#better the wool au...au I guess

[sincerely-sofie]

Wandering gods.

[daimus]

looking for Heaven, found the devil in me

In the beginning of your marriage, Kaiser never touches you. He only tells Ness how to do it.

wc — 1.6k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fingering, medieval au I guess, Lord! Kaiser, Knight! Ness, title from shake it out by Florence and the Machine

You had not known you were leaving home for the last time when you said goodbye. You suspect this was intentional. They knew you wouldn’t have gone otherwise. 

The woods are eerily silent around you. Patches of old snow, half melted into pools of crystalline and liquid silver, dot the still landscape. Turn itself feels sluggish and frozen. 

They have sent you to the very edge of the world. 

You jolt when quick, nimble fingers do the laces of your cloak tighter. He chucks you under the chin briskly when he’s finished, a flash of affection, there and then gone. 

“It’s cold, miss,” Ness says. “You need to wear your furs.” 

You didn’t even notice him behind you. He’s like another creature of the woods. His eerily quiet footsteps are a sign he belongs. You, on the other hand, are an outsider, and nature wants you to know it. 

“Maybe we should head back inside,” Ness muses. “Kaiser will be home soon.” 

You say nothing, but let him guide you back to the castle. His arm is warm around you, a shelter from the storm. 

Ness feeds you soup in the kitchen while you wait for your husband. You hadn’t expected him, this sweet, bubbly knight, more like a handmaiden than a manservant. He spoons broth into your waiting mouth and dabs at your mouth with a napkin, cooing at you to “be careful, it’s hot.” 

The fire is roaring and you’re sleepy from nothing. Ever since you got to Kaiser’s manor, you’ve had a shortage of work to do. Lesser nobles like you are only separated from peasants in name. That’s why your family was so delighted when the offer for your hand came from the North, even though it meant you would be going so far away. 

You still don’t know why it was you. 

The door bangs open. 

Ness runs over to help Kaiser shed his coats and boots, running a familiar hand over him with a quickness. You still don’t understand their relationship, their strange closeness. They haven’t taken the oath of blood brothers, but they seem closer than even the knights that are sworn to each other. Despite his lordship, Kaiser seems content to let Ness handle everything: his property, his taxes, even his wife. 

There’s a level of trust you’re not sure you could ever achieve with another human being, but Ness makes it so easy you can almost imagine it. Yes, if it was anyone, it would be Ness. 

“Wife,” Kaiser beckons. “You won’t welcome me?” 

You push your chair back hurriedly and follow in Ness’s eager footsteps. He laughs, gentle, and strokes a hand over your hair - quick, as he does everything. You barely notice it. 

Fleet-footed, your grandmother would call him. He moves like a startled fawn, always with a jolting start, yet he doesn’t seem like prey. Or at the very least, you know he’s not the bottom of the food chain. 

You are. 

You keep your chin tucked down, face turned away. You’re not attempting to be demure, you really don’t know how to act. No one trained you in your duties before they sent you up here to be buried by snow. The only teacher you have is Ness. 

He would be a better wife than you are, and he’s close to Kaiser - you don’t know why your husband didn’t just marry him instead. It would be so much less work than procuring you and dragging you back to the North, just for Ness to explain how to cook and budget to you in the solarium during daylight hours. 

And at night, he teaches you something else. 

“Don’t be scared,” Ness coos, nudging your legs apart. 

He’s nestled with you in the sheets. It's almost like being in a cocoon, tucked in those thick blankets and soft wool. The North doesn't use silks. They don't trap heat well enough.

You clutch at his arms for support, frightened but trusting. Kaiser sits in an armchair at the foot of the bed. There's a watchfulness to his waiting that makes it seem purposeful.

You suspect your husband isn’t of as few words as he makes it seem. Rather, he wants to frighten you. His reticence makes him hard to predict. You can’t tell what will please him, relying on Ness for clues. 

Ness presses a kiss to your cheek, peppering you all over with soft, butterfly brushes of his nose, before he tucks you under his chin. You like the way he touches you. It’s soothing, skin to skin. And he’s warm. 

You’re always cold in this freezing, bitter land. It’s inhospitable. 

Ness arranges you so that your legs are hooked over his. Your fingers release their death grip on his biceps so you can shove your skirt, which has gotten rucked up, down. 

You hold it there in place, trembling from embarrassment. It feels like you’re a zoo animal on display. There are too many eyes on you, and Kaiser is still silent. 

Ness rubs his cheek against yours. “Shh, shh,” he hums. “Don’t be scared. Would I hurt you, pretty? My liege lord’s wife? Would I?” 

You shake your head, bumping into his nose. He’s too close, all tangled up in you. Your limbs are strung out against him. 

Reluctantly, you let go of your skirt, drawing your hands back up. You don’t know what else to hold on to now. 

“Good girl,” Kaiser finally says, watching you retreat. “Let Ness take care of you.” 

You squirm at his words, feeling something thicken in your stomach. You want to press your thighs together, but Ness’s legs are holding you open. 

They talk, for a moment, over your head like you’re not there. They’re discussing what to do with you, while you grow meeker and meeker in Ness’s grip. He pets your hair idly while Kaiser makes dirty suggestions involving tongue and teeth. 

Ness’s hand slips under your skirt.

You jolt up against him, but it doesn’t seem to hurt him. He toys with the white lace of your undergarments while Kaiser switches the topic to, unbelievably, farming. You’re not quite following the thread of the conversation. 

“Yes,” Ness says agreeably as his fingers slip under the soft white fabric. “I’ll look into it.” 

The first graze along your clit could almost be an accident. He acts like it too, shushing you with soft kisses against your temple when you make a complaining noise, an apology murmured against your hair. But then he keeps doing it, purposefully drilling his fingers against your clit, watching you whimper and whine helplessly in his lap. 

“What is it?” Kaiser asks you, a smile playing on his lips. “What do you want, my wife?” 

You shake your head. 

“Nothing?” He shrugs. “You heard her, Ness.” 

The conversations turns away from you again. You bury your face in Ness’s shoulder and shut your eyes as he keeps playing with you, his fingers slipping through now wet folds as he tap-tap-taps at you insistently, the sensation too little to get you anywhere, but too much to ignore. 

He dips below, gathering slick from where you’re leaking, and returns to trace tight little circles on your clit. You gasp, your core tightening as your legs kick out. 

Ness stops talking to adjust you once more. “Behave,” he chided you lightly, amused. “A lady doesn’t interrupt conversations.” 

“Yes, my lord,” you whisper.

“I’m not-“

“Very good,” Kaiser says. “You should address Ness as you address me. He is, like you, mine after all.” 

Ness kisses your cheek. “Look what a gift you are,” he murmurs, his voice darkening. “Look what you do for me. Can I reward her, Kaiser?” 

Kaiser frowns. 

Ness revokes it immediately. “Of course, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll wait for your permission.” 

Your head drops back against Ness’s chest, trying to control yourself, trying to breathe evenly through bursts of pleasure. It’s not enough. There’s a hot itch under your skin. Something in you clamors for more like a trapped animal, gnawing and biting and unwilling to give you a moment of respite. 

“Ness,” you start. He shakes his head. 

“Kaiser, please.” He looks like a predator and a king and your lord, the master of all that dwells within this manor, including you. “Please, I’m so-“ 

“So?” He says smoothly, laying a heavy hand on your ankle. 

“So-“ 

You choke on it, your face burning with embarrassment. You can’t say it. You weren’t raised with their refined manners but you were still raised in a noble lady’s house. 

“Mercy, my lord,” Ness intercedes for you. “Look at the poor thing, she’s trembling.” 

“She needs to learn to ask for what she wants,” Kaiser says hungrily. 

“Listen,” Ness says, and they both fall silent. The squelch of Ness’s fingers is audible. He toys with you, slipping one inside. Your spine seizes, stiffening instantly as you clench down on him. “She’s so wet,” he hisses. 

“Fine,” Kaiser says. “What do you say, my sweet?” 

“Thank you, my lord, Kaiser-“ your words break on a moan. “Ness! Thank you!” 

Your voice turns garbled as Ness presses a second finger into you. His thumb applies steady pressure to your clit as he pumps his hand slowly. Something is building inside of you. 

You cling to him, the shelter in the storm. In desperation, your animal brain remembers that he is safety and harbor and fire, everything comforting. 

“Cum for me, dear one,” Ness says, watching your face hungrily. “I want to see it.” 

Kaiser says nothing, but you can feel his hand tightening around your leg. 

You break against him, shaking through it. It feels like fear, if fear was addictive. Heat courses through your veins, desire pools between your legs, and Ness works you through your orgasm on steady fingers until you’re keening, but you never tell him to stop. 

Only Kaiser can call him off. 

“Enough,” Kaiser says, rising from his seat. “My turn.” 

[cj-the-random-artist]

Ok so I made some more refs for like, after many years of marriage Lambert and Narinder from my AU, it took a long time for me to get these to a point where I liked them but I have these loosely finished now?? Here's some thoughts about these:

For Lambert, I basically wanted them to look like they had put effort into being more presentable. Previously they seldom wore a shirt and didn't really bother putting too much effort into their appearance and dressed purely for function. I kind of figured that at some point, they'd make an effort to dress more presentably, in part because they kind of think if they look more confident maybe they'll feel more confident. Which turns out to be a viable strategy, evidently, at least for them. I also picture them growing out their wool, again for the sake of presenting in a way that makes them feel good.

For Narinder, I made a few changes, but I wanted his outfit to mostly resemble his previous one, save for the fact that he has longer sleeves now. The biggest difference is mostly the fact that I want to suggest that he's a bit healthier later into the AU- he's reached a better weight, and his fur has grown out quite a bit, and he no longer feels shame for his scars and stuff. I also gave him a kind of like... Howl-esque coat look?? I don't think I ever posted this doodle, but I dressed my Narilamb as Howl and Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle for Halloween, not for any real reason, but I loved how Narinder looked in the coat, so I kind of borrowed that silhouette for this design lol. Also the crown was Calcifer I guess?? Idk, it kind of makes sense but kind of doesn't. But anyways, here's that doodle-

But yea. At some point I think it would be neat to make "future" designs for the Bishops and Goat as well, but we'll see how things go. But I wanted to post these now that they're kind of sort of done.

That said, please enjoy these silly little designs because idk when I'm gonna get to making more comics of this AU again but hey I'm just having a good time over here making mediocre sketches lol

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part sixteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"I can't believe I woke up early for this."

You loosen your muscles, turning to dead weight in Ghost's arms, before using the awkward position to slip away. 

"No one said you had to be here," Ghost throws over his shoulder before his gaze fleets back to yours. "Good. Again."

Blue groans as you reposition yourself for the basic defense maneuver. You can see why she'd find this boring— Ghost started you off with a move so basic it was almost insulting when he explained it. But you quickly realized his reasoning. Each time you do it, your pulse tampers down less and less while in his arms. He's had to remind you a few times to "Breathe, Twix"— the order so quietly uttered into the shell of your ear that Blue likely didn't even notice. Perhaps you have grown used to taking orders from him, or maybe having Blue close by is helping, because you've been able to ward off the threat of panic so far.

"Fine, I'm out of here," Blue rolls her eyes the second you've finished the move again. "Let me know when you—" she jabs a finger at Ghost, "—decide to make things more interesting." As she leaps off the log she'd been perched upon, she adds: "Oh, and don't get too close, Ghost. She might bite."

"So I've heard."

Heat rises to your cheeks. And then— you're alone with him. You take a swig of water from the canister Blue lent you to ignore the awkward feeling in your chest. "Again?" You wipe your mouth. "Or have I passed your test?"

"Test?" he repeats, the gravel in his voice rolling over the word as his brow lifts in question.

"Well, I haven't... had a repeat of last time, and it's been an hour. I think I've proved that I'm ready for something a little more..."

"More what?" 

More interesting.

"Hand-to-hand, I guess. Something harder."

He rubs his jaw, as if to feign consideration. "Right, then. Let's try another one."

The next one he shows you is still simple, except you fail every other time. Basically, he gets behind you and you have to sidestep to avoid the trap of his arms. Somehow, Ghost's movements are light as a feather even though he's built like a rock. 

But then you get better at it. The next two days pass in much the same manner until you start to react a bit faster. He teaches you a few more basic tactics. How to wriggle your wrist out of someone's hold. How to avoid being grabbed from the front by rolling to the ground. All defense. After hours spent with him, he doesn't even have to remind you to breathe anymore. Chopping wood in the evenings helps, too. You go to bed exhausted and wake up ready to practice before Ghost even touches your shoulder.

On the third day, he gets you up even earlier. You cram your wool-covered toes into boots, confine your hair in a hasty bun, and follow him to the clearing that has become your makeshift training ground. It takes you a moment to register that some things are different: his boots have been replaced by sneakers, and his jeans by loose, black gym shorts. The exposed skin is strange, making your eyes widen. If Blue were awake, she'd certainly comment. 

His calves mirror the strength of the rest of him, and on the left leg, swirling ink catches your eye, reminiscent of the tattoos you discovered when tending to his wound. Skulls and a dagger; perhaps corny, but fitting for him.

"Have you tried it?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Tried what?"

"The bow."

A white cloud forms around your mouth as you nod. "Needed some getting used to, like you said."

Yesterday you had a hard time shooting a chipmunk you wanted for lunch, so you spent the early afternoon firing arrows at oaks until the new bow started to feel like an extension of your limbs again.

"Let me know if I need to adjust the string."

"Will do," you say, almost mumbling.

When you reach the familiar circle of trees, you bounce once on your toes and crack your knuckles. Ghost retrieves something from his pocket. A roll of gauze. It is tossed at you without warning, and your hands fumble to grab it. 

"Wrap up," he commands. "Your hands will thank you for it."

You look up at him, brows raised, but begin covering your palms and knuckles. When you're done, you throw the roll back to him. Ghost stretches his arms above his head and splays his feet into a firm stance, jerking his chin at you in a go-ahead motion. Your brows furrow as you try to understand what the fuck he's doing.

"Go on. Get ready."

"Um. Ready for what?"

"A little hand-to-hand."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

He shrugs. "That's what you wanted, right? I think you're ready for it."

"That's not what I meant," you almost laugh, shaking your head. "I didn't mean I want to— to fight you. I just meant we don't have to stick to the basics."

"We won't." There is the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, so faint you wonder if it's even there. "You have ten seconds to get ready, Twix."

"I don't even—" you sputter, eyes flying open. If you weren't awake before, you are now. He seems completely serious, his hands in fists and his shoulders squared.

"Five."

"Oh, fuck me," you exhale, balling up your bandaged hands. Did he get you up at this hour so there was no chance of Blue joining? He didn't want her to watch him finally annihilate you? You don't think he would seriously hurt you, not after everything, but that doesn't mean your heart doesn't begin to thump wildly when the seconds are up. Neither of you makes the first move; you are focused on keeping yourself distant, and he is circling you like a predator, flicking his eyes along the length of you. 

"What the fuck is that stance? I could just tap you and you'd fall over." His amusement has faded. "Is that how I showed you to stand when chopping wood?"

You shake your head, teeth gritted, and fix it, spreading your boots against the soil. 

"Better."

Then, he's lunging. You forget everything about your stance and prance to the side like a skittish deer. There is a moment of relief when you successfully dodge him, only for it to abruptly end when he darts around your back and hooks an arm around your neck. Your heart skips over a beat. Holy shit is he fast. 

"Be aware of your surroundings at all times," he chastises against the top of your hair. His hold is not aiming to fully restrain you, so when you claw your nails into his arm, it loosens and you slip away, staggering three strides before facing him with your fists up.

"What's the point of raising your fists if you're not going to hit me?" Ghost circles you again, and you have to shift your feet to keep up with him. "Come on, nurse. Where should you aim?"

"You're too tall." Your chest heaves. "I... I can't reach your face or neck without you blocking."

"Use the height difference to your advantage. Reach places that I can't."

You pause to think about it, studying him.

Ghost almost growls. "Stop hesitating. I could have killed you by now."

A mix of annoyance and determination makes you leap forward, jabbing your knuckles at the part of him where you know his liver would be. He captures you by the elbow before the blow can land, and sends you stumbling to the side, a few wisps of hair cascading over your face.

"Liver. Not bad. I might've let you have it if you moved quicker."

A hiss leaves your lips as you whirl around and punch directly into his core this time. He allows the hit, but your knuckles ram into solid muscle instead of the vulnerable stomach you hoped for, and you recoil with a wave of your hand, cussing under your breath.

"You hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Well, should I just kick you in the dick then?" you retort without thinking, flexing your fingers. Luckily, the gauze absorbed most of the damage. 

"That's always an option."

His tone is serious, to the point that you almost give it a try, but then he's closing in on you again, sending you back to the defensive. He doesn't hold back. You run in circles and duck frantically, earning a few hits to your ribs. He doesn't use enough force to send you down to the ground, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Rapid breaths fire through your lungs and beads of sweat percolate your hairline. Ghost, on the other hand, appears unaffected.

"Fight back," he says in a mild voice; almost bored.

You nearly throw your arms up. "I would if you'd give me a fucking chance."

"You said not to coddle you."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to—"

Your spine suddenly meets something hard. A tree. He's backed you into it without you even realizing. When Ghost takes another swipe, you dip your head down and then use his recovery time to grab onto a branch and hoist yourself up.

You're barely perched upon it when a hand grips your ankle and drags you back down, an audible gasp reverberating in your chest as you land flat on your back with Ghost on top. His hand quickly cradles the back of your skull before it can crack on a hard tree root, while his other hand captures both of your wrists.

"You good?" Although he is the one who has you effectively pinned, his tone seems sincere. He scans your face from your forehead to your parted lips. 

"Just... peachy." 

His brows furrow. "What was your plan once you got up there?"

Labored breathing splinters your voice. "I didn't have much of a plan, really."

He speaks flatly. "I can tell."

"You had me cornered," you point out.

"You should have been—"

"Aware of my surroundings," you finish for him, exhaling deep through your nose. "I know."

Your eyes shift around, from his covered face to where his chest just barely presses into yours. It's all so close. Uncomfortably close. You can feel the steady pace of his heart against your sternum, and make out the faintest flecks of green in his eyes.

An ounce of fear and something else you can't quite discern balls up in your stomach, making you swallow. You've been pinned like this before and nearly had your face eaten. Ghost simply stares at you, as if waiting for you to make a move, but when you tug on your wrists, his grip doesn't relent.

"Could you... could you maybe get off of me?"

He shifts some weight off you, if only by a little. "Relax and think," he murmurs. "What are your options here?" The curve of his lips tightens before he adds, "Besides biting my nose off. I'd like to keep that for now."

With a sigh, your eyes slide up to the awakening sky. Hues of violet and orange stare down at you. "Do I... do I even have any options? You must weigh like a ton." The words are past your lips before you can shut your mouth. 

"You always have options." 

"Doesn't mean any of them will be effective," you say.

His eyes darken, and the green disappears. "Why do you do that?" 

"Um... do what?"

"Doubt yourself. After all that you have survived." He sounds irritated. 

"As if you haven't doubted me?" You can't help it; you scoff. "You told her I wouldn't come back that time I went on my own. I mean, I'm still weak, remember? No amount of chopping wood will make me as strong as you or those men who almost killed us."

"It's not about strength," he replies.

"That's easy for you to say," you wiggle your wrists for emphasis. "You have nothing to be afraid of. You were cut out for this shit from the start."

"I have everything to be afraid of." His eyes narrow, but his voice softens. "And so were you."

"Me?" Your voice slightly elevates, and a lick of anger curls within you. "I should be in grad school right now, or maybe I would've quit nursing and gone into something useless and hate my life, but I was never meant to kill anyone, let alone fight them. I was meant to be young and stupid and make mistakes. Now, if I make a fucking mistake, it will cost me my life." Your nostrils flare as you huff, sending a piece of hair flying up into his face, and you writhe beneath him. "Get off of me, Ghost."

But he doesn't.

Beats of silence linger in the small gap between your bodies.

You should feel embarrassed for saying all those things, but instead, you think about what he said:

Don't hesitate.

The ball inside you is a fiery mix of emotions that you usually try your damn hardest to ignore and break and shove away.

But now you let it spread through your body like a sizzling tide, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes and... to your knee. Before you can change your mind, you slam it upward as hard as you can into the apex of his groin. 

"Fuck," Ghost mutters, the only sign of any pain aside from the brief moment that he closes his eyes.

His hold loosens only by a little, but it's enough for you to slip out from under him and find your way back to your feet, your chest rising and falling.

He clears his throat after a moment and rises.

"Good." The two of you share a stare-off for a few seconds before he shakes his head, saying again: "Good, Twix. More of that."

You rip your gaze away from him, cheeks hot, and say nothing as you snatch the canister and bring it to your lips, but the water does little to cool you down. 

You shiver in the bitterness of twilight, your fingers red and numb, wishing for a pair of gloves. The fireflies are coming out, dots of luminescence darting around you. You swing the axe down again, throat raw as you grunt, and then you add the broken logs to the growing stack. Sudden light footsteps announce the end of your alone time. 

"It's me," Blue greets kindly. 

You drop the axe, hands feeling stiff, and turn to face her with a breathless smile. "Hey. What are you doing out here?"

"Checking on you. Ghost went hard on you this morning, huh?" she says with a sigh. "I could hear you guys. You were a bit... loud. Made it hard to sleep."

"Not too hard. I'm… I'm good." 

If she is unconvinced, she doesn't comment on it. Rather, she hugs you. A warm one. You return the embrace before she pulls away.

"I also came because I wanted to invite you to a bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Well, with all your..." her eyes flicker to the pile of logs you've conjured over the past hour. "...special workouts, we have a lot of wood now. I told Ghost to make a big fire outside and we can cook dinner over it. It'll be fun, come on. Ghost is making tea, too."

Soon enough, your sore fingers are tingling, holding a warm, ceramic mug of tea. Ghost chucks another bundle of wood into the fire, spitting out smoke and embers, and sits on a tree stump while Blue takes the folding chair. Your hair is down, tucked behind your ears, and a patchwork quilt Blue grabbed from her room lays across your lap. The mug burns pleasantly against your lips when you take a sip, the herbal taste sliding down your throat. Whatever plants he used to make it work together perfectly. It reminds you of the tea your mom used to make when you were sick.

"Do you like it more well-done or is this okay?" Blue asks, meticulously spinning the skewered squirrel meat over the fire.

"That's good, thank you."

Ghost cooks their dinner, and the three of you eat and sip in a comforting silence. You avoid looking at him, opting for the starry sky above your head, where bold stars beam even brighter than the fireflies. It's quite nice. When you're done, you toss the bones into the fire and listen to them splinter.

Blue breaks the silence. "Would you rather be burned alive or be attacked by a bunch of squirrels with rabies?"

You take another sip of tea. "How many squirrels, exactly?"

She taps her chin. "One hundred."

"I think if it were fifty, I could handle them. One hundred, probably not. I'll choose being burned."

She makes a face. "That is a terrible death."

"Most deaths are terrible."

"Fair enough. Ghost?"

For the first time since this morning, you steal a glance. His elbows rest upon his splayed knees, and the orange flames reflect in his eyes as if they were twin black, mirrors. "I could handle the squirrels."

She snorts a laugh. "Even you can't survive rabies, though."

He shrugs. "Takes some time to kill you."

"Let's play a different game," you interject. "Maybe something a little less... morbid tonight."

"Like what?" Blue chimes. 

You shrug indifferently. "What other ones do you know?"

"Not that many. You tell us one, Twix."

"Well, I know one good one. You have to act something out and then we'll guess what it is. But you can't talk."

"Oh, that's easy."

"Try it, then," you nod at her.

She leaps up from the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Without hesitation, she puts on a stoic expression and begins shooting finger guns. Quiet laughter shakes your shoulders.

"Are you, um... Ghost?" you guess, making her throw her arms up.

"How did you guess so quickly?"

"It was a bit obvious."

"Not to me," Ghost murmurs. "Terrible impression, kid."

Across the fire, you glance at him again, and his eyes meet yours, reminding you of the events that took place and the words that you spat. Emotions pulse against your ribs, like a swarm of flickering fireflies, but you fail to catch and examine any of them. 

A tug on your arm ends the shared look. Tea splatters around the rim of your mug as Blue ushers you up. "Your turn now."

"Alright, alright."

You decide not to feel humiliated with both pairs of eyes on you. They've both seen much stranger things than you act out a squirrel, which must be a good impression because Ghost guesses it right away.

A sudden crack of lightning in the distance puts an end to the game before Ghost can have a turn, which you suspect he is pleased about. He puts out the fire just before clouds roll in, blocking out the stars, and a drizzle of rain begins. Back inside, you kick off your boots and sink to the sofa as Blue says goodnight. Once she’s in her room, Ghost pauses in the threshold of the hall and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow, even if it's raining.”

[touyasdoll]

Scream 2

this is a follow up to a fic I wrote last year for kinktober, but it’s not necessary to read that one before this one. it can stand alone <3

pairing: ghostface!Dabi x f!reader x ghostface!Hawks

warnings: DARK CONTENT, please be advised. CNC, dubcon, fear play, knife play, home invasion, threesome, double penetration in one hole, eiffel tower for lack of a better term, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), backshots, also Touya is 6'4 idc what the canon says, au where Hawks actually double crosses the HPSC bc a girl can dream, rough sex, not exactly hair pulling but hair grabbing, face sitting, thigh riding, size kink, dirty talk, biting, marking, overstimulation, mild degradation, praise, impact play (barely), nipple play, breeding, let me know if I missed any please <3

word count: 5.3k

notes: Happy Halloween! 👻🔪🖤

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Keigo asks as he narrows his golden irises at the white haired man before him on the rooftop. 

The sky is dark, especially in this part of the city. The few lights from the rundown buildings and buzzing street lamps provide the only meaningful illumination, as the moon is hidden behind a thick blanket of dark, heavy clouds that promise a storm is coming. 

“I’m sure. Don’t sweat it, feathers. Just stick to the plan and everything’ll be fine. Scout’s honor,” Touya replies, flashing a sardonic smile. 

“Your honor isn’t exactly worth much,” the hero scoffs. “But I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

Keigo’s dressed in his civilian clothes; an all black ensemble consisting of jeans, boots, and a well-fitting hoodie. He’d clearly heeded Touya’s instruction to dress for stealth, while the villain is still dressed in his stitched ensemble. 

“That’s a good little bird,” Touya says as he heads for the stairs. “Good luck. You might need it, hero.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, heaving an anxious sigh before he takes off into the cool night air.

You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night. It had been a successful Halloween. You and Touya were able to watch a few spooky movies and take turns passing out candy before he had to leave for whatever PLF business he’s up to tonight. 

He actually seemed to enjoy himself whenever it was his turn to answer the door. Maybe it was because he got a kick out of seeing the kids’ reactions to his Ghostface mask, but you have a feeling it was more about seeing your reaction to the mask. 

He hasn’t pulled it out since last Halloween, much to your disappointment. He just looks so good in it. You could even do without the theatrics. Just being able to ride him or get railed while he has that damn mask on would be enough.

You were hoping that he’d give you an encore tonight. He did use the code the two of you had established. You vividly remember him slowly lifting off the mask after closing the door on another round of trick-or-treaters and sauntering over to the couch with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Hey, doll. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He’d asked, the question so full of promise, just as it had been last year. 

But it was well past midnight now. He’d said that he might be back late tonight, which is usually how it goes when he’s working. Maybe you two could have your fun on another night, you suppose as you retreat to your bedroom. 

You change into one of Touya’s t-shirts before you slip beneath the covers and just before you rest your head, your phone rings. Seeing that it’s your boyfriend, you pick it right up. 

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, sitting up against the headboard. 

Unfortunately, you don’t hear a word that he says. What you do hear is much more terrifying. A loud, sudden thud reverberates throughout the house and you swear it must be coming from your kitchen, but you were just in there hardly a minute ago. Surely, you’d notice someone creeping around your house, right?

Then again, you hadn’t noticed last year. Maybe he was keeping up the tradition after all. Trying to pull the wool over your eyes again to give you a scare. Well, not this year. You know better. 

“Sorry, baby. You were breaking up,” you say calmly as you slip out of bed and creep into the hall. “What did you say?”

You’d play along with his little game, but you know that you have no reason to be truly afraid. He’s probably hiding behind a corner somewhere, watching you as you pad about the house in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear. The thought actually turns you on quite a bit. 

“I said I’m about to head home. Sorry things took so long, but I should be back soon. M’not far,” Touya says as he jingles his keys in his hand. 

“Okay. I was just about to turn in to bed, but I’ll wait up for you,” you say as you head into the kitchen to turn the light on. 

There’s a large duffel bag in the center of the floor and you can’t help but wonder what might be inside. Seems like he’s really trying to up the ante this time. Your insides start twisting with a heady mixture of both excitement and desire, but then you see a figure who seems too short to be your boyfriend step into the other entrance to the kitchen and your heart stops. 

“You don’t gotta wait up if you’re tired, doll,” Touya says on the other end of the phone, confirming that it’s definitely not him staring you down in that familiar Ghostface costume. 

“Babe,” you whisper, your voice trembling in fear as you take a step back and the masked intruder takes one with you. “S-someone’s in the house.”

“What?” Touya asks and you can hear the fear in his voice as well, which sends your blood pressure through the roof. “Doll, just stay hidden. I will be there as soon as I can. I’m on my way, okay? Where are you?”

“O-okay,” you respond meekly, your voice cracking as you continue to walk backwards. 

The intruder keeps at your pace, tilting his head to one side as he studies you. Your eyes are drawn to something glinting in the light as he reveals a blade from behind his robe. 

“Doll, where are you? Do they know you’re there?” Touya asks frantically as he fires up the car and takes off. 

You only faintly hear his voice and the tires skidding in the background of the call as you freeze up. Everything slows down for just a moment and then the adrenaline kicks in. 

You bolt for the front door, only to find that it’s locked from the outside somehow. You try again in vain to jiggle the handle, praying that maybe it’s just stuck, but it’s definitely fucking locked and that causes you to panic all over again. 

“Doll? Doll, answer me,” Touya yells loud enough for you to hear it even though you’ve since dropped your phone to your side. 

You don’t hear the stranger coming up behind you, but when you look over your shoulder, he’s right there. Close enough to kill you if he wanted. 

You scream in fright and drop the phone in your haste to bolt for the back door, but he jumps in your way. He’s on the smaller side, but he seems especially nimble. You aren’t sure you stand much of a chance getting away from him, but you have to try. 

You just have to last until Touya gets home. That’s what you keep telling yourself. A mantra that you repeat over and over in your mind as you scramble down the hall and into the first open door. 

The slam of the door knocks some sense back into you. You keep your hands pressed against it and take a look around the guest bedroom, eyeing the dresser nearby. It’s mostly empty and it’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing. 

A loud bang that sounds like a heavy fist thudding against the wood startles you and you let out a scream before you lurch towards the dresser to start sliding it across the floor. 

“Doll? Doll, where are you?” You hear Touya’s voice call out from down the hall. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Do you come out? Touya’s more than capable, but you don’t know what this intruder is capable of. What’s his quirk? What if it’s deadly?

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you listen for sounds of a struggle, but your fear of something happening to your boyfriend wins out over your fear of something happening to you. 

“Babe?” You call as you burst out of the door, frantically scanning the dimly lit house as you creep down the hall once more. 

The kitchen lights have been turned off and it’s quiet. It’s silent. Eerily so. Just when you feel like you might have made a mistake, the stranger turns the corner from the kitchen and holds a voice changer up to his mouth. 

“Yes, doll?” He says, tilting his head in a mocking fashion as he slowly stalks closer to you. 

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you’d definitely fucked up and you attempt to retreat back to the relative safety of the guest room, but you hear footsteps right behind you. He’s moving too fast. He covers twice the distance that you’re able to and throws himself across the doorway before lifting the device to his concealed mouth again. 

“Fooled ya,” he says in the familiar, raspy distorted voice of Ghostface. 

Tears well in your eyes as you turn tail and run straight for the backdoor. You aren’t thinking, just moving. Hurtling towards freedom, which you are hoping against hope you are able to find, but all hope is lost when you suddenly collide with another figure in the kitchen. 

You slam into their firm chest and tilt your head back to look up at the imposing new intruder, who is also dressed as the masked fictional killer.

“Fuck,” you mutter, gaping up at the taller of the two in horror as you turn on your heel, only to find the other one right behind you. 

Both of them begin closing in, sauntering towards you silently. All that you can hear is the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears as you back yourself up to the island. The shorter stranger looks between you and his companion in crime, who nods in response as your heart sinks into your stomach. 

“Please. Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper, shrinking against the cool marble countertop. 

The shorter of the two lifts the voice changer to his lips and uses his other hand to brandish the knife once more, using the blade to lift the hem of your shirt and press the flat of the cold steel blade to your stomach.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, gorgeous. We just wanna play,” he says as he leans in closer. 

“I thought you liked playin’ like this, doll?” The taller one asks as he tilts his head to one side. 

You whip your head towards him, because you could swear that’s your boyfriend’s voice, but you’ve already been tricked once tonight. He flashes his palms, revealing no voice changer in his hand. No knife either. He snaps his fingers together and a brilliant blue flame burns away the glove concealing his hand to reveal familiar scars and staples. 

“T-Touya?” You ask shakily, blinking in surprise. “Then who the fuck is..?”

Your heart rate finally starts to slow as you trail off and shake your head, looking at the other Ghostface in confusion. You reach out to rip the mask off and are stunned to find Keigo’s wilder than usual blonde hair and disarming golden gaze beneath the disguise. 

“Happy Halloween, doll,” Touya purrs as you stare at Keigo’s handsome smirk. 

“I-I don’t understand,” you say quietly, not wanting to assume that what you sincerely hope might happen is actually about to happen. 

“Sure ya do,” Touya continues, his large hands finding your hips to draw you closer and bring your back flush against his chest, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as Keigo sets the knife down on the counter without taking his hungry eyes off of you. “You remember us having this conversation, don’t you?”

Your brow furrows and you look away from the hero as you try to remember just what in the fuck Touya is on about when you recall him prompting you with an unusual question a few months ago.

You were sitting on the couch, curled up watching a movie. Sleep was beginning to tug at you, trying to beckon you to bed, but you were stubborn and insisted on staying up to see the end of the film, even though Touya was making it that much more difficult by rubbing his unnaturally warm hands along your back. 

“Say, if we were ever to have a threesome with one of our friends, who would you want it to be with?” He’d asked you seemingly out of the blue, but unknown to you, he’d been ruminating on how to top his Halloween escapade for some time already. 

“Hmm?” You ask as you tilt your head back to look at him and shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t exactly have a whole lot of friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I’d consider that a compliment,” he says, shrugging. “But seriously. Well, hypothetically, I guess. If ya had to pick one, who would it be? There’s plenty of hot people in the PLF.”

You hum curiously, taking a moment to think it over as you tuck your face back into his chest and nuzzle into him. 

“Keigo. He’s hot and I’d trust him,” you reply bluntly, a yawn escaping you a moment later. 

“Good choice. You’re right on both counts,” he murmurs, a plan already coming together in his mind. “That could be fun.”

“I didn’t think.. I mean–I–,” you balk, looking between them in disbelief. 

“I wasn’t bein’ hypothetical, gorgeous,” Touya says as he spins you around to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head back so that his blue eyes can bore into you while Keigo switches on the kitchen light. “So whaddya say?”

“We’re gonna need a clear answer before the real fun can begin,” Keigo says sensually as he steps close enough that you can feel his body heat behind you. 

“Yes,” you eek out, nodding your head as you try to wrap your brain around this unexpected turn of events. 

The bastard had gotten one over on you again after all, but it’s not like you can even stay mad about it, considering what’s in store for you.

“I hope you’re hydrated, doll,” Touya chuckles, fisting a hand into your hair to carefully tug your hair back and kiss you like his life depends on it. 

He sighs through his nose, groaning against your lips as his hand drops to your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze as he shifts his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is already. 

Keigo steps closer to press his toned chest against your back and tilts his head to start kissing along your neck as he grabs your waist and grinds against you from behind, revealing that he’s also sporting a raging hard on. 

You moan, working your tongue and your mouth against Touya as your hands explore his chest, searching for an opening in the black robe he’s wearing. 

“You wanna just cut to the chase already, doll?” The villain smirks, lighting his palm for just a second to reduce your scant clothing to ash. “I think we’ve been through enough foreplay and I’ve been waiting too damn long for this.”

He does the same to his clothing, pressing a hand to his chest and the other to Keigo’s. You feel another brief flash of tolerable heat before you’re hyper aware of the feeling of both of their bare bodies writhing against your own. 

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, tilting your head to one side as Keigo begins nipping at your sensitive pulse point, laving his tongue over it to soothe the subtle ache. 

You reach a hand back to work it into his hair and tug gently as you arch your back, grinding your ass against his stiff cock, which coaxes a gorgeous moan from him. You slip a hand between you and Touya as he captures your mouth again. Your fingers wrap around his length to guide the bead of precum along his shaft, drawing out a beautiful noise from him as well. 

Both of them suddenly pull away and you’re afraid that you’ve done something wrong until Keigo steps in front of you to grab your hips and effortlessly lift you up onto the kitchen island. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long, long time,” he says, smirking as he leans in to kiss you and parts your legs. 

Touya stands back, stroking himself as he watches Keigo crouch down between your thighs. The blonde keeps his eyes on yours as he trails kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, slowly and steadily working his way up to your glistening pussy. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he sets his sights between your legs as dives in, his tongue parting your folds before it spears inde of you. 

He certainly knows what he’s doing and it immediately drives you crazy. You keep yourself supported and sitting upright with one hand, so that you can watch him feast on your pussy while you keep a hand in his hair. He alternates between bathing you with his tongue and sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure, drawing moans and whimpers from you with ease. 

You look up to seek validation from Touya, almost feeling guilty for enjoying yourself so much, but he seems to be just as into it as you are. He nods, grinning wickedly as he comes closer. 

“You enjoyin’ yourself, doll?” He asks as he stops stroking himself to instead reach beneath Hawks’ chin and slip two fingers inside of you. 

“Y-yes!” You gasp, your eyes crossing as your head tips back. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“I know, gorgeous,” he purrs and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Go ahead and cum all over my friend’s face. He’s dying to taste it.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, sending your release gushing into Keigo’s mouth as your hips gyrate on top of the counter. The hero wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you still as he continues ravaging you with his tongue. He noisily cleans up your arousal, sending you into overdrive as you whine and beg for him to show you mercy when it just gets to be too much. 

He eventually lets you catch your breath, but when he stands up to wipe his chin, the look on Touya’s face tells you that you in for much worse if you thought that was too much. 

“S’my turn to taste that sweet pussy, gorgeous. C’mere,” he says, nodding towards the hall as he scoops you up off the counter. At least he doesnt expect you to walk after that. 

He carries you into the bedroom and switches the light on before he lays you down on the bed and lumbers over you. 

“First things first, clean up the mess you made,” Touya practically coos as he offers his slick fingers to you. 

You hold his gaze as you slowly take the digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and moaning quietly when you taste yourself on his skin. 

“Good girl,” Hawks praises you as he crawls onto the bed and Touya repositions, laying flat on his back. 

“You know my favorite number, doll,” he says as he delivers a swift smack to your behind, just enough to make you jump a little. “Assume the position.”

You look between him and Keigo curiously and do as you're told, straddling Touya’s face to wrap your hand around his cock and begin stroking, but before you can take a seat, he tuts his tongue. 

“I want your mouth on him, baby,” Touya says before he hooks his arms around you and forces you to sit. 

His mouth starts working wonders between your legs and you think you might just cum in record time after what Hawks had done to you, but then you remember that your mouth is needed elsewhere than just filling up the sticky air with filthy noises. 

You shift forward as Keigo comes closer, his swollen cock bobbing in front of your face. You lift your eyes to his and take great pleasure in watching the watch his head dips back and his Adam’s apple bobs when you take him into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep still as he lets you slowly bob along his length until you’re comfortably taking him in and out of his mouth while working your hand along his shaft. 

You keep your other hand wrapped around Touya’s cock, focusing on trying to please both of them while feeling like your brain is going to break thanks to what Touya’s doing beneath you. The moans that you drive from him send vibrations straight into your pussy that only drive you closer to the edge. 

You hold on for as long as you can, but it soon becomes to much again and you pull your mouth and hands away from both of them to sit up and support yourself with your hands on Touya’s thighs, gripping them tight. 

“C-can’t,” you practically sob, squeezing your eyes tight as you hang your head. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, you can,” Keigo coos as he reaches out to cup your breasts, massaging them with care before he starts tweaking your nipples, which sends you cascading into oblivion for the second time tonight. 

You nearly collapse, slumping forward as you’re overcome with pleasure, but Keigo catches you, loosely holding you in his arms as he rubs his hand along your back, which only heightens the sensations you’re feeling. 

You whimper in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he and Touya gently ease you off of the latter, so that Touya can sit up. 

“You’re doin’ so well, beautiful,” Hawks croons, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your lips. 

“Mm,” is the only response you can muster at the moment as you slowly come down from your high. 

“So well,” Touya praises, moving behind you to rest his hands on your hips as he kisses along your shoulder. “Such a good girl. Can you keep bein’ a good girl for us, gorgeous? If we give you what you really want? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, nodding your head as your eyes fall closed. “I’ll keep bein’ good. I’ll be so good.”

“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck before he places a chaste kiss to it. 

Keigo moves aside and then Touya presses a hand to your back, keeping the other firmly planted on your hip as he forces you onto all fours. He groans as he grinds himself against you, his cock gliding through your folds, nearly penetrating where you need him the most. 

“Please,” you whine softly, shaking your ass as you drop your hips back against him. 

“Since you asked so nice,” he purrs, smirking as he slips inside of you, letting you feel him enter you inch by glorious inch, his piercings sliding against your walls and making your eyes roll back. 

Keigo starts stroking himself as he watches Touya set a steady rhythm, fucking you just hard enough to make you gasp now and then as you fist your hands into the sheets and meet him thrust for thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the euphoric noises pouting from each and every one of you.

“Just gotta stretch you out a bit, gorgeous,” Touya pants, draping himself over you as he slows his pace. He reaches a hand around ti gently guide your face towards Keigo, who’s abs are drawn taut as he continues stroking himself, his eyes now fixed on your face. “You think you can take both of us? He’s not exactly small either, but I believe in you, doll.”

Your eyes widen, but you find yourself nodding. You aren’t sure if you can do it, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. 

“I want to,” you breathe out, nodding as you reach out towards Keigo to take over stroking his cock, tugging very gently to guide him closer as you smirk up at him. “We should get you nice and lubed up though, yeah?”

His eyebrows raise and he looks extremely pleased as he nods and cradles your head in the back of your hand as Touya straightens up. 

“So fucking good,” Touya marvels through grit teeth as he picks up the pace again. 

He lets you adjust to having Keigo in your mouth, but he starts pushing your further, driving into your hard enough to make you deep throat the hero, which makes both of them groan sinfully as they watch you swallow their cocks at either end. 

“Fuck,” Keigo sighs as he suddenly backs away. “Anymore of that and I’m gonna be done way too soon.”

“Let’s see if you’re ready then, doll,” Touya says, smirking as he pulls out and kneads the fat of your ass before giving it a light smack. “Lay down, Kei. You should her pussy for yourself first.”

Hawks lays on his back and Touya cups your cheek to guide your face towards his one, giving you a passionate kiss before he lets you go and nods towards the blonde. 

“Give him the ride of his life,” he says as he wraps his hand around his own cock. 

You climb on top of Keigo, leaning in to give him a kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, teasingly tracing it around the entrance of his mouth as you wrap your hand around his length. You suddenly sink down and he lets out a choked groan as he seizes your hips. 

You rest your hands on his chest, smirking with satisfaction as you start riding him, moving your hips slowly at first as your walls clench around him, hugging his cock tight. 

“You feel so good, Kei,” you say breathily. 

His eyes widen and for a moment, he feels like he might just cum and pass out right there. He lets you set the pace, watching you intently as you bounce up and down on his length. His hands glide over your body, exploring every inch of you that he can reach before they settle on your breasts. He massages them as gently as he had earlier before tweaking your nipples. 

He seems to get a better idea as he sits up and wraps his arms around you, grabbing your ass to start guiding your hips more forcefully while he takes your nipple into his mouth to suck. He expertly moves his tongue across the sensitive bud, flicking and swirling it around as he applies more pressure to your hips and encourages you to quicken your pace. 

“Just like that, doll,” Touya pants, struggling to stave of his own end as he senses yours coming. 

“Keigo,” you whimper, grasping onto his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back, your hips bucking as you come undone again. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans loudly, panting for breath as he continues fucking you through your end while fighting off his own. 

Touya pulls his hand away from his cock to take a few deep breaths, watching you contort with pleasure until you’re through the worst of it. He moves behind you and kisses along your shoulder again, sending delicious shivers down your spine. 

“You sure you wanna do this, doll?” He asks quietly, his tone sincere. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, nodding weakly nodding your head. 

“You don’t have to do any of the work this time, baby,” Keigo says as he runs his hands along yours arms and lays flat on his back. “Just let us make you feel good.”

You nod again and Touya rests a hand on your back to gently guide your forward so that you’re laying on top of Keigo before he situates himself behind you. 

“I’ll go slow,” he assures you as he first works one finger inside of you. Then another. 

You and Keigo both moan quietly, your shallow breaths mingling with one another’s as he drags his fingertips along your back. Touya starts slowly thrusting his fingers and Keigo slowly shifts his hips, working you open further as you rest your head on the blonde’s chest and submit to it. Once he’s confident that you’re able to take both of them, Touya slowly guides the head of his cock inside of you. 

“Shit,” he groans, continuing to gently bully himself inside. “It’s so fucking tight. So fucking good. You feel that, Kei?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Hawks sighs, holding perfectly still as his face twists with pleasure. “It’s so fucking good.”

You press your nails into Keigo’s biceps as you feel the two of them stretching you open and filling you up in a way that you never thought possible. They’re right. It is so. Fucking. Good. 

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly once Touya’s seated inside of you. “Please fuck me. Wanna feel both of you.”

“You’re gonna, baby,” Touya croons as he slowly draws his hips back and pushes inside of you again. 

The sensation is glorious. It’s mind numbing. It’s like the best drug you’ve ever felt and you know that you need more of it. 

He holds onto your hips and Keigo seizes your waist as they both begin to move in tandem, slowly at first, but working their way to a pace that has you at a loss for words. You couldn’t find any if you tried. None of you can apparently. 

The only noises to be heard are your bodies all grinding against each other. The lewd squelching of fluids between your forms as you trade sinful noises and panting breaths back and forth. Eventually, you do find one phrase, but just one. 

“Cum inside me, please. Please,” you whine, your voice pitching higher as you feel another orgasm building, this one threatening to tear you apart in the best way. “Cum i-inside.”

“We’re gonna breed you so fuckin’ good, doll,” Touya promises without missing a beat. “I promise.”

They seem to have mastered their movements. Together, the two of them drive you steadily towards your end whilst chasing their own. You snap first, of course, howling with pleasure as your writhe on top of them, your walls contracting impossibly tight around both of their cocks. 

Keigo cradles your head and kisses the top of it, whispering praises and Touya hunches forward to do the same, speaking them right into your ear as both of them keep driving themselves inside of you with unparalleled need. 

Keigo finishes next, his eyes snapping shut as he lets out a long, loud moan, his rhythm stuttering just as Touya finds his end. His head snaps up as he leans back and grips your hips with bruising force, delivering a few more good thrusts while letting out a primal groan before his thrusts become sloppy and begin to taper off as he lays himself across your back again. 

The three of you are left a sweaty, blissful mess on the bed. You’re so wonderfully full. So much so that you’re leaking all over both of them, but neither of them seem to care and neither do you. It’s as if the world has stopped for a minute and you’re all floating outside of time and space, suspended in this moment.

“So good for us,” Touya finally murmurs after who knows how long. He gently grabs your chin to guide your face towards his once more, a lazy smile on his lips as he captures yours in a decidedly sweet kiss. “Happy Halloween, doll.”

thank you for reading! I hope you have/had a safe & happy halloween!

[runningfrom2am]

no drinks, no pools, no molly. (r.c)

summary: five times rafe cameron tried to ask you out, and the one time it worked.

this is an About Time!au (that's is my fave movie of all time and if you haven't seen it i highly recommend it if you like laughing and sobbing at the same time)

tags/warnings: you might cringe (a real warning), soft(ish)!rafe, def fanon!rafe, swearing? fluff! underage drinking

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 4.6k (yikes)

recommended listening: about time theme, friday i'm in love

note: please please please if you haven't seen the movie at least give the theme a listen, while you read this or on its own but i promise it'll make your heart melt it's so adorable, i listened to it through most of the writing process and it made me want to cry sooo

Rafe Cameron has a flawless reputation. Tainted only by his better-than-thou attitude, as some perceive it- but always kind, always caring. Suspiciously so, to many, considering his semi-popularity, but that has never bothered him. He's a "stop and smell the roses" kind of guy, making him insufferable to some, but not to you.

It's not like you two are close friends, but he's had a seemingly hopeless crush on you for years at this point. He sees you almost every day at the country club in the summers, and lucky for him, you usually have two or sometimes three classes together at the academy on the mainland during the rest of the year. He thinks you're just about the most beautiful girl in the world- if he had to guess. The way the light reflects off your hair in the sun as you lay on a beach chair by the pool with a drink in your hand, making it look so soft and so shiny he's just dying to touch it, leaves him in awe every time.

After much encouragement from his sisters, he's decided it's time to act on this crush. After years, he still doesn't know if he can. Even if he has nothing to lose.

What everyone doesn't know about Rafe and his reputation, is that he has lived two lives. His dad told him when he was eighteen that by some miracle the men in his family could travel back in time, and his sisters could never know. All he had to do was simply stand in a dark, enclosed space and close his fists at his side- picturing the moment he wanted to go back to in his mind. Then, he would find himself there. He didn't believe it at first, believing his dad was pulling the wool over his eyes, but he tried it that night anyways- and was shocked to find himself in yesterday's clothes with his previous day's breakfast sitting on his desk waiting for him.

This changed everything, and he really never had anything to lose- but that didn't make the terrifying concept of talking to you any easier.

One:

"Go, Rafe! Go talk to her. Just be yourself." Sarah is pushing him in your direction and he stumbles a little on his feet, cheeks burning hot from nerves working in tandem with the heat of the hot summer day. He almost drops his drink, glaring at her over his shoulder as she waves for him to move, smiling excitedly. He supposes now is as good a time as any- you're alone, sitting next to the pool on a towel with a novel in your hands and a tequila sunrise at your side. He wonders if that's your favourite as he hesitantly walks up, repeatedly glancing back at his sister who's giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Hey, uh, Y/N?" Rafe says, clearing his throat as he stands over you, his shadow blocking the sunlight from your eyes as you lift your sunglasses.

"Hey, Rafe. How's it going?" You smile, settling your glasses in your hair.

"Oh, uh, pretty good," Rafe replies, and you nod with a smile, almost like you're waiting for him to continue. "Can I join you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

"Of course!" You grin, patting the empty seat.

"Sweet, cool- thanks..." He says, mostly to himself as he steps around you and between the chairs, going to sit down when he stubs his toe on the leg of the reclined sun chair.

"Ow, shit!" He hisses, instantly recoiling and in the process, dumping his drink all over you.

You gasp, quickly sitting up and shaking off your book, hoping it's not too damaged along with your white swimsuit that is now stained red with the grenadine in his drink.

"Oh, oh god- I'm so sorry, Y/N, I-" Rafe panics, the pain in his foot suddenly gone as he looks you over.

"It's fine, Rafe. It happens." You chuckle a little, but he can tell you're not pleased as you desperately shake your book.

"Uh, here, I'm so sorry-" He says again, grabbing a towel from the table next to you to try and help dry you off, but realizes too late that your drink is balanced on the edge of it and he spills it, once again onto your lap.

You fly up out of your seat, jumping a little at the cold and brushing the ice cubes off your lap. Now your bathing suit and book are most definitely ruined and you groan at the thought of having to repurchase your favourite book, which you've read no less than seven times now. "Shit.." You mumble, more to yourself.

"God I'm so sorry, I just-" Rafe is absolutely humiliated, he doesn't even know what to say as his cheeks are red hot from having most definitely blown any shot he's ever had with you. He gets up and quickly takes off towards the clubhouse, running out of the situation as fast as possible. You watch him in confusion, laughing a little as he leaves you awkwardly standing by the pool with a newly tie-dyed bathing suit.

"Ouch..." Wheezie grumbles, sipping on her own drink as he watches Rafe run away.

"Where is he going?" Sarah says, wincing a little as she looks at you as well, giving you a quick awkward wave since your eyes landed on his sisters, hoping for any answers.

"No clue, but after that trainwreck, I'd be running too." Her sister answers with a slight laugh.

When Rafe gets inside, he slows to a quick-paced walk since he knows he's not allowed to run inside. He's got a firm destination in mind- the broom closet in the locker room.

Two:

Rafe is standing on the back porch at one of Kelce's parties, admiring the way you hold your drink with both hands as you stand by the pool with some of your friends, talking over the music. They scare him, sure, but not as much as you do. Even though he knows you're not a mean person, at the same time he has to acknowledge that they, your friends, will be his harshest critics if he tries to make any moves on you.

"Dude, just go talk to her, this is ridiculous at this point," Topper says to him, nudging his shoulder. "It's hard to watch, honestly. Just, here, take this- then go talk to her."

His friend is holding a shot glass up to him, holding some nondescript clear liquid. "Liquid courage, man, what's the worst that could happen?"

Rafe nods, trying to hype himself up. He glances over your way again, sighing to himself at how pretty you look. How pretty you always look. He swallows his pride and takes the shot, shivering at the bitter taste and handing the glass back to Topper as he wipes his mouth, coughing in the process.

"Okay, now, go ask her out, the worst she can say is no." His friend is encouraging, but Rafe isn't worried about what you'll say, so much as what he'll do to embarrass himself this time. He's lucky he's the only one who remembers the country club incident that happened just a week prior.

Rafe smiles nervously at his friend and adjusts the collar of his shirt, walking down the stairs of the porch and heading in your direction. He stops halfway and abandons his half-finished drink on the stairs. He's not risking that again.

"Hey." Rafe clears his throat as he walks up to you and your friends, but it seems that no one heard him over the music. "Uh, hey, guys." He says again, slightly louder this time and grabbing their attention.

"Rafe! Hi." You smile, seemingly excited to see him and you quickly give him a hug. He's shocked, but hugs you back. "How are you? I haven't seen you around this week!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I've been pretty busy." He lies, smiling at you nervously. He tries to relax as he takes in your intoxicated state, knowing you're having fun, and not taking much seriously.

"Sarah said you've just been locked up at Tannyhill all week." Your friend laughs a little, making him blush.

"I mean, yeah I wasn't feeling well. Had a bad cold." He pats himself on the back for the quick save, but that is cut short as you take a subtle step back, smiling at him awkwardly and shifting your body language after having just hugged him. Shit, he knows how anxious you are about getting sick. "I mean, not bad, I think it was probably allergies. Nothing contagious, I don't think." He scrambles to backtrack.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." You say, carefully eyeing him up and down. God, now you must think he's gross. Great.

"Thanks." He smiles. "Uh, can I grab you another drink? I'm empty-handed; at Kelces parties that's a sin." Rafe chuckles, trying to change the subject as he notices your almost empty cup.

He's hoping to get you away from the watchful eye of your friends, and it seems to work as you smile and nod. "I'll be right back." You say to your friends, stepping back to squeeze past them as he joins your side. Now is his chance.

"So, uh, I was actually wondering if-"

"Rafe! Buddy!" He hears someone yelling at him excitedly, their tone getting louder as they approach quickly.

"Kelce, h-hey!" He says, just as his friend reaches his side, shoving into him as he suddenly comes to a stop at the edge of the pool. He wraps an arm around Rafe's shoulder and uses him to steady himself- but unfortunately, Rafe is the wrong person for this.

He stumbles back with the weight of another teenage boy against him, bumping into you and you lose your balance. "Oh, shit- Y/N, be careful." He laughs a little, turning to make sure you're okay, slamming his elbow into your side and pushing you into the water by accident. He didn't realize how close you were still standing to him.

Rafe freezes, his jaw-dropping as suddenly everyone in the vicinity is watching. "Oh, shit!" Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe again as he stands there slack-jawed. He looks briefly over to your friends who are crouched down at the edge of the pool now, shouting your name and ready to pull you out. You gasp as you come out of the water, frantically pushing your hair out of your face. Your makeup is ruined, and no doubt your hair as well. Rafe could tell you put time into how you would look tonight.

"Y/N! Oh god, I'm so sorry!" He says, finally snapping back to reality. He crouches down as well to try and help, but you look at him only briefly before swimming over to your friends.

"That's rough, bro." Kelce laughs quietly at Rafe, who's standing back up, defeated now. "Hope you weren't trying to hit that."

"Do you have a walk-in pantry?" Rafe quickly asks him.

Three:

No pool this time. That's for sure. They seem to be bad luck for Rafe, and this time, as he looks at the small gift bag he hid under the table of other gifts for you on your birthday, he knows he just has to get you alone to open it. Your friends were throwing you a big party at Molly's house, and invited everyone on your side of the island. It was big, after all, you were the kook princess- but Sarah seems next in line for the title.

It's proving to be difficult, though, since there are about fifty other kids here- and you're the star of the show. As always. This doesn't bother him, though, not at all. You deserve it, and he can't wait to be on the planning end of all your birthday parties for the rest of your lives.

"Y/N/N! Let's do presents, yeah? I can't wait for you to open mine." Molly smiles at her best friend, guiding her over to the firepit area next to the gift table. Rafe is all ears, confident with his hiding place as he makes his way over too, sitting a couple of seats down so you'd have room for your friends as well. Not everyone wanted to watch you open your gifts, that seemed like a childish thing, almost, so the party just continued around you.

"Rafe, how are you?" You asked him with a smile while your other friends sat down. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm good, yeah. Happy birthday, by the way." Rafe replies, fiddling with a stray thread on the hem of his shorts. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Of course! It wouldn't be a party without you." You giggle, about to speak again when Molly is thrusting a box in your lap, wrapped with pink paper and a glittery bow.

"Here, this one first- it's from Ava and Maya." She explains, even though you're already reading the attached tag. You nod, looking over to the two girls.

After about forty minutes of Rafe watching you open gift after gift, he's getting nervous. He didn't get you anything extravagant, only a small bracelet with a little note. He didn't want you to think he was crazy, or weird.

He looks over just as you help tuck away the last of the garbage into an empty bag, not wanting to leave a mess on your friend's lawn. He's sure that the whole time you were opening gifts, you didn't let a single piece of stray wrapping paper or tape hit the ground. You were so considerate.

"Hey, wait- Y/N/N, here's another one. I think this is it." Molly says, walking over and dropping the small bag into your hands.

No, no- god, you can't open this in front of so many people. Rafe's hands start to shake as he watches you helplessly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as you carefully pull out the small box. You smile softly as you turn it over in your hands, and maybe, Rafe thinks, it will be fine. Maybe you'll open it and then love it and read the card and nod at him with that beautiful smile he knows so well, and then he'll finally have his chance.

"Who's it from?" He's pulled quickly from his daydream as he watches you open the now unwrapped box, smiling wide and placing your hand over your chest. "That's beautiful, Y/N/N." Molly smiles, crouched next to her best friend as she stares over the delicate bracelet as well.

"It is..." You sigh softly, placing it back down gently in the box.

"Yeah, who is it from?" Molly asks again, taking the bag and digging out the card. Rafe wants to speak up but he can't, knowing that would incriminate himself further. He's frozen as she opens it, his hands getting clammy as she starts reading it out loud without scanning the intention of the letters first. 

"Dear Y/N." She smiles, confident as she continues reading and Rafe sinks back in his seat, pulling his shirt up to cover his nose. "Happy birthday to the most beautiful girl on the island. I wouldn't doubt it for a second if someone told me you were the most beautiful in all the world." She reads and you pout, blushing as you clutch your hands to your chest, all your friends going "aw" along with Molly, who's taken a pause in her reading to gush over how sweet that is. "Anyway, I'm hoping you'll let me take you out for dinner later this week, I'd really love to get to know you better." She continues, pausing a little before quietly reading off the final line. "Love always, Rafe..." She trails off, looking back over her shoulder at him.

Not everyone heard his name, but even her looking at him was enough to send everyone else watching the signal nonetheless. "Wait, Molls, why would you read that out, that was meant to be private, I think..." You whisper to her, guilt crossing your features as you look nervously between her and Rafe.

"Oh... oops." Molly replies, looking back at Rafe again apologetically. "Rafe, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine, uh, yeah it's cool. I, Uh, I've got to- yeah..." Rafe says, getting up quickly and heading for the door of the house.

"Rafe! Wait!" You call after him, handing the box and the note back to your friend and getting up to follow him quickly. You get inside just as you hear the bathroom door close, sighing a little to yourself. You'll wait here for him to come out so you can talk, and this will give you time to think over the best way to apologize.

As the light flickers off in the bathroom, Rafe knows he can't face you after that, quick to clench his fists at his sides and think of that morning- wishing that the whole thing never happened.

Four:

"How much do you know about Y/N?" Rafe asks his friends, watching you tee off on the hole ahead of them. The way your tennis skirt matches your headband makes his head honestly spin, you're so intentional with every outfit you wear- he thinks it's adorable. No one on the island dresses as well as you, in his opinion.

"What do you mean, like, how she is in bed? You'd have to ask her ex." Kelce laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

"No, obviously not." Rafe blushes. "Like, what kind of guys does she even like?"

"Why, you gonna ask her out?" Kelce laughs a little, stopping as he sees that Rafe is serious. "Oh- I mean, her ex was a total douchebag, so that's a good place to start. Apparently, she likes assholes."

Rafe nods a little, watching you drive off in the golf cart with your friends. He knows that so far trying to be himself has had a zero percent success rate, so maybe it's time to try a different approach. He can be more of the guy he is when he's alone with his friends, emulating a much more masculine, fuckboy vibe. The worst that could happen has already happened, twice.

On the last hole, with a few more drinks of what Topper called "liquid courage", he flattens the creases out of his jeans and jogs up to catch up with you. "Hey, ladies- can I borrow Y/N for a sec?" He asks your friends, not waiting for a response before continuing. "Thanks- 'preciate it."

He strides up to you as you and your friends look between each other in confusion. This isn't the Rafe you normally know, who you've grown to have a crush on. You take a few steps away with him, but not enough to be out of earshot from your friends, they obviously know about your secret feelings for the boy, and would love to listen in.

"Hey, so, uh," He stammers a little, quickly trying to get back on track with his attitude. But the way you're looking at him with your big, beautiful eyes as you smile at him expectantly, nervously almost, is throwing him off. He's never been this confident around you. "My friend really likes you, but I told him I'd ask you out first to see if you're worth it." He smirks, shifting his weight on his feet.

Your face falls- and you look hurt. He feels a pang in his chest. He did this to you, maybe Kelce's advice was bad after all. Your friends gasp, obviously hearing everything. "That is the rudest thing I have ever heard!" Your best friend, Molly, yells at him, quickly stomping over to you while you try and figure out what to say.

"Is this some sick prank?" Molly says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and looking at you closely as you can't fight back the tears.

"I- wait, wait, no! I- I'm sorry I just-" Rafe tries to defend, shaking his head quickly and holding his hands up to the two of you.

"Get out of here, you prick!" She says, accentuating her desires by throwing her drink in his face.

Rafe wipes the drink out of his eyes, turning quickly and making a break for his friends. He can't save this situation now- he just had to escape.

"That was unbelievable!" Your other friend says as you get back to the golf cart, sitting down and wiping your tears.

"What a fucking loser." Molly adds, shaking her head as she watches him run away.

Rafe is met with his friends laughing hysterically at him, taking in the sight of his soaked polo shirt up close. "Dude- what did you say to her?" Topper laughs and Rafe grumbles as he sits in the cart, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's just go back to the club." He mutters, that same broom closet calling his name yet again.

Five:

No drinks, no pools, and now, no Molly. Rafe figures his best move at this time is to just text you. He doesn't have your number, not yet, but he does have your Instagram- and the DM feature seems like his most viable option, at this point.

rafecameron: hey, how are you?

yourinstagram: i'm good!! how are you?

Rafe is surprised he gets a response back so quickly, sitting up straighter at the kitchen island, where he's sitting eating his lunch.

rafecameron: i'm good. enjoying the summer so far. the weather has been perfect for wakeboarding.

God, the weather? Could he bring up anything more boring? He scolds himself mentally as he sees that she's typing, his leg bouncing a mile a minute on the stool he's sitting cross-legged on, his bowl of cereal left forgotten in front of him.

yourinstagram: that's awesome :) i haven't got much surfing or wakeboarding in this summer yet unfortunately, just haven't thought about it much i guess

At least she's trying to make small talk, Rafe assumes that's a good sign. It's perfect, actually- he can offer to take you out boating, especially if you haven't had the chance yet.

rafecameron: i have the boat tomorrow if you're free? we could grab drinks or something at the club after

Rafe sends the message and quickly places his phone upside down on the counter, but he can't resist lifting it again as soon as his phone buzzes.

He furrows his brow as he's seen you sent a photo. He opens the text thread, blood draining from his face when he sees the screenshot of this exact conversation pop up along with a message.

yourinstagram: *photo* yourinstagram: OH MY GOD MOLLS- I THINK RAFE IS ASKING ME OUT???

Clearly, that wasn't meant for him- but that doesn't make it any easier to read. He has to assume that's a bad thing- that you're trying to figure out, with the help of your best friend, how to let him down easily.

Rafe groans and tosses his phone back onto the counter, leaving it to go up into his windowless walk-in closet and take back that he texted you at all.

Six:

At the annual bonfire, Rafe is just wandering around looking for someone to talk to. His friends are busy throwing random things into the flames, seeing how high they could make the fire go. He lost interest very quickly. He's feeling down on his luck, after his five poor attempts at getting a date with you, even if no one else knows about any of them- not even you. Its embarrassment not fading, despite the summer passing quickly. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, everything happens for a reason, surely. That doesn't mean he wouldn't really like a chance.

He's standing at the keg, pouring himself another beer when he sees you. You're off, a little in the distance all alone, walking along the shore and occasionally crouching down. He's confused for a moment as to what you're doing, but then he realizes- you're collecting seashells. Of course you are. It makes him smile a little to himself. Everyone around him is so concerned about getting drunk, high, whatever their vice is- but you just want to do your own thing.

He hands his cup off to a kid standing nearby who gratefully takes it, and starts his way down the sand to join you.

"Finding anything good?" He asks as he approaches you.

You're quick to stand up, turning to face him. "Oh, Rafe! Hey." You smile, looking down at your now long empty solo cup, filled almost to the brim with small seashells and pretty rocks. "Yeah, here." You hold out the one you just picked up, dropping it gently into his hand.

He cups the small shell in his hand and smiles, looking up at you again. "It's beautiful." He agrees. "Can I help?"

"Sure." You smile, nodding as you look up at him. The light from the distant bonfire falls right behind him, shining through his hair and his unbuttoned striped shirt. "I don't have a lot of room left, though." You show him the cup.

"Well, you're probably better at finding them than me. I can hardly see anything." Rafe chuckles, shrugging a little as the two of you continue down the beach, the music getting more and more quiet with every ten steps. You can only really hear the waves crashing beside you, despite the water being mostly calm.

You're both silent for a minute or two, scanning the ground for more shells. Rafe's mind is running a million miles a minute. Now's his shot, he's doing better than before- he hasn't offended you, spilled a drink on you, or pushed you into the ocean, everything is calm and there's no one around. Maybe he should make small talk first, bring it up later if you still want to talk to him by the end of the night.

"How's your-"

"So, I-"

You both start talking at the same time, making you both laugh. You count yourself lucky that he can't see how red your face is.

"You go first." Rafe insists, ready to listen to whatever you have to say. He could listen to you talk about anything, for hours; he's sure of it. He could never tire of the sound of your voice.

"Okay, well," You giggle, looking down and picking up a shell you catch a glimpse of in the moonlight. "I was going to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime. Go for coffee, or something like that."

Rafe stops walking, staring at you and fighting back smiling like a crazy person. You wanted to hang out with him? After all this time, after all the energy he's put into trying to ask you out, you would have said yes this whole time?

"Like... like a date?" He asks, mentally slapping his hand against his forehead and trying to remember where the nearest bathroom or closet might be.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want." You reply, turning to face him fully.

He looks over your features as you smile at him, how the ocean breeze has pushed your hair over one shoulder and how a few shorter strands fly around your face. He nods, mouth dry as he tries to find the words. "Yeah, yeah I would love that." He agrees. "I, uh, I was actually going to ask you the same thing." He says, looking down as he kicks away some sand.

"You were?" You giggle. God, the sound of your laugh alone makes his heart beat faster.

"I only tried about five times over the course of the summer, could never make it to actually talking to you, though." Rafe admits, laughing slightly.

"Why not? I don't scare you, do I?" You laugh, tilting your head at him and brushing some hair away from where it's gotten stuck to your lips in the wind.

"Not anymore." Rafe grins, continuing to talk past you and you turn with him, joining his side again as he turns the seashell you have him over in his palm. This time, he wants to relive this night for all the right reasons.

taglist: @bookishbabyyyyy @madelynie, @mutual-mendes, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @ragingsammie, @ietss

[p-artsypants]

The Pale Rider (15) Guilty Until Proven Innocent

The Isle of Berk is cursed. Like, extremely cursed. It has been for generations. The extent of the curse has been forgotten over time, but no descendants of the original village are able to leave the island, lest they suffer a gruesome fate. Three years ago, the Blacksmith invited the Pale Rider to town. He’s a creature that’s haunted the forest and childhood campfire stories for centuries. Now, he arrives every day at noon. One day, Astrid Hofferson decides to be brave and talk to him. He’s actually really nice…for an eldritch abomination. A Beauty and the Beast AU.

Ao3

The jail cell was cold, small, and damp. Astrid had a little cot lined with hay and a clean wool blanket (courtesy of Heather) to sleep on. Other than that, the cell was bare and dusty. 

Her cough was gone for now, but she was sure she’d fall ill with something else in this hovel. 

As far as she knew, these cells were used very rarely, if ever. Usually for a drunk that got too rowdy. They barely had any problems with crime, given the small size of the village. And what’s more, the building was inside the Berserker clan property, which had a wall around the perimeter. 

She was likely the first long term tenant in a while. 

Heather arrived again, a clean dress with her this time. “Here, I brought you something to wear. That night dress is pretty thin.” 

Astrid shivered as she took the dress. “Yeah, it is. I would have changed first if I knew I was going to be arrested. Keep watch, will you?” 

Heather nodded affirmatively and glanced out into the hall. There was a guard up the stairs by the front door, but he looked unbothered and nowhere close to coming to check on them. 

“Did Stormfly ever come looking for me?” 

“That skeleton dragon? Yes, it was stomping around town all morning. The guards spent hours trying to get it to leave. She just left maybe an hour ago, probably off to look for you elsewhere.” 

Astrid sighed, feeling awful. “She has no idea…” 

“It’s astonishing that a creature like that cares about you so much. You’re very lucky.” 

Astrid chuckled humorlessly. “Lucky? I’m the one in jail, remember?” 

“For now,” Heather assured. “We’ll get you out of here.” 

“What time is it?” 

“Almost noon. My father and Dagur have been in a heated argument since breakfast.” 

“Who’s winning?” 

“Couldn’t guess. I’m hoping it’s my father. He wasn’t too pleased about what Dagur did to your flower cart.” 

“So…Oswald’s feeling better?” 

“Mostly. He’s still weak, but his mind is sharp.” 

Astrid curled her fingers around the bars. “Has anyone heard from the Rider?” 

Heather shook her head. “No, not since last night. The guard has been up and down the beach looking for survivors of the invasion, but they’ve found nothing but bodies. Or…pieces of bodies.” She shivered. “But it was definitely the Outcasts, so no one is too torn up about it.” 

“He was hurt really bad when he left.” 

“I heard. Snotlout’s on his way up to talk to him. I have a feeling things are going to get real messy here soon.” 

“Heads up!” Called the guard from the door. 

Heather growled under her breath and crossed her arms. “Speaking of messy…” 

A moment later, Dagur arrived, looking absolutely chuffed. He strutted in, a big smile on his face. “Hello sister, what on earth are you doing here?” 

“I brought a clean dress for Astrid,” she said sharply. “This jail is freezing.” 

“Well, no matter,” he waved a hand at her. “As long as you don’t try to let her out, I won’t stop you from visiting. But…that might not be an issue for long anyways.” He leaned on the bars, attempting to look suave. “So, are you pleased with our accommodations?” 

Astrid said nothing, just glared at him. 

“Because if this is unpleasant, there’s plenty of room in my house. Servant? Wife? Which will it be?” 

“I’ll stay here, thanks,” she bit. 

Dagur frowned. “That can be arranged.” 

“I want to speak to your father.” 

“Oh, no no. That won’t be happening. Dad is still ill, and he’s not coming down to this drafty old pit. And you’re rather crafty, so you won’t be coming up to the house. No, we’ll speak through me.” 

“What about Heather? Can she be the liaison instead?” She asked, fruitlessly. 

“No. My sweet sister is sharp as a tack, but alas, is still a woman. And women have no place in business.” 

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Unless it’s their debt, right?” 

“Darling, you are so sassy! I love it!” 

Astrid spit in his face. 

Dagur recoiled and wiped the spit from his cheek. “…and rather rough around the edges. Somehow, I keep forgetting. But we can break that.” 

Astrid took a step back from the bars. 

“You need more time to consider. That’s fine. I’ve got plenty of time. You’re here now. No running away. No running to your spooky guardian. So I’ll just leave you in here for another day, and we’ll pick back up tomorrow.” 

“I hope you choke.” Astrid sneered. 

Dagur grinned. “Oh darling, by this time next week, it will be you who is choking…and you’ll enjoy it.” 

Astrid scoffed in disgust and continued to glare at him. 

He grabbed Heather’s arm. “Come along, sister. We have preparations to make!” 

“But—“ 

“I said come, woman!” He snarled, making Astrid jolt. He pulled Heather out of the jail behind him. 

Then she was alone. 

It was quiet. The cells were built down underground, so there was no wind whistling. No dripping, no nothing. Just silence. 

Astrid laid on the cot and wrapped up in the blanket. All she could do was sleep and think. 

Her stomach growled, having been refused breakfast, and now probably lunch. She just hoped her hunger wouldn’t drive her crazy. 

She daydreamed about the Rider, and him coming to her rescue. He and Toothless would kick down the door to the Berserker home and stab Dagur through with his fiery sword—

No, that wasn’t good enough. He’d slice off Dagur’s head with a single slash—

No, still not enough. He and Toothless would break down the door to the jail and free her first. He’d bend the bars with his bare hands and reach out a hand for her. Then they’d ride together to the Berserker house. He’d take out that rusty blade and hand it to her. 

“Would you like the honors?” 

And she’d get to stab Dagur in his dirty, shriveled heart. 

But all of this was just a daydream, because murdering Dagur would be a one way ticket to never returning to the village, ever. Maybe even execution. 

The day dragged on languidly. With only the light from a sconce on the wall. She fell asleep for an hour at a time, only to awake with a crick in her neck. 

It was only the first day of her imprisonment, and she was going crazy. 

Finally, Heather returned again. This time, she had a bowl of stew and a waterskin with her, as well as a book under her arm. 

Relief! 

“I brought you dinner,” she said, her voice soft and shy. “I can’t stay long though. And Dagur’s waiting at the top of the stairs.” 

“This is wonderful,” Astrid took the food and water. “I appreciate it.” 

Heather gave her a small smile, and then handed her the book. “Fishlegs sent this along. I’ll bring you another one later.” 

“Any word?” 

“Nothing,” Heather said, but she looked very meaningfully to the book. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Astrid. I hope you sleep well.” 

“Oh, okay…goodnight.” 

“Night!” And Heather left the jail quickly. Astrid could hear Dagur talking to her at the top of the stairs. 

Wildly curious, Astrid opened the book and found a letter just inside the cover. A black envelope with white ink.

— 

My dearest Astrid, 

I can’t apologize enough for abandoning you last night. If I had stayed, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Though, I hope it’s rather obvious why I left and you won’t hold it against me.

I am dealing with the condition of your debt. I will get it taken care of once and for all. I only ask that you forgive me for making you wait in the mean time.

You are mine, Astrid, and I will take care of you.

Your humble servant,

The Pale Rider

—

Astrid read the letter over and over a few times, her face flushing hotly and her heart swelling at the last line. 

What did he mean, she was his? His what? Guest? Friend? 

Dagur had once mentioned that whoever took her in would be responsible for her debt. Perhaps he meant responsibility then. He was charged with her care since she stayed with him. 

But daydreaming that he meant something else gave her an inappropriate thrill. 

Which was so completely unlike her. She hated the thought of being perceived as a possession. Snotlout and Dagur had certainly done their best over the years to stake a claim to her, and she fought it tooth and nail.

But for the Rider to make such a bold statement…

It felt different. 

But perhaps it was because she knew he didn’t mean it like other men had. He had said himself that he was unable to feel love. The way he signed his letters, ‘Your Humble Servant’ made it seem like he wasn’t staking a claim in her, rather having her stake a claim in him. 

It was rather exciting.

Astrid tried to read the book Fishlegs lent, but her mind kept wandering to the Rider. What on earth was he planning to do? He’d be attacked on sight when he came into town. Surely Dagur wouldn’t allow him into the Berserker house. 

Perhaps a fly over gold delivery? Just drop a bag of gold in the yard? 

With the events of her restless night, and the day drawing to a close, Astrid fell asleep, putting her utmost faith in her loyal friend. 

—

When Astrid awoke, she hoped it was morning, but there was really no way to tell. She couldn’t hear the rooster from here. Habits were habits, and she always woke up early, but these last two days had thrown everything off. 

She just wanted to go home. 

The last conversation she had with the Rider hadn’t been pleasant. He had fought with his parents, and she had been the one to cause it. He had gotten caught hiding secrets, which in retrospect, he was allowed to do. She had her own secrets. 

She just wanted to go home, apologize, and talk to him like normal. She wanted to check on his wounds from the raid, and she wanted to help him anyway that she could. 

She read his letter over again. 

She laid in bed for a while, not much else to do, before deciding to get up and stretch. She did a little work out in the cell, just having enough room to run in place and do push ups. 

Then her stomach growled, asking for breakfast. 

She sighed and sat back down on the bed. Who knew if she would get any breakfast? What if it was the middle of the night? 

She attempted to distract herself by opening her book and actually trying to read it. She had to twist awkwardly to get enough firelight to see, but eventually she got comfortable and let the words distract her from her hunger. 

A few hours later, she heard the door open and hurried footsteps. 

Heather appeared a moment later, with another bowl of food and another book. She didn’t say a word, shaking her head to stop her from asking questions. Then she handed over the book and left just as quickly as she had come. 

Astrid tore into the food as she placed the book on her cot and flipped the cover open. 

There was another letter, but on plain white paper this time. It was from Heather.

—

Astrid, 

I have to detail all that’s happened in a note because if I say anything, Dagur’s bound to go ballistic. I simply can’t believe what the Rider has done, it’s too ridiculous. 

As I told you yesterday, Snotlout went up the mountain to tell the Rider what happened to you. He returned with two letters; the one you got, and the other for my father! I had to be very careful not to get caught, but I got it to him. I don’t know the details of what was written, but whatever it was, it got my father to take your debt back from Dagur. He’s in charge of it again! I thought that would be the end of it, but just an hour ago, Toothless and the Rider’s black carriage rolled into town, with no driver on board. It stopped in front of our house and the door opened on its own. Dad willingly went inside without saying a word to anyone, and left town to go up the mountain.

For now, the guards watching the jail have been told to keep Dagur out and away from you, but he’s still circling and waiting for a chance to pounce. 

I’ll let you know what’s happened the moment I know, but for now, all we can do is wait. 

Heather

—

“Huh,” Astrid said aloud. She hadn’t expected the Rider to take the route of diplomacy, but perhaps it was for the best. Dagur wouldn’t be receiving his epic comeuppance that she had been dreaming about, but rarely in life do things get to be so satisfying. 

She read until dinner, finishing the first book and starting on the second. 

Heather came again, a smile on her face. 

“Anything?” Astrid grasped at the bars. 

Heather whispered her answer. “No, dad’s still gone. Dagur’s been going around and trying to form a mob to storm the castle.” 

“Oh gods…” She smacked her head. “That moron is going to get himself killed.” 

Heather just smiled further. “Snotlout’s been busy on his delivery route. Spitelout was given instructions from my father to ignore all commands from Dagur, so he’s trying to rile up the villagers on his own.” 

Astrid’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “The guards aren’t listening to him anymore?” 

“Nope! Not after that display the other night! And from what I’ve heard, Dagur’s only been able to assemble a handful of his friends. Apparently, most people feel indebted to the Rider for saving us from that Outcast raid.” 

Remember what I did for you tonight! Remember it! His painful scream echoed in her mind. 

The village owed him a great deal. And they could start with apologies. 

“How’s everyone else?” Astrid asked. “Is Dagur causing problems for our friends?” 

“He picked a fight with Snotlout,” Heather frowned, biting her lip. “But Snotlout took it like a true warrior and wielded his sword. He told Dagur, ‘this sword was returned to my family by the Pale Rider. He is at my back!’ Honestly, it was the coolest thing I’ve ever heard him say.” 

“Those weren’t his last words, were they?” 

Heather laughed. “No, but he certainly gave it a good shot. They fought, but Spitelout broke it up before it got ugly. I hope my father returns sooner than later, or Dagur may try again.” 

“Snotlout’s a good fighter.” 

“So is Dagur.” 

Astrid frowned hard. “They both fight dirty too. I hope you’re wrong about him trying again.” 

“I hope so too.” 

—-

Astrid reclined in her cot, the book angled toward the light so she could read. Her thoughts occasionally distracted her and she’d have to read the page over again. But she was wide awake and figured reading would be better than lying awake for gods knows how long. 

Her silent sentence was interrupted by the door up the stairs swinging open and shouting. 

Astrid got to her feet and went to the bars, head pressed to the side to see what the commotion was. 

Was the Rider here to finally claim her?

But instead, Spitelout and two other guards were dragging Dagur down the steps. 

“You can’t do this to me! I own this prison!” He snarled. 

“Your father owns this prison,” Spitelout snarled right back. “And regardless of who you are, we have laws in place to protect our people. I already told you that attacking my son again would get you arrested!” 

The cell across from her was unlocked and Dagur was shoved inside. 

“I would never attack someone for no reason! He was—he was being so aggravating! I hate gloating!” 

“Gloating is not a reason to swing a sword at someone.” 

“Is Snotlout alright?” Astrid asked. 

“Aye. Just a wee little cut. Won’t even need stitches.” 

“Then I should be allowed to go!” Dagur sneered. “I didn’t hurt him.” 

“But you tried to!” Spitelout spat back. “You’ll spend the night in jail and think about your actions, Dagur. You’re out of control. You think you’re the ultimate authority, but you aren’t.”

“But what about my father?” Dagur pressed, gripping his cell bars. “He’s still up the mountain with that–that creature! Is no one going to try to rescue him?!” 

“In case you missed it, the Rider stopped our entire village from being slaughtered and plundered by the Outcasts. I doubt he’s going to hurt your father.” 

Astrid realized then that Spitelout and the guards were leaving, leaving Dagur in the cell across from her. 

“Wait!” She called. “Can’t you move him?!” 

They either ignored her or didn’t hear as they left and shut the door behind them. 

“Well well well,” Dagur cooed. “Alone at last.” 

Astrid scoffed and stepped away from the bars and went back to her cot. At least there were two sets of bars between them. 

“Not how I ideally wanted to talk to you, but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” 

She held her book up to the light so she could pretend to read and ignore him. 

“Oh come now, you must be bored to tears. You haven’t had anyone to talk to in days.” 

“I have a good book though, and I’m invested, so shut up.” 

“I don’t have a book,” Dagur argued. “You want me to just sit here in the dark with nothing to do?” 

“Yes.” 

“Rude. And petty. Don’t you know I just wanted to take care of you? Don’t be so resentful like this, Astrid. It’s unbecoming for a woman of your status.” 

She didn’t respond. 

“So. You’re really committed to this petty grudge, huh?” 

That got her to turn over and look at him. “Petty grudge?”

“Yeah. Payback for trying to get you to marry me. I really don’t know any other reason why you’d subject yourself to the company of that demon.” 

She scoffed. “You really have no idea, do you?” She turned back over. “He’s my friend. My best friend, actually.” 

“You can’t love him. I’m sure not even his mother could love him.” 

“I’ve met his mother. She loves him very much.” She smirked. “And who says I can’t love him? What if I was ‘being properly bedded’ every night?” She turned his sick words around on him. 

“You can’t be that desperate.” 

“Not confirming or denying anything.” But if Dagur thought she was physically intimate with the Rider, it might repulse him enough to back off. 

“I don’t know how I feel about this information,” he whined. 

“Then maybe you should mind your own business.” 

“Brainwashed. You must be brainwashed!” 

“Nope. Unless you count giving someone a chance and slowly evolving your opinion of them into a positive light in response to their actions as brainwashing.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“The Rider is kind. He has done so much for me, I completely see past his appearance and past deeds.” 

“Ah! It was bribery then!” 

She groaned. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m impossible!? Astrid, you’re being manipulated by an evil being outside of time! Can’t you see that?!” 

She shot a glare over to him. “So what if I am?! Then I’m happy! If the Rider is truly as evil as you claim, then I will willingly give him my soul or whatever heinous deed he wishes, and you wanna know why?”

“Why?” Dagur breathed, looking beyond horrified. 

“Because he isn’t you.” 

It seemed like that took the wind out of his sails and he took a step back and collapsed onto his own cot. “You…hate me that much?”

“You threw me to the ground and punched me in the face. You tried to force a marriage on me while repossessing my childhood home and while my mother was dying. Gods, it’s like you aren’t even aware of how awful you are.” 

“I’m not awful, Astrid, you’re just being mind controlled.” 

“I’m done talking to you,” she snapped, turning back to her book.

“Please Astrid? Just hear me out.” 

She said nothing. Didn’t even incline her head to show she was listening. 

“When it all comes crashing down. When the truth comes out and he reveals the horrible truth, just come to me and I’ll save you. No questions asked.” 

She hummed, a laugh somewhere in her throat. “Like I said: I’d rather take whatever fate he has in store for me.” 

—-

Dagur talked at her for hours. He questioned her, pleaded with her, yelled at her, did whatever he could in an effort to get her to respond. 

But she never said a word. 

It was a good thing she had her back to him though, because her face would have given away how much his words affected her. Rage, sorrow, outrage, grief. The first few days of her imprisonment had been boring to the point of insanity, but now this felt like punishment. Dagur had an uncanny ability to tear at invisible wounds and pick at the sensitive insides. 

It felt like hours that he undated her with cruel words. She had no idea of time anymore. There was no window, no sunlight, just the damp darkness of the dungeon. 

Finally, finally there was a new sound. The door up the stairs opened and there were footfalls. 

“Finally!” Dagur sang. “Get me out of this hellhole!” 

But the guards and Spitelout came to her cell first. “Alright, Miss Hofferson. You’re free to go.” 

“I’m…free?” She could barely believe it. So casual, so nonchalant. She had been expecting a fight or jailbreak. He unlocked the cell and held open the door. 

“Yes ma’am. Oswald himself told us to turn you loose.” 

“But that’s not fair!” Dagur shouted. “She owes me a fortune!” 

“And you sir,” Spitelout turned to Dagur. “Are to be kept one more night in this cell.” 

“Whatever for?!” 

“Sounds like your father is quite upset with your behavior. I just do as asked.” Regardless, he unlocked Dagur’s cell, and the two guards with him stood at the ready, one holding a pair of manacles. “There’s a town meeting happening in the square. Oswald wants both of you present.” 

“I’ll go ahead then,” Astrid stated, quickly moving down the hall. No one tried to stop her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Dagur if he was free. 

She didn’t want to be near him period, but especially if there was a chance he could touch her. 

The guard at the front door held it open for her and gave her a small, apologetic smile. She just raised her eyebrows at him and left. 

She was done. Tired, hurt; emotionally and physically. Dagur’s words had wormed their way into her heart, and caused some doubts. 

She was scared, sad, and profoundly lonely. She missed the Rider. She’d spent almost every hour since moving into the castle with him, and now it was almost painful to be away. 

She missed his voice, his twisted sense of humor, his kindness, his gentleness, his laughter…

He hadn’t been normal the last day they were together. He was cold and unfamiliar. She wanted to break past all that and have her Rider back. 

She made her way out of the Berserker family courtyard, having been familiar with it from her childhood friendship with Heather, and made her way down to the village square. 

It was morning, as the sun was still rather low in the East. There was a bit of snow and frost on the ground. 

The village was gathered, all milling about on the dais of the square. She saw Fishlegs talking with his family, and likewise the Twins arguing with theirs. 

“Astrid!” She heard her name called among the countless voices.

Then the crowd was parting, and the Rider was there. He was moving towards her, his cloak fluttering as he walked. 

“Rider!” She chirped, and she found herself smiling so hard it hurt. 

He was rushing to her, embracing her, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around in his arms.

When he set her on the ground, he held her face, his hands cold, but soothingly familiar. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His voice was tender and filled with such concern it made her heart flip. 

“I’m fine,” she breathed. “Just tired. I want to go home.” 

“We will,” he assured, taking her hand. “But one last bit of business to get to.” He walked with her, pulling her along to the stairs in front of the Great Hall where Oswald and Heather were standing. 

“What’s going on?” She whispered. 

“Something good, I promise.” He stood next to Oswald, dwarfing the man. 

Oswald smiled at them both. “There you are, Astrid. Are you alright? I’m so sorry about what happened with Dagur.” 

She blinked a few times, reeling in confusion. “Um, yes, I’m fine.” Her feelings on the situation churned unpleasantly within her. On one hand, Oswald was sick and hadn’t been able to do anything. But on the other hand, ‘oops, sorry about that’ didn’t feel like it cut it. But she didn’t know how to ask for more.

“Good, glad to hear it.” Then he turned to the crowd and raised his hand. “Your attention please!” 

The crowd calmed down and turned to listen to Oswald. 

Astrid could see Dagur standing at the back with Spitelout, his hands shackled. He was glaring at the Pale Rider. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Oswald began. “I want to put these rumors to rest. Yes, I took a carriage up the mountain and had counsel with the Pale Rider.” 

The crowd began murmuring to each other, throwing out words like ‘doomed’ and ‘crazy’. 

“I know, I know. For so long, our village has cowered from the Rider and his castle. But as Astrid and Gobber have been trying to tell us, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Oswald took a black envelope out of his vest and held it up. “I received this invitation to speak to the Rider just a few days ago, and elected to go in light of his heroic deeds in saving us from the Outcasts. Folks, I’m here to tell you that I had a delightful time in that castle. I had a very fruitful conversion with not just the Pale Rider, but Chief Stoick the Vast, the chief of our people when they settled here 300 years ago.” 

“A ghost?!” Someone shouted. 

“No! No,” Oswald chuckled. “No, Stoick and his wife Valka, the parents to the Pale Rider, are alive and well, but cursed to be trapped within paintings up in the castle.” He gestured up the mountain. 

Astrid glanced up to the Rider to gauge how he was reacting to this information being shared to the town. 

He just slowly scanned the crowd, unreadable, but probably trying to see how everyone else was taking it. 

“Stoick is, and will continue to be, a wealth of knowledge whenever we need it. He and I discussed the leadership of this town. Back when the curse was inflicted and he was no longer able to perform as chief, his general of the Jorgenson clan stepped in as acting chief. From there, a council of elders was assembled, and they would elect a new acting chief when one passed away or resigned.” 

“So why don’t we still have this?” Mulch asked. 

“A very good question! According to records, there was something of a feud about a hundred years ago. Two acting chiefs were elected by the divided council. After that, the acting chief role and council disappeared from the records, and we’re not sure why. But I would like to make a motion to reinstate both.”   

“And who’s to be acting chief?!” Spitelout shouted from the back. 

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed, considering all that I’m responsible for in the town, but we’re not deciding that yet. First, I’d like to elect the council. The council would then be in charge of choosing an acting chief. They’ll also have a number of other responsibilities including the allocation of funds and passing laws. At this time, my family has been funding repairs from our own coffers, as well as paying the guard to enforce laws that may be outdated. As we all have seen during my illness, this is not working. By show of hands, who is in favor of reinstating the elder council?”

There was some hesitation at first, as the town wasn’t quite sure what to think, but slowly, hands began to raise until it was almost unanimous.

“Excellent. Now, for the first member, I’d like to nominate Gothi. All those in favor?” 

A majority of hands raised. 

“Any opposed?” 

None. 

Gothi came forward and stood by Oswald.

“Next I’d like to nominate Spitelout, as captain of the guard, he should have a say in the laws he’s enforcing. All those in favor?”

Again, a majority of hands.

“Any opposed?” 

None. 

“I accept!” Spitelout called from the back, once again. 

“Next, I’d like to nominate Gobber. He has shown great wisdom and I trust his judgement. All in favor?” 

Less hands raised. 

“All opposed?” 

None. 

“I was watching!” Gobber called, walking to the front. “I saw who abstained!”

“I have one more person I’d like to elect, but are there any other nominations?” Oswald asked. 

Over the next few minutes, Bucket, Mulch, and Silent Sven were nominated and voted in for council. 

“Then if there are no other nominations, I think it’s rather obvious who I’d like to nominate for the last seat: The Pale Rider.” 

“Nay!” Dagur shouted across the square. “Nay I say!” 

“You aren’t a horse, boy!” Oswald barked back. “But your disdain is noted. Now stop embarrassing your family.” He sighed, shaking his head. “As I was saying, I’d like to nominate the Rider. He is the oldest member of our village, and if this curse continues, he can make sure we don’t have an incident like they had a hundred years ago. This council and acting chief can endure until such a time that the rightful chief can return. All those in favor? This is a majority vote, not unanimous.” 

Less hands than there were for Gobber. 

“Any opposed?” 

Three hands went up. 

“I’ve noted your opposition, but the majority has it. Congratulations, lad.”   

Astrid heard the Pale Rider sigh, and he squeezed her hand. 

“Moving forward, the council will meet to elect a new acting chief. This leader will be announced in due time. If anyone has any information the council should take into consideration, please let them know. Now, one last final piece of business and you’ll all be free to go. Would you like to do the honors, Rider?” 

Astrid saw his shoulders bounce slightly, as apparently he hadn’t expected to speak. Nevertheless, he nodded to Oswald. He stood up straight and spoke clearly, “I’d like to make a resource known to all of you. When we came here 300 years ago, we came with everything that we had, including gold. The people that lived and died in this place before us likewise had a treasury that they left behind. This is the gold of Berk, of your ancestors. It is yours to borrow and use, just as you have with Oswald. It’s not mine or the castles, it’s yours. I’m just the steward, as my father was. If you have a debt with Oswald, we can work out transferring it to the Berk treasury instead.”

This made the crowd break out into murmurs again, but no one seemed hostile. 

“What are your interest rates?” Someone shouted. 

“Again, it’s not my gold. But I don’t have that number for you yet, nor should I be the one to set it. The council will discuss it. We will also figure out the best way to use this money for the town, perhaps in paying wages for the guards. Furthermore, the castle is open to anyone at any time.” Then he pointed a long boney finger to the back of the crowd. “Except for Dagur. For the way you have treated Astrid, the mistress of the castle, you will never be welcome.” 

“And not because he impaled you?” Astrid asked softly. 

“I didn’t want to go to your cursed hovel anyway!” Dagur shouted. “And no one else does either!”

“Regardless,” said the Rider. “My father and I are available to you as you see fit. Oswald?”

“Thank you, Rider. And that’s about the meat of it. Meeting adjourned!” 

Though they were dismissed, most people still milled about, talking about what had just happened. Those that were elected grouped up and started wandering up to the Great Hall. 

“Comin’ lad? We’re having our first council meetin’!” Gobber called. “Oh it’s so excitin’! I’ve never been on a council before!” 

“I’ll be there shortly, Gobber,” The Rider replied before turning to Astrid. “I know I promised we’d go home, but–” 

“It’s alright,” she smiled. Her grin was so big, she thought it might rip her cheeks. She was so proud! “Go up with the others, Council Member Rider!” 

He hummed fondly. Then he played with a lock of her hair by her face and said, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” She took his hand. “I’m so happy for you! Who knew all it took to get you into town was inviting Oswald up to the castle?” 

He shook his head. “That’s not it at all. It’s really thanks to you. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t introduced me to Heather and Snotlout. And Snotlout had to be fired from the guard to start his delivery service, and then the Outcasts had to attack so I could protect the town—” 

“I had nothing to do with that.” 

“But most of all…I wrote that letter for you. I wanted to get you out of jail, so I wrote to him to discuss your debt. All the rest of this came after.” 

“So, you transferred my debt to the treasury then? I don’t owe the Berserkers any money?” 

He sighed slightly. “No, you don’t. You don’t owe anyone anything. Your debt was paid once Dagur repossessed your house. And even then, that was more than he should have taken.” 

“So…that was all a trick?” 

“I’m afraid so, Astrid.” 

A flash of anger took her then, but she fought through it, knowing it was too late to do anything about it. “But…I’m free now, right?” 

He nodded. “Not that I want to put you back into debt, but you’re welcome to borrow some gold to buy a house of your own now. Or you can build one or—” 

She shook her head. “My home is the castle now…if you’ll continue to have me.” 

“I’d prefer if you stayed.” 

Gobber called from the stairs, “Oi! Stop flirtin’! We got work to do!” 

—

 Astrid slept well that night. She was in her comfortable bed, safe and warm and home. The Rider and her had a wonderful dinner and then evening together. He told her all the details of his meeting with Oswald and they stayed up late laughing about it. 

But then, she had a dream. A dark and vast but familiar landscape. A figure, just a glowing shape, began to appear before her. It faded in with a light blue glow, just like the morning glories on her wall. 

He was tall, handsome, and very muscular. He wore shoulder armor and had long hair in a braid. And by the gods did he look familiar, sort of like her father. 

“Hello?” She asked. 

“Hello again,” he smiled. 

“Again?” 

The smile faded. “As usual, you don’t remember. Well, that’s fine, I’ll tell you as many times as I have to until you do.” 

“What? Tell me what? Who are you?” 

“My name is Finn—“ 

She gasped. “Finn Hofferson!? Fearless Finn Hofferson?!” 

He grinned. “That’s right. Your ancestor. Now, Astrid, listen to me. Things are not what they seem.” 

“Obviously.” 

He shook his head. “The heroes and villains of this story are all backwards. The curse runs deeper than you could ever imagine, but you’re so damn close!” 

“You mean…Viggo’s not as innocent as they think, is he?” 

Finn shook his head. “No, he’s not. Astrid, I was the Rider’s best friend before the curse. He came to me and raised his concerns about Viggo. He didn’t trust him, and was frustrated that no one listened to him.” 

“So…what really happened?” 

Finn sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I wasn’t there! I didn’t see what happened, or what started it.” 

Astrid frowned. “But…the truth will come out once I end the curse, right?” 

“It should, I believe.” 

“Okay. Then what do I need to do? You said I’m close.” 

“You need to find his name. It’s somewhere in this castle.”

“His name? The Rider’s name? What, is it written down somewhere?” 

Finn grasped at his head, clearly frustrated, like he had answered this question a dozen times. “I don’t know! I don’t—” he took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. But I’m fairly certain that’s the key to all of this. Whatever is holding the curse is the Rider’s real name. It has to be. I gained a bunch of my true memories back when I died, all but the Rider’s name.” 

“...that makes sense. So you remembered that Viggo wasn’t an ally?” 

“To be honest Astrid, he was a very good actor. He and Ryker had everyone fooled, everyone but the Rider. He was always looking for the good in people, but had a feeling that Viggo was being dishonest. I bought Viggo’s lies initially, but once the Rider brought his concerns to me, I saw what he was talking about and changed my mind.” 

“I know you said you weren’t there when it happened, but can you remember anything?” 

Finn hung his head and exhaled slowly. His voice wavered a bit as he began, “the night before, we were hanging out at the forge. He told me that he figured out that Viggo was going to do…something the next morning. Some sort of ritual. Rider was going to interrupt it. He asked me to stay outside the castle and make sure no one from the village came in. I did as he asked, and waited, and there was this explosion of green fire that burst from the windows, and then this blanket of black fog that leaked out and went all over the island. I hesitated, given the Rider’s plan, but when I heard him screaming, I went in to help.” 

“You saw what Stoick and Valka saw.” 

“Aye. I saw my best friend, my brother, transform into a horrible monster. The chief and his wife were flung into paintings on the wall, and I was just…stuck there staring. He yelled at me. Told me to leave and never return.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I had a wife at that time, and a baby son. Part of me felt guilty that I couldn’t save him, and part of me was grateful that I wasn’t cursed as well. Though…I was still cursed, like all the ancestors, I just didn’t know it until I died.” 

“How did you…?” 

“Ryker. Viggo’s brother.”

Astrid frowned, trying to remember the story Valka had told her. Didn’t Ryker die first?

Finn continued, “I’m not completely sure, but I think he was dead when the curse happened. Viggo’s blood still cursed his body, and changed him.” 

“Into what?” She asked, afraid of the answer. 

“A wight. A monster. Really and truly a monster.” 

“And he’s…here in the castle?” She asked, small. 

“The Rider has contained him in the dungeon.” 

“Oh.” And now it made sense why he told her to never go looking for it. 

“After Ryker killed me, the Rider…killed Ryker. Again. It’s hard to explain, since Ryker was dead. But the Rider destroyed his body.”

“So—?”

“You know how the Rider can be mortally wounded and recover just fine? Ryker’s the same. The Rider reduces him to a smear of blood and given enough time, he reforms.” 

“When was the last time Rider destroyed him?”

Finn just winced. 

“Great.” 

“But I was the last victim of Ryker. He’s been contained ever since. Don’t be afraid.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Easier said than done.” 

“The Rider will protect you.” 

“Right, just…knowing that there’s a chance…” 

Finn gently reached out and took her arms, his touch feeling like a summer breeze. “You will end this curse before he becomes a problem, I’m sure of it.” 

She studied his hand on her arm. It was glowing blue, but transparent, just as she imagined a ghost would be. “Are you really here? Or is this a figment of my imagination?” 

He smiled sadly. “I’m really here.” 

“And he’s not the only one,” a new voice spoke, just behind her. 

Astrid whirled around in surprise, recognizing that voice immediately. It had been many years, but it was still so clear in her memory.

Her father looked the same as he had the last time she saw him. Transparent and glowing blue, but the rest was the same. He was smiling softly at her. 

“Daddy?” She whimpered, sorrow and grief at the tip of her tongue.

“Hi baby.” 

“What…? How…? Aren’t you supposed to be…?”

“In Valhalla with your mother? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? But no…because I’m a direct descendant of Finn Hofferson, and your mother’s family were not from Berk.”

The answer was fairly obvious then, but she just stood there gaping, trying to understand the awfulness she was presented with. 

Finn rested his arm over her shoulder. “We of the blood aren’t allowed to leave the island. Even after death.”    

“No…” 

“I’m afraid so. I’ve been here since I died, and we’ve all been trying to figure out how to undo this mess.”

“And you’re certain it’s his name?” 

“Nothing is certain. We’re not druids, and Viggo is very powerful, but it makes the most sense.” 

“Viggo is onto you,” her father said sternly. “Ever since you tried talking to him. He’s going to try to get you to leave the castle, but you have to stay.”

“He’ll have to kill me,” she said firmly. 

“He’ll try. A time will come when you will have to make a great personal sacrifice. It won’t be pleasant, but it’s the only way.” 

“What kind of—?”

“You’ll wake up soon,” Finn interrupted. “And then you’ll forget all of this. And then we’ll have this conversation again tomorrow.” 

“Why? Why do I forget?” 

“It’s just the kind of sleeper you are. You never remember your dreams, do you?” 

“No, but this is important!” 

“It is, so I’ll repeat it over and over until it sticks. I believe in you, Astrid Hofferson.” 

��

Chicken crowed down the hall, and Astrid was awake. She was well rested, warm, comfortable, and felt the safety she hadn’t while in that jail. 

But that dream. It was so real, so vivid…she remembered…

She remembered! 

Astrid sat up quickly, running through the conversation with Finn again. Parts of it were fuzzy, and she had a distinct feeling there was a dolphin flying around in the background at one point, but yes, she remembered! 

She had to find the Rider’s name. Whatever that meant. Maybe get him to remember on his own? Or perhaps it was written somewhere. She could ask the library and see if there was anything. 

Ugh, that stupid cough was back.

[ghostfish-cookie]

Welp guess who's back again. Simultaneously took longer, and shorter than intended, but I've got something in the works, but have something to show for it now at least!

It's an AU that is.. yet to have a name, but the basis is that all cookies have animal features! :]

With that in mind, here's the two designs I've got so far!

(Putting them under a cut so the post isn't too long, lol)

Pure Vanilla, a sheep with warm wool, and an equally warm smile. The king of the Vanilla kingdom, he's a gentle and calm healer, and though he has incredible expertise in magic of all kinds, retains healing and protection as his specialties. He really likes his space and his privacy, despite how friendly he is.

I'm not sure about the staff I gave him, but we'll see... It still has the same functionality as his usual orchid staff, just.. a couple more flowers that are much, much smaller. His usual outfit is the one on the right, which is basically his canon outfit, but with the addition of lotsa fluff, hehe! The left is an alternative outfit inspired somewhat by the Pastel Blue costume, because I love it a lot hehehe!

Shadow Milk Blueberry Milk, an eccentric and theatrical rabbit who lives in Pure Vanilla's dreams, quite literally. His situation is somewhat of a mystery to Pure Vanilla, but he knows the rabbit is rather lonely without him. Blueberry Milk is full of jokes, excitement and energy, making every night entertaining through a handmade stageplay, or an intriguing conversation. He's incredibly intelligent despite his chipper and lax attitude, which shows clearest in deeper conversations.

His design is very inspired by the statue seen in Episode 7, though also with definite use of Shadow Milk's current design, and referencing his sprites a little, especially for colors. He might get some design changes over time, mostly adding some details perhaps? His outfit feels a little too plain for him methinks... haveta think about it I suppose :3

In Pure Vanilla's dreams, he'd made a friend unlike any other, and they ended up becoming closer and closer to each other after years and years of talking each and every night. After all, Blueberry already knew Vanilla's deepest secret, so for once, there was nothing for him to hide... which I'll get into later. ;]

I will note, some other characters and their animals have been figured out but not too many. I have most of the other ancients, and some of the other beasts though!

(EDIT: SOME DETAILS LISTED BELOW HAVE BEEN RETCONNED ALREADY... SORRY ABOUT THAT.(When I have a masterpost, I'll be so powerful...))

Dark Cacao: Moose Golden Cheese: Bird(Wow, shocker.. still haven't figured out what kind yet though, because it will be more specific than 'bird') White Lily: Mantis(Possibly Orchid Mantis) Hollyberry: I'm trying to decide between Draconic or a Bear.. hmm...

Mystic Flour: Spider Burning Spice: Lion Honestly don't know enough about the other two beasts to decide for them quite yet methinks..

Here's some more loose ideas I have for other characters:

Werewolf is going to be a wolf, obviously. Cream Ferret, Fig, Kumiho and Cream Unicorn are along the same lines for obvious reasons. Crunchy Chip will also be a wolf most likely(unless I get a better idea(unlikely)) I think Rye should be either a cow or horse I would like the faeries to be bugs, specifically along the lines of butterflies and moths The mer cookies like Crimson Coral, Sorbet Shark, Frilled Jellyfish, Squid Ink, etc. probably will mostly remain how they are, and same with the dragons. Chili Pepper might be a raccoon, or a weasel because I think it'd be funny Strawberry I think is gonna be some kind of cat. Not sure about Wizard and Gingerbrave right now though

Anyway, I'll be back later, Fish out ✌️

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph! How are you doing? Not a customary ask, I really do want to know<33

Also could you provide me with some soft Johnlock smut? Like... very emotional, not too graphic, or it could be moderately graphic if it's still emotional but like... not too hard-core, very vanilla, just them desiring and pining and loving and worshipping each other because they can't even believe they get to have this and the moment is sacred and divine, yada yada yada you know the vibe.

I'm guessing you already probably have related list somewhere so you could just link it as well. Best wishes hun.

Hi Nonny!!

Doing alright, could be better but I'm trying my best!

Hmmmmm I can't think of anything EXACTLY, but I will use your ask as an excuse to publish another list!!! YAY!! Hopefully these please you! And as per usual, if anyone has something to suggest, please do!

EMOTIONAL LOVE MAKING Pt 3

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

Both Sides Now by Silvergirl (M, 14,724 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TEH / Reunion Fix-It, Bed Sharing, First Kiss / Time, Undercover John, Couple for a Case, Assassin Mary, Big Brother Mycroft, Norfolk Coast, Angry John, First Kiss, Worried Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Alternating POV, Infidelity, Meddling Mycroft, Emotional Love Making, Matchmaker Mycroft) – Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Sherlock Holmes Live by emilycare (E, 488,496 w., 73 Ch. || Theatre AU || Immersive Theatre, Romance, Slow Burn, Fake / Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Bisexual John, Demisexual Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Falling in Love, Eventual Case Fic, Soft Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Pining John) –  Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.

[writeforfandoms]

A Lonely Place - 3

Find my Soap masterlist

The last part of this fic, and my last entry for Soap It Up hosted by the amazing @glitterypirateduck

Let's see if you guys can find which prompt I used this chapter.

Discoveries are made, scarves are knit, and somehow things work out.

Warnings: Swearing, Feels, seriously more Feels, bit of anxiety, nameless characters, a familiar face shows up (if you read Gaz's zombie au fic).

Word count: 2.1k

Days passed easily with them - you helped out in the kitchen, learned how to chop firewood, and met several other members of the little community. 

It was very different from anything you'd experienced before. It really was a community - everybody knew everyone else. It was common to see at least one of the four protectors out and about. 

But you saw the most of Soap. Johnny, he offered, after a few weeks. He was funny, and kind of sweet, and very competent. 

He even showed you how to use the knife to protect yourself. 

It wasn't long until you were missing him when he was gone. Until you debated inviting yourself over to the house. 

But you always talked yourself out of it. 

The weather turned colder, making you glad for the heavy coat you'd picked up, and for the sweater you were finally almost done knitting. 

Somehow (you suspected the MacTavishes), word got out that you could knit. The first request came from a woman a little older than you with two children. 

“Could ye make scarves?” She asked, reaching out without looking to grab the younger of her two children. “Something warm.” 

You shrugged, absently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah, should be able to,” you agreed, looking between the two. “I've got enough yarn.” 

She grinned at you. “How long?”

You shrugged. “How soon do you need them? I can have them ready in a week, if you're in a rush.” 

“Perfect. What do ye want in return?”

That stumped you, and you shrugged again. “Not sure, really.” 

She harrumphed but nodded. “Ah'll bring ye somethin’ good,” she promised before she strode away, little ones in tow, leaving you blinking after her. 

Well. Guess you'd better get to work on those scarves. 

You pulled out all your remaining yarn, frowning down at the spread on your bed. You already had the yarn set aside to finish your sweater, thankfully. Which left you with a few skeins. Not a huge selection, but you'd make it work.

At least it all felt like wool, rather than synthetics. 

“Runnin’ out?”

You jumped at the question, not having heard Mrs. MacTavish coming. “Oh, uh, yeah. I suppose so.” You shrugged. 

“Hmm.” She leaned a bit to one side to look around you and clucked disapprovingly. But she was bustling off before you could ask, muttering to herself too fast for you to parse what she was saying. 

Leaving you bewildered, blinking after her. 

Then you shrugged and picked out one of the remaining skeins. Fortunately it had already been wound into a ball, so you didn't have to worry about that. 

Without any pattern books or your usual online resources, it would be pretty plain, but it would be a warm scarf at least. 

It was only two days later that Johnny and Gaz stopped by the house. You'd finished your chores already and had settled comfortably on the couch to try and finish up the first scarf. The door opening caught your attention, and you looked over just as the two tromped inside. 

“There ye are!” Johnny hopped over the back of the couch to drop down near you (though not on top of your yarn, thankfully). “Doin’ alright?” 

“Same as two days ago,” you agreed with a little laugh, shaking your head. “Which is when you last saw me.” 

Johnny pouted, exaggerated and over the top. “Ah cannae even check on my favorite knitter?” 

“I'm the only knitter,” you pointed out dryly, though you were trying to hide your amusement. 

“Tha's beside the point, bonnie.” Johnny grinned at you, reaching over to tug playfully at the end of the scarf. “And what's this, then?” 

“A scarf for one of the kids,” you answered, swatting at his hand but not trying very hard to hit him. “One of the moms asked for her two, so I guess I'm taking commissions now.” 

“Brilliant idea.” He sat up straighter, eyes bright. “Be a big help, too.” 

You snorted. “For these two kids, sure. I'll have enough yarn after that to maybe make a few hats, but that's it.”

He blinked, just once, and then nodded. “Ah see,” he murmured, something calculating in his gaze. “Good thing she asked first then, aye?” 

“I suppose,” you said slowly, eyeing him. You weren't sure you liked that look. “What brought you over, by the way?” 

“Oh, that.” He reclined again, arms spread along the back of the couch. “We'll be goin’ on a supply run. Wanted ta see if there's anything ye need.” 

You shook your head. “No, I've got things, I'm fine.” 

“Ye sure? We find all kinds ‘a things,” he wheedled, leaning a little closer to you. 

You just shrugged, because you couldn't think of anything you needed, except yarn. And that was a long shot. Better to ask for nothing, so you wouldn't be disappointed. “I'm okay.” 

Johnny looked like he wanted to argue more with you, but the back door opened and the other three came in. So he simply sighed through his nose and stood, offering you a hand up. 

Dinner was lively with the two additional people. It helped that Gaz and Johnny played off each other beautifully, keeping the entire table entertained. 

After dinner, Johnny pulled you out front with him while Gaz was still chatting with his parents. 

“Gotta be somethin’ you want,” Johnny wheedled, still holding your hand from when he'd pulled you out the door. You didn't mind, heart fluttering at the gentle press of his thumb against the back of your hand. 

Your lips twisted and you looked down at your linked hands. “It doesn't matter what I want.” 

“Course it does.” Johnny leaned closer, tugging your hand gently to pull you in closer. “Anythin’ ye want, promise ah'll find it for ye.” 

Your lips parted at the sincerity in those blue eyes, mouth going dry at the promise. 

But you didn't have a chance to respond. Gaz stepped out the door and nodded to you. 

That was enough for you to smile and pull back, shielding yourself again. “Stay safe,” you said instead of giving him anything else. “Come back bite-free or I'll be very upset.” 

Far from being deterred, Johnny's head tipped, gaze laser-focused on you. “That what ye want?” He asked softly but no less intense. 

“Yes.” You met his gaze and didn't back down this time, briefly squeezing his hand. 

He nodded decisively, a brilliant smile breaking like sunlight across his face. “See ye in a few days,” he promised. He darted forward to press a kiss to your cheek, warm and fleeting, before he walked away. Gaz grinned at you, eyes warm, before he jogged after Johnny. 

You pressed a hand to your cheek and tried to deny the warmth blossoming in your chest. 

It didn't work.

You spent the next five days thinking about him in between your work. Chopping wood? You wondered where Johnny was, how far they'd traveled. Knitting? You hoped they were staying safe and avoiding the infected as much as possible. 

You couldn't deny that you wanted him to come back safely. You wanted to see him. 

Even if you couldn't yet admit to yourself why.

The fifth night, someone new came over for dinner. She introduced herself as Kyle's partner. (It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize she meant Gaz.) 

The best part was that she brought fresh bread and cookies with her. The cookies were the best you'd tasted, and you told her as much. 

You walked her outside, shivering briefly at the chill in the air. 

“They're fine, you know.” 

“Hmm?” You blinked at her, half-turning to her. 

“I worried the first few times they went out, too.” Her smile was soft and a little embarrassed. “I still worry, honestly. But they take care of each other.”  

You nodded slowly, though you eyed her curiously. “Why are you telling me this?” 

She rolled her eyes at you. “Oh, come on. We both know you're worrying about Johnny.”

“I'm not–! I mean, not that much.” You floundered for a moment, looking away even as your heart stuttered in your chest. 

She clucked her tongue. “Honestly, you're not really fooling anyone,” she chided gently. “You care for him, we can see that much. And he's a good man, he deserves someone to fuss over him.” 

You huffed. “He's sweet,” you muttered, still looking away. “And he's a good friend.” 

She laughed, stepping forward and patting your shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that,” she said with a cheeky grin and a wink. “Get back inside before you freeze. I'll see you soon.” 

“Stay warm,” you replied, stuffing your hands in your pockets and watching her take the first few steps away. Only when you saw her flashlight beam moving steadily away did you go back inside. 

You tossed and turned all night, unable to stop thinking about your conversation with her. Were you really so transparent about your feelings? Your… regard?

Just thinking that made you feel too much like a Victorian novelist. You snorted and rolled over to your other side. 

Clearly, you were not as subtle as you thought. You smothered your groan in your pillow. It was fine. It would be fine. 

It had to be fine. 

You delivered the two completed scarves by midday the next day, taking more fresh bread back with you, with the promise of some kind of sausage to come. 

Idly, you kicked a rock down the dirt road, debating what else you could do. You could make a few more hats - probably one each for the MacTavishes, to make sure they stayed warm enough. Beyond that? You'd have to wait and see. 

“Bonnie!” The cheerful call yanked you from your thoughts, and you blinked a few times as your gaze focused on Johnny. Hole and hale and safe, standing in the doorway. He positively beamed at you as he jogged the distance to you. 

“You're back.” You blinked at him once more, your brain still rebooting a little, even as your heart fluttered and swooped. 

“Aye, safe n’ sound, as promised.” He stopped in front of you, taking one of your hands in his. “Are ye busy?”

“Right now? No.”

“Good.” Johnny wasted no time in pulling you along with him, ignoring your little yelp. You gave in, laughing a little, and let him tug you back to the other house. He chattered the entire walk, telling you about where they'd been, some of the things they'd seen. It was comforting, having him near, holding your hand, talking your ear off. 

You had a brief glimpse of the others in the kitchen, mugs on the table, supplies scattered around in various stages of packing or unpacking. But Johnny didn't give you time to do more than wave with your free hand before he was tugging you up the stairs. 

“Johnny,” you half-protested, laughing a little. “What are you doing?”

“Ye'll see.” He let go of you only to put a hand in front of you. “Closer yer eyes.”

“What?” You blinked at him, startled. 

“Eyes closed.” He wiggled his fingers at your face height. 

With a huff, you gave in, closing your eyes. The door clicked as it opened, and for a moment you stood with no indication of what was going on. 

“Gonna guide ye forward,” Johnny murmured just before one big hand landed on your shoulder, the other taking your hand again. You moved cautiously, hand holding tight to his, uncertain but willing to trust him. But he guided you true - you didn't so much as bump into anything. 

“Okay,” he murmured, keeping hold of your hand. “Open yer eyes.” 

You opened your eyes and gasped. The entire bed was covered in yarn. Skeins, balls, balled remnants, in all colors and sizes. It was more yarn than you'd seen in ages. “This is… incredible.”

“Ah found more, but Price wouldnae let me fill the car with yarn.” Johnny shrugged when you looked at him, his cheeks pink, even as he continued talking. “But is close enough we could get the rest another time, aye?” 

You stared at the yarn for a moment longer, and then turned your gaze to Johnny. He'd brought all of this back. For you. Just for you. 

You tugged your hand free, but only so you could cup his cheeks, cutting off his nervous rambling. You kissed him. 

Johnny made a noise, something startled that you thought of as a squeak. And then he was kissing you back, eager hands cupping the back of your head and your back, pulling you in closer. 

When the two of you parted, neither of you went far, both of your lips shiny.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, fingers scratching through the longer hairs at the back of his head. “For all of this.” 

Johnny just smiled, bright and besotted and incandescently happy, and kissed you again.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Weaponized | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Part Five

← Previous Chapter Next Chapter →

Words: ~3,100

Series Tags/Warnings: Violence, Trauma, No Hogwarts House, Post Hogwarts, Auror!Sebastian, Auror!MC, Modern AU, Female Reader Insert, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Forced Proximity, Ancient Magic, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Betrayal, Reconciliation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Divergent

Diagon Alley – London

The crowds were thinner this time of day, mostly shopkeepers and a handful of tourists dawdling over cauldron polish or enchanted teacups. The noise filled the street as you trailed just behind Sebastian, trying not to grind your teeth.

“Try to look less like you’re casing the place,” he muttered over his shoulder.

You didn’t answer. Just adjusted your gait, softened your shoulders, and lifted your chin enough to pass for someone who wasn’t currently rehearsing a dozen pieces of forged backstory while pretending to be married to a man who barely tolerated your existence.

Sebastian slowed in front of a storefront, its window display filled with sleek wool coats, enchanted scarves, and streetwear. “Here we are.”

You gave him a look. “I don’t have galleons for—”

“Ministry’s paying.”

You stepped inside after him, the chime of a bell overhead signaling your arrival. The shop was quiet, well-lit, and smelled faintly of cedar and old perfume. A clerk looked up but didn’t approach.

Sebastian turned toward a rack near the wall and started sifting through clothes, jaw tight.

“You got a style preference?” He asked.

You snorted. “No. Can’t remember the last time I wore something that wasn’t regulation.”

Sebastian glanced sideways at you. “Really?”

You shrugged. “Everything I own is approved by at least three layers of Ministry oversight.”

Sebastian looked at you for a moment—really looked. Then, blandly, he said. ““Color preference?”

You blinked at him. “Black.”

His eyes lingered on you for half a beat longer than necessary, expression unreadable. Then he exhaled through his nose, like he should’ve guessed, and turned toward the counter.

The clerk looked up as Sebastian approached. She was stylish, mid-forties maybe, with sleek hair and sharp red nails. Her gaze flicked briefly to you and immediately down your uniform.

Sebastian leaned one elbow on the counter and gestured loosely in your direction. “We need something sharp. Understated. And in black.”

Her brow arched but she nodded and swept out from behind the counter.

“Come with me,” she said crisply.

You and Sebastian followed her through a side aisle to a curtained-off fitting section, passing neat stacks of folded denim.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of measurements and assessments. She was efficient, her fingers quick as she worked the measuring tape around your waist, hips, shoulders.

And then came the part you’d been dreading.

“Arms up.”

You obeyed, and she slipped the measuring tape around your ribcage, then across your bust. She muttered something to herself then turned and pulled an underwire bra from the shelf, announcing your size aloud.

Behind you, Sebastian coughed. Loudly. You could feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating off him like heat off asphalt.

The shopkeeper, utterly unfazed, handed you the hanger. “This will sit smooth under the sweater. Far better support than the sports bra you’ve got on.”

You took it without a word, your face carefully neutral even as your ears burned.

You’d taken lives without flinching. Stormed ambush sites alone. Survived capture. But this? Your bra size announced in front of your lieutenant? Absolutely brutal.

Knockturn Alley – London

The shadows were deeper in Knockturn, even during the day. Narrow buildings leaned in on one another like old gossips, choking out the sun, and the alley always smelled vaguely of damp stone and rot.

Sebastian walked beside you and tried not to look your way again. 

Tried and failed.

The new clothes helped, but that was the problem. He’d seen you in uniform for weeks—helmet hair, combat boots, expression like a brick wall. But here, now? You didn’t look like a weapon. You looked like a woman.

Which was… not ideal.

You’d been dressed sleek black jeans paired with a cropped black sweater layered under a long coat with silver fastenings. Simple. Minimal. But shockingly attractive.

He clenched his jaw and focused ahead. He thought about the mission and the forged ID in his pocket. He thought about the smuggling syndicate he was chasing. Anything but the curve of your hip as it moved beside him or the way that sweater clung a little too well.

He cleared his throat and forced his eyes forward, but Garreth’s voice came unbidden into his head:

“She’s hot, though. If you get past the murderous energy.”

He’d said it after yet another training exercise where you’d taken out the entire squad before anyone could land a hit. Back then, Sebastian had rolled his eyes so hard it nearly gave him a migraine. But now? Now he couldn’t help it. Garreth would lose his goddamn mind if he saw you like this.

Not that it mattered. You still had the personality of a wet rag. 

Sebastian shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly as the two of you neared the antique shop.

You were walking half a step ahead now, scanning the street with that sharp, distant focus that always made you look like you were seeing things no one else could. That was the part that grounded him again, reminded him that this wasn’t some errand with someone he might actually like. This was you. The Warden. Cold, unreadable, effective to the point of discomfort.

The shop loomed; a narrow doorway between a boarded-up tobacconist and an old apothecary.

“Showtime,” he muttered.

You paused beside him, shifting closer. The distance between you shrank by degrees until your arm brushed his. You tilted your head toward him just slightly and murmured, “Ready, darling?”

It was said with just enough venom to curl his lip, but the smile he forced in return was smooth. Practiced. The smile of a man very much in love with his wife.

“Always, sweetheart.”

You slipped your hand into his. Warm, steady, and sure. 

The shop was dimly lit and smelled like incense, dust, and something metallic. A bell jingled faintly overhead as the door closed behind you, and the muffled din of Knockturn Alley faded to silence.

Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with everything from trinkets to dragonbone-handled knives. A glass case displayed a row of rusted amulets and old figurines. None of it was illegal, but it was damn close.

You let go of Sebastian’s hand, only to wrap an arm around his waist instead, slipping easily into the role. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel your fingers resting lightly at his hip, the weight of you pressed against his side as if this was second nature. Like you belonged there.

The front counter was empty.

Sebastian stepped forward, knocking once on the worn surface. “We’re here to see Malrin?”

A pause. Then a shuffle. A curtain parted behind the counter and a man emerged. Late fifties, stringy build, patchy beard, his eyes alert.

He gave you both a quick once-over, then focused on Sebastian. “You’re early.”

“Better than late,” Sebastian replied.

“...Upstairs. Bring the coin.”

Sebastian nodded, keeping his expression bored. He followed as Malrin turned and disappeared behind the curtain. You stayed close beside him, your fingers brushing his hip.

The upper room was small and windowless, lit by a cluster of floating sconces. The walls were lined with crates, rolled tapestries, and numerous chests.

Malrin gestured to the chairs across from him. “Sit.”

Sebastian dropped into the seat nearest the door, you beside him a second later. You angled your body toward him, one leg crossed over the other, hand dropping naturally onto his thigh. It was alarmingly convincing. He couldn’t look at you. If he did, he wasn’t sure what expression he’d be wearing.

Malrin glanced up.

“You two’ve been together long?”

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Six years,” you said, smiling softly at Sebastian.

Sebastian blinked. Six?

“Seven in December,” he added automatically, because apparently his mouth was faster than his brain.

Malrin grunted, still watching you carefully. “Married?”

You smiled, laying your head against Sebastian’s shoulder. He tensed for half a second—just half—then inhaled without meaning to.

Oh.

Whatever shampoo you used, it was definitely not Ministry-issued. It wasn’t the sterile, cleanser kind of scent he was used to from barracks and training halls. This was darker. Earthy. Like petrichor laced with crushed sage, and a hint of something warm, like amber—and suddenly he couldn’t remember a single word Malrin had just said.

You looked up at him then, lashes low, smile soft enough to make the lie feel real. “Four years next month.”

Malrin stared for another few seconds, as if trying to sniff out the lie. Meanwhile, Sebastian was very much trying not to look at you. Or breathe too deeply. Or shift under the weight of your head on his shoulder and your hand still resting like it belonged on his thigh.

“So, you’re American?” Malrin asked.

Your smile didn’t falter. “Canadian.”

He snorted. “Close enough.”

You tilted your head. “Not really.”

Malrin chuckled at that, but there was a flicker of interest in his expression now. “So what’s someone from the great white north doing in London, married to a bloke like him?” He nodded toward Sebastian.

You laughed softly. “Fell for the accent.”

Sebastian let out a low huff, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. “She thinks it makes me sound clever.”

Malrin raised an eyebrow. “And are you?”

“No,” you answered, deadpan.

Malrin barked a laugh, relaxing into his chair. Sebastian took the opening. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

 “So, we heard you had something worth our time.”

Malrin grinned at Sebastian’s question, but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he raised a hand and gave a short, sharp whistle.

Two more men stepped into the room a moment later. Both were armed, both clearly muscle. They positioned themselves just inside the room, one leaning against the wall, the other taking up a spot by the staircase you’d come up.

“Precaution,” the larger one said with a shrug, as if reading Sebastian’s glance. “Standard for new clients.”

Sebastian offered a half-smile. “Can’t blame you, times being what they are.”

Malrin produced a small, reinforced case. He set it on the table between you with a solid thunk and unlatched it. Inside were several items: small vials of thick, gleaming potion, a cracked scrying stone, and what looked to be a blood-infused knife.

Sebastian’s brows lifted. “That’s more than we expected.”

Malrin grinned, folding his arms. “Didn’t come cheap. All genuine. Rare inventory.”

Sebastian exhaled like he was impressed, tapping a knuckle against the case. “Mind if we ask a few questions? Not doubting your credibility, just…”

Malrin nodded. “Ask.”

Sebastian kept his voice even. “How recently did this come in? And where from, roughly? We’ve been burned before. Ritual junk dressed up like real arcana.”

Malrin gave a loose shrug. “Came in two days ago. Not local. Midlands, maybe. But the source was clean. Paid extra to make sure.”

Sebastian nodded and kept the conversation going, threading more questions into the natural flow of negotiation. Tone, posture, all of it was finely tuned to probe without setting off alarms while Malrin leaked intel.

But then he noticed it.

You stilled, just for a moment. It was subtle, practically imperceptible to anyone else. But Sebastian felt how your hand stiffened against his leg.

What was that about?

You swallowed hard.

The man by the stairs leaned just slightly against the wall, arms folded. He looked like any other hired wand: combat-trained, alert, unimpressed.

Except for the wand holster.

It wasn’t visible at first. Just a flash beneath his coat when he shifted his stance. But you saw it, and it bore the understated, vertical stitching of active-service British gear.

The realization sent a cold ripple down your spine, but you forced your jaw to relax. Forced your fingers to keep their slow, idle rhythm where they rested against Sebastian’s thigh, like nothing had shifted, like the room hadn’t just changed shape around you. Because if you reacted, there was a good chance you wouldn’t walk out of here at all.

You plastered on a smile then interjected in the conversation, every inch the doting wife indulging her husband’s cautious scrutiny. “He’s being sweet,” you said to Malrin. “Wants to make sure we don’t walk away with a cursed doorstop like last time.”

Malrin waved a hand. “Relax. Everything here’s been vetted. If you find anything off, you’ve got a three-day guarantee. That’s as generous as it gets in Knockturn.”

A few more pleasantries followed, some teasing sarcasm from Sebastian, a coy question or two from you, and then the deal was done. The galleons exchanged hands. The illegal merchandise vanished into the satchel slung over Sebastian’s shoulder.

By the time you stepped back out into the alley, the sunlight had dimmed even further, swallowed by thick gray clouds overhead.

Your hand slid back into his and you walked like lovers might, just in case you were being tailed.

If you weren’t so rattled by what you’d seen, you might’ve been more disturbed by how nice his hand felt in yours. Warm. Steady. Calloused in all the right places. You might’ve noticed how close he kept you as you moved through the crowded streets, how natural it felt to match his stride, how easy it was to lean into the warmth of him when someone brushed too close.

You might’ve even noticed how good he smelled, like cedarwood with a hint of something cleaner beneath, like sun-warmed laundry. And Merlin help you, if you hadn’t been so shaken, you might’ve actually noticed how handsome he looked. How his lashes looked darker in the overcast light and how the sharp edges of his jaw and shoulders softened just enough to make him dangerous in an entirely different way.

But you weren’t thinking about any of that.

All you could think about was that holster. British-issue, active service, and in the hands of a man working for a black-market smuggler.

The implications were damning. 

You hardly noticed you were two streets over from Knockturn when suddenly Sebastian let go of your hand. Just a quiet release, nothing dramatic, but it pulled you back like he’d snapped his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked once, disoriented by the sudden loss of contact.

He glanced around, surveying the thinning crowd before shooting you a sidelong look.

“You gonna tell me what that was?” 

You knew he was referring to the moment you froze back there. And you considered telling him. You really did. You could just say it out loud: That man was carrying a Ministry-issue wand holster. He wasn’t just muscle. He was one of yours.

But if you were wrong? He’d humiliate you. Shut you down, mock your paranoia, maybe even report the slip. You’d lose what little ground you’d managed to gain with him, if there was any to begin with.

And if you were right? If you were right, and he was loyal to whatever corrupt part of the Ministry you were dealing with…

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just got distracted.”

A pause.

Then, beside you, Sebastian clicked his tongue softly. “Huh.”

You didn’t look at him. He didn’t press.

Together, you walked back to the Floo in silence. And if his fingers brushed yours one more time before the building came into view, you said nothing about that either.

Auror Division Headquarters, Private Quarters – London

Moon was waiting when you returned to your room.

She blinked up at you from the foot of the bed, her tail flicking lazily. One soft meow, barely audible, before she stretched and padded over. You dropped to your knees as she rubbed against you.

“Hey, girl,” you murmured. “Miss me?”

Moon answered by purring against your collar.

This was the only place you let your guard down, and she was the only soul who didn’t ask anything of you. You sat there in the stillness for a while, the buzz of adrenaline finally ebbing, replaced by something colder. Something more calculating.

You couldn’t trust Sebastian. You weren’t sure there was anyone in the entire base you could trust. You’d need to rely on someone outside the British Ministry entirely if you wanted to figure out what the hell was going on.

You crossed to your desk and pulled open the drawer, retrieving your journal. Flipping to a blank page near the center, you reached for your stationery box and lifted the false bottom. Nestled inside was a small vial of charmed ink—indistinguishable from any other until it met the page, where it would vanish from sight. Only those with the proper Canadian Ministry charm could read it.

Moon jumped up onto the desk and settled beside you, her tail curling over her paws as you dipped your quill.

To: Col. D. Rousseau – Northern Manitoba, Department of Magical Enforcement Need confirmation: - Any missing British wand holsters last 12–18 mo - Recent unexplained discharges/transfers of staff - Existence of counterfeit holsters on black market - Info on illegal artifact handling in ministry Gut says not leak but fracture - something inside. Don’t flag upstairs. Eyes everywhere. -Warden 137

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Banner Credit

[sincerely-sofie]

Outfit swap!

(Shortly before the above:)

[ohbo-ohno]

A Helen of Troy-Esque Au where Soap is chosen by the gods to decide xyz thing and picks Ghost who promises to give him the most beautiful woman in the world and he ends up picking Reader. And now both of you are Ghost’s pets because he decides he likes you too much to let you go. :) or a Hephaestus/Aphrodite-esque au with horribly disfigured Soap who wants nothing more then the beautiful goddess who smiles at him from across the room. And one day he begs you to come to his forge, says he has a surprise for you, a beautiful golden throne he spent days making. Gold and iron and silver roses decorating it all around with the softest looking bear skin filled with cotton and wool to act as a cushion. Except when you sit on it and try to relax, suddenly cuffs come up from arms and keep you trapped. And they’re so strong threat no matter your kicking and squealing, you can’t get out. Can only cry as Soap licks up your tears, palming himself with one hand as the other gropes your tits. Guess Ares!Ghost will just have to come save you! (And end up joining in the fun) - 🕸

ok wait wait i see your aphrodite!reader idea but i think you've got it switched. i feel like ghost as hephaestus and soap as ares makes more sense

ghost, who's so ugly that he wears a fucking mask because he's tired of the pity he gets from the other gods. ghost, who's married to the goddamn goddess of beauty because of some sick cosmic joke (aka idk who hera would be)

consider: ghost who's never even met his wife. he has an image of her in his head already and he just can't imagine she's anything but a vapid, shallow bitch who wouldn't give him the time of day. giving incel vibes tbh

and reader, the goddess of love who's husband couldn't have less interest in her. hurts like hell, but eventually she decides Fuck That guy and finds her own love, with the charming-but-cocky god of war. #PowerCouple

and soap is like oh fuck yeah, a beautiful woman wants to be his and he gets to fuck with ghost at the same time? oh buddy things couldn't be going better for him. so he makes sure he's seen constantly with his pretty goddess, starts wars for her and fights in her honor, does absolutely everything in his power to make sure ghost sees that soap's the one with his wife on his arm

this could go a few ways but im thinkinggggg maybe ghost decided Oh Hell No. he may have always had a bit of a thing for that punk god of war, but he cannot let Johnny flaunt his wife all over olympus. so he starts a very slow (and frankly awkward) courting process with his own wife

and poor reader, she's so conflicted :( she's definitely in love with johnny, but the more her husband pursues her the more she feels for him, the more she really wishes their marriage was real

one day he lures her back to the forge with promises of gifts and, just like you said, locks her to his throne :(

hours, maybe even days later johnny storms into the forge, determined to drag his pretty pretty girl away from the asshole god of fire, only to find her naked and slick, tied to a stunning throne, with ghost knelt between her knees

and she cries out - in ecstasy or relief? - when she sees him, begs - for help or for more?

and she's truly convinced that johnny will help her, will tear her brute of a husband away so she can storm up to olympus and demand retribution

but instead he just moves forward and slowly sinks to his knees beside ghost, eyes locked on her cunt

(it can't be the worst thing to share, can it?)

[thevioletcaptain]

Day three of the @spnficrecfest was in fact... several days ago. Apparently I'm destined to run late throughout this entire thing, but better late than never, I guess! Here are five of my favorite Dean/Cas fics over 50k words. Some of these would also fit into other lists, but I'm going to try not to double up.

Clean Air by anactoria Explicit | 121k | 💨

Set in a post-apocalyptic future where what's left of humanity lives deep underground, this is the kind of atmospheric sci-fi that I'm always thrilled to find in fic. This AU was written for the DCBB in 2014, and is a fusion with Hugh Howey's Wool trilogy, which has since been adapted into the Apple series Silo. I'm yet to dig into either the books or the show, so anactoria's fic is still the only version of this particular universe that I'm familiar with, and it's stuck with me for a decade.

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel Explicit | 146k | ⛸️

Listen. If you haven't already read THEE professional hockey player enemies-to-lovers Dean/Cas masterpiece that is this fic, I don't know what to tell you. Go read it. That's all.

PWP: Pie Without Plot by MajorEnglishEsquire & orange_crushed Mature | 82k | 👨‍🍳

Sometimes, you'll read a fic that so perfectly and sensually describes the process of baking that you'll think about it every time you so much as see focaccia for the next eleven years. This is a canonverse fic diverging from season eight, in which Dean goes "undercover" as a . And I'm really not joking about the focaccia thing -- literally every single time. For almost eleven years.

What It Means to Be Alive by LeandraLocke Explicit | 132k | 🏖️

This post-canon fic sees Dean taking a road trip, healing from a lifetime of trauma, grieving for Cas, and figuring some things out through an unexpected relationship with a man he meets in Mexico... and then Cas comes back to life. Definitely one to check out if you've never read it before!

some blueberry pie life by soft_pine Mature | 172k (so far) | 🥧

A sprawling, achy, wonderful character study that fits into all the gaps of canon. I adore the way Pine writes, and this fic is a forever fave. Yes it's a WIP, but as Pine describes it, it's really a bunch of oneshots in a trenchcoat, so don't let that stop you.

Check under the cut for links to all of the rec lists I make for this fest! I'll update with new links as I post them :)

Day One - Purgatory Era Day Two - Dean's Canon Kinks Day Three - Long Fics Day Four - Alternate Universes Day Five - Rare Pairs Day Six - Case Fics Day Seven - Tropes Day Eight - Gen Fics Day Nine - Vintage Fics Day Ten - Coda Fics Day Eleven - Mystery List

[rookfeatherrambles]

So i actually did try writing this at one point! Here's the draft I found. Liminal season because no one is dead and everyone is fine (I assume the Unknowing was stopped without a hitch as well :) Anyway, here ya go! MORE CURSED CAT AU!

When Martin Blackwood opened the door to the Archives with his keycard at 5:45 in the morning, the last thing he expected to see was the entire cast of the archival assistants, and his boss, (and unrequited crush) all standing around in the bullpen, and clearly engaged in heated conversation. Martin blinked, his mouth opening a little in shock. Late nights were depressingly common in the Archives, but this was… new. And concerning. It was just Jon staying late, that Martin knew. So what was everyone else doing here?? Not only was it incredibly early, it was Saturday! Jon saw Martin from across the room and his expression shifted from tense to something like relief. But the irrational warmth that flooded Martin’s chest disappeared the moment he scowled, pushing his way between Melanie and Daisy. “You’re late,” he said, his usual sharp tone maybe a little sharper this morning, and Martin had to fight back the annoyance that rose up.. He bit back his retort - ‘No, actually, you’re all early,’ because Jon was already moving away again. Martin shrugged it off and started unwrapping his scarf,  soft wool he’d knitted himself, and then Tim was there, appearing at his elbow with two mugs. “Welcome to the madhouse,” he said by way of greeting, and thrust out a cup of tea. “I see you also got that phone call.” Martin took it, noting the grogginess in Tim’s eyes. “Yeah, I did, what’s that about?” The hot ceramic warmed his chilled hands and woke him up further. Tim groaned. “I don’t know, none of us could get a proper story out of him, he just kept insisting we all had to arrive first before he’d tell us… and that meant you, and you arrived 15 minutes late.” Tim sighed, rubbing at his eyebags. “It has to be something important though, why else would Jon have dragged us out of bed like this?” He paused. “I know he’s Jon, and paranoia and manic episodes are very much the cours de jour with him… but this is different. It better be, or I’m going to kick him where it really hurts.” Martin opened his mouth, then closed it and followed Tim’s gaze as Jon stood at the front of the room. The murmuring all died off. “Thank you all for coming. I know it's early for most of us, and I appreciate that you’re all here. Now, I have some… frankly baffling news to share.” Tim spoke up from where he was leaning against his desk. “It's not another bloody apocalypse is it?” Martin watched Jon, waiting for his mouth to twist, his expression to sour. But he didn’t react the way they’d expected over the past few years. He looked… thoughtful. “I don’t…” And there he paused. “I don’t know.” Martin saw Tim and Sasha exchange glances, saw Daisy shift in place, and he could feel the tension growing in the air. That was impossible. Jon… From what Elias had gloatingly said once, the whole point of Jon was that he Knew things. Melanie was next. “What do you mean you ‘don’t know?’ Aren’t you the literal equivalent of an eldritch search engine? How do you just Not know??” Jon made a face. “Firstly, that is not remotely how it works, and secondly-” He reached down behind the desk and picked up something that was covered in a towel. Martin strained to see, just as everyone did, as he gently placed the towel clad thing onto the desk. Was it a group of Leitners? That could explain why Jon was being so careful and why it was covered. Or maybe it was an artefact, and he couldn’t break it or touch it with his hands. But from the way Jon settled the thing without so much as jostling it, that theory didn’t fit. No, if Martin had to make an educated guess… he’d say that whatever was under that towel was alive.

1/2

[minis-gaming]

thanks for the Lucas model, but man - his butt is flat. Like a sheet of paper. Someone skipped leg day for the past 50 years.

Au contraire!

It's just the cargo pants that make it look flat because they are very wide and high waist. Just let him put on his favourite grey wool pants and look at this juicy pair of butt cheeks.

And his legs are also fine, just look at his thighs...

On some parts he is even more muscular (but also more chubby) than his brother. For example, Grey has much more chest muscles and wider shoulders, while 47s belly is more flat and his posture is better. So I guess Grey does more weight training while 47 prefers cardio.