacklisted. From every job in this fuckin' area! That'll teach you to be a whore!" Ben screamed the last word so loudly that you were sure every sleeping student and teacher heard it. Your jaw ticked, and you had to look away, your face painted an embarrassed shade of scarlet.

Your heart dropped at his words. No way was this happening.

"You can't do that." You whispered, tears still streaming from your eyes as you stared at the ground.

"I work at the Ministry, darlin', anything is possible."

"Fuck you."

"What did you just say t'me?"

"Fuck you!" You cried out hoarsely with one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping the countertop. An animalistic like growl fell from your ex-boyfriend as he stormed towards you, fury burning bright in his eyes. He raised his wand, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for some sort of spell to hit you.

"Stupefy!" A familiar voice commanded, the swish of a spell following it suit. Then, a loud thud.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to see Ben laying on the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own saliva. Your chest heaved with fear, and you were incredibly scared to look up to see who had come to your rescue. Frozen, you stood still in your place, though you could feel your knees beginning to buckle. Within seconds you were on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, your lungs on fire from how harshly you were breathing. Merlin, you could've just died.

uh oh.. who saved her?

i'm sorry if you weren't tagged, i went through the majority of my notes and tried to find you all!! pls forgive me :( there was a lot due to my absence <3

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

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@sayonara30

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@captainrogers-19

@once-upon-an-imagine

@cj-ghostemoji-destielpie

@renirat

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@ameliachastain

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@rye-flower

[konigsblog]

Imagine farmer soap finding his little Highland cow all horny in the farm house (absolutely nothing to do with the aphrodisiac he gave her with her breakfast!)

HYBRID

white panties almost transparent due to the wetness forming from your drooling cunt. your pussy becomes sloppy, your slit glistening and your nipples hardened due to the scottish highlands harsh and cold wind. johnny can only chuckle – laughing at the state you're in; bent over laying in a stack of hay, some in your mouth, your back arched and your ass in the air to present yourself to your farmer.

his bulge only grows harder and thicker as he gazes down at the mess of a highland cow; bent over, desperate – under stimulated and in dire need of friction and affection from johnny himself. he can tell you're cold, yet all flushed and hot at once. with your nipples hard and goosebumps spreading across your soft skin, sweating caused by the wet heat in your panties. only growing as he teases you.

perhaps he'll be sweet. gripping your hips tightly, before moving them upward towards your bare breasts. warm tits with hard nipples and goosebumps along your body as he grinds his clothed cock against your covered pussy, making an even bigger mess in your pretty, white panties. farmer!johnny always has his hands on your stomach as he fucks you, gripping into the flesh on your body as he fucks and pounds into you.

holding your face against the green grass, ploughing and forcing his thick, girthy shaft deep inside your wet arousal. the other bull hybrids huff and sniff at the scent of your slick. the sweet, nectar aroma driving them before they're waved away and cursed at for being a distraction. gripping your waist, his other hand pushing your face down against the grass as he bullies his veiny dick further inside.

the growing desire and need to get his pretty little cow all swollen. the need to spurt a load of potent cum into your womb, to see you with glistening and swollen folds and his hot semen oozing down your thighs.

[sprout-fics]

And On the Wind, It Howls

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Seven of Snowblind

Rating: Explicit MDNI 18+ Wordcount: 7.3k Tags: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, There's Only One Bed, Awkward Sexual Situations, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Female Masturbation, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Fluff Warnings: N/A

It’s a soft, overcast Wednesday when you and Ghost set out to Scotland.

You watch the sprawling landscape from the window of the passenger seat, captivated with a small bit of childlike wonder as the car navigates the aging, cracked roads of the Scottish countryside. A dove gray sky- brumous but not yet threatening rain, arches over the tall, rugged peaks of the hills that flank you on either side. Even in the damp cold of early spring the wild, untamed beauty of the Scottish highlands breathes magic bleeding into your veins.

There’s a rawness, a brutality to the Cairngorms that aches heavy in your heart. You feel it in the way water trickles down from the hilltops in small springs, carving its way through dark stone and allowing infant growth to spring forth in green fronds that unfurl like a wistful sigh. Despite the jutting rocks atop the hills, the intimidating slope of the mountains that give rise to the highlands above, the landscape around you breathes with the barest whispers of fresh life. Beautiful, unrestrained, beckoning you to hike higher into the hills.

You take it all in, daring to lift your face to the crack of the window that allows a sliver of wind to slip through. It fills the emptiness inside you, allows you to fill your lungs with air that seems scarce inside the silence of the car.

Beside you, Ghost does not speak as he drives.

You cast a sidelong glance at him. It’s unclear if he ignores your stare or simply doesn’t see it, eyes trained on the road that curves higher into the hills. There’s a murmur of tension in his shoulders under his jacket, the hood drawn up despite the balaclava that covers all but his eyes. Without the smear of paint and the hard plastic skull you can see the pale skin underneath, the awkward curve of his nose that speaks of a bone broken one too many times. If you look closely enough you can see the silvery pink of a jagged scar that runs from the bridge of his nose to his right eyebrow, the traces of burn scars, and the smattering of soft freckles under his eyes.

Even in the daytime, the vision of his moonlit face haunts your dreams.

It’s not entirely a coincidence the two of you are together, but it certainly is unexpected. When Price had brought up the topic of leave following the team’s most recent deployment, you’d felt the men around you silently take a breath of relief. It felt like ever since you’d gotten back to the team you’d barely had more than eight hours of rest before being sent out again. You’d barely gotten six hours of sleep after getting back from your disastrous helicopter mission before Price had the five of you boarding a chopper to go hunt down an arms supplier south of Georgia.

The next week and a half was spent existing on MREs and substandard rations while you camped out in spider infested safehouses, counted your limited ammo supply and spared precious radio hours to inquire about supply drops. You’d found your target, eventually, and thankfully he’d croaked not too long into the makeshift interrogation. It had only taken Ghost two of the man’s separated fingers before he’d finally given you the lead on your target.

Eighteen hours later you’d returned to base with the same AQ captain that had slipped through your fingers on the night your helicopter had crashed. Even then, the weeks that followed were spent skimming actionable intel for something worth the fruit of your labors. Back to back missions meant you were catching what little sleep you could in transit, often nodding off on one of your comrade’s shoulders despite yourself.

When Price had announced leave for all of you (without failing to firmly state “None of you are allowed off base until I get your after-action reports, you complete your physical exams and read the dossier of our next objective. Phones on at all times when off base. Be prepared to be back sooner than you think.”) You’d been looking forward to a strong cup of tea and a book as you curled up in the corner of whatever airbnb you’d managed to secure for a few days off base.

Gaz and Soap had different ideas.

As soon as you had mentioned staying in the UK for your break, the two sergeants jumped at the chance to drag you along on a complete tour of London and Glasgow respectively- taking turns hosting you and ensuring you had seen the true side of each city (minus the tourist traps). The idea charmed you, admittedly, but when you’d asked Price and Ghost if they’d be interested in tagging along, Price had levied the three of you a tired, bemused sort of smile and declared he had alternative arrangements.

Ghost, on the other hand…

“I’ll be up north, hunting.” He declared flatly despite the slight tilt of his head, the small glimmer of interest in his eyes. “If you get sick of these two tossers, come find me.”

You were certain he was joking of course. In the days that had followed the reveal of his face to you, the breathless, almost tender exchange that had occurred at the safehouse, you’d managed to go back to convincing yourself Ghost was nothing more than a teammate, perhaps a friend.

It didn’t stop you, however, from eyeing him from afar. It’s hard not to notice Ghost despite his moniker. The sheer breadth of him is hard to miss. He towers in door frames as you sweep houses, takes up space in the back of the confiscated truck rolling through the countryside, exists purely as a sweeping obsidian shadow just in your periphery- there and gone again in pursuit of the target.

Off the field he’s imposing, an undeniable presence in any room. You’ve gotten used to sensing him through footsteps alone, by the way his massive weight shifts behind you. You’ve caught sight of him at the gym more than once- sleeves pushed up to reveal the swirl of dark ink tracing up his left forearm as his biceps bulge under the weights. You feel his eyes linger on you in turn- burning coal dark into your spine. Watching. Waiting.

They haunt you at night, in the darkness of your room. You try not to, but sometimes you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those eyes bore down into you from above, the warm exhale of his breath fanning through the mask and onto your face. You think about his scarred hands, the knuckles uneven from the number of times he’s broken them. In your mind the calloused palm of him slips down over the meat of your thigh, hauls your leg open and his voice murmurs darkly into your ear:

“Fix.”

In the morning, you awake sweaty, heart racing, the whisper of a dream clinging wet between your thighs.

So, despite yourself, despite the knowledge it was a poor decision, you’d gone to him.

Now, six hours into your drive, the silence in the car sits as a low pit of regret in your stomach. Whatever meager conversation the two of you had managed died off long ago, and now instead you turned your face to the open countryside where the barest slivers of sunlight slice through the clouds above.

Four days, Ghost had said. Four days tucked up in a hunting cabin at the edge of some Jacobian estate atop rolling hills and rocky crags where red elk and roe deer roam at the tail end of spring. Four days alone, away from civilization with nothing but the howling wind and the superior that you long to touch to keep you company against the vast wilderness between you.

In hindsight, you’re beginning to think maybe that grand tour wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Ghost guides the car off the A9 just as a passing rain shower splatters against the windshield. It feels as if you’re driving to the ends of the earth, not a car in any direction as you slowly pick your way up the road and higher into the hills. You eye Ghost from the corner of your eye, watching him fixed on the road ahead and gently avoiding potholes along the way. He catches your glance at him, and you feel warmth rise to your face as you quickly look away, even as the silence lingers.

“Soap is going to be pissed we didn’t invite hi up here.” You offer mildly, and Ghost grunts.

“Too loud. He’d scare the deer off with all that barking.”

You snort.

“What, you’ve never hunted with hounds before, Ghost?”

“Mm.”

That seems to be all the response you’ll get, and you turn again back to the window, watching a soft sheet of rain pass you by.

“I used to go out hunting with dogs.” You say softly, not even entirely sure if he’s listening. “In the summer as a kid. We...my parents had a caretaker who had two bluetick coon hounds. The kind that you use to tree raccoons and black bears.”

Ghost is quiet, but when you glance at him the fission of tension in his shoulders seems to have loosened. It’s an odd gesture, miniscule except to your studious eyes that track every flinch, every movement, the tiniest indication of displeasure or contentment.

“If I ever went out into the woods, those two dogs would always come with me. Especially on hunting trips.” You go on, smiling. “If you think Johnny is loud, you should have heard those two howl.”

Ghost taps his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment. You try not to think about how much larger they are than yours. “Didn’t realize you could hunt that close to Washington.”

“West Virginia.” You correct him, averting your eyes once more. “At least in the summers. Up in the Appalachians.” You look out the window, to the rolling, ancient hills where mist hangs like a reverent sigh. “Same mountain range, you know. Just millions of years and thousands of miles apart.”

“Going t’tell me you’re Scottish?” Ghost intones dryly, keeping his gaze ahead, and you grin.

“Haud yer wheesht.”

“English.” Ghost replies, but there’s no real bite to the warning, and it only makes you giggle. Except it’s muffled by the sudden sound of a low, concerning rumble from the engine followed by an irritated clicking. Your eyes shoot to Ghost, who curses low in his chest and carefully manages to navigate the stuttering car off to the barely-there shoulder just as the engine begins to sputter.

“How much did you pay for this rental?” You ask innocently, and Ghost slams the steering wheel with his hand with a growl.

“Too much.” He seethes before putting the car in park and swinging outside in one fluid motion. You follow him just as he pops the hood and peers irritably at the engine inside. You manage to lean in and gaze down next to him, looking over the components just as Ghost towers beside you, annoyance radiating clear off his form.

“There’s a toolkit in the trunk.” He states, making no motion to retrieve it. You recognize an order for what it is, and despite the fact that you’re no longer on the field the familiar weight of Ghost’s leadership feels almost second nature. You reappear with the toolkit in hand a moment later, and rather than hand it to Ghost, you begin to unpack it yourself- ignoring the sideways glance Ghost casts at you.

“By the sound of it, it’s the starter.” You tell him, and when you gently nudge him aside for more space he makes way, stepping back to watch you bend over the engine with tools in hand. “Would you mind trying to turn over the engine for me?”

Ghost doesn’t respond, and when you glance behind you his eyes suddenly dart up to your face after looking elsewhere. “Ghost.”

He holds your stare for a moment before nodding and making towards the driver's seat. A moment later the engine attempts to turn over, the car shuddering and coughing before silencing once more. You poke your head a little further into the hood, trying to locate the source of the noise. Ghost reappears at your side a moment later, just as you fiddle inside the toolkit for a wrench.

Ghost is quiet, observant as you slowly work at the engine, peering over your shoulder close enough you can almost feel the warmth of him spill into your back. It takes everything in you to suppress a shiver at the fact he’s so close. Yet he offers no commentary as you work, no snide comments or dry humor. It would be unnerving if it weren’t for the fact you’re well used to it by now.

“Got it.” You declare a few minutes later, straightening up quickly- colliding with Ghost’s hand that shoots out to cushion your head from impacting the metal hood. “Oh- thanks.”

You hold up the retrieved spark plug victoriously, corroded and rusty from age. “Probably caused a misfire.” You declare. “It needs to be replaced, but we’d have to drive into town for a repair shop...” You trail off, face falling with realization before digging in your pocket for your phone.

No signal.

You look at Ghost, who stares back at you. Nonplussed, done.

and then, without another word, he turns around and starts walking.

It takes about three seconds of you gawking at his back before you’re running to catch up.

“W-where are you going?”

“Town.”

“That’s...15 kilometers away?”

“We’ve hiked farther with our gear.” Uphill. In the snow. You mentally hear him add.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with the car?”

“No one is going to steal a car broken down on a country road.”

“What about our stuff?”

“Did you lock the car?”

“Well...yes. But-”

Ghost’s pace doesn’t falter, purposefully long strides as he hikes further up the winding incline. You follow him, casting a forlorn little look at the little green car parked on the side of the road. You’re loath to leave it, but between the choice of staying alone on the side of the road or going with Ghost, you know you’ll always choose Ghost.

The hike is quiet, just as it was in the car, and you find yourself focusing on the broad expanse of Ghost’s shoulders rather than the stunning scenery around you. You’re so used to Ghost bringing up the rear on long distance missions with the team, watching his own six, and by doing so watching everyone else’s, including your own. You’ve always trusted him to watch you, knowing that any possible threat from behind would have to go through him first. Now, you stare at the wide expanse of his back cloaked under his dark jacket and wonder if maybe he feels the same.

and you try not to imagine the bare expanse of his rippling muscles underneath.

“Kinda reminds me of Nepal.” You murmur after clearing your throat and quickly pushing away the image, and wonder if Ghost can hear you over the wind.

Ghost raises his head a little, but doesn’t turn. “Going hypothermic again, are ya?”

You huff, breathing warmth into your fingers chilled by the slicing wind. “A little.”

You nearly run into his back when Ghost suddenly stops, turning towards you. Before you can object, you watch as he shrugs off his thick leather jacket and uses a hand to drape it over your head.

Then he promptly turns and resumes walking.

Heat blossoms across your face, hot enough to warm you down to your toes. The smell of Ghost, of gun oil and charcoal and sweat permeates your very being. You try not to dizzy yourself with a lungful of it, try not to be obvious about scenting the blissfully warm and rain resistant jacket that you quickly wrap yourself in with zero complaints. Your heartbeat flutters against your ribs breathlessly, and you try to tell yourself the warmth you feel is just from the jacket, and not the helpless feeling of longing you keep secret there inside your chest.

You catch Ghost pause just long enough to look over his shoulder, but whatever choked thanks you can offer feels swallowed up by the wind.

At the top of the hill, you pause to take a breather, clutch the jacket a little tighter around you and let the wind ruffle your hair. Below lies a lush, green valley cast in soft hues from the gray shadowed sky, a tiny village tucked away at the edge of the long, sloping hills. It’s nothing more than a collection of houses, a shop or two, a petrol station, and a pub of some sort, but to you it’s the closest thing to civilization that you’ll see for the greater part of the day.

You don’t notice Ghost’s eyes on you until you turn to him.

“Olright?” He asks, and you pause for a moment, looking at his smoky brown eyes to wonder why they feel so heavy on your form.

A sound catches both your attention, and you turn to observe the sight of a small factory Ford making its way up the sloping valley road.

After a moment, you shoot Ghost a grin.

“Ever hitch-hiked before, LT?”

Before he can answer you sway to the roadside in sight of the oncoming car, jutting out your hip and sticking out your thumb before glancing back at him.

“Stay back a little, might scare them off with the whole serial killer get up.”

Ghost squints at you, hard, and you feel a little laugh bubble up your throat at the fact he looks almost offended. But he obediently takes a step or two back before crossing his arms and staring at the oncoming driver. If anything, you think he looks more intimidating than he did before.

Fortunately it isn’t enough to dissuade the driver, who honks at you both before slowing and pulling up beside you facing the wrong way.

“Do ye need some help, lass?” The woman in the passenger seat asks, accent thick. She’s a homely sort, round in the face with graying curls and rosy cheeks. Her gray-green eyes dart between you and Ghost behind you nervously, and it takes all your resistance not to shoot Ghost a look that says “I told you so.”

“Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. Our car broke down a while back and we were wondering if we could have a ride to town?” You ask politely, putting on your best smile and explaining quickly. “We tried fixing it ourselves but we need a mechanic.”

“Oh!” You see the woman visibly relax and flutter a hand at the driver, an equally older bearded man you assume to be her husband. “An American! You’re not that common around these parts. Archie dear, don’t you think we can give the nice girl and her fellow a lift?”

You nearly choke at that, opening your mouth to correct here when the husband, Archie, you presume, arches a thick eyebrow at you and looks at Ghost for a long moment.

“Aye, hop in.” He offers gruffly, jerking his head, and you thank him profusely before nodding to Ghost and sliding into the cramped backseat. Ghost takes up almost the entire space in the tiny car with his breadth, but manages to not squish you against the door despite having to tuck his legs a bit sideways to fit. You have to make it a point not to look at him lest you give yourself away.

It takes Archie a minute or two to point the car in the direction of town again, by which point his wife, who introduces herself as Ainsley, has begun to talk your ear off.

“Are you two on holiday?” She asks cheerily, all previous suspicion gone. “Visiting family?”

“We uh-” You spare a glance at Ghost, who’s stony silence offers no help. “We’re- yes. On holiday. Up to Balfour Manor?”

“Oh lovely! It’s quite the romantic spot, Balfour. We get lots of couples up that way. Archie and I had our handfasting ceremony there, ye ken.”

Oh.

You glance at Ghost, a little aghast at Aisley’s bold assumption. Yet when Ghost returns your stare, he looks oddly amused.

You feel your face warm, clearing your throat and attempting to speak. “O-oh well we’re not-”

“Balfour isnnae all that far from here. We might as well drive you all the way. We know the manager there, Lorna. She’s as sweet as they come. She’ll get you all set up and send someone for your car.”

She pauses, looking at her husband. “Aye, Archie?”

Archie grunts, looking at you in the rearview mirror before shrugging and nodding.

“That’s...very kind. Thank you. But you really don’t have to, we can wait at the petrol station-”

Aisley waves her hand at you. “Dinna fash yerself. We were going out for a drive anyway, got to stretch the ol’ bones. Now we’ve a story to tell at the pub!”

That seems to make Archie perk up a bit. “Aye.” He drawls, chuckling as he navigates down the valley road. “Bout the polite American girl and her burglar beau.”

“Archie!” Aisley gasps, swatting at him before turning to you apologetically. “He dosnae mean anything by it, lass.”

Ghost huffs beside you, offering Archie a withering look, but gives no indication of a reply.

“It’s alright.” You try. “He’s just-”

“Shy.” Ghost deadpans, and you arch an eyebrow at him. You can see his eyes laugh. Something breathless flutters in your chest.

“I was going to say ugly.” You whisper teasingly, low enough for him to hear- and Ghost leans in, crowding your space.

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Fix.”

Jesus.

He pins you with his coal dark stare, and you feel the sudden urge to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart is racing in your ears, and the backseat suddenly feels too small, too close with the way Ghost suddenly is almost on top of you, heedless of your company.

Fortunately, it seems Aisley is too busy chastising her husband to notice the way Ghost has to practically crowded against the opposite door, his hand planted over the middle seat just close enough so his gloved thumb grazes against your hip through your jeans-

Only to sit back in a blink when Aisley pokes her head back again and begins to prattle on about the care rental salesman down in Perth and his shady marketing tactics. It takes all your composure to calm your racing heart and nod along politely despite the warmth flooding your face.

Beside you, Ghost looks oddly smug.

In the miles that follow, you find yourself glancing at him, and trying to match the memory of his moonlit face against the impenetrable mask that you’ve begun to see the cracks in.

- - -

Aisley and Archie end up driving you past town and into the hills where the manor rests upon a rolling, green slope that sits on the other side of the valley. Shadowed in mist, the ancient brick manor house overlooks the village below with tall windows and a tall, imposing archway which shelters a thick iron door. Carefully tended ivy crawls upwards along the brown brick towards the chimney, where a whisper of smoke is carried away by the gusting wind.

The car rolls to a stop in the long, gravel driveway that encircles a bubbling fountain and a collection of signs that likely details the land’s history. You long to peruse them, but Ghost is quickly shuffling out of the car with a murmur of polite thanks and quickly heading up the front steps. You scoot out behind him, remembering to turn and wave at the couple. Before you can trot after Ghost, Aisley makes a quick, urgent gesture for you to come closer.

“Have patience with him, lass.” She whispers with the window rolled down, halfway leaning out. her eyes dart to Ghost, who stands a ways behind you. “My Archie was a stiff, quiet one too. Give him time, he’ll let you in when he’s ready.”

You blink, and once again open your mouth to once again try and dissuade her of the notion that you and Ghost are a couple, but Aisley’s gray eyes shine knowingly, and in the end you smile quietly to yourself and give her a small whisper of thanks before turning to follow Ghost inside out of the slicing wind.

The interior of the manor appears to have blended well with the ages, renovated but kept at its bones a true token of history. The carved banisters and railings are worn with age, and the walls maintain their wood carved paneling. Yet the furniture is distinctly modern, and the grime of centuries past has been sanded down to nothing.

There’s a freckled, ginger-haired woman who greets you at the desk labeled ‘check-in’, and upon seeing Ghost you watch her instinctively raise her hackles at his mask and gigantic, looming stature.

“Reservation for ‘Riley’.” Is all he offers as his shadow falls over her, and it takes her a moment to process before she’s furiously typing at her computer.

You peek your head out from behind Ghost, and the woman who you assume to be Lorna instantly looks relieved at your smile.

“Sorry for the late arrival, we ran into some car issues on the road and had to hitch-hike. Do you have a way to call the repair shop in town? Neither of us have a signal.”

“Oh!” Lorna chirps, looking befuddled, then mildly distressed. “That makes sense. I tried to phone you, Mr. Riley. I’m afraid that we’ve run into a wee problem with your reservation.”

She swallows thickly, typing away at her laptop for a few moments. “We- we’re terribly sorry. We had a stag party booked prior to your stay, you see. The guests before you were a bit of a rowdy bunch. We’re still cleaning the walls after the…” She trails off, looking a little green. “...Well.”

“Does that mean the reservation is canceled?” You ask, brow knotting. Beside you, Ghost stiffens. You hear his gloves creak as his fists clench.

“No, no! We’ve just been forced to switch you over to a different cottage. It’s slightly smaller, but this one comes with a fireplace at least. We’ve also charged you the lesser price due to the issue, but we won’t be able to put you in your original booking seeing as we’re all booked up.”

You glance at Ghost, who appears mildly annoyed but otherwise calm. “O’lright.” He eventually offers after a beat, and Lorna’s shoulders relax visibly.

“Lovely. Let me finish checking you in, and then I’ll see about your car. I know the repairman in town, he should be able to drive out and see what the issue is.”

“It’s one of the spark plugs.” You tell her, stepping forward a little and ignoring the way Ghost’s bulk stays warm at your back. “Should be a simple change, but we’d like to at least get our luggage if possible.”

Lorna nods seriously, which is a bit of a humorous expression on her otherwise mousey features. “I’ll be sure to let him know. We’ll try to get your bags to you by this evening.”

Lorna quickly gives you a series of pamphlets and map of the surrounding grounds, pointing out the small trail that leads off into the woods towards the cottage you and Ghost will be staying in.

“There’s breakfast and dinner served in the dining room at seven am and seven pm, plus tea service at three. Otherwise you’ll have to run into town for lunch or groceries.”

Ghost nods stoically, eyes tracing over the hunting pamphlet, which Lorna sees him eyeing.

“Oh, and the hunting range is northwest of us. You’ll need to check in with us before you set off to make sure your hunting permit is in order. We do process any deer you hunt for a fee, otherwise you’re welcome to take it back home yourself.”

Ghost nods again, and murmurs a small thanks before tucking the pamphlet in his hoodie pocket and turning. You give Lorna a smile and a wave before following after him out the thick iron doors. The clouds outside have darkened to an ominous gray, with a whisper of moisture lingering in the air. You huddle deeper into Ghost’s jacket, falling in step with him as you begin to make your way towards the forest cottage.

You eye him out of the corner of your eye, finding his gaze directed forward. Yet he softens his stride, ensuring that you don’t fall behind him as you walk. One of a thousand silent things to fit further into the puzzle of him.

“Riley, huh?” You ask after a minute or two of walking, and Ghost glances at you before making a small, noncommittal grunt.

“Laswell gave you my file, didn’t she?”

She did, but the file had been so redacted that you’d only managed to get bits and pieces. SAS selection, top of his class, record breaking scores, details of his skills in covert infiltration, sabotage, and clandestine tradecraft. There was a mention of an extended leave, but after that? Black. Nothing. The words POW stood out among the endless redactions, but until his recruitment into the 141, Ghost’s file was an enigma, an anomaly, leaving you to fill in the gaps in between with the scarce glimpses behind the mask he offered you.

Then again, there were things in your file that you refused to share as well.

“You’re a mysterious man, Mr. Riley.” You smirk at him, and if you look close enough, you think you can see his mask tug at the corner with a smile.

“You sleep with that mask on?” You ask teasingly.

“Like a log.” He drawls.

“Might scare the deer off with that.”

“Brought a camo one.”

You gape at him. “You’re joking.”

Ghost looks at you, silent, deadpan. “I’ve been told I’m a comedian.”

You bark a laugh, out of pure surprise more than anything, only to quickly dissolve into a fit of giggles.

In the woods now, a thick grove of twisted trunks that shields you from the worst of the wind, you and Ghost enjoy a comfortable, mutual silence. Despite the fatigue from the day’s travel, the lingering unease from ruined plans and impromptu decisions, there’s a small warmth that curls inside your chest as you walk beside him, huddled in his jacket several sizes too big as the moorish wind sweeps across your cheeks.

“Well.” You say at last. “Broken car, nosy neighbors, and a just barely rescued reservation. They say bad things come in threes. I think we’re past the worst of it.”

As if on cue, a raindrop falls right on your nose.

You look up just in time for another to land on your cheek. Ghost pauses beside you, cocking his head, listening. There’s a distant rumble of warning from the sky above....

and seconds later the bottom drops out of the clouds and onto your heads.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Ghost swears, glaring up at the sky with putrid annoyance. Then he looks at you as you hold his jacket over your head to try and shield yourself from the worst of the downpour.

You gulp.

“I...might have jinxed it” You confess, and you think you see a vein in his neck throb.

Your clothes are soaked through by the time you get to the cottage, teeth chattering loudly as the cold quickly sets in. Ghost’s tension is palpable, a low rolling thunder that mirrors the stormy skies above. You try to remind yourself you are not the source of his ire, rather that the events of the day draw heavy on his shoulders and rest as a tightly coiled tension under the soaked fabric of his hoodie.

You drip water onto the mat of the entryway, hugging the jacket tighter around your shoulders as you survey the interior. It’s quaint, cozy. The entryway feeds into a small kitchen with old wooden cabinets complete with brass handles. Beyond is the living area, and without thinking you walk over to the old stone fireplace and crouch before it, heedless of the puddles you leave in your wake.

“It’s an actual fireplace.” You smile at Ghost, nodding to the wood stacked on the edge. “Do you remember your boy scout lessons?”

Ghost scoffs, striding past you to survey the living space with keen, wary eyes. You know what he’s doing on instinct- marking entryways, noting escape routes and barricade points, possible fire hazards and other threats. Like you, he’s able to leave the battlefield, only for it to exist in his mind.

As he checks the locks, you wander over to the two doors opposite of the fireplace, peeking inside one to find a bathroom, and the other to find the bedroom.

Except...

“Oh.” You whisper, and you sense rather than hear Ghost instantly pause behind you, crossing the room to hover tall and dark behind your shoulder as he looks at what’s caught your attention.

A single bed, neatly made. Between the pillows, a red rose.

You feel Ghost go stiff behind you just as heat warms your face all the way down to your toes.

“Did you...” You ask quietly, without turning towards him. “...Book us a single bed?”

“No.” Ghost replies, a little too quickly, terse, and scoots his massive frame past you to grab the red rose on the pillow and briskly toss it in the garbage pail. You hear him mutter an annoyance under his breath that you think sounds like “Bloody stag party.”

There’s a laugh bubbling in your chest akin to hysterics. You’ve slept close to Ghost before, sure. Hell, he kept you alive with his body heat before, but that...that was different. That was on the field, in the presence of teammates, things necessary for duty and survival. Here, in this quiet, romantic cottage where it’s just the two of you, where everyone seems to be operating on the understanding that you’re a couple...

“I’ll take the couch.” You say before you can catch the thought. “You- you’re too tall to fit comfortably. You can have the bed.”

Ghost looks at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and you’re reminded just how intense his gaze is. You feel untethered, unbalanced, caught in the gravity of his stare alone. For a single, daring moment you pray that he’ll find a reason to disagree, that he’ll insist you both sleep together, but eventually he blinks and nods.

“Olright.” He cedes at last, finally turning away from you, and it feels as if there’s something left unsaid between you both, something you’re not brave enough to voice yet. It curls under your skin, and you shiver hard, curling your arms around you for warmth.

“You’ll catch a cold.” Ghost nods at you, and proceeds to unzip his wet hoodie so it lands on the floor with a wet splat. “Should change out of those.”

You don’t respond for a second, too distracted by the way Ghost’s shirt clings to every plane of his muscled torso, the soft flesh of his belly, the dip between his shoulders. Eventually your brain catches up with you, and you blink, swallowing back the dryness in your throat.

“Into...what, exactly?”

Ghost looks at you for a beat, before grabbing a quilt off the end of the bed and tossing it at you. You gape at him, equal parts baffled and aghast.

“Y-you can’t be serious.”

“If you’d like to catch your death that way, by all means.” Ghost returns, and turns from you to begin stripping off the shirt that clings far too tightly to his massive frame. You stand frozen to the spot, hands clutching too tight to the quilt as the pale, scarred flesh of Ghost’s torso is slowly revealed. The ink on his forearm swirls all the way up to his shoulder, and from there you trace a long, jagged scar that forms a ‘T’ across his pecs with their pale pink nipples. You don’t miss the blonde thatch of hair that coils just below it, curls down his stomach towards his waistband as his fingers go for his belt, only to pause.

With dawning horror, you look up and meet Ghost’s heavy, lidded stare.

“Looking ‘respectfully’, Fix?”

You can feel the instant your neurons misfire, electrocuting into nothingness as you stand paralyzed with your mouth open, caught ogling him in a way that’s so far removed from what might be considered ‘respectful’ you may as well bury yourself alive. You try to speak, to say an excuse, to offer an apology, anything, but the way Ghost’s eyes burn into you, the way you can’t seem to budge from his stare roots you to the spot, staring at the pale expanse of his bare torso and forgetting how to breathe.

The clink of his belt as he resumes undressing sends you scrambling out of the room and slamming the bathroom door behind you.

As you bury your burning face in your hands, you swear you hear Ghost chuckle from the other room.

You lean hard on the door, waiting for Ghost to finish doing...whatever it is he’s doing, and desperately trying to ignore the torrent of images that flood your brain of his scarred, pale shoulders, the smattering of freckles at his clavicle, the wisp of hair trailing below his waistband...

It takes effort to silence the groan bubbling up in your throat, caught somewhere between desperate desire and baffled embarrassment. Still sitting in your sopping wet clothes on the bathroom floor, the water slowly puddling beneath you, you try vainly to compose yourself and think of something...anything other than the vision of Ghost’s bare, rain-slick body hovering mere feet away from you with nothing but a wall to separate you both.

It’s the shivering chill of your soaked limbs that eventually forces you up, carefully peeling off your wet layers and wringing them as best as you can in the sink before hanging them to dry. By the time you step under the hot stream of water in the shower to warm up, you’re shivering head to toe from the cold.

Steam curls around your bare form just as the sounds in the other room gravitate towards the living room, and once more you try to brush away the thought of Ghost striding around the cottage completely naked with little success. There’s a coiling sort of tension that runs southward at the image of your lieutenant’s muscled, bare figure just steps away from your own naked form. It’s not the first time you’ve caught yourself with such thoughts- thoughts you usually reserve for your bunk at base, alone, lights turned off as your hand slithers below your waistband.

Even now, your fingers glide southward, cupping your bare cunt with a shuddering little sound. You’re a little wet just by the sight of seeing Ghost dripping, shirtless, hands fiddling brazenly with his belt with little regard for your presence. You can’t help but think about what might greet you if he had pulled his pants just a little further down, letting you see the bulge there. Ghost is massive, towering over your frame, and you wonder if whatever he hides there is at the least proportional.

You spread your cunt a little, fingers slipping between your folds as you tip your head back against the tile with a soft little sigh. You’re not sure if it’s the water or the burning heat of your own skin that coils warm in your veins, sending a murmur of pleasure electrifying across your hips and up towards the small of your spine. Your fingers trace slow, languid circles around your clit, your other hand raising to cup your breast just as you surrender and allow the vision of Ghost to engulf your hazy thoughts.

Ghost, bare, strong, built like a tank and able to rip men apart with his bare hands. Ghost, with scars littering his skin that speak of a lifetime of brutality and yet his eyes- eyes that fix you with a stare so intense you wonder sometimes if you’ll crack under the weight, burn so brightly you turn to glass, obsidian as dark as his voice that purrs in your ear during missions. Ghost who’s dark, swirling ink traces shadowy tendrils across your mind and drags you down, down into the abyss of his phantom touch.

You keen a little behind your teeth, hips pushing up into your hand just as you shudder at the thought that it’s not your nimble fingers, but his.

You have to keep quiet. The last thing you need right now is Ghost knocking on the door and asking about the barely stifled whimpers and moans you’re swallowing down with deep lungfuls of humid air. It’s hard not to make noise though, especially when you think about the idea of Ghost walking in on you like this, caging you with his towering frame against the shower wall and purring down in your ear.

“Fix.”

“Ghost.” You whisper, barely audible as your breath hitches, eyes squinted shut with pleasure. There’s a whimper bubbling up your throat, and you bite the back of your hand just to silence it, fingers working your clit faster now, the dawn of your climax ascending rapidly. You think about him, about Ghost trapping you against the shower with nowhere to run, sinking two, broad fingers into you deep enough for you to feel his knuckles broken one too many times to be even. You wonder if even that is little compared to the cock that hangs heavy between his toned thighs, ruddy and pink and leaking at the thought of sinking himself into you.

“Fuck-” You gasp, a little too loud, but you don’t care because you’re close, close enough that you can feel yourself teetering on the razor’s edge, ever nerve in your body drawing taut, tighter.

You want him. You want him here, in the shower. You want his fingers inside you plucking at the sensitive point of pleasure inside your gummy walls that clench down on him with every retreat, trying to keep yourself full. You want him to split you open on his cock, to haul your legs up to his shoulders and fold you in half as he fucks you down into the bed, growling, snarling in your ear. You want to feel yourself bow off the bed with a little cry, walls rippling over his cock just as he huffs warm breath into your ear: “Good girl, Fix. Good fucking girl.”

When you cum, you have to swallow down a sob.

As the liquid warmth of your release unspools through your veins, you tip your head back against the tile, panting, trying to catch your breath. Your legs quiver as they hold your weight, muscles weak. It takes concentration to just remain standing in the afterglow of your shattering orgasm, shoulders heaving and brow pinched as you try to regain yourself.

You raise a hand to wipe the water from your face, holding the heel of your palm to your forehead and whispering out a little curse that’s muffled by the water. Outside, you can hear Ghost shuffling about in the kitchen and living room, and you pray by some grace of god he heard absolutely nothing from inside the shower.

It’s only after you’re steady on your feet again that you remember you have no clothes.

You groan then, heedless of the sound, burying your face in your hands and praying for some type of divine intervention or damnation. Inside the mist of your mind, Ghost’s chuckle haunts your thoughts.

You’re so fucked.

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[peachesofteal]

okayyyy so now i need an entire DD fantasy au…

peach, every piece of your writing is like freshly baked bread, and i am a starving peasant. you are my god.

dead disco is eating my brain.

- 🧟‍♀️

🧟‍♀️ Anon is referencing this. Same. I wish I had more time to write, I could totally take this and run with it. 🖤 🖤 I will feed you as much bread as I can.

“What- what’re you going to do with me?” You try to brace your voice with strength, bravery, anything to try to hide the truth, disguise the fear that has your hands shaking in your dress.

“We’re takin ye home, Princess.” You gape at the Highlander, the one who Introduced himself as Johnny. He tightens the girth on a sweet, sorrel pony, who nickers at you softly.

“But I am home.” You gesture to the castle that lurks behind you, and Ghost scoffs.

“You belong to us, darling. And that-“ he points at the gate. “Wasn’t much a home for you, now was it?” The image of your father being hacked to pieces by the violent stroke of his sword rips across your mind, and you shudder.

“Alright. Shall we?” Johnny motions to the pony, and you blanch.

“I don’t ride.” Your stomach knots, twisting up more than you thought possible, after everything. “I don’t- I’ve always taken a carriage.” They exchange a look, some sort of silent communication passing between the two, a deep connection that somehow manages to make you feel like an intruder, even those these are the two who ransacked your land and killed your father.

“Ye’ll ride with me then.” Johnny tells you gently, bending with a palm forward.

“I-“ The protest is in vain, and you know it. There’s no one here, to come to your rescue, no one to save you. Your own home is drenched in blood.

“Up ye get.” His hand hovers in the air by your knee, encouraging you to use it as a step, you think. But no, surely not? He couldn’t… support you. With one hand. You stand on indecision, looking from him, to the horse, to the ground. “Darling.” He murmurs softly, gentle under his breath.

It’s time.” Ghost calls, hoisting himself up onto a massive, shiny black horse that stands double your height, if not more.

“Princess.” Johnny urges. “Dinnae make me force ye onto the horse.” He’s serious, and you gulp against the cold wind that whips through your bones.

Only a few hours in, and you’re in agony. Your body is soft, not conditioned for long rides or hunts, muscles soft and skin nearly silk. Every step the horse makes feels like it may knock you off balance, bones in your back screaming at you with each jostle. Johnny tries to hold you steady, keeping you close to him, pressed to his chest, but it does little to help your discomfort. He steadies you with a hand on your hip, slowly sliding around to press against your lower belly, shifting you back into the shelter of his body, his warmth.

“Ye alright?” He murmurs into your ear, tucking your cloak tighter around your shoulders. “Ye’re shivering.”

“It’s cold.” You whisper, not even sure if he can hear you. He rubs your upper arm, squeezing it to try to work blood flow back into your skin.

“Ay.” He yells to Ghost, who’s in front, and they both pull up short. The black horse moves frighteningly quick alongside you, and Ghost studies your stricken expression intently behind the mask.

“Let’s get her into town. We can stop at the Inn for the night.” He tells Johnny, who pulls you tighter into his body.

“It’s about another hour, Darling. Think ye can make it?”

“It’s not safe, camping in these woods.” Ghost supplies as an explanation gently, and you nod.

“O-okay.”

“Good girl.”

At the end of the hour, you’re on the verge of tears. It’s frigid, you’re stiff in the saddle, legs and back and everything uncooperative, thigh muscles completely raw from trying to hold your seat.

“Easy now.” Johnny coos when he slips down, trying to encourage you to swing your leg over and follow his lead. When you try, a whimper slips free between your lips, and his brows crease in concern.

“I can’t.”

“Oh, darling.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you down into his chest, and you stifle a pained moan, face pressing into the warmth of his cloak. “Let’s get ye inside, out of the cold.” He holds you with ease, tucking you tighter amidst the little whimpers that are still slipping from your chattering teeth.

[callofdudes]

Did they just post artwork? Yes. Am I in love with every viking/cod au that crosses my path? Yes. Do I like shifters? Fucking absolutely.

And @aidenlydia has fed me all of those at once. So obviously I'm writing something for it because it's beautiful! Here is their original post.

Winter fall.

09 SoapGhost

Snow in the Highlands was always to be expected. Even in the deep treks as the white specks of freezing cold weather clung to his beard. Icy blue eyes only added to the background, wind whipping around them up in the mountains.

John stopped in the slow, noticing part of the thick pine tree line had been caved in. Branches snapped and trees arching from a weight.

Deep foot prints quickly being filled by the pummelling snow leading into the dark abyss of the forest.

Along his collar, Ghost stirred. Fluffing his feathers along John's neck, making him shiver a little.

"You wanna go have a look?"

The rather large crow's wings puffed out from the fuzzy fur cloak John wore, making a rather disgruntled noise.

John chuckles. "Be quick then, we're both hungry."

His little feet bounced, pushing off of John's shoulder and flapping his large black wings against the harsh winds. Snow landing across his feathers and beak.

John watched as Ghost took the wind, soaring up over the tree line and dashing through the pine wood.

The trees bowed and swayed, bending as Ghost monitored the snowy forest floor. Seeing broken branches and trees bent all the way down the side of the embankment.

Sharp eyes surveying every inch until he spotted their goal. The large elk that had wandered it's way into their trap and woken their stomachs gnawing on some grass.

Ghost cawed, alerting John before diving toward the large beast.

Hearing his cry, John grabbed his axe, rushing through the flurry of snow. Past pine branches and into the thick darkness.

Following the deep trails of the elk until coming across the opening where Ghost was picking a fight with it.

Feet planted on the elks muzzle as it tried to shake him off and cant him away. Ghost squawked, flapping his wings into its face, disorienting it.

Before the elk could figure out what was happening, John slammed his axe in an upper cut, the blade lodging between the thick fur and skin, tearing at the ribs, making the animal cry.

Blood covered the pearl white snow, soaking into the flurry as it fought and then fell to its demise.

Ghost squawked, flapping his wings rapidly and landing on John's head and fluffing his feathers, stretching out one wing to finely clean the feathers.

John secured the elk to a rope and pulled it up over his shoulder. "You all good up there??" John reached up and Simon hopped along the top of his head, crooning his beak to peck at John's firm hand.

"Good lad. Let's get this back to a fire. I'm starving."

Simon flapped his wings, hopping down into the fur of John's cloak, snuggling up and puffing out his feathers a little.

They trekked back through the snow with their meal, heading back to the cave opening where they'd been set up to hunt game for the last week.

Their leather bed rolls laid across from each other, the rocks pulled up around thee scorched wood of last night's fire.

John set the elk onto a rock, grabbing out his dagger. "Get the fire going yeah?" Ghost nuzzled his beak against John's neck and flapped down into the snow.

Tight leather shoes crunching to the snow. Ghost wrapped his arms around his body, the cloth scarf that wrapped around his neck, one end falling to end at his breast, the other wrapped over his nose. Hiding his pale complexion amongst the flurry of snow.

His eyes still resembling the sharp, cunning gaze of the crow. Nimble hands wrapped in leather picking up wood from under their small camp out and replacing the old logs.

He looked up at John, his large muscles flexing as he split open the elk. Stripping the intestines and skinning the top from the meat of the animal.

He grabbed their chipped rocks from by John's bedside, striking them over the fresh wood and watching them catch light.

"How long will that last us?" He finally asks before blowing on the starting sparks of the fire.

"A week or two if we eat wisely." John replied, throwing the skin into a pile next to the rest of their leather, which they would use to package and conserve the meat in the cold climate.

"How long do you suspect we'll be out here?"

"Long enough. Why? Wanting a vacation already?" John chuckles softly.

Simon scoffs, folding one knee up to his chin, poking the fire with their stick. "No, just wondering."

A gentle silence followed. The howl of the wind passing by their small alcove but never entering. And the occasional noise of John chopping up the fat of the animal.

It wasn't a long process, they'd done it before.

When John was ready he pulled off part of the pure thigh meat. The slick slabs from each side laying in the snow.

For now he'd leave it. So he took the pieces up and sat near Ghost on the small rock carve out, his leather sleeping pad cushioning his arse barely.

He got the metal hook and slipped one of the slabs of meat onto it. The flames in the pit sparkling, popping and reaching up to the meat. Blood dripped into the fire, making it sizzle and crackle.

Ghost watched it. Still poking his stick around in the fire aimlessly. John noticed, even Simon's small amount of feather coverage around his forearms, shoulders and ears were barely enough against the wind that passed.

He unclipped his heavy cloak, pulling the emblem away from his neck, catching Ghost's attention.

It was a silent exchange when he laid the cloak over Ghost's shoulders. Watching him slightly slump as the fabric engulfed his body into the warmth that John's own body had.

Ghost pulled it close, sinking into it while he watched the fire.

John's large muscular shoulders bare to the cold weather turned slightly red around his neck muscle, dusted with barely noticable freckles.

Ghost looked over at him, shifting a little closer. John hummed softly, feeling Simon's smaller body closer to him, "We'll head back to the village soon for proper rest."

Simon hummed, staring into the fire. "We can get some alcohol too.."

John chuckles softly. "And alcohol, bloody yes we're getting alcohol."

Simon looks up at him, leaning slowly against his side. "You're a dumb drunk."

"Mm, well I can say the same about you."

John tucked the cloak in tighter, pulling Ghost right against him, surprising the smaller man.

He huffed softly, looking away at the ground, but it was warm. John's large hand wrapped around him, holding him protectively. There was always something so nice about it.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, drooping and allowing himself to lean in further to the side of the steady man.

A branch snapped, making him sit back up straight again.

John's attention also moved to the opening of the cave, placing a firm hand on Ghost's thigh. "Easy, just the wind." He assured.

Ghost slowly relaxed, looking back over at the snow covered land once more to double check.

John's arm remained protectively around him, holding his thigh, letting Simon curl up closely to him.

John poked the fire with the stick, splashing more embers up onto the meat. The time slowly ticked away as it cooked.

The small amount of feather coverage on Simon's forearms bristled. One arm poking out from the cloak, crooning his neck to nip at the mashed feathers and preen them back into place with his teeth.

John thought it was adorable. Sitting with him in that peaceful moment. Getting some time to just relax. Knowing they'd be out here for hunting season quite a while. But they made a good team, that's for sure.

I was gonna do more but got a road trip and I love these two. This was what I could splurge onto the page. I want more 😭😭

[adventuresofalgy]

It was a fine, warm day in early September. In fact it was probably the warmest day of the consistently dismal year: one brief moment of glory at the end of a summer which had been exceptionally cold and wet, even by the unassuming standards of the wild west Highlands of Scotland.

After his long, long sleep, Algy was keen to be out and about adventuring again, so he flew straight down towards the sea and alighted on a rocky outcrop with a fine view across the peat bogs, dressed in all their autumn finery, towards the misty Small Isles in the distance.

For once there was little wind, and the light breeze which ruffled his feathers lacked the chill which was so uncomfortably familiar. So Algy leaned back happily on the rock and relaxed, drinking in the exhilarating, aromatic air as though it were intoxicating liquor. As he gazed at the beautiful colours of the landscape, he thought of a poem he had once read:

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies? I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes, Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour; And eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet give you a Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies? And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder Majestic - as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! - These things, these things were here and but the beholder Wanting; which two when they once meet, The heart rears wings bold and bolder And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.

[Algy is quoting the poem Hurrahing in Harvest by the 19th century English poet Gerard Manley Hopkins.]

[ubejamjar]

FFXIV Vanilla Gpose | Five | Vacation

I'll admit it-- the Coerthas Western Highlands is hardly paradise. It's too cold to stray from the campfire long and the snow never seems to stop. The wind is howling. I can hear Sleet Traps shuffling in the snow, the bright crackling of Ice Sprites as they float past, glowing white-blue. But it's peaceful. There's no one here but me and my books. I'm free to sit by the fire, sip my tea, and simply while away the hours. There's nothing more I could want.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Dry Beast Monday: chinchillas

For over a year now I've been doing weekly Wet Beast Wednesday posts where I do a deep dive on some aquatic animal, and you know what? I'm tired of it! This is now a dry beast blog!* And where better to start than an animal that can literally die if it gets wet? Beasts can't get much dryer than that. So strap in for the first Dry Beast Monday... Dmonday?... Drunday? Whatever, it's the chinchilla.

(Image: a pet chinchilla in a cage, standing upright on a wood platform that has been heavily chewed. It is a rotund mammal with a similar body plan to rabbits, featuring a large head distinct from a round body. Its hind paws are larger than the forepaws and have more distinct toes. Its eyes are almost completely black and it has a flat nose with very long whiskers. The ears are large, rounded, and mostly furless. The tail is bristly hair like a squirrel's and is curled up. Most of its fur is a dark grey but the fur on its underside is white. End ID)

Chinchillas are rodents (the best mammals, fight me) that are members of the family Chinchilladae along with the viscachas. There are two living species of chinchilla: the long-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla lanigera) and the short-tailed chinchilla (Chinchilla chinchilla, formerly Chinchilla brevicaudata). The two species can produce sterile hybrid offspring. Domesticated chinchillas are descended from the long-tailed chinchilla. All chinchillas are medium-sized rodents with powerful back legs, long whiskers, large ears, and extremely dense fur. In comparison, the short-tailed chinchilla is larger and has a shorter tail, thicker and less distinct neck and shoulders, and smaller ears. The most famous feature of chinchillas is their fur. At about 20,000 hairs per square centimeter, chinchillas have the second densest fur of any mammal, second only to sea otters. Each hair follicle grows up to 50 hairs, compared to human follicles, which only grow 1. The fur is famous for being incredibly soft, often described as velvety. If you've never felt a chinchilla its really hard to describe just how soft they are. The fur is so dense because Chinchillas live in the highlands of the Andes mountains where it gets very cold. The fur is used for insulation and even with it being so thick, chinchillas still need to bask in the sun to warm themselves up. The fur is actually the reason why chinchillas can't get wet. Their fur is so dense that wanter can't evaporate easily, instead remaining around long enough for fungus to start growing in the fur. This can lead to a lot of different skin conditions and infections that can be lethal. When chinchillas bathe, they take dust baths. By rolling around in volcanic ash, the can work the ash into their fur, where it absorbs oils, moisture, and other contaminants. This keeps the fur clean and healthy. Domestic chinchillas need specially made dust for their baths. It cannot be substituted with sand or other materials. Chinchillas can release chunks of their fur in order to escape from predators, leaving the predator holding nothing but a tuft of hair while the chinchilla runs away. This is called fur drop and in domestic chinchillas it can be a sign of mishandling or stress. Wild chinchillas have grey fur, but domestic breeds have been bread to have other colors of fur, including white and black. Chinchillas can't sweat, which isn't a problem in their natural habitat, but is for domestic chinchillas. The only way for them to cool down is to expose their ears (which are hairless and heavily vascularized) to wind. Chinchillas in temperatures at or above 26 degrees C (80 F) are at risk of having heat strokes. Daytime in the Andes can exceed those temperatures, so chinchillas hide in burrows during the day. Chinchillas are very skilled at jumping, able to leap up to 1.8 meters (6 ft). Their hind legs are longer than the forelegs and provide propulsion when walking or jumping. The toes has fleshy pads called papillae that help them grip onto surfaces. Chinchillas live in arid, rocky conditions and are skilled at leaping between rocks. The tails act like rudders, providing stability and direction when leaping. The front feet are capable of gripping and picking up objects. Females tend to be larger than the males, but there is otherwise little visual difference between the sexes. Wild short-tailed chinchillas can reach 38 cm (including tail) and 800 grams while wild long-tailed chinchillas can reach 26 cm (including tail) and 450 grams. Domestic chinchillas can get up to twice the size of their wild relatives.

(Image: a wild long-tailed chinchilla sitting under a rock. Its body plan is the same as the pet chinchilla above, but its fur is a lighter grey End ID)

(Image: a short-tailed chinchilla in captivity. It has a less distinct neck than the long-tailed chinchilla, making it look like its head merges with the body. Its tail is shorter than that of the long-tailed chinchilla, making up about 1/5th of its length as compared to the long-tailed chinchilla's 1/3rd. End ID)

Chinchillas are social animals that live in colonies called herds that can reach up to 100 members. Females dominate the herds and can be aggressive toward each other, though physical fights are rare. The herd cooperates when finding food, always having at least one member acting as a lookout to spot predators while the rest feed. They communicate vocally, with 10 types of vocalizations on record for. Social behaviors include grooming, playing, and friendly nibbling of each other's ears. Pet chinchillas should never be kept alone. They should be in same-sex groups of at least 2. Chinchillas are crepuscular, active mostly at dawn and dusk. During the day and night, they are usually found hiding in burrows or crevices between rocks, where they can avoid predators and high or low temperatures. They are primarily herbivores, but will supplement their diets with insects and other bugs. Most of their diet consists of grasses, seeds, and succulents and cacti. Wild ones almost never drink water, instead getting all of their hydration from their food. Chinchilla digestive systems are fairly specialized to their food. Domestic chinchillas need special-formulated food and can only have wooden chew toys form certain species of wood. Fresh or dried fruit is good for a treat, but should not be a regular part of their diet as they have a lot of sugar. As with all rodents, the incisors grow continuously through the animal's entire life and need to be worn down by chewing on things.

It is surprisingly hard to find good-quality images of wild chinchillas. Most of the time when you search for wild chinchilla pictures what you get are either domestic chinchillas or viscachas.

(Image: a trail-cam shot of two wild long-tailed chinchillas. The photo is i black-and-white. One is in the foreground on all fours while another is on its hind feet in the background, standing on a rock. The terrain is rocky and the chinchillas are next to a shrub. The camera's light makes their eyes appear to glow white. End ID)

(Image: a wild short-tailed chinchilla that is part of a relocation effort. Its fur is light grey with darker patches. A gloved human hand is reaching in from the right side of the image. End ID)

Male chinchillas appear to be fertile year-round, but females only enter estrus during the winter, from May to November in their natural habitat. Gestation takes around 120 days in both species and both species typically have two litters a year (a low rate for a small mammal). Offspring (called kits) are born well-developed, with fur and open eyes, and can run as soon as they are born. They nurse for 6-8 weeks before being weaned. 1-6 kits are born at a time, with 2 being the usual number. Chinchillas are monogamous, mating for life. Either partner can initiate mating, which they do so with hair-pulling. Unusually for rodents, male chinchillas do provide care for their offspring. Members of the same herd will help each other with parenting. Female chinchillas have been known to adopt the kits of other females who can't nurse due to health issues. Females are usually dominant due to their size. Chinchillas become sexually mature at around 8 months. In the wild they can live for 10 years, which is doubled in captivity.

(Image: an adult domestic chinchilla with a juvenile. The juvenile is smaller than the adult, with proportionally larger head and limbs and proportionally smaller tail. The two of them are nuzzling their snouts together. End ID)

The name chinchilla comes from the Chincha people of the Andes, who hunted chinchillas for their fur and meat. This hunting increased vastly after European colonization of South America. Between hunting and trapping, both species of chinchilla were brought to near extinction and vastly reduced their native range. Both species are now only found in Chile and have been granted legal protection. The IUCN switched their classifications between Vulnerable, Endangered, and Critically Endangered for a while. As of 2016, both species are classified as Endangered, upgraded from Critically Endangered as their populations have seen some improvement. Poaching, both for fur and capture for sale as pets, is still a large threat to wild chinchillas. Their close cousins, the viscachas, are doing much better as they were not hit as hard by the fur trade. The domestication of the long-tailed chinchilla is thanks to Mathias F. Chapman, an engineer who became fascinated with the animals after meeting a native person who was trying to sell one. He ended up getting permission from the government of Chile to capture several and import them to the USA. It took him 3 years to catch enough that he considered suitable for breeding, 11 in total. He then spend over a year gradually bringing them down from the highlands to sea level, giving them plenty of time to acclimate to the lower altitude. Once in the USA, Chapman started breeding his chinchillas in a farm in California, though he had to deal with medical problems and a thief stealing half of his stock. Eventually, though, his experiment paid off. The vast majority of all domesticated chinchillas today are descended from those original 11, brought to the states in 1923. Chinchillas today are raised in captivity for their fur, for use as laboratory animals, and as pets. While both species are raised in captivity for fur, the domesticated chinchilla is descended from the long-tailed chinchilla and short-tailed chinchillas apparently do not make as good pets.

(Image: a black-and-white photo of Mathias F. Chapman, a white man with a large nose wearing a shirt and tie. A chinchilla is standing on his leg and looking at the camera while he looks at the chinchilla. End ID)

* April Fools

[jolieeason]

A Cold Highland Wind (Lady Emily Ashton Mysteries: Book 17) by Tasha Alexander

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, Minotaur Books Date of publication: October 3rd, 2023 Genre: Mystery, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Scotland, Mystery Thriller, Historical Mystery, Historical Series: Lady Emily Ashton Mysteries And Only to Deceive—Book 1 A Poisoned Season—Book 2 A Fatal Waltz—Book 3 The Bridal Strain: Emily and Colin’s Wedding—Book 3.5 Tears of Pearl—Book 4 Dangerous to…

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Introduction

Reader insert ACOTAR fanfic, pairing tbd

Premise: 21st century fem!reader gets transported to the world of ACOTAR after a freak incident.

warnings: none, maybe a lil angsty

A/n: Hello! This is my first fic and an idea I have been wanting to see portrayed for a while. As of now the pairing could literally be anyone but personally I am partial to Eris or Cassian. Let me know if there are any tropes you'd like to see. I wanna make this a fun space so enjoy!!

Other chapters

It was colder than you had expected it to be. The Highlands were known for being cold and rainy but since summer began you had half hoped half prayed for a warm sunny day. The skies were obstructed by heavy looking clouds. It would rain soon and the end of the hike was nowhere in sight. Maybe this is why people shouldn't travel alone, you thought as thunder roared from above. If I was with someone I'm sure they would have checked the weather. But this was why you'd flown half way across the world by yourself. "I want to get lost in new cities" you had said to your parents who never thought this was a good idea to begin with. "I want to explore the world" how hopeful you were when it was just an idea. Now though, now you had to find shelter unless you wanted to get soaked. "This is so not worth it" you grumbled to yourself while looking around for some type of cover. There hadn't been a trace of civilization for a few hours now and according to the map the lodge was still a few miles away. Groaning, you go off the path and into the thick forest hoping to find a tree, a cave, a cabin, anything that could protect you from the weather. You walk in a straight line, careful not to get lost. Lightning strikes and thunder rattles you as you start to increase your pace a bit. The forest is dark and the wind sounds like a voice telling you to run. Run. Run. You start to jog a little, constantly looking back to make sure the path is still visible. To your horror, thick fog has rolled in from the mountains making it impossible to see more that twenty feet in front of you. Shit. Shit. Shit. You hadn't prepared for this. Hiking was always something you enjoyed, but you had no real survival skills. Other than a bit of information gleaned from your grandparents' stories or survival reality shows. I should stay here. That was the logical thing to do, avoid getting even more lost, once the fog clears make your way back. But another gust of wind urged you. Run. Run. Run. You looked around but there was nothing, absolutely nothing there except the trees, the wind and the ever encroaching rain. Nothing, not even an animal, not even an insect. Fuck. With a jump you start running in the opposite direction of the path. Something is wrong. Something feels off and wrong and you need to get away. There's a clearing coming up and a bit of sun is slipping through the break in the forest canopy. You stop dead in your tracks as you take in what's in front of you. Boulders the size of refrigerators are lined up in what seemed to be a perfectly symmetrical circle. Chills climb up your back. You walk slowly towards it, careful not to touch anything. The space feels sacred here. As you get closer you see that there are smaller and smaller boulders until they become tiny little rocks lined up exactly the same. Sweat runs cold. They seem to circle around nothing. In the center is a small round patch of grass lined with small mushrooms. Run. Run. Run. You don't know where to go, being here feels wrong but there seems to be an invisible wall that won't let you run back to the forest. The only way out was through. You walked slowly, as if someone was surveilling you, waiting, hoping for you to mess up. Avoiding any branches or roots that might make you trip, you get to the patch of grass. Thunder roared all around you. It shook the whole forest and left a ringing in your ears. Stepping over the mushrooms you place you right foot first and then the left. Only the floor is gone and you're falling. Falling. Falling. There's an immense pressure all around you, it feels like you're being pushed by the darkness itself and you're falling.

Just as it started it's over.

Shaking, you try to take a breath. What the fuck just happened? It's the only thing you can think. You take another breath and look up from the ground you just fell on. It's the forest. You realize you are lying in the middle of the same clearing. Well, it looks like the forest except the boulders and rocks are gone, the space barren. I'm gonna throw up. Run. Run. Run. You try to get up and manage to stand on wobbly legs as you feel for any injuries from the fall. There's no blood anywhere and the only pain seems to be the growing headache from trying to grasp what's happening. Then you hear them. Steps. Someone or something is close. You take off running back to where the path should be not willing to risk getting attacked by an animal. You're panting as you run and you look back for a second to make sure no one is chasing you when you run straight into a tree and blackness takes over.

You wince as you open your eyes and feel the thumping pain coming from your forehead, you touch it and feel a lump forming. Great. The fire crackles beside you and you freeze. Looking to the side you are terrified in place as you see an ethereal looking man with long red hair and a scar down his face looking back at you. "Hello", his tone is bored. "Who are you and what are you doing in this court?" You open your mouth to answer but close it again as you look closer. His ears are pointed and his eye seems to be mechanical. I've got to be hallucinating. Uncertain, you answer "I'm y/n and I have no idea where I am or how I got here." Did I eat one of those mushrooms? This has to be the worst trip ever. You swallow and more quietly say "Am I in danger?" He pokes at the fire and says "I'm not going to hurt you, but this isn't a safe place for a human". "What's your name?" he sighs, like he's tired of answering that question.

"Lucien".

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 9

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: a LOT of angst and negative mental health, little fluff, Legend being Legend, some hints at spice

₊˚✩⊹

“Where the hell are we, Champ?” Legend groans, shaking his head.

Wild pulls out his slate, “We’re home! My hom- Hyrule, at least. We’re just past the Great Plateau, Southwest.”

He looks at the map a bit closer, “Close to Gerudo Highlands, actually.”

Your ears pick up at that. You were back on course, in a way.

“How far till the last stable before the desert, Wild?” you ask. He taps his chin in thought.

“Well if we start moving now, we could reach it by nightfall probably.”

And with that, you and the group started walking. You didn’t have Epona with you, so everyone was on foot. You walked with Twilight and Hyrule, talking about anything, you weren’t actively listening. You were too busy staring at Legend’s backside, as if you were trying to make him look at you.

“You good, Sugarplum? You’ve been zoned out for the past 20 minutes or so.” Hyrule whispers to you. Curse everyone for being so damn observant.

You nodded, “Yeah, just uh. I don’t know, a lot’s on my mind.” you mumble, finally pulling your eyes away from the Vet. Your staring wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you and Vet ok? It seems like something’s going on between you two, but I don’t wanna assume.” 

“We’re just stressed about our own situations. Nothing to worry about.”

“You should talk to him, y’know. That usually helps.”

“I trie- I will. I’m just a bit mentally preoccupied at the moment.” you said with a sad smile, Hyrule nods at you in understanding. 

“I’m here for you, if needed.”

You keep walking, eyes focused on the terrain ahead of you. The red rock of the Gerudo Highlands were always quite a sight, even in game, but seeing them for yourself for the first time in ages was incredible.

The day passed relatively quickly, the only sounds being that of the wind and the occasional chatting between the boys. You didn’t talk much, not exactly having the social battery to converse. 

You walked up to Time, as you always fell into comfortable silence with him and you felt like you haven’t spent much time with him since your incident. He gives you a quick glance, looking back at the path ahead.

“I can hear you thinking, Y/n. What is it?” he asked, still not looking at you.

You fumble with the straps on your harness, a nervous habit. 

“I, just, uh feel like we haven’t had much time together lately.”

You think for a second. Wait.

“That wasn’t supposed to be a pun. Sorry.”

“I know what you meant, its alright. No need to apologize.”

“I feel like something else is on your mind though, Y/n. I think I may know what, but… I don’t know if now is the best time or place to talk about it. I don’t want the younger ones snooping in things they shouldn’t be.”

You laugh, “Time, we’re with grown men and one pre-teen.”

He scoffs, “They act like children.”

“You’re not wrong.”

You both stay quiet for a moment, taking in the serenity of the evening, the sun starting its descent into night. You can make out the faint plume of smoke in front of you, meaning that the last stable before Gerudo Desert was coming up. Looking up, you can see a few wolves on the snowy tops of the valley, looking down at you and your group. They howled for a bit, no doubt being curious and/or displeased with your presence in their territory.

You felt a shiver go up your spine, tickling the back of your neck.

“God, I forgot how cold the valley can get towards nighttime.” You pull out your only sweater, the famous Link hoodie that the group made fun of you for, but hey, at least you won’t freeze.

Pulling the hood up, you sighed in content. You sure will get some looks, but you were willing to sacrifice your dignity.

You all approached the stable, Wild jogging up to the innkeeper, checking you all in. Luckily, Wild had sold some precious stones earlier in the day with a merchant, so he had enough to pay for all of you.

“Inn’s kinda full, so we’re gonna have to share beds. I’ll share with whoever, don’t really have a preference.”

A few groans reverberate through the group, but there’s no conflict in pairing up.

Four walks up to you, hand on his knife holster, “Looks like it’s gonna be you and me, you ok with that?” You shrug, not like you had another option anyways.

You both walk to the vacant bed, which happens to be toward the very back of the inn, opposite of the main office. Wild’s inns were cozy, its just all the open space and vulnerability made you anxious.

“I’ll be right with you, don’t worry. I know how the lack of divided rooms affects you.” 

Ah, so he knew.

“Thank you, Four. I don’t know why I’m so squeamish around large, vast spaces and not with tight spaces. It’s usually the opposite for people.”

He nods. You both unpack your belongings, Four placing his and your packs under the bed, away from prying eyes. You fidgeted with the necklace he made you, feeling yourself zoning out.

“You two good? Dinner’s almost ready!” Wars yells out to you both from the entrance. Four smiles, and you two walk out the inn towards the small campfire Wild made.

“If you start kicking me at night, I’m kicking you off the bed.” Legend says to Wind. 

“I don’t kick!!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up.

“I’ve slept right next to you plenty of times to know you do fuckin’ combat in your dreams.” Vet mumbles, eyes briefly glancing at you.

You sit down on the ground, leaning against Sky. God, you were tired. Sky leaned over you, “How are you, Dove?”

You just groan, leaning against his leg. 

“Yeah, same.”

You shiver again. Sky looks at you, then reaches behind him, grabbing a blanket. Where did he get that?

Leaning over you, he drapes it over you, tucking you in. You beam at him, “You’re so sweet, thank you Sky.”

Leaning against his leg, he absentmindedly brushes through your locks while you look into the fire. Wild gives you a smile as he tosses a few mushrooms in and a few dashes of goron spice.

You look to your left, Legend’s eyes on yours. He looks exhausted. 

You glance back at the fire, feeling a blush creeping in at the attention from him. 

“You excited to head into Gerudo Town tomorrow?” Wild asks, still stirring the pot.

“Yeah! I haven’t had the chance to meet Riju yet. I also can’t wait to finally try the Hydromelons, you keep goin’ on and on about them.” you smile.

Wild chuckles, “They’re delicious and beneficial, especially for the heat during the day. I even have a spare Vai outfit for you, so you shouldn’t struggle as much. I’ll give it to you after supper if I remember to.”

You nod. You don’t really pay attention to the rest of the conversation, no one bothering to bring you out of your daze.

~

Considering how exhausted you felt just over an hour ago, you were awake as can be in bed. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, trying to find the right spot to doze off in. Four was out the second he hit the pillow.

Sighing heavily, you sit up and hop off the bed, walking towards the entrance of the inn. The lights were barely on at this point in the night, but you could make out the sleeping forms of the heroes as you passed by them. You grabbed a spare blanket from on top of one of the crates in the in and wore it like a cape, walking over to the small fire. You were surprised to find Legend sitting on a log, staring into the fire. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, eyes widening the slightest bit at the recognition of your face.

“Couldn’t sleep.” you mumbled, sitting a few feet away from him. He doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at the fire.

The silence is awkward. 

“You look tired. You should sleep.” you say cautiously, not wanting to start conflict.

“‘m not. Can’t sleep anyways.” he mumbles.

Another moment of silence passes.

“Did I do something?” you ask, voice small.

He still doesn’t say anything. You were getting on edge, this wasn’t like him. He’s snarky, quick to talk back.

“What’s going on with you? A few days ago you were teasing me and goofing off with Wind and now you barely say a word, if that. If it’s something I said or did-”

“You didn’t do anything, Y/n.”

“You say that but you still won’t even look at me or talk to me. What are you so afraid of-”

“For the love of- Stop. Fucking stop. You don’t know me, stop trying to act like you care.”

“Excuse me?”

He finally looks at you, eyebrows furrowed and knuckles white on his knees, weeping to be relaxed and unclenched. He looked angry, scared, betrayed, horrified. 

“I see how you look at me, full of pity and sadness, like I’m some fucking charity case to you. You think you may know all about my past, just because you’re our-my guide, but you don’t. You can’t even begin to imagine what I feel. What I have to be reminded of every time I close my eyes.”

“Link I don’t pity you and I have never pretended to know exactly what you went through. I know I was there, but I also know I don’t know what it was like for you and how it affected you.”

“I see how you are with the others. Time? Twilight? They look at you in ways I’ve never seen them look at someone. Hell, everyone looks at you like you’re some goddess descended upon Hyrule. I fucking- I can’t stand it.”

“I-”

“I don’t even know why you’re with us, Y/n. Why the fuck are you here, dealing with this prophecy cult bullshit? You could’ve avoided this if you weren’t stupid-”

“I NEVER FUCKING ASKED TO BE HERE.”

He seemed to shut up at your exclamation.

You took a shaky breath, already feeling the tears spilling from your eyes.

“You think I asked to be dragged through a portal, possibly never being able to come home? You think I fucking wanted this? I never wanted to become some ‘guide’ or ‘goddess’ as you put it. I’m just a nobody, a fucking girl that’s depressed and found comfort in characters that she could relate to, but I guess I was wrong. I can’t relate at all. To you, to Time, to any of you. I’m just some sorry excuse of a guide that’s scared of being alone and left behind.”

You were sobbing at this point, snot running down your chin, the tears clouding up your vision in front of you.

“I’m sorry I’ll leav-” 

“Please don’t go. I need you, Link.”

Legend paused at that, processing your words.

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

You cautiously cuddled into his side, panting for air from your panic attack. 

You needed him.

“I need you too, Mouse.”

You looked up at him at the mention of your nickname. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been crying for days on end. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, eyes not leaving your face.

“Kiss me, Link.”

And he did. 

Legend groaned slightly into your mouth, causing you to gasp. He took it as an invitation to run his tongue along yours, your tears still running into your mouth, making your lips taste salty. He ran his callosed hands down your back and pulled you in closer, as if he was afraid this was a dream and you’ll leave him.

Just when you thought he was done, he pulled you onto his lap, blanket falling off your shoulders onto a heap on the ground. He moaned into your lips, making you press yourself against him, chest to chest. You wanted, needed more.

“More, Link-ah.” you whined.

He seemed to slow at your whining, coming back to reality. He sighed, placing his forehead against yours.

“I want to, Mousey. Trust me, I do, I just… someone might walk out here.”

You groan into his shoulder, but he was right. It was too risky.

He lifts your face off of his shoulder, tilting your chin up “But once we have some privacy I’ll give you more, ok? I promise.”

You flush at his words, knowing what he was insinuating.

“We should go in, before someone starts panicking. Would you… want to sleep next to me?” he asks, the tips of his ears bright pink. You nod, picking up the blanket from the ground. You suddenly felt very sleepy.

Following Legend back into the inn, you noticed Wind had fallen off the bed and made his way into Four’s bed, which seemed all a little too convinient for your current situation, but you were too tired to care. 

You flopped into bed, and Legend followed suit, stripping his sheath and outer tunic before cuddling up to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “Goodnight, my little mouse.”

~

“Rise and shine fuckers!!” 

You groan into your… pillow? That’s weird, when did it become so firm-oh. Oh.

The “pillow” groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. His pink hair was all over the place, under eyes still as droopy as ever. Yawning, he looked down at you with a sleepy smile.

“Guessin’ you slept well?”

“Huh?”

“You drooled all over me.”

“Oh, grossss. I’m so sorry Leg-”

“Don’t worry about it, I got another tunic in my pack.”

You stop to look at him. Really look at him. You haven’t had a moment like this with him… ever. He looked so happy, eyes crinkling in the corners, half unbuttoned tunic, hair messy from sleep. You wanted to see him happy. All of them, happy.

“Alright, love birds! Breakfast and out let’s go, let’s go!” Wind yelled again, clapping his hands.

You both rolled your eyes, begrudgingly getting out of bed. You pulled your tunic on, lacing it up in the back. You looked up while lacing to see him staring at you. He gave you a wink and went back to getting dressed as if it was another day on the job.

How the hell is he so casual about this?

You didn’t have time to dwell as Wild’s cooking snapped you out of your daze, bringing you outside to the same pot you and Legend were sitting at just a few hours ago. Legend was alreadyeating, looking up at you mid-bite for a moment before continuing to eat.

You sit in between Four and Warriors, Wild handing you a plate before you sat down. 

Before you had a chance to take a bite, Wars asked “Where’d you and the Vet go last night?”

Shit, was he awake that entire time?

“We both couldn’t sleep, just sat by the fire for a bit.”

“Chat about anything?”

You narrowed your eyes.

What the hell was he getting at?

“Just… stuff. What are-” “Jeez Cap, leave her alone, would ya?” Vet snaps, already back to his typical snarky self. You mouth a ‘thanks’ to him, finally able to dig into your food. A few of the others exchange looks, curious about the sudden defensiveness Vet had over you.

You’d have to clear things up with Wars later, as Wild was ushring you back into the inn the second you finished chewing your last bite of food, needing to get you changed into more appropriate clothing.

“I managed to buy another vai outfit a few months back, I hope you like red.”

Wild hands you a bundle of soft red fabric, embroidered with silky golden thread and lace trim. Jesus, this looked expensive.

“Wild, you sure? This looks really expensive.”

“It really wasn’t, trust me. Now come on, we gotta get dressed and head out, Riju is expecting us.”

You nodded, already starting to strip your outer layers while Wild went outside to change. Thankfully, nobody was inside the inn so you could change quickly and quietly without any prying eyes. You catch a mirror in the far corner of the inn, deciding to take a quick once-over before you go out, and check on your healing back.

You turn around and your breath hitches.

Your wounds are completely gone.

₊˚✩⊹

[theanimekid]

Betrayal/ The Veil of Shadow found the new ruler

Synopsis: Love is not eternal, betrayal; cuts deeper than a scar. Now you'll be harmed no longer. You'll be loved once more. Embrace destiny, walk the veil, and rule as a Dark Queen.

Warnings: Monster, angst, sci-fi, blood, betrayal, heartbreak, death,

Shadow owes its birth to light- John Gay

“Love isn’t soft like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.” ― Stephen King, The Body

A/n: This will be about two or three chapters long, so grab some coffee, a blanket, and a couple of tissues, make that a couple boxes of tissue

Chapter 1: The Beginning and End

You will never feel pain again. You'll never feel hurt or suffering. You… will never experience betrayal… for now it was the last time… the last straw.

The Strom fumed in spikes of crimson and light-blue lighting. The chaos of thunderstorms rumbled the sky, buildings of merged flesh and bone carved into each like a deathly art, screams were heard for miles, screeching of the bats not living nor dead. As their dark sparks waved into the night. You stood, outside of your castle, watching the depths below, your body shrouded in mystery and despair. Your veil flew with the wind, eyes cold-hearted, broken no more, vengeance craving for suffering. Skin darker than a shade of navy blue. The might of the doors opened slowly, and a black substance moved within. It was quick and swift. Faster than the human eyes can catch.

It soon emerged with its fingertips skimming fingertips. Its purple hood covered its top face. He spoke in a canny yet diabolical fashion. "My Empress... the time has come," It said, As it played with its fingertips rhythmically. You turned to look at your advisor, your eyes sharpened, lowly. " Already?" You asked in a heartache and pitied tone. " I'm afraid yes, a newcomer has been seen in the human world, young and frail as he is, yet more fearful than the rest." The hand movement swayed and urged as his words, Walked away from the highland view. past your blackened throne so lonely and purposeless. Your advisor walked with you down the very, elongated hallway. Your soldiers lined up and bowed to you. "They're the same as always, Urmas."

"They live to benefit you, my beloved empress, as they will always be." He replied in assurance. The two walked for what seemed like a while and reached the end of the hallway. You stopped. Urmas stopped with you. His expression spread with little concern for his queen. " Is there something the matter, my sovereign?" You still stood there staring blankly at the door. " I-I- feel like I've been here before."

Urmas Cleared his throat. " Can you recall, my sovereign?" You shook your head, " I don't know, but yet at the same time, it feels as though." You turned to your advisor, offering your hand to him. Urmas instantly clutched it and held it to his hand. You beamed maliciously, teeth in all, "let's go raise bloodstained nightmare on humanity and make a world for my own." He smiled back." As you wish, my sovereign." The doors opened to a giant glass sphere, spiraling out of different stirs and harmonies. The two of you walked hand in hand. As you got closer to your glass sphere, lightly grazing the outer layer. Urmas walked on the other side of the figure.

The sphere's outer layer moved fluidly, liquifying. Your hand sunk into the glass sphere. Your eyes dilated, turning into a purplish pink. Your vision became severed as you gaze upon the human world into the brightness of the city. Your eyes searched and looked unnoticed. Til you found a little boy with glasses wandering down a dark alley. Frightened and alone, tight where you wanted him. 

You planted his fear into his mind, it took only mere moments before he was nothing more than paste. And a small portal of flesh emerged from the brick wall, pulsating quietly like a heartbeat for an ear to listen. His body remained dismembered and fractured. His eyes plucked out of their sockets. Your eyes blurred again, returning to normalcy. With a sigh of satisfaction, you removed your hand from the sphere. Urmas clapped his hands in applause. " Another astounding work my sovereign," He feted. You walked away from the sphere and headed towards the door. You tumbled to the floor, holding both sides of your head, Your head began to hurt. Screaming in pain as your advisor tried to assist you. Your vision contradicted with light, a picnic on the hill, a man standing next to you with a loving gaze, his hand reaching out to you, calling to you…

You gasped as you raised your head. Your body trembling, your advisor slowly got you back on your feet. "My empress, are you all right?" He questioned. You sighed, bobbing your head left and right. " I-I'm fine... I just, need to rest my eyes." 

*Back on Earth*

One of his shadow soldiers, sat on top of a nearby building, looking down upon its people and others. The shadow sighed in questionable purpose. It's been the fifth time this past year. The visions He saw, his queen in danger, screaming and sobbing for help, it's like an unending loop. Constantly, she was reaching out to him, calling to him...

His master emerged from the wall, Beru and Igris followed soon after, and his black coast got longer and ragged. He stopped at the edge. Sung turned his gaze toward his summon. " Is there a reason why you're not doing your patrol?" The soldier got up and kneeled before his master. " Forgive me, my king... but it feels like something has been bothering me." He didn't even bother looking upon his master. Thinking he will not believe him." And what has been bothering you?" Sung asked. He collected himself and explained clearly and carefully, not to anger him, " Lately, since the past year, I have been seeing visions... visions that I wish I could ignore, but it just couldn't." Sung knelt to his soldier's eyes. " Look at me, and tell me what you saw." The shadow soldier took a deep breath and looked dead into his king's eyes. " I saw... a woman in white, she was surrounded by black waters, she was slowly drowning, but no end. I was going to save her, but she started to cry, sobbing, calling out your name, and others. She turned to look at me, her face was recognizable... my king... I believe... that our queen is alive and needs your help."

Sung's eyes slowly widened, and he can feel his heart wailing out of his chest. She can't be... he watched her... if she is then why...

Beru and Igris can feel the energy around him growing. With his body trembling, he gripped his soldier's shoulders. " Are you... you 100 certain that's..." He nodded in response. Sung can feel his whole world collapse around him. You were alive, alive and alone, scared. " Did you anything else from your visions? Or where she could be? Did she tell you where to find her?" He started asking a million questions. But his soldier only gave him one and a solution. " She said to locate the portal where no man or light can find. The opposite of all worlds... Find the seer. And that's all I can remember." 

The search for the seer begins.

Part 2 in the making👍

[konigsblog]

your spot (johnny mactavish x gn!reader)

mwiii spoilers below. angst warning.

you sat on the hard rock, looking at the blinding sun as it began to set in the far distance. the light yellows and deepening oranges fading, the sunset he created tonight. you could hear the sounds of the cold water swishing and splashing due to the faint wind, along with the chirping on the birds in the trees. the leaves rustling when they flew away.

everything felt so quiet without him. without the constant chatter and his obnoxious jokes, ones that were stupid yet always made you giggle, even if it was just a little. johnny loved that. he loved to make you laugh, to see you smile.

you held the urn in your hands, biting the inside of your cheek and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. holding your boyfriend in your hands just one last time. you couldn't comprehend that this was forever, eternal without him until you joined him too. you sighed out, tears already flowing down your cheeks, staining into your skin.

his ashes laying on the rock, slowly sliding down the mountain and into the highland's sea. you sobbed out, holding the urn close to your chest, chin rested on the lid as you weeped out painfully. your bones and heart aching.

the following days were torture.

november 5th, the day he was supposed to come home from deployment. you had ingredients in the fridge and cupboard, expecting to make his favourite and share it with him. but you couldn't bring yourself too, not when all you could do was stare at the old photos of you two together. his lips on your cheek, the texture of his stubble against your fingers when you ran your fingertips across it.

it all felt too fast, like you were forgetting everything already. you missed the way his large body warmed the sheets, now left cold, his side of the bed empty. his cologne laid half empty, only spraying it occasionally so you could smell him, to be reminded of him. you eventually stopped doing that, as it only brought you to tears.

his toothbrush laid in the same place as it usually did, along with his razor. his shirt on your body, holding it against your face to smell him, his minty, comforting aroma. your eyes watered, grew raw when you thought about him. thought about all the ‘what if’'s

what if you were there? what if he didn't go?

that comforting, rough scottish accent in your ear when you played the voice notes back to yourself. you wish you could listen to him ramble again, about whatever. you usually brushed it off when he spoke about the dumb things his friend gaz had down before, yet you wish you'd never, so you could've spent just a few more minutes with him and his voice in your ear.

you missed the way his hard chest pressed against yours when you hugged him. how he held you in his burly arms, holding you tightly while you ran your fingers along his face as he slept. the shallow breathing and the loud snores. giggling when he mumbled out, ‘i love you’ and held you tighter through sleep.

your heart broke when you found it, laying in a red box.

the ring he was planning to propose to you with.