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uvobreakmylegs · 2 years

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Psychopomp’s Lament: Chapter 1

chapter 1 of a vampire!Pakunoda x reader series i’ve been planning out for a while now. i hope everyone who reads enjoys it :D

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Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death and gore, mentions of disease

Word count: 4.4k

A loud knocking on the wooden door of the room you were staying in woke you from your rest, the noise jolting you out of sleep. You groaned a bit as you pushed yourself up from the bed; it hadn't felt like you'd gotten a lot of sleep, and you couldn't help the annoyance in your voice when you called out a sharp “yes?”

“So sorry to disturb you, miss.”

You recognized the voice. It was one of the bar maids who worked for the inn. The brunette who'd been eager to chat with you the previous night. You had noted to yourself that you found her to be nice, although at the moment you didn't feel quite as warmly towards her as you had earlier.

“It's fine,” you said, although you hadn't been able to completely get the irritation out of your tone, “what is it?”

“You have a visitor.”

“What's their name?”

“He called himself Loupe.”

Hearing that name was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown onto you, and suddenly you were awake, your mind clear and all traces of your previous tiredness gone completely.

“Ah, I see. Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

The woman gave an affirmation, and then you heard her footsteps growing fainter on the wooden floors as she headed back towards the tavern area, where Loupe was no doubt waiting for you.

The night before you had fallen to the bed while still in your clothes, and though part of you had felt like a slob for doing so, you had been so tired that you didn't have the energy to remove them. At least that meant that you wouldn't need to take up any time getting dressed. After splashing some water on your face to freshen up and making sure that your hair wasn't too much of a mess, you exited the room and made your way to the dining area.

Loupe didn't strike you as the type to be strict when it came to one's appearance, but it was better to try and appear as though you hadn't just gotten out of bed.

He was your boss, after all.

You found him sitting next to a far wall when you entered. As you had come to expect from him, he was focused on a document he had in hand, no doubt double-checking over every detail of your next assignment before he passed it over to you.

He noticed you when you came closer, and he got up to greet you as he invited you to sit with him.

“Did you have a good trip, sir?” you asked as you sat in the seat opposite him.

“Oh, it was fine,” he answered, “have you eaten?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Then perhaps we can discuss this over breakfast.”

Loupe Highland wasn't necessarily one of the most social people of the association – in fact, most of the higher rank Hunters could best be described as being strange – but after how long you had worked under him, you could safely say that he liked you. At least he liked you enough to make sure you ate first when he could've easily gone straight into whatever assignment you had been tasked with. He even went as far as to make some form of small talk.

“Is there any need for further supplies for the relief effort?” he asked.

“I don't think so, sir,” you answered between bites, “the majority of the illness appears to have been wiped out. If there are still some who are infected with the disease, I think most local healers will be able to take care of it without it becoming too much of an issue.”

“Good, good,” he said, nodding.

An outbreak of the plague was what had initially brought you to this region. A disease that had caught people by surprise, one that blackened the flesh of those unfortunate to become infected and spread until functionality of the limbs were lost and those blackened parts of the body became stiff and rigid. A great number of people had required amputation of some sort as the disease had spread far too quickly for medicine to be of any help.

You had been among those that the Hunter association had sent out to help with aid to the region. Bringing medicines and fresh bandages and whatever else the towns you visited needed. It was over a year ago that you had arrived, when the plague was at its worst. And now most of it had subsided, and you suspected that you were the only one still on standby in that region, with everyone else having moved on to other areas with other assignments, other problems that needed to be taken care of.

“Have you been assigned to this region for something, sir?” you asked.

“Missing people, as usual,” Loupe answered, “disease like that scatters people about as they try to escape it or they run from their loved ones for fear of giving them the illness, only for them to die somewhere out in the wilderness. But now that things have settled, I've been sent in to locate them. So their loved ones can know what their fate ultimately was, at the very least.”

“With how many areas were affected, I can only imagine that list of missing people is a large one.”

“You're not wrong.”

Loupe reached over to the seat next to him where his bag sat, pulling it up by the flap at the top and revealing what was inside. A thick stack of paper, the pages no doubt filled with the names of those who had gone missing since the plague began. At seeing that, you found that you definitely didn't envy your bosses' main job of dealing with lost and missing people.

“Since you mentioned it, I suppose this is a good time to bring up why I've met with you here,” he said, setting his bag back down and pushing his mostly empty plate aside. You sat up straighter when he reached for the documents you'd seen him holding earlier, and you copied his motion of setting the plate to the side as he handed you the pages. As you scanned over the paper, Loupe spoke.

“There's a mining town called Peijin within the East Gorteau region, and for months now no one has been able to make contact with anyone who lives there. No one living within the town has come out, and any who go to Peijin never come back. Quite a few merchants and tradesmen who've been eager to start business up again have gone missing after they set out for that town.”

You nodded as you listened and read the information before you. A mining town nestled between two mountains, with only one way in or out. The main export seemed to be fine metals and stones used for jewelry that sold at a high price. No wonder the merchants wanted to get business running up there again. They likely anticipated that the town would be desperate for their flow of resources to start up again and would sell those materials for far lower prices to get what they needed.

“Are we not aware of the current state of Peijin? Has no one been able to get close?” you asked.

“Two scouts were sent out to investigate after a report was filed,” Loupe said, “they are also missing. A third was sent, but he was given orders to survey the general area and to keep from approaching the town itself. He went as far as the edge of the forest path that leads to Peijin, and the only thing he could discern was a particularly strong odor that came from what he assumed was the direction of the town.”

“So we really have no idea what's going on with it?”

“I'm afraid not,” he said, then added “there's also reports of strange things happening within the surrounding region. People who are sick or elderly seem to be living beyond their expectations.”

You furrowed your brows.

“People living longer is an issue?” you asked.

“It is when people are stuck and in pain on their would-be deathbed but can't pass on to the next world,” he said.

Ah. That was what he meant.

“Sorry for that, sir.”

“It's fine. I can understand that it may not sound like a problem at first.”

The other pages of the report just went over what he had told you, although on the very last page you found there to be a list of deities that were worshiped within that region. You didn't recognize the names, which must have meant that the religion they were apart of was one on the smaller side. Some form of Paganism, it seemed. Something in you told you that this was important, and you made a mental note to do further research if you got the chance.

“When do I need to leave?” you asked.

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Loupe answered, “by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. In the event that the people of the town are still alive, the association doesn't want them to be left there. And although we've barred anyone from traveling to the town, I'm sure you know how effective that usually is.”

“People are going anyway.”

“Yes,” he said, “worried people who are scared for their loved ones who went to the town or are still stuck inside it. And then they go off to investigate for themselves and only add to the list of missing people.”

You looked again at a map that was among the documents, the town of Peijin and your current location clearly marked. You estimated that it would be a three day journey to get there on foot.

The town you were in had an extensive library, you remembered. Maybe there was a chance they would have more information on that region. Or perhaps a bit more on their gods.

“I think I'll leave tomorrow morning,” you told him, “I'd like to do whatever research I can before I leave.”

“That's fine.”

Setting the papers down in front of you, you looked back over to him.

“What will the association's plan be if I don't come back?” you asked.

“Then we'll know that it's a problem that can't be solved by an average Hunter and we'll send in a call for a single star Hunter at the very least.”

….. Oh.

“So what you're saying is if I die too, it'll be enough excuse to get the association to send someone more capable.”

“You're plenty capable.”

“But yes,” he admitted, “although I would like that to not be the case. It's bad enough that we've likely lost the two scouts who went in. It would be another blow to us if we lose someone like you.”

“I doubt there are many in the association who would agree with you on that.”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in your voice, and he frowned again.

Stupid, you told yourself. He's trying to be nice and you need to go ruin it by saying that?

The smile you gave him was weak, but you did mean it when you said “but I do appreciate you saying so, sir.”

“Yes. Well,” he began, “at least it should be nice for you to finally leave this area. Do something more then hand out food and medicine.”

“Handing out food and medicine is fine,” you said, “besides, I got to leave a few days ago on my last assignment.”

Loupe frowned again, his eyebrows furrowing as he asked you “what? What last assignment?”

You blinked at him, confused.

“Down in the village of Doli. I was sent a message ordering me to take care of a monster in the river there.”

“They sent you there without informing me?” he asked.

“I... I suppose they did, sir. I'm sorry,” you said, “I assumed you were aware.”

“No, it's not your fault,” he said, sighing and adding “the way things are handled at the association are not always right. Still, I'm not sure why they would send you without notifying me.”

“I assumed they sent me because I was the one closest to the area,” you told him, “and since the problem was something within my expertise, I suppose that was also a factor in their decision.”

“Mm. A river monster, you said?”

“Specifically a kelpie.”

Loupe's brows furrowed again as he tried to recall which one that was.

“Kelpie.... That isn't the seal person, is it?”

“No. The kelpie is a river spirit. Usually takes the form of a horse and lures its victims into the river.”

“And you settled the matter?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Have you finished writing your report on the incident?”

“Yes, I have it in – ah! I actually have it on me, if you'd like to look it over,” you said, reaching for the folded paper in your pocket.

“Please.”

Setting the pages he had given to you down, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the report you had finished up only last night. Though sleeping with it still on your person hadn't done it any favors as it was hopelessly crinkled. You tried to smooth the paper out, but there was little else you could do to fix it before you handed it over to him.

Loupe skimmed over the page, another frown quickly forming on his face as he read the contents.

“Five children drowned and eaten,” he said, shaking his head as he continued “how unfortunate.”

“Children tend to be the main target of that sort of beast,” you commented, “it has an easier time tricking them into trusting it.”

“Those sort of monsters always go after the weakest ones, don't they?”

You nodded in agreement.

He read down further.

“You say the children were dead before you arrived,” he began, “what happened with this old man that died after that point?”

He looked up at you in question.

You suspected there would be questions about that part, and you weren't excited to explain why you had failed to save someone.

“When I was fighting the thing,” you explained, “there was a man with a boy near the river. The boy had a dog with him, and when the poor thing saw the beast, it spooked and ended up running into the river. The boy ran after the dog, and the man ran after the boy.”

“And the kelpie noticed this?”

You nodded.

“It was bleeding out and desperate,” you said, “I think seeing those two gave it a second wind that I wasn't expecting.”

“I was only able to save the boy,” you continued, “the man's arm became stuck to the beast, and he drowned when it submerged again.”

“I see.”

The mood had now turned significantly grim, and as he read the rest of your report, you saw him try to contain a small sigh.

“Well,” he said, “at least you killed the thing.”

You nodded.

“Hopefully that town can have some peace now.”

He noticed when you frowned at that.

“Something wrong?”

“I think the association might want to avoid sending any of our personnel into that town for a while,” you told him.

“For what reason?”

“The families that had lost their children had been under the impression that they were still alive, and they were.... Not satisfied when I told them that there was no lair that the kelpie was keeping them.”

“And you're certain that they're dead?”

“Sir, I found rotting human entrails littered across the riverbank,” you said, “those five are gone.”

You could still see the angry faces of those parents when you informed them of that. When you told them that their children were no longer of this world and all that remained were the chewed up bits of organs on the sand. Rage and despair and hatred directed at you, the Hunter who was meant to save their young ones but couldn't do even that.

Loupe must've had an idea of the thoughts that were plaguing your mind based on what he said next.

“Try not to resent them too much,” he told you, “they're grieving. No parent wants to experience the death of their child.”

“I know.”

You were about to say something else, but paused when the bar maid walked over to the table to collect your empty plates, waiting until she had left earshot before you continued.

“They also felt that I should've been able to save the man as well as the boy.”

“I see.”

Placing the report down and clasping his hands, Loupe gave another small sigh, this time not bothering trying to hide it.

You knew there would be some kind of reprimand coming your way, but that didn't help the horrid feeling of anticipating it.

“I know you do your best,” he started, “and that is appreciated.”

“But things like that,” he continued, nodding towards your report “are what the association will focus on. For many in the higher echelons, a civilian dying while a Hunter is present is something that is unacceptable. And after the Ochima Pass incident, you don't need any more dead civilians on your record.”

You cringed a little at his last statement, although you had been wondering how long it would take for that to be brought up.

Ochima Pass was always mentioned whenever you had made some mistake.

He tilted his head towards you when you didn't answer.

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asked.

“I don't want to make excuses, sir.”

“Ah.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few more moments, and then he sighed once more, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “you already get such a hard time from everyone. I shouldn't be so harsh.”

He looked back down at the report once more, saying “six dead is unfortunate, but were it not for you, that town would still be suffering because of that thing. You did well.”

You offered a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tavern area had been fairly quiet up until now, just the two of you and a few other patrons that were quietly finishing up their breakfast. That changed when the front door burst open and a loud group entered, all chattering away and a few calling for drinks despite the early hour. Your gaze went to the group when you heard them, just as everyone else in the building had, but although the tavern's regulars looked at them with annoyance and thinly veiled disgust, you found yourself focusing on a woman in the group.

Her build was different and her skin was a tad darker, but what really stood out to you was her short hair that was a particular shade of blonde. She happened to glance over in your direction, and you saw the brown eyes that looked at you through the strands of her golden hair.

With Ochima Pass already on your mind, it wasn't hard for that sight to trigger a memory:

The darkness of the mountain was illuminated by the fires that still burned within the camp while the harsh wind rushed past the both of you, kicking up the white of the snow and red that had stained it. Blonde hair fluttered across the pale but bloodstained face of the woman who stood before you, and beneath the strands a pair of deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in your stiff form while you continued to stand uselessly. Then the color changed from brown to yellow, pupils dilating and a mouth full of sharp teeth opening up in a snarl as she suddenly surged forward-

You snapped your head away, suddenly finding the grain of the table to be fascinating to look at.

Your boss had noticed your reaction, and he understood when he saw the woman you'd been looking at. But he waited a few moments before he spoke next.

“When was the last time you saw that woman?” Loupe asked you.

“... Two years ago now.”

A lie.

“When you encountered her and another from her group, correct?”

You nodded.

“How many of the troupe have you seen in person by now?”

“Only – only two, sir.”

You pretended to cough when you stuttered and hoped that he didn't recognize that you had nearly given a different answer. The real number was three, but you feared that if that knowledge became known it would only spell more trouble for you.

“And how many times have you seen her?”

“Three,” you answered, “that first time in Ochima, the second shortly after I recovered from that, and the third two years ago, when the big one was going to crush my head with his foot.”

The real answer to his question was four, and yet again you kept that extra encounter to yourself out of fear.

“Seeing one of the troupe face to face three times,” he mused, “that's more than even the triple star Hunters have seen. Too often those that encounter the troupe never live to tell the tale.”

“I know.”

That was a fact that had been made quite clear to you from many of the association, and it was the source of the distrust and dislike that most had for you.

“I really don't know why I've managed to live through all of that,” you told him, “I should've died the first time I met her at Ochima.”

“We know that the troupe is cunning, and I have no doubts that they intend to use you for some plot of theirs,” Loupe said, “I know you don't need me to tell you this, but be careful if you encounter her again. She could be letting you live just to lull you into a false sense that she isn't a threat to you.”

You doubted that there were any plans that involved you. She probably just wanted something to play with.

But you kept that thought to yourself, just nodding at his words.

The chiming of a nearby clock signaled the changing of the hour, and with that, signaled the end of this meeting between the two of you.

“Well, I need to be going.”

With that, Loupe stood, gathering his bag and leaving enough coin on the table to pay for the meal. You had nearly forgotten why he was actually here; the mountain of lost people weren't going to find themselves.

“Until we meet again,” he said.

“I hope so, sir.”

Loupe paused. There was a sad look in his eye as he gazed at you, and he placed his hand on your shoulder as he spoke your name.

“You're a good person,” he said, “you just have extraordinarily bad luck.”

“That's one way of putting it.”

He patted your shoulder, continuing with “we'll see each other again. I know it.”

He began to walk away from the table, calling out to you “try to have this issue with Peijin end on a happy note.”

You nodded.

With that, Loupe exited through the door of the inn, and then he was gone.

You remained seated, your eyes following the patterns of the wood grain on the table in front of you. End on a happy note. It would be nice if you could deliver that, even though it seemed like an impossibility. Loupe likely knew that even as he said it, but he was trying to help you. Trying to make your outlook a bit more positive. Time had made you far too pessimistic as it wore on. Something that had begun early on in your Hunter career, and worsened every time a mission of yours ended on a less than satisfying note.

Loupe was correct. When he sent in that report for you, your enemies at the association would focus on your failure to save a single life. That would be the only thing they would read.

A happy end for the issue in Peijin would be a good way to try and offset that.

“So you really are a Hunter?”

The voice of the bar maid brought you out of your thoughts, and you glanced up to see the brunette looking at you with a certain amount of awe.

“Sorry, I heard little bits of your conversation,” she explained, “I kinda suspected that you were someone important when we talked last night, but I wasn't sure until I heard you two. That really was your boss? From the Hunter Association?”

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding.

She had a look on her face that reminded you of when you were younger. Back in your hometown, a Hunter had also lived and stayed there during their off-time. They were a local hero, and you and dozens of other children would listen to their every word with fascination as they told of their exploits during their travels. They had been the reason you had become a Hunter in the first place.

At hearing your words, she beamed at you.

“That's amazing that you can do that. I've heard that being a Hunter is hard, but it must feel so good to be able to travel around and help people like you do.”

Help people.

The last person you had helped had been that little boy, who had cried and squirmed in your grip after you had narrowly pulled him away from the snapping teeth of the kelpie. And the last person you had failed had been the boy's grandfather, whose arm had become stuck to the beast when he attempted to fight it off, and his eyes were wide with horror as he screamed for you to save him, to free him from that monster, to not let him drown.

His last moments in life were panicked and full of despair, his last breaths being used to scream at you before he was pulled beneath the dark water.

The boy you had saved was inconsolable, and he had been snatched away from you by one in a crowd of townsfolk who had come swarming out of their homes once they realized that the kelpie had gone away again.

And the townsfolk had cursed you, even after you had shot the kelpie full of your arrows and presented the body to them as proof that the deed was done. They blamed you for that man's death, even though you'd told them, you had told them that they all needed to stay away from the river. But you were the scum who was not only unable to save the lives of those lost children, but also needed to sacrifice an old man in order to do something as simple as killing a monster.

It must feel good to help people

You managed to fake a smile, nodding as you told her “yeah, it does.”

#reader insert #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh pakunoda #pakunoda x reader #yandere pakunoda #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #Pakunoda #loupe highland #x reader series

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bookishfreedom · 8 months

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if you’re reading this, I’m in SCOTLAND

#three cheers for the schedule function!!#my first time traveling abroad i am so nervcited #hopefully lots of gorgeous highlands content to come #outlander #outlander books #diana gabaldon #booklr #books #book #reading #read #reader #bookish #mine #bookblr #bookworm

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firegoddess96 · 11 months

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Bean duine briste

(Wife of a Broken Man)

Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser x Female OC

*I own only the OC, all other characters belong to the creators of Outlander*

18+ to Read!! (There will be smut down the road!)

Summary:

Having served with Claire as a nurse in WWII, Isla went with Claire and Frank to Scotland to see her mother’s home country. Her aunt Mrs.Baird told her stories of the stones and both Isla and Claire went to see for themselves the magic of the place. Neither expected to be transported 200 years into the past, nor did they expect to fall for rough and ruggedly handsome highlanders.

Will the women get back to their time and the loved ones they left behind, or will they fall too deeply into the strong arms of our favorite Fraser men?

Prologue: A summary of the altered story before chapter 1

Having fallen through the stones Claire and Isla wonder through the Forrest in search of the road to Inverness, only to be cornered by a man who looks like Frank Randall. As Claire is pinned to a tree about to be assaulted, Isla raises a jagged rock to strike Black Jack over the head, only to have a large bearded man beat her to it.

With Black Jack unconscious the women are whisked away by the bearded Scott to a cabin not far away. The room is full of more rugged Scotts, one of whom is injured, Claire steps forward to relocate the young red headed man’s shoulder while she swears like a sailor. The women then introduce themselves, Claire by her maiden name and Isla by her own name.

After the man is bandaged up, the women then are forced on horseback, Claire with the redhead named Jamie and Isla with Murtagh, the bearded man who found them. The ride is long, cold and wet, forcing them to share the tartan with their riding partners. In the middle of the night Claire recognizes the ambush location and warns the men, who dislodge the women form their saddle and tell them to hide. The men fight and find the women, continuing their journey to the castle.

When they arrive the next morning Claire and Isla are introduced to Mrs. Fitz, Murtagh’s aunt, who shows Isla her room and helps Clair clean Jamie’s wounds. Once dressed properly, the women are taken to meet the Laird, Colum Mackenzie, and are interrogated. Claire tells a tale of a widowed woman on her way to relatives in France, while Isla told a version of the truth, that she is a friend simply traveling with Claire on her journey. Colum still having doubts interrogates them at dinner and then holds them as “guests” for an undecided amount of time.

While held hostage, of a sort, Claire is made healer of the clan and keeps busy with herbs and tonics. Isla spends her time looking after Colum himself, having some experience with disfigured limbs and a decent understanding of his, not yet diagnosed, condition. Colum being very grateful, due to his decreased pain, allows Isla more room to explore the castle and spend time with Mrs.Fitz and her family.

When the time comes for the rent party to leave, Dougal, Colum’s brother, requests both women to accompany the party as insurance that Claire wouldn’t run away while on the road.

This is where our story begins…..

Chapter 1- June 2nd

Chapter 2-

#murtagh #murtagh fitzgibbons fraser #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #fergus fraser #jamie and claire #claire fraser #outlander #highlander #men in kilts #kilts #murtagh x reader

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saintsir4n · 1 year

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ENJOY!

#fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco imagine #Fezco x reader #fezco x black!reader #black fem #black girl #Italian #wattpad #Aurelia Marchetti #Rory Marchetti #season 1 #season 2 #ashtray #east highland #lovestory #friends to lovers

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v1nsincl4ir · 3 months

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Oh it's so over for You I've started finally working on my Good Omens fic again You can't stop me now

#v1nsincl4ir #good omens #thoughts #it's this fic where all the angels and demons are instead scottish mythos set in the highlands during the late 1500s-early 1600s #crowley is a kelpie and aziraphale is an urisk #and all of the locations are real #albiet i have little way of knowing how historically accurate some parts will be because i do not know what the area looked like in 1600 #unfortunately #do you have any idea how hard it is to find historically accurate information on random scottish villages' histories online?#do you have any idea how hard it is to find ANY information on random scottish villages' histories online?#do you have any idea how hard it is to find information on random scottish villages FULL STOP?#because it's very fucking hard #but noooooo i had to have a very specific niche in my reawoken mythology interest that i've decided to turn into a whole good omens fic #and i was like oh i don't want to make up a “fantasy scotland” or something i know i'm not gonna be able to make the names sound right #because no matter how well you think you can create a fake scottish place name it is never going to sound quite right #or maybe that's just my perfectionism #and you know the wildest part is that i know the name of every place they visit but for half of the locations the readers WON'T know that #because both of them have no fucking clue where they are for half the story #but I DO #okay #I DO

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brewed-pangolin · 1 year

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After playing both the campaign and warzone, I have come to the simple conclusion that there are two very different sides to Mr MacTavish. Something that I am lovingly referring to as...

The Highland Coin Toss

How he reacts and treats you is purely dependent on the relationship and what he's more comfortable with you calling him. And if you are lucky enough to gain access to both sides, flipping his coin turns into an all out 'spin the bottle', color me horny fuck fest. So, without further ado, let us begin....

18+ MDNI under the cut

CW: Just some personal headcanons sprinkled on a giant heap of smut. Sub/Dom Soap. P in V, Fem receiving.

AN: This is the first anything I have written in over 5 years, so apologies if it's absolute shit. Honestly, though, had so much fun with this double-sided Scottsman! Much Love 💛

'Heads' Johnny MacTavish

Walls? Yeah, he's got 'em. More to protect himself from those around him. But patience will prevail. Give it time, and you'll begin to see those barriers slowly crumble down.

Honesty goes a long way with Johnny. He can generally read people like a book (please don't bring up Graves, he's still sore after that traitorous bastard) If he does catch you being untruthful to him or any of the 141 or Voqueros, good luck getting back on his good graces. Book's closed, done.

Beneath that hardened exterior, Johnny is incredibly affectionate. And not just in a romantic aspect. He doesn't see 141 and Voqueros as soldiers or troops, they're his brothers.

Don't try to get in between him and his missions. Johnny is a military man through and through, and nothing is more important to him than the completion of the task at hand.

Loyal to a God damn fault.

Johnny is the fighter of the coin toss. Calculated, thorough and eyes on every detail, no matter how insignificant they may seem.

Once those walls are dust, this man will be nothing but putty in your hands.

Now, on to the fun stuff...

Johnny is 100% a switch! If you want him to be in control, he'll gladly take the reigns. But if you're feeling a bit more frisky and want to be in control, this man will be in absolute heaven (he won't deny it, Johnny loves watching you ride him)

Is absolutely obsessed with your body.

No matter the time, place, or scenario, he's going to have a hand on you (leg, thigh, arm, hand, neck, ass, foot, head...) And those hands like to wander...simple caresses turn into deliberate touches with one goal in mind.

And Johnny knows ALL of your pleasure zones. Will either focus his fingers on them or dance around them entirely just to drive you wild. Once his touch has been satiated, his mouth will go to work.

Kissing Johnny is an experience in sexual nirvana. His hands will cradle your head as his tongue explores and tastes you. Only when you're a breathless mess will he give you reprieve and move on. Every inch of you will be peppered in starving kisses. Loves your neck and inner thighs the most (mainly due to the reaction and moans you elicit in response)

But his main prize is the deliciously warm cavern between your thighs. Is nothing short of methodical when eating you out. Torturously so at times.

Starts with long, languid draws of his tongue along your folds. Quickly followed by precise and deliberate attention on your pulsing clit. Loves to oscillate between these two maneuvers, purely out of satisfaction as you all but lose your mind beneath his salacious mouth.

Johnny knows exactly where that special bundle of nerves is, he knows how much you can take and will push you to your limit. You'll be on the verge of insanity, and all you'll see between your legs is victorious glacial eyes beckoning you to break and come apart on his tongue.

He is so atuned to your body it almost makes you wonder if soul mates are a reality or just a long told fairy tale. This thought always creeps into your mind as he enters you. So slowly, you feel ever inch of him, and once he's fully seated, you swear you can feel his rapid heart beat within your welcoming cunt.

Slow and steady wins this race in his mind. Johnny is fully aware that it is not the pace that gets you off, and is willing to spend all night getting you to the ecstasy you both so desperately desire.

Don't count those determined hands out when he's thrusting balls deep within you. He'll find that pulsing bud and match his determined circling fingers with the pace of his hips.

Speaking of hands, Johnny never keeps them in one place for too long. His fingers will traverse and explore your curves like meandering, sexually driven pilgrim.

King of Priases! "Y'So beautiful hen." "Good bonnie. Feel so fucking good." "C'mon, I know ya can give me another one."

Will talk you through your orgasms.

"Keep your eyes on me, bonnie."

"That's it. Cum for me. Cum for me, hen."

His voice will be soft, slightly above a whipser with just enough strain in it to send you over the edge.

You'll know when Johnny's close. He'll hold you tight, desperately so, to the point you'll feel like he'll suffocate you. His pace will stammer and with one last thrust you'll feel him empty himself within you.

Johnny is in heaven when he cares for you post romp. He'll pepper you in soft kisses while his fingers dance across your still trembling skin. And he's always prepared; damp washcloth within arms reach because he knows you both can get quite messy.

You'll fall asleep first, because that's what he wants. Soft whispers of how beautiful you are, how good you make him feel will echo into your ears. The last thing you'll remember is strong arms wrapping around your waist and the slow beating of his heart as you let sleep take you over completely.

'Tails' Soap MacTavish

Walls? Yeah, no. Try fucking skyscrapers. Only way you're getting to this side of the Scot is by proving you're not a complete waste of time and flesh. Even if he has opened himself up to his more accepting side, don't push your luck trying to figure out what he hides behind closed doors. Soap will read through those lines within seconds and shut it down. And he'll be a locked vault from then on.

Assertive. Especially during and immediately following missions (it takes Soap a day or two to get back to civilian life).

Bit of a control freak, particularly when it comes to his routines. (Yes, he has a very specific hair regimen. So if you value your life, don't touch anything. And no, he's not going to talk about it)

Patience. Patience. Patience. Let Soap open himself up to you. It may take a few months, maybe even years. You may need some help from his brothers in arms to get to this man (Gaz especially, he's such a softie). They're truly the only ones that know Soap for who he really is.

Complete trust is necessary to gain access to Soap, and once that element has been reached, you'll have your own personal body guard at every beck and call.

Soap is the protector of this flip of the coin. Think of a 200lb, military trained pitbull. God forbid anyone looks at you the wrong way.

Smexy time!!

Soap can be a bit aggressive at times, especially if he's been without any release for a long period. But make no mistake, Soap is a pleasure Dom to the absolute max! He'll get off, no doubt about that. You on the other hand, depending his mood you'll have either one mind blowing orgasm or several. (Good luck trying to walk after those nights)

While Johnny has a routine while being intimate with you, Soap is all over the place. He may start by fucking you relentlessly for hours, followed by eating you out and finish with devouring your mouth. Then start all over again in a different rhythm, and will probably throw in some shower sex just for good measure. Soap's unpredictability is what drives you to insanity. You can't keep a handle on him, and in that, your mind goes blank and purely enjoys everything he gives to you.

Ultimate grabby hands. Can get a bit carried away at times. Don't scold him for leaving bruises, consider them ultimate fleshy love notes.

Formidable make-out extraordinaire. While Johnny is affectionate and somewhat desperate, Soap is aggressive and all-consuming. And he won't give you a break from his mouth until he's had his fill. (Cue your grabby hands so you don't fall to the floor)

Hickeys. Hickeys fucking everywhere. Obsessed with leaving them in the most random places. Your calf has become his new favorite, and you strangely enough can't get enough of it.

Three words: Teasing. Fucking. Bastard.

Loves to watch you squirm beneath him, whether it be to his mouth or to his hardened and precise cock. And his hands, God damn his hands! You've started calling him your 'Clitoral Beethoven" since he can make you sing by the sheer power of his fingers alone.

Soap is ravenous with his mouth on you. This fact is proven time and again when he is buried between your thighs. His vigorous workings are only magnified by his vibrating groans that tantalizingly work their way up your spine.

Soap is the epitome of messy when he's eating your pussy. He'll all but swallow you whole, covering his stubble and chin with your juices. Those gorgeous blue eyes disappear between your thighs, replaced by darkened orbs filled with needy hunger. Your breaking point is when he begins to seesaw his head from side to side, the friction of his mouth combined with his determined tongue will having you screaming his name within seconds.

No flat surface is safe with this man. Can and will bend you over at any moment, especially if you're alone. (If not, expect a fair amount of borrowing stares and even a firm grab of your ass if he's feeling extra horny, which is pretty much always)

Speaking of horny, Soap is so needy for your pussy he can't always wait for you. But this man is resourceful, and almost always prepared. You don't know where he keeps it, but somehow he's got lube in his hand and already stroking his cock and you've barely pushed your pants down for him. And there's nothing gradual about how Soap enters you, he's balls deep first thrust. But he does hold and let you get used to him, purely for the feel of your cunt quivering around his cock.

Loves, loves, LOVES doggie style! Not only does it give him the most perfect view of your ass, but let's him have complete control of the pace. And whoa mama you're gonna need to mentally and physically prepare yourself, cause Soap is gonna fuck you senseless!

Have a mattress warehouse on speed dial. Just do it!

Mentioned that Soap is assertive. That's an understatement when he's having his way with you. He's strong, Godlike when he so desperately wants to feel your pulsing cunt around him. So expect a fair amount of man handling and body contortions (cue you turning into a human pretzel fuck toy; yoga may become a necessity before any Soap sexathon)

And that Scottish accent will only thicken as he pounds himself in your molten core.

"Be a good lass and scream fer me. Want e'eryone to know yer MINE."

"Takin me so well, aren't ya?"

"Can't get enough, can ya bonnie? Always so fuckin hungry fer my cock."

"So fuckin wet fer me. Yer a dirty girl, aren't ya?"

You're going to either have a strong hold on him or anything with a firm base, because Soap is going to completely ruin you. The room will be a cacophony of skin slapping, pleading moans and reverberating growls. The sounds will tempt you to poke the bear, but do so at your own risk...

"Harder, Soap. Fuck me harder."

His calloused hand will firmly grib the back of your neck, and the other will give your ass a hardened smack. You'll feel his body weigh down against yours, hips contuing their assault as his mouth ghosts the cusp of your ear.

"Fuckin needy little thing, aren't ya lass?"

Consider the bear, poked.

Soap will undoubtedly fuck you through your orgasms. He may be talking, but it will probably be some overly gratified Scottish that you don't understand. It's the growl of his words that make you go over the edge, blissfully cock drunk as your body convulses around him and your mind goes completely white.

Aftercare with Soap will almost always end in a bath. One to clean the excessive amount of fluids, and two to help soothe your blissfully overused body. As rough as he can be during the act, Soap is incredibly tender and gentle afterwards. Only thing on your mind will be when he came during the deed. His repsonse is always the same...

"Non of that now, bonnie."

Want to give some massive kudos to @yeyinde, @irnbru32, and @mvtthewmurdvck for their inspiration to get me back to writing. Y'alls fics are so unbelievably well done and immersive, I honestly can't get enough! Glad to be back and part of the Soap Squad 🧼 💛

#the highland coin toss #what the fuck did i just do #was slightly drunk when i wrote most of this #wanna flip his coin #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod soap #soap squad 🧼

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pollenallergie · 1 year

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say it with me now, folks:

cottage core!chrissy, cottage core!chrissy, COTTAGE CORE!CHRISSY

#just you and your girlfriend running an animal sanctuary together #every other saturday you host a petting zoo #parents can pay $5 to let their kids play with your mini highland park cattle ducks bunnies etc.#chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham thoughts #cottage core!chrissy cunningham #sapphic chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x reader

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confessionsofacommonreader · 1 year

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"I’d been sick of the monotony of endless summer since I was fourteen. "

#samantha young #beyond the thistle #i'm currently reading #quotes #text #literature #books #books and literature #book reader #currently reading #highlander #summer #monotony #endless summer

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alliekparker · 1 year

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Chaos human that I am, I’m absolutely loving for the way everyone’s falling like dominoes into a read of Lynsay Sand’s Highland Bride series. I love this absolutely bonkers Romance series and it’s so much fun watching everyone else fall for it too

And I absolutely adore this meme @b-andherbooks made displaying my absolute feral glee of watching everyone forsake their TBRs for this series

#romance books #romance reader #romance novels #lynsay sands #highland brides series #ted lasso meme

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lacnunga · 2 years

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"Sir George Mackenzie of Coul (who advised Highlanders to be happy as servants of servants) burgeoned with advice on the future of the Highlands, which he saw as broadly resting on the shoulders of a Cheviot ewe. He had a great ambition to be accepted as a scientist and an economist. He was more frequently an ass."

#on the subject of sheep he was listened to more thoroughly #perhaps than john sinclair #for he did not confuse his readers with philanthropy or concern for the highlander.#fuck george mackenzie of coul #all my homies hate george mackenzie of coul #down with Improvers #reading tag #get you an author as salty as john prebble

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dargeereads · 27 days

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Highlander Ever After by Jennifer Ashley

4 stars

Lots of hidden storylines in this one, but absolutely loved our couple once they got together! You can feel and see the sparks of all the family and friends in the story, and they only add and enrich everything. It felt a little slow at times, but for the most part, was well paced, and the last third of the book simply flew by. A great read with lots of personalities and family 😊

#Jennifer Ashley #Highlander Ever After #Nvengaria series #TBR Reads #Kobo Plus #am reading #read romance #romance reader #romance books #read #romance #books #reader #bibliophile #book love #book blogger #book review #steamy reads

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warnersister · 9 months

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Oh, how you’d changed him

Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: how you’d changed Tom and his life for the better, and how ridiculous his previous plans seemed after that.

Tom had carefully planned out his world domination, created his alias Lord Voldemort and the horrors that would go with him. He decided that he would single-handedly take over the wizarding world by any means necessary and reek havoc amongst the weaklings that surrounded him. This; a plan he had created since he was merely a boy, determined to return what this cruel world had forced upon him - sorrow and pain.

Until he met you. To Tom, you were like a breath of fresh air, an unbeatable presence with bright and hopeful features that offered a sense of peace in his life. You had been acquaintances since first year, however had become more familiar in sixth-year potions, just as he was plotting his first horcruxes along with the basallisk attack, you had been assigned as station-partners in the early September of that year.

When your names had been read Tom quirked a brow, however was not disappointed with the testily - having duly noted your previous achievements in the subject and feeling as though you could come in handy later down the line when his domination was more of a priority than his studies, but his world came crashing down when you turned in your seat to examine him.

Tom was lead to believe that he was incapable of love. A monotone psychopathic freak lacking human emotions, yet obtaining alien abilities. It when your eyes looked him over and your hair swayed behind your shoulders, he was unable to ignore the way his heartbeat quickened and breath faltered, in Tom’s eyes you were unfathomably gorgeous and he was unable to look away, a Medusa incapable of stoning her victims.

You held your hand out calmly and he admired the way your posture was straight and head held in a confident stature. “Y/n,” you said, lips soft and plump and voice soothing and gentle. “Tom,” he replied, voice failing him as he fumbled over his words with a stutter - something having never happened to him previously. You giggled at his mistake and he found himself enjoying the sound, instinctively making it his mission to hear it once more, unable to stop the smile appearing on his lips.

Tom also appreciated your knack for perfection. Your potions never failed to exceed beyond perfection and your applause was always deserved, taken with a humble nod to your peers before you set out defying the next odds in your path.

Naturally, Tom began to gravitate towards you outside of lectures, also. He’d find himself on the path to walk you to class or accompany you to the dinner table, or beside you in the library studying beyond the librarian’s patience and working hours. Tom found comfort in your presence and allowed himself to indulge regardless of what ‘Lord Voldemort’ told him to do.

Eventually, he’d offered his arm to stroll down with you to Hogsmeade on a chilly autum day, a few weeks before Christmas celebrations would commence and the winter solstice would turn the Scottish highlands surrounding you into an awe-worthy winter wonderland. “May I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” Tom asked with a small smile, holding his arm out to you while you friends giggled and pushed you towards him. You’d laughed with him as you threaded your forearm alongside his, joining you both at the hip while you replied: “yes, you may Tommy.”

Strangely, he never felt any kind of resentment to any nickname you’d give him other than his name. He welcomed your names with open arms and answered to nearly any plausible noun that passed his lips. He even bought you butterbeer to warm your frostbitten lips, sipping simultaneously while the barmaid offered a few obvious knowing glances.

You shivered as you walked on, the many layers you had adorned on top of your skin no match for the ever-growing cold attacking Hogwarts and found yourself struggling with chattering teeth. Tom immediately removed his long coat and wrapped it around you, admiring both the chivalry of his actions and the satisfied smile on your face when your body temperature started to rise. “No, no, Tom. You’ll get cold.” You said, a reluctant whine passing your lips to which he shrugged. With anyone else, he would’ve let you freeze to death, but not you. He would die for you, freeze to death if you will. “I’m fine, I’m more concerned about getting you back to the castle without hypothermia.” He says with a small chuckle, pulling you into his side by the waist. “I guess you aren’t so cold-hearted as you make yourself out to be, Tom Riddle.” He looks down at you and considers your words for a few seconds.

“You confuse me, y/n. I’ve never felt so warm and gleeful around a person yet you never fail to bring a smile to my face. Teach me how to do that.” I instructs but you shake your head no gently. “I cannot do that simply due to the face that you do it to me, also.” You reply, each exchanging knowing glances between each others eyes and lips. He leans down and traps your lips with his own, warming your body through a simple yet sophisticated gesture and from that day forward you were referred to as his girlfriend.

Of course, however he had also come clean about his upbringing and eventually the chamber and the basilisk. He had told you he was conceived under the influence of a love spell and believed that he was incapable of loving until he had met you. You laid on his bed as you talked; his head on your chest while you weaved your fingers thought his chestnut locks and listened to him. “I read a while back now about a recently investigated muggle issue called autism and it has occurred to me that you’re not incapable of love, you have asbergers Tom. I’ll read the passage to you later.” And all of a sudden all of his unjustified emotions and troubles made sense and he could finally find an unknowingly lost sense of peace within himself knowing what truly made him into the Tom Riddle he was.

When he took you into the chamber he’d told you all about his plan for domination and his large magical snake and how he had a few followers and you never judged him once. If anything you thought it was impressive that he yearned for revenge instead of acceptance but reasoned that perhaps an oversized snake and a killing spree were not the solutions he was searching for. The basilisk lived shrunken to normal size in a glass cage beside his bed after that.

And as the time went by and your relationship flourished, Voldemort seemed more like a past phase than a goal and was more focused on the life he going to create with you. He called his ‘followers’ pathetic and told them to get a life when they questioned his authority over their devotion.

Eventually, it came time for you to graduate and Tom’s hand was tightly clasped in your own as you looked at the castle for a final time. You were silent, acknowledging the end of this era and slowly coming to terms with it. After a while, Tom scoffed. “World domination.” He said with a smile shaking his head. “Who’s ever heard of such a thing?” He turned and picked up your bags along with his own. “Ready to go, darling?”

The two of you had shared your own compartment on the train ride home, others finding their own cubbies as Tom scared them off from sitting with you. Your head was rested on his shoulder as he read a muggle book to you that you had bought the previous summer ‘the great gatsby’. It was a deep and considerate book and made you think about your future, also.

“What’re we going to do now?” You ask out of the blue, interrupting his sentence as he simply closes his book and looks down at you, your face deep in thought. “Well,” he hummed, thinking for a moment. “We’ve booked that cottage in the Peak District for a few weeks, how about we think it all out then?” And you nod. “Sounds like a plan then.”

The next few weeks were spent waking together in the high peaks of the muggle countryside, simply talking and appreciating one another’s company and plotting your lives.

“Is it bad that I want to stay here forever?” You ask him, looking out at the sunsetting one warm winter evening. Tom thinks thoughtfully before saying “if it is then it’s bad that I want to stay here too.” As a pureblood witch you were born under the believe that muggle life was pointless and undeserving, and as had Tom - but together you realised you preferred the quiet and solitary, and not needing to use magic to do everything all of the time. It was a change. And it was nice.

One morning mid-august Tom was reading the newspaper and you were making you both toast. “Someone’s selling the property up the street.” He says and you sip on your drink and look out of the window. “What? The old farmhouse.” “No, the one with the long drive and vines up the side.” You sigh dreamily. “Oh, if only.” You say with a chuckle. “Darling we can afford it.” Tom says and you stay in silence for a moment, sharing the thoughts weaving through your minds. “It wouldn’t take up a large chunk of our savings.” He drops his reading glasses to the end of his nose and smirks. “We’re rich in muggle terms.” You laugh and shake your head at him. “You’re so humble, Riddle.” He stands up and slides his hands around your waist to hold you close as you share the view of the house in question. “We’re buying it.” He spoke after a while, finalising his decision. “What happened to the ‘I hate muggles and never want to be amongst them’?” You ask, turning to him with a cocked brow. He just shrugs. “They were Voldemort’s views. Not mine.”

Matter several months going back and forth with the previous owners and settling on an asking price, you were standing in front of the house- your house, beside tom, exactly how you had when you were leaving Hogwarts. “This is our house.” You say, not taking your eyes off of the scenic view before you. Tom takes you into his side and rubs your arm comfortingly before kissing your temple. “Our home.”

Tom became an Auror, acting as an undercover wizard in the muggle setting catching and reporting any source of dark or unrightfully used magic. You took up being a healer, training in the wizarding world but practising in your home village, being known as a respectable young doctor who all the elderly or adjacent citizens resided in to get treatment - and anything you gave them always worked.

It was a spring morning when you were down at the bakery picking up a loaf of bread for your dinners. “How’s that fella of yours?” The lady asked with a smirk. “Oh Tom’s fine, just left for work.” “Popped the question yet?” The old woman asks, elbowing you slightly. “We’re only twenty Agatha!” You say with a laugh. “Well, Arthur and I were married when we were nineteen.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you were telling me how much you hated him?” You laugh. “Oh he gets on my wire, but we were still married!”

That left you with the thought in your mind for the remainder of the day - you’d decided that Tom Riddle was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and then some.

In February you both took a trip down to the Lake District and rented a boat house with a large lake, your jobs and ‘trust funds’ inherited from family members allowed you to do this rather frequently and easily, nothing out of the ordinary to take a trip for a long weekend.

It was at sunset, rather early due to daylight saving hours when you rowed out onto the lake to just sit in tranquility for a little while, appreciating the quiet time together. You’d rose to your feet, sure that you had seen an owl fly by and when you turned around, Tom was on one knee, box in hand. In the box, the ring of Salazar Slytherin himself with a bunch of roses in the other.

“Agatha told me today is Cupid’s holiday.” He say, voice just beyond a whisper as a smile grew on your face and tears formed. “You know, until I was sixteen I was asphyxiated with the idea of taking over the world, finding a victim to take the pain that I felt. But those silly little thoughts were gone when I met you, the only person I live and breathe for. I never thought I could, however I love you, yn ln. And it would do me great honour if you would be my wife.”

You’d kissed and hugged him and wept into his shoulder as you happily embraced - ready to start the rest of your lives together. There were no other young women in the village and your parents had practically alienated you when you went to live with muggles so the ladies who attended your doctors practise took you shopping for your wedding dress - Tom insisted on paying.

Dolly was brutally honest and Susan started crying, Agatha kissed you and called you her daughter and it was certainly a day to remember - a gorgeous fitting dress, white and highlighting your features gracefully.

You’d gotten married in the village church, an audience of your neighbours and close friends and a few companions from school, Agatha was your maid of honour and Greta your flower girl, gleaming smile on her face while her husband rolled her down the isle in her wheelchair while she sassily threw rose petals. And Dumbledore was sat in the front row, a smart suit on while he smiled at the man the little evil boy turned out to be, and the gorgeous woman you had flourished into.

It was a beautiful ceremony and a beautiful day. And you were now the beautiful yn Riddle.

In September, Abraxas Malfoy and his wife wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary and asked if they would drop their son, Lucius off for the week so they could go away. You and Tom decided to take the week off work and look after him, after all, the young lad needed to be accustomed to his god parents!

One evening Lucius had pleaded with you to go sit in the garden and paint together and of course you complied, taking the supplied and the young boy on your hip, and headed for the grass to make a mess. And make a mess you did, there was red in your hair and blue on his white libel shirt, and hardly anything on the page. Tom watched from the window sipping on a cup of tea, watching as you interacted with the young boy so naturally, tickling his stomach and laughing as you played hidey-boo. It created an odd twang in his stomach, the same he had felt when he had first laid eyes on you.

One day when the boy had been reunited with his parents, Tom had been sent on a mission to retrieve an escaped boggart. During his time at Hogwarts, his biggest was recognisably his own dead corpse, but when he approached the creature, it’s form was your grave with him sat looking deathly ill beside it weeping. Your headstone read ‘a loving wife and doctor, no children’ his stomach dropped when he realised what he needed. What he needed right now.

He got home that night and held you close and cried, feeling you warm and full of life. You caressed his shaking body as you soothes him, and when he had calmed he had taken your face into his hands and cradled it, telling you suddenly “yn I want a baby.”

Throughout your pregnancy, Tom was tender and reluctant to let you move without him being beside you. He became more protective than he already was an even took an extended paternity leave just before your due date.

Prior to that however, he worshiped you like a goddess. He would make you decaf tea - something you grumbled about but he refused to listen. He stopped smoking his pipe inside the house, instead taking it to the end of the garden while he and Mr Garson next door chatted about his wife and you. He made you lay on the settee and sat on the floor beside your growing stomach while he read old wives tales from a book inherited from his mother. He even sang to it once or twice. After the sixth month mark when your belly was becoming noticeably plump to the point you could rest your tea cup upon it without it falling off, he began carrying you everywhere. Regardless of how far the distance, and the fact you were carrying another human, he acted as though you were a feather that needed assistance and carried you the way he did on your wedding night.

When you took your own maternity leave, he was even more pleased - before he’d sit beside you in your doctors office and never took his eyes off of you, now he needn’t a reason to why. In his eyes, his love was pregnant and needed tending too. He’d shower with you and lift your stomach until he saw the face of satisfaction he knew well and loved. And he’d be lying if he said the breasts you were growing didn’t make his mouth water, as well as the fact there was a possibility that he could impregnate a pregnant woman - a thought that drove him wild but alas after many attempts, it was eventually an unsuccessful mission.

And in the next July, Tom was sweating as he held your hand and felt a great pain as you cried in agony beside him. You were in a muggle hospital, Agatha had awoken in the middle of the night and heard your pained cries and ordered her husband, Mr Garson to drive you to the hospital which he did, adjusting his thick-lenses on his glasses and having to be awoken a few times at the wheel from Tom’s furious barks, but you made it on one piece, and at quarter to ten, you produced him a son, deciding on naming him Mattheo Riddle.

After giving him a bath, the midwife’s tried to take him away ‘give you a break’, but you refused. Groggily saying “I’ve only had him ten minutes why would I need a break.” And Tom soon shooed them off, getting into the bed beside you and holding your son skin-to-skin as he slept on his fathers chest, and you on his shoulder. When you drifted off he kissed the top of your head gently and whispered sweetly “well done, mummy.”

Tom was determined to be the father he didn’t have. And a good one at that.

Mr and Mrs Garson cried when you asked them to be the godparents, you would’ve appointed the role to everyone in this village if you could - your own little family larger than it seemed.

The newborn stage went by awefully fast and you and Tom self with every hurdle and hiccup together, all the nappies and sick, and the 3AM walks when baby Matty would not settle. It was gone and soon you had a walking talking toddler of whom you were both awfully proud of.

The chilly autumnal eves suddenly turned into even colder winter morns, Christmas was making its rounds in the muggle world and you and Tom had became accustomed to it. You decorated the tree, hung candles, sung carols, gave presents and ate specialty meals on the 25th. Tom sat in his armchair, Mattheo on lap, reading glasses down to the end of his nose as he read A Christmas Carol to him.

You were making dinner, Mince Pie was on the menu that night in particular, and you smiled as you notice the snow falling. You wiped your hands and leant against the doorframe watching your two boys in awe, just memorising the picture for a moment. “Are you alright, my love?” Tom asked, smiling up at you. “Just admiring the picture.” You say, mirroring his grin. Then you turn to your son. “I’m awfully sorry to interrupt, master Riddle. However, so I do believe it is snowing.” He gasped dramatically when he heard the news. “Snow! But we’re reading! But snow!” You both laugh at his dilemma then suggest “how about we eat dinner, then we’ll read out in the snow and make a snowman.” The young boy squeals in delight and runs to the dining room to eat, sitting ever so patiently yet with an impatient smile on those cheeky lips.

That evening you built a snowman, read the last part of the book, and put your son peacefully to sleep in his bed after singing ‘Silent Night’ to him. You and Tom basked in the sight for a moment, just taking in the calmness of the setting.

And as Tom looked down at you, he thought of how you’d changed him.

*scoff* Lord Voldemort, who’d ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

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