#'those are his hooves you bitch' lives my head

[m2ok]

Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1 Pt.2

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.  

This man had come for blood, your blood.  

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.  

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”  

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.  

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.  

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin 

 “No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”  

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.  

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.  

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it. 

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.  

 Thoughts of you.  

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.  

And yet... 

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.  

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.  

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.  

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.  

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.  

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.  

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.  

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.  

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.  

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.  

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.  

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone. 

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him. 

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling, 

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it. 

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes. 

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out. 

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away. 

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin. 

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent. 

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks. 

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun. 

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat. 

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it. 

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark. 

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear. 

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate. 

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit. 

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said. 

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free. 

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged. 

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it. 

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep. 

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive. 

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs. 

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

 “Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use. 

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin. 

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through. 

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living. 

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive. 

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile. 

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it. 

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain. 

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side. 

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side. 

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. 

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights. 

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him. 

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him. 

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh. 

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place. 

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles. 

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost. 

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him. 

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference. 

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down. 

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else. 

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages. 

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful. 

[nekrosmos]

Actually I'm gonna add my own two cents about Graves for you to consider

Man runs cold

Man lives in fucking Texas and he's like "damn it's kinda chilly" and his lieutenants look at the thermometer like "BRO IT IS... 75 DEGREES FARENHEIT??????" and he's like "yeah and my hands are freezing"

Which also means in like 90-degree weather he's like "ah finally! Summer :)"

ALSO I have a headcanon he's got a mare he boards somewhere while he's deployed. Her name is Snake, she is a BITCH of a mare on the ground to almost everyone, but Dad is an exception.

She still bites him in the ass when he's picking her hooves tho. And steals his hat off his head.

Oh he 100% is one of those people who thrives in hot temperatures and complains whenever he's just a little bit chilly, DEFINITELY. He had to wear the warmest possible tactical gear just to go on an op in the snow once and he just was complaining the entire time. This is canon to me alright.

ALSO THE HORSE. He definitely has horses come on !!! "Dad is the exception" is so cute though, oh my god. Bite his ass Snake come on !!

Dude definitely has a ranch or something somewhere he goes to when he needs a break, the fancy kind, too.

[soulfulazrael]

My Hellaverse Religions and Marriages. Or how my Asperger made up some odd worldbuilding over the dumbest reason imaginable.

We all know this shot. We all hate this shot (well... I do)

And it's for one, big reason... what the hell are marriages in Hell? Well. I was wondering that too and honestly the answer is very simple... Who gives a shit? Viv wanted a contrived story with forced marriage where Moxxie looks like a total bitch so she did it as well as she could and since she could not do it well it came out how it did.

But it did made me think at least. What would marriages in Hell look like? And that lead me to a downward spiral of thinking up in a few hours how it works and why it works. And here is the result. Ladies and gentleman and all the inbetweens (I don't judge) I present my first rewrite post which I mostly do for myself as a note for future in case dementia catches me like it did with my grandparents. One is dead, the other is dying, but enough about my happy life. Let's get into autistic rambling.

So, before we get to the marriage system I have in mind, first let's delve into another thing. God. Or in this case. Deities. As in my version of HB/HH I write about in my AU there are several of them. All of which are different High authority figures of which the main ones are five and I will name all of them: First one is Lucifer

Who in this version is... not as nice. In fact he is very, VERY cruel being. One that has little qualms about lives of anyone else. A being of Chaos from the times of the Rebellion in Heaven which he lead against God after he corrupted humanity to prove to The Almighty of his superiority, of that he is deserving of love much greater than mortals. Cast out from Heaven alongside all those that took side with him.

Now in Hell he embodies Pride that shaped the top layer of Hell. He is a Deity that preaches ultimate freedom. He preaches the idea of that you deserve all that you want. That every feeling, every desire you feel is correct and that you alone are deserving of those no matter what anyone says, no matter who it hurts. All that is important is you. That is the crux of those who follow him. Hedonists, narcissists, cruel, chaotic beings of pure selfishness who believe in righteousness of their desires and standing up against any authority that wants to keep them away from fulfilling their dreams and when all dreams become reality, there is no other outcome than Chaos which Lucifer adores.

They are called Light Takers. For Lucifer is one who brings light and those who follow him, take said light and all that they want.

That is Lucifer and now let's get to the Deity right under him that sides with him more so than the other one, another creature of Chaos (also be mindful that this is just short summary of those things, I can go more in depth about each one in other posts). Satan:

I don't have a better image as my idea of how he looks is pretty different. I imagine him as a centaur like being with a lower body similar to a bull, more human like torso, a head similar to one on this app with mighty wings and 4 arms. A brutal, relentless deity, one who's philosophy is to spread death and prepare for fight against the Heaven. To drown the world in the blood of his enemies and for the bodies and blood to rise so high so that he can approach the Heaven's gates.

His followers are mostly Imps. Many of them sharing to lesser or greater extent this philosophy of slaughter. It gives them meaning to kill and make their own trail of Blood as they follow in the hoove steps of the Lord of Slaughter. Followers of Blood they are called. A numerous force of berserkers devoted to mindless murder and Chaos.

With all this Chaos there has to be a balance point though right? You'd be correct. As on the opposite end of the Chaos spread by Lucifer and Satan is The Lord Governor:

Lucifuge Rofocale. He is in my version very similar to this depiction, although he very rarely smiles. He is known also as Bitter Governor for his rivalry with Lucifer in which he is mostly ignored by the latter as he tries to gain control over the Chaos of Hell.

He is the creature who values Order more so than anything. He is the Lawmaker. He is the lord of Laws that he writes into his Great Book, many laws there are, some of which contradict each other, some forgotten, other irrelevant. All his. He is the cruelty of order and subjugation incarnate. His name itself Lucifuge is one that was given to him after rebellion in which he took side of Lucifer in order to create a perfect society of his own. A society that was never to be. He who runs from Light for he was a Throne Angel of greater light than any other, a Light so strong he could never know even a smallest shadow. Light that he hated above all and could never fully rid himself off of it's taint.

When he came to Hell his Pride alongside Lucifer's shaped the Entire Ring. Lucifer controls the Central parts where Pentagram City is located and Lucifuge controls outer rings of Pride where his 5 towers on borders of Pride spreading to the blood sky surround the Chaos of Lucifer. His desire of control made manifest. A control he spreads with his Emissaries. Those who follow him and his laws faithfully and spread them with unmatched zeal. And his most faithful and powerful servant is the 4th of the Main Deities. The Silent King of all Ars Goetia.

King Baal. His version in my AU is based on this picture. A creature with lower body of a Spider and torso of a man with head of a King with long hair at the top. Which ever direction he looks, his face changes shape, if to his right it takes form of a cat and left is the frog. Among the deities he alongside Satan were born in Hell and were since time of their Hell's manifestation bitter rivals and his beloved is Queen of Gluttony Beelzebub which is often a target of mockery. A spider who beds a bug instead of eating it, but no care to those words are given, no words... Only silence. Pride was originally meant to be his as it would embody his silence, but it was not to be as the Fall happened and Pride was born from the quiet grounds.

He was named an Ars Goetia by Lucifuge to whom he pledged allegiance to in Silent Promise and ever since his invisible web spread across skies of Pride, woven from threads attached to every life among Ars Goetia and to cut it is to be a Heretic condemned to suffering at the hand of Silent King. Baal's Faithful who are his followers are mostly Ars Goetia. All believing in Hell's security to be utmost priority. To make it safe at any means necessary. To make sure that Hell will be eternal and all who fall into it's flames will never escape it's torment. He is the one who keeps the Ars Goetia in check to follow the laws Lord Lucifuge laid out. For maybe side of Chaos has numbers and ferocity, but Order has power and stability.

A balance that is most crucial to never ending conflict festered by the most enigmatic and possibly most terrible of the Five. Mephistopheles.

Who's looks are as everchanging as interpretations of how he looks. A Demon who fooled the world into believing he was, but a made up Demon in a story about Faust. Always cloaked in shadows creature, that despite looking a lot of times like the most basic denizen of Hell, is anything, but. As his nature is a mystery to all who inhabit it. A creature of Darkness that remembers the time of the first words that is alien to both Heaven and Hell. One that gave Hell it's currency made of Souls it caught with contracts they make on earth. A Creature that always maintains the balance of both sides. Making sure there is never a conclusion to this bitter conflict and flames of Discord never fade. Something that is cherished by his Brethren in Dark.

To be Mephisto's Brethren in Dark is to commune and listen to Mephisto's words. You are what you are. There is no change to that. So live your life as you see fit. Make of your life anything you want. Be it for order or chaos. Be it for your desire or duty. What is important is to know who you are and to believe in his words. It is to be on the side of yours and his and all that you must have will come to you, but the price will have to be paid, but it does not have to come from you now has it? No... You use others as much as you are used. You know that very well. You always will. For you are rotten, but so is everything else. So is that so bad?

There are many other deities. Such as King Paimon, by many considered as one of the if not the mightiest among Kings. A being who's promise of seeing his Labyrinth makes many shudder at the mere thought. Or the Sins who's patronage seek those who live on their rings. But the choice is up to the Hellborn... aside from mostly Hellhounds, who mostly only reside and do labor for the Beelzebub. A Cerberus insect of endless hunger.

But there is one more path. On the side of neutrality is also another side. Hell. To listen to the will of Hell.

Listeners of Hell are those who feel the very wind among the bloody streets. To know intimately the desires of the ground you walk on. To serve Hell as it's listener and to reinforce it's will. This is path for those who seek a different path from all other deities. But to do so is to give all that you are to the home you have. Not to protect, but understand it. Breathe with it and to be a true part of it. Closer than many others.

These are all the paths Hellborn can... or rather have to choose. Because atheism is not possible in this realm. Hellborn have to believe in something otherwise it means they are a traitor to the Hell itself. Whatever one believes in it is up to the Hellborn in question. But the choice it is one Hellborn MUST make.

Now... after this little mythology lesson where does this lead in terms of marriages? Well. The marriage in itself is also a deal between deities. Each side has their own contract that has to be signed by the priest of their respective deity. And each priest is of different kind. Emissary is a political for the most part. Mephisto's Brethren could be of any kind. A soldier of Baal. Hedonistic royal of Lucifer. Berserker of Satan. If both sides worship same deity it means less issues, but both contracts are still required.

Both sides need to sign their respective contract and then place their cut hands on those contracts as they are connected by their blank sides. Letting their blood seep into them as both of them touch them. Letting their blood, believes and word to connect them forevermore, for them both to be servants together. That is unless one has a change of faith which may require redoing of the process at the chance of being shunned by everyone around. For it is a shame to be someone to turns away from their God.

So yeah... This is how I would personally write certain part of Mythology of Hell. I know I did not elaborate on certain other things like Paimon or Sins, but I think this is a good enough of a starting point to the mythology I want to make with 3 sides here. Chaos, Order and Neutrality. All with their own strengths and weaknesses. All with their own stories and people who worship them. All with their own traditions, beliefs and personalities... All of it... because I was iffy by the fucking Exs and Ohs priest. I need serious mental help. This is just sad to look at. Then again if you read this far, I guess we all lost here. Or maybe you liked it. If so then please leave a comment or something. I cherish those. And maybe think of who you would choose to follow.

[cielcreations]

Hazbin Hermits - Prologue

AN: Hermitcraft/Empires/3rd Life Series X Hazbin Hotel AU.

Meaning lots of cursing, fighting, blood, violence, flirting, shipping, sexual innuendos/implied sexual content, and pretty much everyone is a bad person to some degree.

If you don't like your favorite characters made to be not so great people, then do not read.

"Good afternoon! I'm Katherine Killjoy!"

"And I'm Joey JaxHammer! Chaos outside pentagram city today, as a turf war is raging on the west side between notable kingpins Lord Fwhip and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse Mythical Sausage!"

"That's right Joey! After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!"

"Those two seem to be really going at it, huh?"

"Looks like they're fighting tooth and nail for that hotspot!"

"And I'd like to nail their hotspots, am I right, fellas~?"

"Haha, you are a limp dick jackass, Joey! Or should I say-" Katherine poured her hot coffee on his lap, the man hissing and moving before she could actually spill it on his dick, "-no dick?"

"Bitch." The man hissed.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the younger son of Hell's own head honcho, who's here to discuss his brand-new passion project!"

"All that, after the break!" Joey exclaimed, taking his mug and pouring his coffee on Katherine's head.

"YOU LITTLE SH-"

The two looked away from the TV. The blue haired demon tugged the tie a bit tighter, just to make the prince look more presentable.

"Okay." He finished, stepping back, "Are you ready? You remember what to say?"

The blonde took a deep breath, his purple eyes widening in excitement as he exclaimed, "Yes! Let's do this!"

"Just, look at me, and I'll mouth it to you, Zed." The man grabbed the prince's shoulders.

Zed had light blonde hair with brown ram horns, pale skin, wearing a black suit with a red tie, no shoes so his hooves could breath.

"Ugh, come ooooon, Tango, I know what to say!" Zed reassured, smiling, "But, I do think we should make it a bit more interesting! I-I mean, I don't want to go up there and sound robotic, you know?"

Tango, normally, had yellow hair, that could change into different colors depending on how hot he got. Since he could control fire and such, his hair would change colors to match the fire type and, sometimes, it could even turn on fire. His skin was pale with a bit of a blue tint, his nails sharpened into claws. He wore a black crop top and black shorts, long black heeled boots. He also had black belts wrapped around his waist with golden buckles, black cloth to create an overskirt. (Art of Tango by @/lunarcrown)

"I get that, babe, but this is serious." Tango reminded him, "You can't go up there and squeal and giggle the whole time. It's adorable, yes, but not all sinners are going to trust and believe in your project unless you look serious and you know what you're doing."

"I told you through a fit of excited squeals."

"Yeah, and I listened because I know and believe in you." The demon motioned to the others, "These sinners don't. They don't know you, they barely know your older brother, and they certainly won't believe in you at first. It's why you gotta go up there, show them who's in charge, and act like this plan is full-proof!"

"But we don't know if it is..." Zed reminded.

"Your right, and neither do they." Tango booped his nose, "Which is our advantage. No one knows if this works, but if we act like we're the experts, people believe."

"Prince Zedaph? Five minutes before we're live." A demon called.

Tango smiled at the blonde, kissing his forehead, "You got this! I'll be right behind the camera, so if you need me?"

Zed nodded, smiling, "Don't worry, I got this!"

He turned around, walking to the desk and smiling, offering his hand, "Hi, I'm Zed-"

"Katherine Killjoy." The female anchor hissed, "You can put that away. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie." She then sneered, "Look, my time is money, so I'll keep this short. You're not here because we wanted you here. You're here because Jeffery couldn't make it to his cannibal cooking segment! You may be some royal bigshot, but that doesn't mean shit to me! I'm too rich and influential to giving a flying fuck about some tux wearing demon 'prince'-" (she put "prince" in quotations, as if Zed wasn't one) "-wants to advertise."

Zed narrowed his eyes, "Listen-"

Katherine leaned forward, glaring, "So don't get cute with me, or I'll fucking break you!"

"And we're live!"

Katherine zoomed to her seat, tilting her head so much, it sounded like she broke it, "Welcome back!" Once Zed was sat down, she spoke again, "So, Zedaph!"

The blonde's eyes twitched as he smiled awkwardly, "It's Zed-"

"Whatever! Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!"

"Welllllll..." Zed looked around at the demons, Tango standing by the camera man with a smile and thumbs up. He smiled and took a deep breath as he spoke, "As most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home and you are my people. We just went through another extermination and we lost so many souls! It breaks my heart seeing my people being slaughtered every year!" He slammed his fist on the table, sighing, "No one is even given a chance and I can no longer stand idly by when the place I call home, the place I love, is constantly being destroyed!"

He stood up, smiling, "So, I've been thinking, isn't there a more humane way to hinder Hell's overpopulation? Perhaps we can find a new alternative way to save souls through redemption? I think yes, and that's what this project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!"

Everyone was silent, staring at the man.

Everyone outside stared at the TV.

One in particular tilted his head in curiosity.

Everyone in the news station... started laughing.

Zed shrunk in on himself as Tango moved to stand beside him, his blue hair turning into flames as he glared at everyone.

"What in the nine circles makes you think a single person in hell would give two shits about becoming a 'better person?!'" Katherine cackled, "You have no proof that this actually works and you want people to be good just because?!"

"You have no proof it doesn't work!" Tango hissed, flames surrounding his body, "Besides, we already have a patron who's showing incredible improvement!"

"Ooooooh, and who might that be~?" Katherine sneered.

Tango leaned forward, intentionally burning her wooden table with a smirk, "Oh, just someone named, SmallishBeans."

"The pornstar?" Joey asked.

"You fucking would, Joey." Katherine glared before snickering, "In any case, that's hardly an accomplishment! I'm sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough lube and sugar!"

Tango continued to burn her table, the woman looking ready to scratch his eyes out as he drew little doodles, "I beg to differ."

Zed also perked up, smirking, "He's been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now!"

"Breaking news!"

Katherine perked up before she smirked, pushing the men away, "We just received word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let's go to the live feed!"

They turned to the TV and Tango pinched his temples as he tried to control himself, Zed muttering out, "Oh shit."

"Oh shit, indeed!" Katherine exclaimed, "It appears the one to join is none other than porn actor Joel, aka, SmallishBeans!" She looked at the two, "What a juicy coincidence! I bet you feel real stupid right now! How does it feel to be a total and utter failure?!"

She began laughing, everyone did, once more.

Tango tried to control himself as Zed clenched his fists.

The prince looked at Tango with glowing red eyes, "Fucking, show them who's boss."

Tango smirked, his teeth sharpening to points, "Gladly."

He jumped across the table, lighting everything on fire as he began to beat Katherine and Joey.

***

The prince and his boyfriend sat in a limo, across from the other sinner. The sinner had brown hair with a green streak in the middle of his hair, matching his green eyes and green antenna. He wore a long white and light green suit blazer, the top unbuttoned and showing off his muscular chest. He had black shorts and long, knee length black heeled boots. To top it off, he had green transparent fairy wings on his back.

They watched as he rolled the window up and down, clearly in his own little world. Eventually, he seemed to notice the two were staring at him.

The brunette stopped, leaned back, and shrugged, "What?"

"'What?' 'WHAT?!'" Tango screamed, his hair turning to blue, almost purple flames, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, JOEL?!"

"Ugh, I had too, I owed Sausage a solid!" Joel huffed, "Isn't that one of those 'redeeming qualities'? Helping friends and all that?!"

Zed leaned into the window with a groan as Tango reprimanded him, "Not in turf wars that result in genocide?!"

"Meh, you win some, you loose a few hundred!"

"Joel, that was really not cool." Zed groaned, "You just... You made us look like jokes!"

"Nah, chill out, jokes are funny! I made you all look sad and pathetic!"

"Oh, cause that's any better?!" Tango growled.

"Look, I had to!" Joel argued, "My reputation was on the line! You know what people would say if they found out I was trying to go clean?! Not to mention, people would know where I am and try to break into the hotel to get some of me! Do you want a whole mob down there?"

"Listen, if you want to stay here, you need to take this shit seriously!" Tango demanded, walking towards the brunette, "We're not going to give you a free room, free food, free whatever else if all you do is fuck around! So, you either sit down, buckle the fuck up, and try to redeem yourself and help the hotel's reputation, that you burned to cinder!" He glared, flames coming out of his mouth, "Got it?"

Joel groaned, "Okay, fine, whatever."

"C-Calm down, Tango." Zed offered his hand, Tango moving to sit beside him again, "I-It's not over yet, we can still try! It'll be okay!"

The limo stopped at the hotel and the three went inside. Tango flopped on the couch with a groan, Joel grabbing a popsicle and sitting in a chair. Zed groaned and went to go upstairs, only to stop.

Someone knocked on the door.

He walked towards it and opened the door.

In front of him stood a tall dirty blonde man with his eyes closed, wearing a blue striped coat with dark blue sleeves, the coat falling to his knees. Underneath the coat, he wore a white dress shirt with a black upside down cross on the chest, as if to resemble a tie, long black dress pants with bright blue cuffs. Over his feet, he wore black heeled boots that rested under his pants. Behind his back, he held a long thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it.

The whole time, he smiled.

Zed shrunk a little as the man opened his eyes. He had black sclera with blue eyes, staring down at the prince.

"HELLO!" He spoke, his voice altered to sound like that of a broadcast.

Zed shut the door on instinct, "Uh, Tango?"

"Whaaaaat?" The flame demon groaned.

"The Radio Demon is at the door!"

[listwjanka]

Dig Deeper

When I was a young boy, I had a tough time making friends. Mother always said that it's important to have friends, but the other children swerved around me like I was roadkill.

I think they suspected something. Like, children are attuned to the spirit world, it's always in the movies. The kids get possessed by ghosts and demons because they're more sensitive to it, like dogs are. I think they sensed that I have no soul.

As far back as I can remember, it's always been just mother and I. Once or twice I asked about my father and she grounded me. She didn't usually drink alcohol, but she did whenever the topic came up. It's not something she ever talked to me about, like she thought I wouldn't be able to tell that she was drunk during her prayers or that I wouldn't see the bottles. Her big, wet doe eyes would always cloud over when she was drunk, like an unlit room. Maybe she just didn't care if I knew.

We lived in a two bedroom house, slightly off the end of the road. It broke the symmetry of the neighbourhood. Mother said it was because the house was older than the rest of the street, that she'd inherited it from her mother who inherited it from her father and so on.

Once I had a classmate over for a school project - always hated those - and he was a huge bitch about it. He kept asking if it was my grandma's house, complained about the musty smell and how the Holy Marys were all staring at him. It's true, there were a lot of portraits, statuettes, icons and such of Holy Mary around the house, on desks, shelves, walls. If you took a piss on the floor, a stray droplet would inevitably hit some sort of catholic iconography, that's how many there were. That and crosses, rosemaries and books and bibles too old for me to care about. I asked him if there's houses without all this stuff. He looked at me really weird, I can still remember that, and just put his head down to work on his part of the project.

His father was waiting in the parking lot for the entirety of his stay.

While we did have television at home, I couldn't always watch because of mother. Usually I was only able to catch the night program when she was asleep. So most of the time I would be out back in the woods.

The town was like a secluded island surrounded by a wooden ocean. There was a highway that ran straight by, but it didn't make much of a dent in the forest's density. If you had a really bad sense of direction, you could easily get lost there.

I have a lot of memories of that forest.

When I was eight, I caught Mrs. Martens, my PE teacher, having sex with an older student. He was one of those stupid high school meatheads so I didn't think much about it. I don't know how old Ms. Martens was at the time, all adults are really fucking old when you're eight. I knew to hide behind a tree and not draw any attention to myself, so I just stood there unblinking until they were finished.

The same year I found a whole deer skeleton. I don't know how I missed it before, but it laid in perfect serenity on autmun leaves. Its bones were clean-picked and slightly green from moss or lichen that had begun to grow as nature worked to reclaim its due. The hooves though, the hooves still had a ring of that soft, yet firm fur around them.

When my fingers touched that fur, I felt an intense longing, strong enough to etch itself into my brain, a mark fresh even all those years later. To touch something that had long since died, but was still tethered to the world of the living, by the faintest of threads - how death impresses itself upon the living, how it impressed on me, and let me feel something for once. I felt a fire behind my eyes.

I mentioned the deer skeleton at school. I was so enamoured with my find that my bet was, surely the other kids would be too.

Most were grossed out that I'd touched the hooves and even took one home. They started screeching when I showed them that I had it in my pocket.

Others were less squeamish and liked the story and my souvenir, but insisted that I probably put the hooves in my mouth and licked the bones because my family is poor, whatever sense that was to make. When I asked why I would do that, one of the boys stepped forward, knocked on my forehead and asked "Anyone home? How are you this ret***d?"

So I didn't show anybody my skeleton, but the school called my mother to voice their concerns over my behaviour. At home, she made me throw the hoof into the garbage and beat me with a belt until we were both crying.

After that, I stayed away from the forest for a long while and stopped talking to any classmates for good. There was this impassable barrier that everyone felt, but could not break through. Some of my teachers would, every once in a while over the years, gently knock from the other side and talk at me about someone who could help me. When I refused, they would call my mother, who refused treatment much less calmly.

When I was 11, mother began taking me to church more often, until we went nearly every day there was service. I never quite got the hang of it or understood what I was supposed to do or feel and just followed mother's motions. She kept insisting that we were going to save my soul, but I had no idea how repeating the same few dozens of verses every day would heal me from the inside.

There was this part of the service where congregation members were to stand up, go to the front and accept the body of Christ, rather a stale, tasteless waffle. You had to do it in a specific way and I didn't care to learn. I don't know or care if I laid my hands wrong, knelt wrong or said the wrong things, either way, the pastor started whispering to my mother after services.

He would say things like "The boy is simple" or "I believe his soul is gravely ill" and my mother would stand there with white knuckles and tears in her eyes, struggling to speak.

We talked less and less the more services we attended together. When I was 13, she stopped making me go. The other boys were preparing for confirmation.

Now it wasn't just my classmates treating me like a leper - it seemed as though ever since my voice had cracked and my limbs elongated like unfurled colons, adults eyed me with hesitation, their words and movements calculated as though handling a snake.

Mother would lock the door when I came home from school. I wouldn't stay home long anyway and retreat back to my childhood sanctuary: the woods.

I'd always bring a pocket knife to take home any souvenirs, any gifts that Nature would give to keep me company. The deer skeleton was long rotten away, but plenty of other friends took its place.

At age 14 around spring, I found a small pond full of frog spawn. The frogs themselves had long left their offspring to fend for themselves. The spawn felt good in my hands and I started crushing the eggs like bubble wrap.

If anyone asked me why, I wouldn't know how to answer. It just happened. Every pop made my bloodflow more audible to my ears. For the first time in years, I could feel the strength in my fingers, the pressure in my eyeballs, the heat of my guts. I wondered how much life was in those tiny gooey balls. Whether my squeezing the wet contents out of them let me absorb their energy. Whether those still-developing creatures felt anything at all. Would they feel anything later? How much sentience could I ascribe to the goop in my hands?

That summer I went to hunt frogs. I saw and understood that they ran away from me, perceiving me as a considerable threat - much like the humans in my life. But they weren't strong enough to fight back and were easily skewered by my pocket knife.

Frogs have such big, lively eyes. People would sometimes tell me my eyes were lifeless and dull. In movies, people would say "There's no life behind his eyes." when describing bad guys or demonic possessions. Maybe, I thought, maybe. Maybe if I dug a little, I could find their souls.

Mother always spoke of souls, so matter-of-factly that it did not cross my mind to doubt her. Until I knew better, I figured souls were much like the other organs - and that they must be quite small, because I never found them in the biology books at the school library.

A frog is much larger than a tadpole or an embryo, I figured, so their soul should be visible somehow. Perhaps it would be small and hard like a seed. Maybe it was more all-encompassing, but very thin like a stretched patch of skin on the inside.

I remembered those frog dissection classes from movies and improvised my own. Its guts weren't nearly as colourful as textbook illustrations had me assume. There were some orange cords nestled in its insides by the leg, an olive-green organ reminiscent of a pinecone seed and what I assume was punctured lungs. The sight made me think of strange european dishes that I saw on the TV sometimes.

Since the body was too tattered to tell much from its shredded insides, I spent the rest of the afternoon hunting for frogs - but I would not find salvation in their tiny corded guts that day. There was no shining pearl, no glowing patch, no tiny seed out of place. Try how I might, I did no find their souls.

The next day, however, something unusual happened: At school, my teachers would comment on my "rosier complexion", how there was a spring in my step, a light in my eyes. I was taken aback - indeed, I was in a much better mood than usual after yesterday's efforts.

After what happened with the deer skeleton, I chose my words more carefully to avoid trouble and said, yes, I had a lot of fun working with my hands yesterday. I said I'd been woodcarving.

The teachers seemed pleased with my inexplicable shift in demeanour. Their words rolled around in my head like lost marbles - there was no space for pleasantries in my insides. No suitable place to stow away marbles behind lightless eyeballs.

I began thinking. Maybe, a frog's soul is fluid? Or maybe it's microscopically small and absorbed into my skin through the fingertips while I was carefully pulling muscle from bone in my search. Maybe, I'd made their life, mine.

It was an invigorating thought. I looked around me and noticed hair fractures developing in the barrier that had barred me from the others for all these years. Maybe I had to work hard, much, much harder than others had to, to break through.

I did take up wood carving. My first attempts weren't good. Then I took one of the myriad of crosses from our house and started mimicking its grooves and cuts, however crudely. I left the finished cross and the emaciated, wooden Jesus nailed to it wrapped in linen for my mother to find.

When she did find it that evening, instead of bolting right away into her bedroom, she sat still at the kitchen table, holding the gift so delicately as if it were a premature stillborn, sobbing quietly. I knelt next to her and she gently ran her fingers through my hair. Her big, wet eyes didn't dare meet mine.

Still, I didn't give up on finding the soul, but I started searching larger animals. I was on to something. The fractures in my barrier were nearly thick enough to break it and I could nearly taste the crisp air of the outside world.

When I couldn't find it in a rat, I searched through a bunny.

When I didn't find it in a bunny, I dug through a cat.

When the cat's body bore no fruit, I set eyes on Prometheus.

Prometheus was a large, black mutt, some sort of sheepdog with big, sharp eyes. He was smarter than his two trash owners combined, so luring him was no easy task. Fortunately for me, he'd also just barely stopped being a puppy and wasn't quite as serious as his older peers.

If any animal in the vicinity had a soul that could be seen with one's bare eyes, it was Prometheus.

I'm sure he was a fighter, a brave boy, but anyone struck with a hardwood plank to the head wouldn't have much time to recover from the impact. He didn't have the chance to make much noise. The woods were silent that night.

Sometimes, I do wish he'd managed to run away - and I don't want to go into any more details out of respect - but as my gloved hands carefully mapped out Prometheus' viscera, his sacrifice was well worth it.

Right there, on his left kidney, was a splendidly white growth, the likes of which I'd never seen in the schoolbooks. In the beam of my flashlight, it seemed to still be alive, to pulsate. It was the size of a rosemary pearl, firm to the touch and still warm, exuding a mist in the cool night air.

Prometheus' soul.

Awestruck, I reverently cut out the kidney and carefully placed it in a ziploc bag. Weeping in total silence, I stared into the great dome of stars above and felt how each and every twinkling light above was the eyes of God looking at me with great love and benevolence. I searched and found. A bloodied lamb, its wool now washed by God's gentle hands, held in a warm carress. You did it. I'm so, so proud of you.

As luck would have it, when Prometheus was found, it seemed that some woodland animals had gotten to him. The hunter said his innards were fully consumed by the time he found the dog and the soft belly flesh torn and gnawed on. God was looking out for me that night, I knew it.

Our school had a Thanksgiving festival that year and I carved wolf and dog figurines out of wood for the occassion. Surprisingly, they sold very well and were well-received. Mother's parish seemed especially taken with my effort - or rather, me. I was ecstatic about my findings and radiated religious enthusiasm. I listened ravenously to their retellings of biblical tales of men who braved great despair and made great sacrifices, only to emerge holy in the eyes of God. I saw myself in those men and could not help but choke up with them over God's boundless grace. For once, mother's eyes weren't so sad but betrayed a great happiness in their hazel warmth and radiance.

I felt connected.

Then Mrs. Martens came over.

She hadn't been my PE teacher in seven years and I had not paid any attention to her in just as long. Her auburn locks were now slightly streaked with silver and she wore a smile that didn't quite reach the rest of her thin face. She said my name as if it were a spell.

"We're so happy to see you getting on with our flock now, dear. Your mother's always been so worried about you, but turns out you're just an artist!"

She leaned in closer. Too close.

"I won't fuck you, Mrs. Martens."

The crowd around the stand fell dead silent. The only sound was the rush of blood in my skull.

I'd never seen someone turn so sickly pale so quickly. The white of her bulging, veiny eyeballs reminded me of the surface of Prometheus' soul.

She started staggering and stammering about how she didn't understand and didn't know what I was talking about. So I explained how seven years ago, she had a student raw her against an oak tree. How she yowled like an alley cat as a boy half her age fucked her from behind and how she sardonically implored him to stay quiet afterwards. How I thought it was disgusting and how I didn't want her near me, lest she touch me like she did with him.

There was a great chaos afterwards and a lot of it is a blur to me. I remember mother grabbing me ere anyone else could, dragged me home and barricaded the door with a musty sofa. We'd never run so fast and I'd never heard her scream like this before.

She screeched about baseless accusations and embarrassment and how she could never show her face outside again. I was deeply confused - wasn't it proper to be honest? Didn't Mrs. Mathers defy God by forsaking her husband, shouldn't her sinfulness be known?

Mother was frothing at her thin-lipped mouth, her skin red and blotchy from the blood pressure building just behind her skin.

"You RE*****D! You GODLESS FREAK! STOP PUTTING HIS NAME IN YOUR MOUTH! YOU'VE RUINED ME! RUINED MY LIFE!"

It hurt. She was very wrong, but it still hurt. I explained how God favoured me. How I found Prometheus' soul in his guts after believing and searching for so long!

Mother stared at me with an ineffale fire behind her eyes, an intensity defying that of anyone I'd ever seen: "You blithering moron; animals don't have souls."

She had to be wrong. Her words split my insides. Was that true? What was I missing? I'd found his soul, right? It was a soul, right? Could I actually make sure? Was I sure? Are you sure?

In those torturous moments, I begged God for guidance - and He answered me with mother's burning stare. Her big, soulful eyes, coals burning in sockets.

I understood that I needed to search once more.

The pocket knife wouldn't cut it this time.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC and The Familiars (But the Familiars Aren’t Actually Familiars)

So I 100% subscribe to the idea that the brothers can turn into their signature animal, but what if they tried to be slick about it?

Lucifer

Alright, all he had to do was visit MC in the human world, no big deal. Just a visit to his favourite human’s home… he’s the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer’s totally got this and isn’t nervous at all.

He poofs himself into their living room and… wait wasn’t knocking on the front door more polite? Agh, that doesn’t matter. Everything was still totally fine, he could hear MC shuffling around in the other room, he just needed to get outside and knock on the front door.

No problem- OH FUCK MC JUST WALKED IN DO SOMETHING-

*poof*

“…Lucifer?” MC was clearly not fooled by Lucifer’s new bird-y form… father dammit.

Okay, he couldn’t be suave and kabedon the human in this form… quick seduce them in another way!

Maybe fanning out his feathers inside wasn’t a good idea, he knocked a couple of things off the coffee table but at least he was fabulous.

MC just raises their eyebrows and rolls their eyes. “Okay, you’re very pretty Lucifer. Happy?”

Lucifer gets some gentle head rubs, ah, this was nice…

He poofs back into his human form and dips MC. Smooth as butter. “Well, it seems you’ve found me out, MC. I’ll just have to take you out on a date as a reward.”

MC giggles and Lucifer just revels in how amazing and clever he is- until MC looks over at the floor.

“You knocked my drink off the coffee table.” “Oh… would you like to go on a date after I clean that for you..?”

Mammon

UGGGGGGGGGGGH MAMMON’S HUMAN WASN’T PAYING ATTENTION TO HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!

MC wasn’t adhering to the very clear “shower Mammon with love and affection” event on their calendar. The event was every day but like- who cares! Mammon had to find out where his human was right that moment and figure out why they weren’t giving him cuddles!

Mammon turned into his crow form and flew right out of the house. Where was that stupid human he loved so dearly? Oh! There they are! Feeding his crows! Awwwwwwwwwww so cute!

Crow-Mammon fluttered down and perched himself next to MC, who was immediately delighted.

“Oh hello there little friend!” MC gently picked Mammon up. “I love your feathers! Aren’t you adorable?”

If crows could blush, Mammon would be bright red. It was all great until his crows started imitating his voice in an attempt to blow his cover!

“Oh that’s right! Mammon would totally adore you!” Wait what?

MC proceeded to rush around the HOL asking all the brothers if they had seen Mammon. Crap… now crow-mammon needed a way to transform back into sexy regular Mammon without alerting his human!

…maybe that could wait a bit… being carried around by MC wasn’t so bad…

Leviathan

Let’s get one thing straight, okay? Levi is a sea snek! A cute little danger noodle! He doesn’t exactly think he’s cute but we know the truth.

He was just swimming around his and Henry 2.0’s gigantic aquarium when MC just barged in without knocking! What kinda normie BULLSHIT-

“Levi? Leviiiiiiiii?” Aw, the human missed him… Levi debated changing back but then decided against it… MC would probably despise him if they found out he wasn’t only a yucky otaku… he was a gross slimy snake too!

MC continued to look around the room while Levi hid in some of his aquarium props. Hiding in his underwater replica of the Lord of Shadows’ castle wasn’t exactly comfortable but it allowed Levi to at least see what MC was doing.

MC suddenly pressed their face against the glass of the aquarium and waved Henry 2.0 over.

“Hey little buddy, do you know where Levi is?”

GAH! 100 DAMAGE! CRITICAL HIT! LEVI HAS FAINTED! TOO MOE! His cute little goldfish and his cute little MC! AAAAAAAAA- oh shit he just transformed back into his normal form-

“Oh! There you are Levi!” MC waved from the other side of the glass. “Come out! Let’s watch anime!”

Satan

He’s not turning into a unicorn. Sorry not sorry.

As cool and terrifying as unicorns are in the Devildom, those stupid human legends ruined their reputations as feared companions to demons.

Whatever, Satan had invited MC over to his room for some 100% family friendly snuggling. He opened up a book and-

Wait why’d he have hooves now..? OH SON OF A BITCH!

The stupid book turned him into his familiar form! He couldn’t change back! Ugh… he needed to calm down, his mane was made of fire and he was in a very flammable environment… the last thing Satan wanted was to burn his books and MC. Wait MC-

“Satan? Is that you?” “…”

Well, at least Satan got some nose scritches… even though unicorns were absolutely terrifying, MC didn’t seem to mind. Though, they burned their fingertips a bit…

Okay… maybe getting pets in his demon form wasn’t all bad…

Asmodeus

Oh MC’s skin was a disaster! Asmo had to do something! All those late night anime binges with Levi were awful, just awful!

MC could be having all night Asmo time but noooooo apparently Princess Tutu was way more fun…

Ah well, time to entice MC into taking care of their skin~

Asmo turned into his adorable little scorpion form and scuttled off to MC’s room. He hopped up on their sink and nudged some lotion towards a very confused MC.

“…what?” “*scuttle scuttle*” “Oh, hi Asmo.”

MC graciously allowed Asmo to guide their bleary eyed self through their morning routine. Being small really helped, it allowed Asmo to get into the very back of the bathroom cabinet, where he found- GASP! MC! IS THAT THE HANDCREAM ASMO HAD GIFTED THEM?!

“*angy scuttles*” “What? I didn’t like the smell.”

The highlight of the morning was when MC picked Asmo up and gave him a hug. :3

Beelzebub

Food… *SNIIIIIIIIIIIIIFF* must consume. It’s coming from behind a locked door- HE NEEDS TO EAT.

Beel transformed and slipped through the crack underneath the door. Hell yeah! Food!

MC was eating takeout, and didn’t invite him… :( oh well, he could eat with them as a fly :)

He leisurely floated down to the food and started nomming.

“Shoo!” MC swatted Beel away. Oh no D: MC whyyyy?

Beel kept flying back, and getting shooed away, it was quite the viscous cycle, well, it was until MC caught Beel under a cup.

Quick! Transform back!

“…Beel. What?” “I’m hungry :(.”

MC just handed him some of their food and went back to eating. Same shit as always…

Belphegor

Moooooooooooooooooooooooo-

Okay, Belphie knew it was comfortable to sleep as a cow when he didn’t have a blanket, he was floofy as a cow! Being floofy is comfortable!

“MCCCCCCCCCCCC. Come snuggle!”

Gasp! MC give cuddles! MC give cuddles and pets to sleepy cow brat!

Belphie likes getting pet behind the ears, THATS the spot… yeah… *content cow sigh*

Side note, cows have very nice eyelashes, Belphie must have nice eyelashes too.

Just snoozing and cuddling… this is how life should be…

The whole gang eventually just ends up napping near or on Belphie, it’s very relaxing. Crow-Mammon on his head, Fly-Beel between his eyes, Snek Levi all curled up on his back, Scorpion Asmo behind his ears, and Lucifer and Satan leaned up next to MC.

They should do this more often…

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[swordofpevensie]

As I've seen it again, here are my favorite things about Prince Caspian (2008):

warnings: It is a very long post and I can't help but swear sometimes.

• How Caspian is confused all the time.

• Prefossor: “Don't use that until you really need to use it.”

Caspian: *Uses it the first time he is in danger.* Good job boy, good job.

• “Phyllis.” “SUSAN!” (Lucy does the same thing in tvodt *emotional voices*)

• That disappinted look in Susan's eyes when she sees Peter fighting, and they way she doesn't do anything to help him. Like girl they are beating your brother??

• Edmund comes and saves Peter by simply jumping on everyone who is trying to hurt Peter. We love a clever and quick boi™

• Lucy's little comfort to Peter. *sniffing*

• Peter's iconic hair, that rebel and sassy hair.

• “I'm not touching you!” “I'M NOT HOLDING YOUR HAND!”

• How happy they are at the beach and the way they finally can have pure fun. *more sniffing*

• Narnia is so beautiful in summer and Pevensies look so beautiful too.

• And for my own please, I'll mention how beautiful Peter looks when he is playing in the sea and walking among the ruins.

• The way Lucy holds Peter's hand to show him the way and THE TORCH SCENE GETS ME EVERYTIME.

• Everyone is like where the hell are we and Lucy is just enjoying her apple.

• And again for my own pleasure, I'll mention how beautiful Susan looks.

• “wHiCh cHeSs sEt?” “whOt?” We love a one confused king.

• That shot when they all stand in their places in the ruins and Peter says “Cair Paravel.” I'm like YES SIR I'M READY TO SACRIFICE MY WHOLE LIFE FOR YOU.

• I'm lowkey attracted to General Glozelle. (shameful sniffing)

• I like it that Edmund is the first one to figure out what might have happened to Cair Paravel. And our confused king is again like “whOt?”

• C'mon Peter is very committed to make a torch and it is SO CUTE. And Edmund watching him is so funny, he is like ‘I'm about to end this man's whole career.’

• I'll not tell my thoughts on the time Peter takes his sword. I'm trying to be a good. *choughs*

• Boom! “Drop him!” YOUR QUEEN IS BACK YOU IDIOTS! OOOH HOW I LOVE SUSAN.

• Peter jumping to the water and Lucy using his dagger to cut the ropes.

• “High King Peter, the Magnificent.” I mean if I were magnificent just like him, I'd tell it loud very frequently too.

• Edmund using sword... 10/10 His final pose 20/10. *chefs kiss and sniffing*

• “Or do I have to sit on your head again?” Narnians and humor? Count me in!

• Caspian's accent... YES SIR.

• “I'm Prince Caspian... The tenth.” and “High King Peter, The Magnificent.” are cousins and you can't tell me otherwise.

• “Running away.” Oh just come into my arms you sad and broken boi. *too many sniffings*

• Proffesor inside: Eheheh they are back. You are a dead man now Miraz.

• That underwater shot... 10/10. Peter paddling... 10/10. All of them sitting in silent, sadly... Okay this one hurts A LOT.

• “We didn't mean to leave you know.” *no more sniffing i'm crying*

• Lucy greeting and trusting in a bear is me vs. life. Susan saying a bear to stay away from Lucy is me vs. life again.

• Peter helping Lucy to stand up and her hugging Peter for comfort.

• And that bear scene is very clever to me. It shows that those bad times have an effect on everyone. How even Narnians, kind, gentle, happy Narnians turned into wild creatures because of bad times. Also Susan not killing the bear immediately shows how gentle she is and she always gives a chance.

• “I can hear you.” We love a done™ prince. And him asking questions about Narnia is so cute!

• That zoom to Caspian's face is kiLLING ME.

• AND REEPICHEEP I'd kill and die for him unless he kills and dies for me first.

• CENTAURS ARE BACK!!! Oh I love them so much.

• “You can't carry a map in your heads.” “That's because we have something in them.” LUCY DIDN'T STUTTER.

• “i'M nOt lOst.” My baby tries so hard I love him bye.

• “OH SHUT UP!” is one of my favorite Peter lines. Also he is very sassy and why is no one talking about it?? (I'll talk about it later btw, eheh)

• IF SOMEONE BELIEVED AND LISTENED TO LUCY THE FIRST TIME SHE SPEAKS, THINGS WOULD BE SO MUCH BETTER AND EASIER FOR ASLAN'S SAKE.

• And Edmund supporting Lucy? We love a supportive and cute brother.

• Caspian is so brave and the speech he gives... *CHEFS KISS* I mean I would fight and die for him too. And when Narnians believe in him, I cry even more. (++Ben Barnes' voice in that accent... Gets me every freaking time).

• The look in Peter's face when he sees the making of the bridge. He is like “Not my kingdom, you bitches!”

• The conversaion between Lucy and Susan... I hate to think their struggles, adjusting to Narnia, adjusting to England.

• Lucy telling a tree to wake up is me vs. life, again.

• The way Peter just comes and hides her out of nowhere... WE LOVE A PROTECTIVE BROTHER.

• When Caspian and Peter fights... Okay, for your safety I'll shut up but the way Peter is ready to hit him with a rock is both funny and shows how a quick and smart fighter he is.

• “PETAH!” Okay Susan, we get it honey.

• “Well if you like, we can come back in a few years.” LIKE WHY IS NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT HIS SASS??

• “You were right to fear the woods.” IS. EXCELLENT.

• Caspian and Peter walking in the front and talking casually. My heart goes *butterlifes* *looove*

• When the papa centaur rises baby centaur's sword... *a loud sniff* .

• I love that there are pictures of Pevensies and Golden Age on the walls. It makes me feel so majestic.

• Caspian: *dramatically lights fire*

• They are looking at The Stone Table and Caspian in the back is like look at the mess you made.

• When Peter and Caspian talk at the same time.

• “There is always a first time.” THAT. SASS. AND CONFIDENCE.

• “We could collect nuts!” “Yes, and throw them at Telmarines!” Reepicheep... Love you babe.

• Okay the whole castle stuff is so freaking cool until the last minutes. Like Edmund and his torch, Susan and THE WAY HE KILLS A MAN BY THROWING AN ARROW.

• But... Caspian babe, kill your bastard uncle anyways.

• And it just should be said: I love how Narnians are always ready to sacrifice themselves because freedom is much more important than their lives. They are not afraid of death as long as it means to get freedom back.

• That poor cat... I don't know what to say.

• You are attacking a castle and your baby Caspian just casually knocks the window.

• Professor doing his best to help Caspian escape and then seeing him back in the castle again... I mean a disappointment level I can relate.

• I wish I could be woken up at night by Caspian, with a sword on my throat? Depends on my mood.

• Miraz being so done is a mood.

• They all are in Miraz's bedroom like:

• Edmund literally headbutts a man wearing a metal helmet. I am speechless.

• You don't have sword? Don't worry you have a torch... just don't break it.

• Reepicheep and his friends pushing that thing makes me cry and scream.

• “Who exactly are you doing this for Peter?” THE LOOK ON PETER'S FACE.

• When Peter screams “FOR NARNIA!”

• My Queen Susan throwing an arrow to man and killing him despite his armour. I. LOVE. ONE. POWERFUL. QUEEN.

• Sometimes I wish I was an minatour.

• Edmund kicking that dude's head by sliding. A simple and powerful move.

• OKAY SO MIRAZ PUSHING THIS MINATOUR IS VERY PERSONAL TO ME. AND I AM VERY PISSED OF.

• And that minatour holding the door. I love you, you strong and scary baby. And I always will.

• When Edmund casually jumps back, I hear Blow Your Mind by Dua Lipa playing.

• That moment when other Narnians are trapped inside and Peter and Susan watch them... MY BABY PETER HAVE HAD ENOUGH PLEASE LET HIM REST. And Edmund seeing the dead bodies...

• That agressive “HEY!” from Caspian and the way Peter and him just scream at each other, idk what to say but it is sort of funny.

• When mama centaur cries, you know I'm dead on the floor.

• King Miraz getting on his throne... Sassy and majestic af. He is a psycho but you know he has taste.

• “What do you want? Congratulations?” Okay Caspian put that sarcasm down babe.

• When my mom watched the scene where The White Witch sort of comes back for the first time, she was like “Not that bitch witch again.”

• The way Peter pushes Caspian is skcjskfsj MOVE BITCH GET OUT THE WAY

• And Edmund killing the wolfish thing is so cool, he is a very talented warrior. Also him stabbing Jadis, he gives like zero fucks.

• And when the ice is broken, they see Aslan on the wall and it is such a strong scene!!

• Can someone please explain me why Miraz and his men wear those freaking helmets?

• “And she won't be alone.” WE. LOVE. ONE. SUPPORTIVE. AND PROTECTIVE. SISTER.

• No, Caspian you may not, no matter how hot you say Miraz.

• Edmund in Miraz's place... Just perfect. That sass, that confidence, that intelligence. THAT look on his face.

• “Your brother's sword is sharper than his pen.” It is an adage in Turkish btw: “A pen is sharper than a sword.”

• “Or hooves.” Lucy, was that joke really necessary honey?

• THE LOVE OF MY LOVE AND MY ONE TRUE LOVE PETER SAYING “WELL, FEEL FREE.” AND “JUST. ONE.” WITH A BRAVE LOOK ON HIS FACE IS THE CAUSE OF MY DEATH.

• Queen Susan standing on her own, holding her bow to hunt men... YES. QUEEN.

• Proud brother™ Edmund.

• The way Peter snarls at Miraz. I mean I WOULD SURRENDER TO HIM.

• AND MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION FOR PRAISING WILLIAM'S ACTING? He fights amazing and his expressions are both beautiful and real. He makes you feel what Peter feels. I just love the way he portrays Peter.

• “Keep smiling.” King Edmund just knows things.

• And the way he just doesn't listen Peter and fixes his arm... 10/10

• When he hits Miraz's wound. He is a smart fighter, and I'll not even bring up how he stabs Miraz.

• “It's not mine to take.” Me inside: *MINE IS YOURS TO TAKE.*

• Caspian just stop screaming and kill this bitch for Aslan's sake.

• “Not one like you.” WITH TEARS ON HIS BEAUTIFUL BLACK EYES. I HATE HIM SOMETIMES.

• Although I hate that they have to fight again, what the Lord did was really smart, I have to admit.

• Have I told you that I hate that ball-throwing-machines?

• Queen Susan telling archers to get ready and Prince Caspian telling “Narnians, attack!” while riding his horse. ALSO WHAT THEY DID WAS SO CLEVER. PETER COUNTING WITH THAT BRAVE FACE.

• My baby Peter fighting again. And Caspian coming out of the underground. *CHEFS KISSES*

• KING EDMUND RIDING A HORSE AND ARROWING PEOPLE?? MORE CHEFS KISSES.

• Reepicheep's tiny armour OMG

• I HATE THAT BALL-THROWING-MACHINES.

• When they all run again (Not to mention Peter has to attack and fight like for like the hundredth time) THEY LOOK FREAKING GOOD AND MAJESTIC AND KING EDMUND CUTTING MEN IS PER.FECT.

• I AM IN STRONG NEED OF HUGHING AN ASLAN.

• THE TREES ARE COMING BACK HELL FREAKING YESSS!!!

• Queen Susan killing with this bows and arrow is just perfect. I love her. Like so much.

• Ooh there is shield wall? Don't worry Narnians will jump on it.

• Peter proudly saying “Lucy,” and looking at Caspian like “Hehe did you expect that?”

• And my baby yells “For Aslan!” and goes to fight. AGAIN.

• Lucy and her dagger? FREAKING DANGEROUS. RUN AWAY.

• Welcome water grandpa, you are very cute!!!

• Aslan is like hehe this is my friend. He is very proud of his friend.

• The guilt on their faces when they see Aslan is so cute.

• “All of you.” SHUT UP YOU MADE ME CRY AGAIN.

• OH AND REEPICHEEP. PLEASE I LOVE HIM SOOO MUCH. HE'S HAD ENOUGH.

• Aslan calling him “Small one.” awWWW

• “Do you see him now?” QUEEN LUCY NEVER STUTTERS.

• Okay but the way they all look perfect during the parade. Caspian's crown and Susan's dress are my favs.

• AND THAT LOOK ON SUSAN'S FACE. IT KILLS ME.

• What the hell is Caspian wearing when Telmars go back?

• There is a talking lion in front of them and Telmarines still are amazed by a turning tree.

• Peter looks so good in blue and him giving his sword to Caspian is awwww again.

• Peter and Susan are the ones who'll not come back again and they both wear blue while Lucy and Ed wears green.

• Peter shaking hands with the centaur is an another awwww.

• The kiss makes me feel weird but I'm alright with that.

• “I'm 1300 years older than you.” is CUTE TO ME.

• Peter's proud brother smile. 10/10

• The way Lucy looks back at Aslan breaks my heart.

• THE ENDING KILLS ME. DESTROYS ME. VANISHES MY EXISTENCE. THAT LION ROAR. THAT SONG. OH HOW I LOVE THIS MOVIE AND NARNIA MOVIES... I AM CRYING AGAIN.

oooh okay, thank you for sharing this emotional roller-coaster with me. i hope you enjoy it.

love, andrea.♡

[vegalocity]

Handholding 27 and Kiss 7 for animal form Spicynoodleshipping?

Affection meme

Aight so i deffo grabbed 'Hand Holding's 7 as well on accident like a dingus so thats what you're getting instead anon (though to be fair i'm not entirely sure how to write 'passionate hand holding' anyway so...)

7. Holding hands while dancing

7. Passionate kiss

--

Red Son always got extra affectionate whenever the Bull and Monkey forms came out. Xiaotian didn’t know whether it was because of some sort of suppressed instinct that would make itself known when he was in bull form or if he honestly just liked his Monkey form that much, but it was charming.

Besides, it was nice, to see Red Son so flustered just because he happened to do something that was apparently so much more ‘cute’ when he was covered in fur.

And he could relate anyway, Red Son was absolutely adorable in his bull form! He was bigger than him by like… a lot, first off, so there was the ‘beeg monster’ aspect to it as Xiaojiao would so readily chirp about. Xiaotian was roughly the same size in Monkie and human forms (though Monkey King had told him that the height was more a muscle memory he’ll start gro\owing out of the more he uses it, as even his true form was similar in size to a real monkey.) But all the same it meant that Red Son while they wer eboth in their animal forms absolutely tower over him. It made him feel like a treasured stuffed animal whenever they cuddles, and it was a special kind of powerful to have to drag Red Son down by his collar just for a kiss.

They’d picked today to do ‘animal forms all day’ as something to make Red Son more comfortable with his form in more casual settings, and to help Xiaotian hold this form for longer, but for either of them it was also a bit of a special treat. And right now he had a plan. It wasn’t gonna be for awhile until they had to start considering dinner, so he had some time.

Red Son was reading, and though Xiaotian was curled up at his side, he hadn’t peered over to see what he was fiddling with on his phone yet. Xiaojiao, in a moment truly deserving the ‘best friend in the history of friends’ trophy he’d given her for her birthday last year has helped him set this up a little bit ago, putting a program on his app that would let him hijack the TV speakers without giving anything away until it was playing and then walked him through how to use it. He was pretty sure she’d assumed he was going to be using it to play a prank, and… technically she was right?

He just had toooo… aha!

A soft melody began to hum its way through the apartment, Red Son’s ears flickered back in surprise before his gaze darted down to him.

A smirk began to play at the corner of his lips “I’m just gonna hope that this is you and we’re not about to get cornered by some electronics spirit.”

“Well thats not the best idea, we could be about to fight for our lives here.” Though he made sure to grin right back at Red Son so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding, standing and offering his hand.

His tail swished behind him and Xiaotian could only hope he didn’t look ridiculous. “But since there’s music, Might i interest the prince in a dance?”

Red Son stared up at him (Him sitting and Xiaotian standing was the only way he could look up at him in these forms) his expression dropped and eyes wide. Before he huffed and gave him the sweetest shyest grin.

“You cheeky son of a bitch…” He took Xiaotian’s fuzzy hand in his clawed one and stood.

It was nice, he normally sucked beyond all comparison at dancing with a partner, yet his tail was helping him keep balance, and even if Red Son didn’t have tough hooves right now, he was sure it would hurt way less to be stepped on by one of his weird feet-hands than it would be normally.

Though he’d been taken aback at first by all of this, Red Son was really quickly starting to get into it. And if he was being completely honest, this whole thing was just something fun he thought he’d surprise Red Son with,and yet he was the one feeling a little overwhelmed.

He could feel Red Son’s every movement against him, pulling Xiaotian close (letting him feel those claws on his lower back and sending a chill up his spine) resting his chin on his head (pressing his face right into his neck and clavicle his enhanced sense of smell determining the differences between Red Son’s scent in human and Bull forms) and other hand still gently cradling his own (so big against his like this) as he quickly took the lead.

“You know for someone who wants to look as cool as you do, you're very fond of being cheesy my love." Red Son rumbled into his ear and another shudder crawled up his spine.

....okay so maybe he was in over his head, so what?

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, It's cute." Red Son chuckled again and this time he could feel the vibrations in his own chest. "Very cute."

Fuck it. He grabbed Red Son's collar and forced him down to his level.

a special sort of powerful indeed.

--

send me stuff!

[yomimio]

The Northern Lion pt3

Warnings: Foul language, violence and sexism (lord Estren is a disgusting being).

-“So it’s true, then? Are you going to the meeting with House Estren?”- inquired Tyrion.

-“It is”- answered (Y/N) while adjusting the shiny dark light armor she used for traveling.

-“I know there’s not convincing you to stay b-“

-“Don’t waste your time, father has agreed to this”- she interrupted  her older brother.

-“Sigh, I know. I was only going to ask for you to be careful. I’ve heard whispers that the head of the house is plotting against us”.

-“But they are sworn to us! They own us loyalty! I’ll go to their keep and reign them back to order if needed be. I’m to be the head of this house in the future, am I not? Then it’ll be beneficial for all of us if they start to show me respect”- she assured, turning around and looking into her brother’s eyes.

-“Just promise me to be careful, yes?”- worried Tyrion, furrowing his eyebrows.

She looked to him, and got down to his height, stretching her hands and taking his.

-“I promise you, brother. But you know, there’s no one that can take me down”- she winked.

Biding her farewells, (Y/N) mounted Noctis and crossed the gates of Casterly Rock towards the lands of House Estren, in Wyndhall.

 -“I fear for her”- Tyrion said looking out of one of the windows of the higher levels of the castle.

-“Don’t. No one will threat the Lannister while our father still lives. She will be fine”- said the blonde figure standing behind him.

-“I hope you’re right for once, Jaime”- he sighed while accepting the goblet of red wine from the tall man.

His hopes were indeed futile. When (Y/N) arrived at the keep she was instantly met with treason. The Estren caught wind that “Tywin’s little girl” was the one sent to handle the matters of their money loans, and that was the last straw. Not only they were opposed to being ruled by a woman, but now this, this vexation! Were they of so little importance to the lions that they sent a woman to handle their business? The Lannister name may had have power in the past, when the Old Lion was still young, when he took down the infamous Castamere House. But now, when the only available heirs were an imp and a woman, it was the time for its fall. So, without a second thought, Lord Regenard Estren took his seven sons and all of his knights, and attacked the Lannister hosts before they could know what was happening.

But to their chagrin, this lion pup was more intelligent than they had given her credit for. She was prepared for a revolt even before she left her home, so her and the knights she had traveled with, were fully armed and ready to fight. The intercepted the enemy’s forces head on, and drove them back towards their castle, some being left behind slaughtered by their blades and crushed under Noctis’ hooves.

The lord was enraged. How could this child beat his seasoned troops? He could barely sit in his armchair without squirming in frustration and shame.

-“My Lord Father. A letter has arrived”- the second son, a burly and brutish man with more muscles than brains, entered the living room, where his father was sat in front of the fire.-“It has the red seal of the lions.”

-“What’s this? Who gave this to you?”.

-“A messenger arrived carrying it. He came from the settlement that the Lannister’s troops have set outside our walls”.

-“The gall of this child!”-he shouted opening the envelope.-“This is outrageous! This bitch is ordering us to surrender and to pledge fealty to her! Over my rotten corpse! I would rather have her bent over and with her skirts over her head!”- the red faced lord hollered and throwing the paper to the blazing fireplace, he called forth one of his own messengers-“you servant! Run to the lion bitch and tell her I’ll will surrender when she comes here and ask me herself, on her knees, and with my cock in her mouth”- he ordered, his spit landing on the face of the poor young man in front of him.

When the news came out of the trembling mouth of the messenger, (Y/N) laughed. If this little lord thought he could treat her like that and get away with it, he had another thing coming his way. After all, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss, it was more like taking out the trash. If a house would not bow before her and her family, well, she would make sure they wouldn’t have legs to stand up against her.

She sent the terrified messenger back with five gold coins for his services and started to put her plan into action.

Everyone has heard about the Rains of Castamere, how her father redirected the river to drown his enemies in their own house. (Y/N) heard it more times than she could count. And funnily enough, even when the song and its meaning gave her the chills when she was little, she could now relate to her father for the first time in her life. So, where Tywin had used water, she would use fire.

The Estren castle was an old one, not very well maintained, the owners preferring to spend their money in more banal pleasures. That meant most of its internal structure was still wood.

(Y/N) sent another letter to the sieged keep, asking for a conference with the lord in order to state the terms of a peace accord. And when the set upon time for their meeting came, when she knew the lord and all his family were together, she sent the Estren soldiers, she had captured in the first attack, in.

Lord Regenard did not suspect a thing, for these soldiers had been stripped of their armors and suited with Lannister’s garbs. Plus, they seemed fat and clumsy, so he dismissed them as harmless, too eager to have a Lannister bow to him. His pride blinded him, and he wasn’t able to notice the burning smell that was starting to come in waves off of the soldiers. Not until one of them fell to the ground engulfed in flames did the lord see through her ruse. It was then when the chaos started.

-“It was an great idea to stuff hay under the soldier’s armors, my Lady”- praised (Y/N)’s captain of the guard.

-“And shoving hot coals between it! Really smart Lady Lannister!”- said her lieutenant.

(Y/N) stood with her officials on the hill in front of the castle, the light of the fire reflecting on her face.

As the inferno raged, the first wave of people fleeing the house, in hopes to escape, started to come out of the gates.

-“Send the troops now”-she commanded, voice monotonous and eyes cold.-“Let’s go!”.

Every person that was able to avoid the flames was intercepted by the lion’s soldiers, with their lady in the front of the battle.

Thus, House Estren was no more. And the Lannister maintained their status, increasing even more the fear that kept the people under their paws. The seven kingdoms were united in fear of Tywin Lannister, and now they would learn to fear his heir.

The songs came not much after. The bards would sing about the downfall of House Estren, burned by the rage of the Black Lion. Such was the name she was given, making reference to the unusual color of the armor she donned.

The songs travelled all over Westeros, spreading whispers and apprehensiveness, announcing a new age of fear under the Lannister. The restlessness reached even the North, where the tunes of the Lady Paramount-to-be ringed in the ears of a young red-haired lord.

(A/N): I don not own any charachters from Game of Thrones. This is just made for fun. I don’t own any image or gif unless I specifically say so. English is not my first language, so sorry about any mistake. Some events may differ drom canon, but since *those two* can do whatever they wnat, ten so can I. :)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Cowboy.”

Wanted to try something new.  Aliens meet different ways of living. Was trying to really capture the small town farming feel in this one. Granted I grew up in and near places like this but was from the burbs technically, so, lol, hopefully I did it justice. 

The sky over Jakar was a light violet purple.

Strings of long striated clouds cut across the sky at intervals looking like the ripples you see on the face of a sand dune. The Sun hadn’t yet risen hiding just below the distant horizon. The air around them was warm, but not tropical, rather moderate.

Standing on the loading ramp to the Harbinger and staring out over the strange moon, they could see for miles and miles onto the unbroken horizon. Under the purple sky, there were no trees or rocks, just acres and acres of evenly spaced crops gently rolling over minute hills and shallow divots in the earth. A gently wind blew up from their front rolling over the ground and bringing with it the cool moist scent of fertile dirt.

The sun inched upwards over the horizon, casting a honeyed yellow glow over an unbroken sea of green. With the engines of the ship off, and not a soul in sight, the scene before them was absolutely silent, almost surreal.

As they watched, a ripple of wind blew up from their right churning the green sea before them into a stormy sea. The plant stalks rolled in waves under the slow push of the wind, which, when it reached them, brought the subtle whisper of leaves brushing over each other.

All together, if they closed their eyes, they could almost imagine the sound of a distant sea.

Both Krill and sunny were riveted to that quiet morning in fascination. 

They had never known a thing to be so beautiful, so quiet.

And even though the land was touched by man, the quiet serenity almost had them forgetting that fact.

They stood like that for many minutes, enjoying the silence until a distant sound rose up from the horizon.

Krill craned his neck and Sunny shaded her eyes.

It can in beats of four, a rhythmic thudding of…. something .

They were alerted by the dust cloud, brown tinged purple rising up from the right.

Looking a little longer,they watched as a very strange creature galloped towards them. The animal had four legs, a long snout, a thick neck, and streams of long hair flying from it’s head and rump. THe joints of its front legs faced the wrong direction.

Krill shifted back up the ramp a little ways.

The beats of the animal’s feet grew louder as it got closer, and only then was Krill able to see that, to his shock and dismay, there was a human riding astride it’s back, just casually sitting atop the one ton beast as if it was nothing bouncing up and down with the animal’s jostling movements.

He stared dumbstruck alongside Sunny as the human pulled to a stop gently tugging at the contraption which had been fixed around the animal’s head.

A familiar tawny, and black dog came chasing after her tail wagging, her ears perked.

Waffles skidded to a slow trot and began frantically sniffing through the nearby plot of plants.

Sunny and Krill stepped forward as the human, turned to look at them, restings his hands against his upper thighs as the beast lowered it’s head to sniff at the ground.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Sunny asked the commander.

“A better question is what the hell are you riding.” Krill could already tell this day was going to make him angry, “Aren't you well aware that falling off that thing could kill you, not to mention if it decided to cave your head in with its feet.”

Commander Vir pulled the patterned cloth triangle down from around his face, eyes mostly shadowed by the brim of the very dorky hat he was wearing. The shirt he had on was long sleeve and mid range blue in color with a collar, and matching jeans with a very strange set of heeled boots.

“Forgot you've never seen a horse before.”

He kicked one of his feet up over the top the back of the creature and let himself gently down onto the dirt.

The large animal turned it’s massive head, nudging him in the chest with it’s soft pink snout.

He smiled and rubbed it’s nose.

“A horse?”

“Yes, one of man’s greatest achievements.”

The horse threw its head up and down as if in agreement.

“A knobby kneed dog creature?”

“No a knobby kneed beast of burden, from the back of which humanity conquered the world. He patted it’s neck, “These guys are the reason humanity got as far as it did, at least one fo the reasons.

Krill stared at the ‘horse’ nervously staring into its wide dark eyes, sensing a hint of cunning intelligence that he did not particularly appreciate. Sunny stepped forward a bit, and the horse lifted it’s head, wide nostrils flaring menacingly. 

It stepped back, and the commander held firm, “Woah, easy girl. It’s just sunny.”

The horse didn’t seem convinced, and Sunny stayed at a polite distance.

“Commander, I must insist, that beast could kick your head in if agitated.”

“Oh I know. Believe you me I know.”

The horse tossed it’s head.

“Can we get back to the important question of….. What the hell are you wearing?”

He looked down, “This, my fine friend is the historic gear of the Cowboy, and early symbol of the west, your rough and tumble man’s man who lived rough, worked hard, and is, arguably the symbol of human manifest destiny.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

The commander sighed, “Look they were total badasses who rode horses, shot guns, and drank too much.”

“Badasses who wore heels?” Sunny wondered 

“Yes, yes they were.”

“And where did you get that outfit exactly?”

He tugged at the shirt rather proudly, “My mother made it for me, you know because that is what she does for a living.”

“Do you often commission really dumb clothing from your mother.” Sunny continued to tease.

“I have an outfit for every major time period from here to to the early Byzantine empire.” He bragged, not that it meant anything.

Her continued teasing was cut off as more noises rose up from the distance, the sound of hooves and the shrill chatter of, what Sunny could only assume was the horses. A larger dust cloud was riding up this time, and as she watched, another group of human came riding down the track. At least three of them riding horseback and wearing outfits much the same as the commander now wore. Though one of them was riding on the front of a strange wooden vehicle pulled by the creatures.

And krill had thought current human technology was primitive.

The two men, and one woman came to a halt just to their side, and looking them over, Krill couldn't help but notice the strange nature of these humans, tanned dark by the sun, their skin tough and calloused, especially about the hands. Though it was early morning they were already covered in dust. One of them touched the brim of his hat upon seeing them and dismounted from his horse walking over to shake the commander’s hand.

“I’m gonna assume your Commander Vir.” He looked around, “Seeing as you’re the only human here.”

“Yes sir.”

His voice was deep, and rather slow with a sort of relaxing quality to it, though there was an edge of steel behind his voice, “Didn’t think you fancy space captains knew how to ride horses.”

“My father worked on one of the farming conglomerates when I was a boy. He made sure we knew how to ride.”

“Smart man.” The old human turned his steely brown eyes on them looking sunny and Krill up and down though he didn’t seem all that surprised. He held out a hand to sunny, “Looks like you’ve got plenty of hands to shake.”

She chirped a laugh and took his hand surprised at how strong  he was, how rough his hands were.

Krill received a nod which was more than alright by him. He turned back and motioned to his companions, “Meet, Jack my son, and Liz y daughter. They volunteered to help out with our little problem.”

“Smugglers you were saying.” 

“Yes. We think they are some of those Tesraki types using our fields as stop points. Wouldn’t mind it so much if they didn’t keep destroying the product. They tend to land where we plant the pink orbs-” He looked at sunny, “Think they are from your planet. A bitch to get to grow here, we have to cut the soil with imported volcanic ash to get them to grow, and every time those bastards show up we lose a yield.” 

His daughter motioned at Sunny and Krill to climb up onto the strange wooden death machine with wheels. At first Krill refused, but sunny grabbed him and hauled him upwards, sitting on one of the  wooden benches. 

Krill reused to sit.

He could see splinters.

“They aren’t supposed to be in for another few days though.” The two men had mounted their horses and were riding side by side now as the ‘what krill learned to be a cart’ started up, rolling over the uneven ground and threatening to rattle his brains out of his head.

“Doesn’t this thing have shocks.” he moaned 

The humans laughed, and the head human turned back to look at him, “Don’t need socks on a wagon…..” He paused, “This one ain’t mch for country livin’”

The commander snorted, “He isn’t much for anything new. Guess you could say he’s a big city surgeon. I don’t think his  species has been without automated assistance for the past ten thousand years. But Sunny there probably gets it, her clan was mainly gatherer types.”

“Yeah, I heard about the Drev. Don’t live so differently from us all told.” beside them lines and lines of crops grew up in the distance, a never ending line broken up by nothing more than a distant building rising many stories above the fields. Massive silver constructions in cylinders with pointy tops.

“What are those?” Sunny asked, pointing.

The daughter looked “Those are silos. Once we harvest the produce, all the food goes in there for storage until we sell it.”

“So much food.” Sunny muttered 

Krill didn’t like the look of them, they appeared dangerous. Up ahead of them, the dog, waffles seemed to be enjoying herself romping about over the dirt road and through the first few lines of plants her tongue lolling her ears up.

“Your Shepherd seems happy.” The man commented, “Better then being cooped up in a flying tin can.”

“Yeah , she doesn’t get to go outside much these days.”

Looking up into the distance, Krill could just make out a slow break on the horizon. They were trees as far as he could tell, which surprised him since they seemed far to big to be here, as unnatural a species as they were.

“Are those oak trees?” The Captain asked, incredulous.

“That they are, got them imported in one of those massive fraighters. Putting them in the ground was complete bullshit, but they took surprisingly well. We wanted the two to be a bit more cozy. 

The closer they got to town the more people they could see. Children ran in and out of the crop lines chasing each other and laughing. 

Women carried baskets with them plucking bright red berries from tall growths of plants turning to wave at them as they passed.

Horses loitered, tied up on the sides of the road next to large, elegant houses in a style Krill had never seen before.

“Wow.” The commander muttered, “This is…. Wow.”

The man smiled, “Much as I love earth, you can’t live like this any more. No more small towns. When I heard how cheep they were selling land up here for, I couldn’t resist. Worked for one of those corporations like your father, and that’s when I heard about the deal going on. Come up here, farm the land and get the property for free.” He motioned to the houses and the barns, “Built most of it with our own two hands. Machinery is a bitch to get out here, so most everything we make by ourselves.”

Krill and sunny stared on in complete fascination. The wooden buildings held together by nothing more than sharp metal spikes, still multiple stories tall and with glass windows. What little technology there was was overshadowed by just how provincial everything was. People carrying buckets of water with their own two hands, polishing boots, and sawing off planks of wood with manual blades.

And despite that, how much more difficult everything probably was, they seemed happy. The people themselves were rough, but well put together, tanned skin, and bright eyes over calloused hands and straight backed postures full of confidence and pride. As they rode past they received nothing but friendly smiles and waved greetings.

Adam was practically a pampered, prim little pretty boy in comparison to the rest, and he was a one eyed, peg legged, space captain for intents and purposes.

A pleasantly plump dark skinned woman waved at them from her porch, where she sat in a very strange looking chair, which instead of legs, had skids? And rocked when she shifted her weight. Which seemed to be the intention.

Sunny and Krill raised their hands back, not sure of what else to do.

The man at the front sighed, “Man you can’t live like this anymore, not on earth anyway.”

Commander vir was looking around with an appreciative smile, “it’s like going back in time. Dam…. it’s nice here.”

“Almost makes you want to get your feet back on solid dirt?” The man wondered 

The commander laughed, “I don’t think so. Your town is great, but there is nothing like the majesty of waking up and seeing the rings of saturn outside our bedroom window, or a nebulae thousands of light years wide, or stepping out of the ship and just…. Floating weightless like nothing can hold you down ever again.”

The man shuttered, “Can’t imagine.”

“Can’t imagine but can’t forget.”

Adam’s horse tossed it’s head and he patted it on the neck.

The other human shook his head, “Cut from a different mold I guess. I’d like nothing more than an honest day’s work under the sun getting my hands dirty. None of that outer space politics.”

Adam laughed, “I suppose I forget about politics most of the time. Honestly consider myself more of an adventurer discovering new planets and new species bravely going where no man has gone before sort of thing.”

The two of them laughed together.

Krill wondered at the strangeness of humanity. Here were two men, one of them a ship captain venturing into the unknown on one of the most advanced pieces of human technology ever created  flying shuttles, talking with aliens and traversing the galaxy, while there was another human a lover of dirt beneath his hands, with no desire to leave his home, or likely even go outside it’s farm’s radius, content with living the same day for the rest of his life, with the same people, building everything with his hands, living without what seemed to be the most basic of human technologies.

And here they were sitting together speaking and laughing.

Getting along despite being so different.

Because humans can just do that.

Humans understand. 

[amazingmsme]

Consider this a sort of cheat sheet on how to wreck my babies.

Naomi:

She’s a pretty even switch but leans more toward the lee side

She’s a very playful ler & likes to tease a LOT & play cute lil tickle games

Her horns are killer ok, they’re just the right mix of sharp & dull to make it tickle like hell

She can be a very sneaky & mischievous ler

She’ll act all innocent tho but she totally isn’t

She’s such an adorable & fun lee!

She’s fae so she can’t lie. Which means if you ask her if she likes it she very angrily blurts out “yes!” because she tries so hard to answer with a lie

She gets really red in the face when she laughs & tears stream down her face but she’s fine, she’s loving it

Doesn’t really fight back unless you get her legs. Then she’s constantly kicking out cause that’s like tied for her #1 spot

Her other #1 spot are her cute lil goat ears. Her laughter is all high pitched & squeaky giggles

Since she’s a satyr, she BLEATS when she laughs! It embarrasses her to NO END!

Kinda loses all strength when her tummy’s tickled, probably her 3rd spot. Hips can also really get her going

If you tell her to raise her arms she will no matter what. VERY gullible to these kinds of attacks that trick her in a playful way

If you squeeze her knees (both sets of leg joints or the space in between) her legs shoot straight out & her entire body freezes up like one of those fainting goats. Except she doesn’t faint, she’s just trapped in a ticklish situation

Her hooves aren’t that ticklish. That is unless you have hoof grooming tools, then it’s absolute torture

The lil nubs right above the back of the hoof are the secret, absolute killer spot. She will scream, cry, kick, & finally just give up & go limp while laughing her head off cause she knows there’s nothing she can do

She’s t h i c c & got fuzzy legs, so what I’m saying is her ass looks like a corgi’s. You know how they just got the cutest roundest lil furry cheeks? That’s her. So you just KNOW that tush is gonna be ticklish. & let me tell you, it’s a BAD spot cause it’s directly connected to her legs

She’s got a really weird spot. You ain’t ready for it... it’s the top of her head. Scratch there lightly & she’ll drop to her knees in a giggle fit

She grooms pretty often, but brushing out the fur on her legs tickles like a bitch so she often rushes through that part

She has quite a few scars on her body & they’re even more ticklish than the rest of the spot

Yernad:

Definitely lee leaning switch but he’s got his moments. & he’s very skilled at what he does

When he’s in a mood Naomi calls him Lernad, his evil ler persona

This guy LOVES using his mouth to tickle. He’s got a fairly large tongue for a fairly large mouth & will lick all over a tickle spot. It’s rough like a cat’s tongue except he has thick saliva to protect him when he breathes fire. Lucky for him, that just adds to the sensation

He has rows of large sharp teeth, but the tips are just dull enough that if he puts the right amount of pressure, it will tickle like living hell. Just a ton of soft dull poking in multiple tiny, focused spots is enough to drive anyone mad. He will lightly chew to hear them squeal & if he’s feeling extra mean he’ll add his tongue to the mix. Great spots for this are legs & belly

He’s also got c l a w s so you just know he’s a good ler

He uses his tail too & will drag the flukes lightly over a soft spot or wrap it around you to pin you. It’s also great at giving soft squeezes that are super effective

Is there anywhere this man ISN’T ticklish?

Literally the most ticklish dude, I swear. & he loves it! But if he doesn’t know you that well yet he’s pretty good at holding in his reactions... at first

Definitely a lee with a ler complex

He’s got wings, but they don’t have feathers so they don’t help much when he’s on the giving end. However they’re great for taking him down! If you get his wing joints he legit roars. Also between his toes. & another secret lil spot that has yet to be found😉

He gets super defensive & denies liking it. & if you say that he does he gets super embarrassed & angy

His frills are definitely one of his worst spots. The scales are so thin & soft & it’s just such a perfectly vulnerable spot

His entire chest is yellow with smooth, plated scales like a snake belly & so it’s more ticklish than his harder red scales

The scar across his belly that killed him is for sure a death spot. It’s deep & big & extremely ticklish. It stretches from one side near his back all the way to the other side & across his belly

When you get his scar or frills his laughter gets a bit more frantic

His laugh ranges from booming belly laughs to high pitched smokey giggles

There’s a spot on the back of his neck between 2 quills that makes him honk/squeak & his frills INSTANTLY pop out. He absolutely hates it, it embarrasses him & he gets all huffy because of it

Of course his tail is ticklish, what did you expect?

He’s a big pouty baby & the only way to make him stop is if you wreck him

My man’s got mad endurance & he’s stubborn. Couple that with the fact he likes it & he can handle basically anything you throw at him

This bitch canNOT handle light tickles. He can’t handle rough ones either but light touches fucking break him

The one thing about him: he will never beg. He just won’t. He’s very prideful but it’s not just that. He didn’t beg once when he was captured & tortured during the war, so he refuses to beg at something as innocent & fun as tickling

Please feel free to send asks or message me about these babies! I have a mighty need to talk about them & just gush about how much I love them! If you got any questions about them please don’t be shy!

Bonus: Naomi laughing her head off

[ds-ts-smut-fics]

Far From Home [Chapter Three]

Chapter One

Read on Ao3

Synopsis: Remus and Logan arrive at the Blackmarsh Villas, and find they're suffering from a string of kidnappings. 

Trigger warnings: NSFW occasionally, demonic possession, kidnappings, lmk if i missed anything!

Words: 5,332

Close to sunset, Juniper brought them up to a gated town with a sign reading Blackmarsh Villas. A guard stopped them on their way in. 

She was a blonde halfling with a forced smile. Her gaze fell to Remus, a little harshly. “Can you tell me what your business is?” 

Giving Remus a small subtle hug, Logan decides to answer to take her gaze from Remus. "Good evening. We're traveling to reach the coast, does the inn have room tonight?" 

She nodded slowly. “Yes. How long do you plan on staying?”

“Just a day or two,” Remus said. He forced up a smile. “We need to stock up on supplies and maybe find a map. We won’t be here long.”

Her eyes met with his, and she softened. “You’ve been on the road for a while, haven’t you?” 

He nodded. 

She gestured for them to head inside. “Stables just to the right. A silver per stall.” 

"Thank you very much!" Logan clicks his tongue, guiding Juniper in with a smile. 

“Do you have change?” Remus asked the worker as Logan got Juniper settled. 

They headed towards the inn, the streets made of perfectly-neat cobble, each tudor house towering above them. 

“We need to leave here as soon as possible,” he grumbled. 

Stretching a little, Logan slides an arm around Remus. "Mmm, do you want to stay in the room and relax, Rem? I can try, but…. I'm not the best at negotiations?" 

He shook his head. “No, Adelaide and I will just get antsy. Let’s stop for dinner in the inn and drop our stuff off, then go shopping. Oh— Don’t let me forget that we need to find someone to look at that ring for us.”

"So, the inn, dinner, and maybe start with an area map? Perhaps the owner has suggestions?" Keeping him close, he hums softly, rubbing his hip. "Wouldn't want you getting antsy, darling!"

He nodded in embarrassment. “Yeah.”

They found the inn, a huge building with gold paint on the doorway and windowsills, and Remus hesitated outside the door. His hooves were coated in mud. 

“Ugh.” 

"Hmm, maybe we should see if there's a public bath house or something first?" Looking at his own dirty sandals and slightly 

torn cloak, Logan flushes in quiet shame. "We look a bit messy?"

Remus’ stomach rumbled. He glanced behind him, at the towering buildings, the winding pathways. “I don’t even know where we would find one. Let’s just ask the barmaid for a map and go after eating? If they make a fuss over it… It’ll be fine.” 

Nodding, he offers his arm to Remus. "Shall we then?"

Remus raised an eyebrow and took his hand instead. “You’re a mess,” he said, and dragged him inside. 

The inside was just as luxurious as the inside— Remus worried they couldn’t afford it. Plush rugs softened their steps, the entire dining room bathed in soft yellow light. A winding, carpeted staircase led presumably to the rooms, two fireplaces crackling on each side of the dining area. 

The woman behind the bar, a tall elven girl, glanced up from wiping down the counters. Her gray eyes widened. “Travellers?” 

"Did the road mud give it away?" Logan smiles softly. "Um, this is a rather nice place here… Dare I ask how much a room and meals costs around here?" 

“Well…” She gestured them over. 

Remus brought Logan towards the bar and slid on one of the stools. She reached under the counter and brought out a bucket full of soapy water. She handed a fresh rag to Remus. 

“Here, sweety, wipe off your hooves. Usually a room cost 4 gold per night, but I can tell the road hasn’t exactly been kind to you.” She touched Remus’ face with a sigh. “I can knock it down by two as long as you promise not to tell anyone.” 

Logan watched the girl’s face carefully. She watched Remus with sad eyes, taking the rag from him with a gentle grip. She seemed genuinely worried for him. 

Smiling softly, he nods. "Thank you, kind lady." 

“Here, I can get it.” Remus dumped the coins in her palm. “How much for a hot meal for the both of us? And do you by chance have a map of Blackmarsh?” 

She hummed and drummed her fingers over the countertop. “Eight silver pieces each. Let me get you that map while you figure out what you want.” 

She wandered into the back. 

Logan smiles softly, sliding the money over on the countertop before bending to help Remus clean up. "Seems nice. Perhaps we ask about selling her that fish, dear?"

“Oh, right.” He squinted at the menu. “Yeah, we should do that.” 

She came back a few minutes later and handed Remus the map, then took their orders. She directed them to where they could sell their fish and pointed out a good spot for the ring, as well. 

“And here’s your room key.” She grabbed a pitcher of water and headed out from the bar. “Call me over if you need anything, hon.” 

Logan nods, tucking their key away after marking those spots. "Thank you." 

Remus sighed as he ate silently. 

Isn’t this nice? Haven’t allowed me into civilization in a while. Hot food, warm shelter, we’ll sleep in an actual bed tonight…  Wouldn’t it just be easier if you put a bit more faith in me? We could actually settle down somewhere. 

“We could never do that,” he mumbled. 

His back hurt— his whole body ached. He’d been on the road so long. 

"Remus? You okay?" Logan looks him over with a small frown, tucking him in close, whispering. "Adelaide being a bitch again?”

He let out a surprised, tired laugh. “Sort of. He wants to settle down as much as I do. I think, at least. We’ve just been travelling for a while. We only found out about Maeston Coast, or we would have gone a lot sooner.” 

“Alright, everyone!” The barmaid clapped her hands a few times. “Thirty minutes until curfew! Unless you plan to pay for a room, better start leaving.” 

Remus frowned and looked up. “Curfew?” 

"That's odd… I wouldn't have expected. I wonder what's caused that?" Logan leans over, trying to catch some conversation about it. 

“Fucking creepy ass…”

“...why is it us?...”

“...they still haven’t found that halfling boy…” 

Remus waved down the barmaid. “Excuse me, curfew?” 

“Oh,” she sighed. “No one told you two?” 

Shaking his head, Logan frowns. "No… We just got in today. What's going on?"

 “For the past few weeks, people have been getting snatched off the streets and out of their homes. Over twenty people have vanished. The guards aren’t telling us anything, just gave us this bullshit curfew as if it stops anything.” 

Remus’ eyes narrowed. 

"Have they found any of them, any.. any bodies?" Logan frowns softly, curiosity peaked.

She shook her head. “Nope. Nothing. People just vanish. I’ve heard some families of the taken say there’s a wet spot left behind, a trail of water, but who’s to say.” 

“If we talked to the guards about this, what would they say?” 

She smirked. “They’d say everything is fine.” 

"That's the only common clue? No other similarities in terms of how long between disappearances, age of the missing?" Logan taps the table, trying to think of what could be causing it and looking at the map for nearby water sources. 

Remus tapped on the map at a spot outside the Blackmarsh Villas— The Black Marsh, a nearby swamp. 

“Well, at first it was pretty tame. One or two missing a week. At this point it’s a couple a night. As for similarities, no, not that I’ve heard of. None of the victims are the same demographic, most don’t even know each other.” 

"Oh! Hmm…. Do they live near the marsh at all? With the water connection, maybe…" Logan smiles at Remus, eyebrow raising. Do you want to check this out, dear?

She laughed. “God no, no one lives out there. It’s so polluted, it was abandoned a long time ago. The only thing out there is the ruins of the old Blackmarsh Villas.” 

“What time does curfew lift in the morning?” Remus asked. He quickly finished his dinner and put down a few silver for the girl’s tip. 

“7am. Thank you, dear.” 

After she left, Remus leaned in to whisper to Logan, “I’m going to wake up early tomorrow to get shopping out of the way and go out to the marshes and quickly as possible. I bet we could find whatever’s doing this there.” 

"Good possibility. What are you thinking it is? Any hints stand out?" 

He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” He glanced over his shoulder. All the patrons had either filed out or gone upstairs; the dining room was a ghost town. “I’ve never encountered aquan kidnappers. Adelaide?” 

Maybe the nearby fish got a little rowdy. 

“You’re so unhelpful.”

"Well, one thing is for sure. We're all fed, there's a bed upstairs that I bet feels really nice, and we'll have more ideas come in the morning?" 

Remus sighed and nodded. “I know.” 

He followed Logan to their room. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the place, with a king-sized bed and a platter of fruits and cheeses. Remus dropped all his shit and made sure the lock was latched, then fell into bed. 

Chuckling softly, Logan watches before settling on the bed next to him with a hum. "Oh, that feels so nice."

Remus curled into his side with a little huff, horns pressing into the side of Logan’s face. “I’m exhausted.” 

Kissing his horns, Logan smiles, stroking down Remus' back. "Mmm… tuck in and rest, or see if there's a bathing space available, my dear?"

“Oh, yeah.” He blushed. “I think I saw a bathhouse nearby, maybe we can go when we get back from the swamp? No use spending money to get clean just to go to the marshes.”

"Sounds like a lovely plan, my dear." Gently tipping Remus' face, he kisses his lips. 

Remus kissed him back shyly, uncertainly. Smiling, Logan hums, cupping his face and guiding the kiss, gently making out with Remus. Remus slid his fingers through Logan’s hair. 

“Have you ever had a boyfriend before?” He asked quietly. “Girlfriend?”

Leaning into the touch, Logan nods. "I have… Both actually, before I figured out that I preferred the harder lines of a man's body." Blushing softly, he hums. "It's actually why I was 'requested' to leave the monastery. I had a date with the adopted son of the head monk. It wasn't approved of."

Remus frowned. “You were kicked out of your home because you’re queer?”

"I think it was more the who rather than the gender he disapproved of? He was a bit, protective, of Patton?" Grinning, he winks. "Can't help myself when I see a cute boy though, and I thought I had a better stealth ability than I did that night… Or maybe it was Patton's giggles that gave us away?"

Remus laughed a little, pulling Logan closer. “He’s still back at the monastery, then? Ever plan on seeing him again?”

Nuzzling a little, he hums, arms circling Remus and holding him close. "He is still back at the monastery as far as I know, probably grounded for an eternity to the healing wing, poor thing. I'd like to see him again, sure, but… I don't know, we might be better as friends. It was just a night that ended up with more cuddles and kisses than passion? This… Us? It feels more warm and close somehow?" 

Remus nuzzled into his shoulder, quiet. 

Stroking down Remus' back softly, he smiles. "If your question was if I'm planning to leave you for Patton if we meet again, no. I'm yours… if you want me."

Remus swallowed. He didn’t look at Logan. “I… I do want you, but you don’t want me. Not at least until Adelaide… You don’t want us.” 

Sighing softly, he hums, stealing another kiss. "Remus. It's you I'm interested in, and right now, Adelaide comes as part of you. I'm okay with that." 

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you do that.” 

"Baby… why not?" Frowning, Logan grips the dark chin gently, making him look at him. 

Remus shook his head a little. It was clear he was scared of Adelaide, of what Adelaide could do to him and Logan both. 

“I won’t let you do that to yourself,” he said quietly. 

Settling their foreheads together, he hums. "I'd be a fool not to be wary of Adelaide, dear… But I think you're worth the fight to free you. I'm not giving up." 

“I’m not… Going to be with you with him here,” Remus insisted. “I’m not.” 

"I know, and I understand, my dear. I'm just saying that after, after… I'd like to give US a chance. Does that make sense? Be friends with benefits for now… travel companions that share a bed. Afterwards, we can try dating if you're interested?" Stroking Remus' cheek, he hums. "Are we on the same part of the scroll?"

He blushed and nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes, sir.” 

Petting softly, he hums, bending in to offer a kiss. "Perfect. Seal it with a kiss, my dear one?"

Remus kissed him shyly. 

Smiling softly, Logan sighs. "You're so shy and sweet… It's amazing." 

Remus shook his head with a blush. “You’re crazy.” 

Kissing the tip of Remus' nose, he strokes his hips and thighs gently. "Maybe, but you like my crazy, baby!"

“Shhh.” He settled against him and sighed. “Lots to do tomorrow. I’m going to sleep.”

Nodding, Logan shifts them under the blankets, cuddling up against Remus with a smile. "Alright. I'll be right here with you, darling." 

xxx 

Logan and Remus started by going to the blacksmith. The halfling man sat on the counter, staring at the ring with a clenched face. 

Eyebrow arching, Logan bites his lip. Do I say something? He's looking at it like it offended him. 

“It’s definitely magical,” he said after a long few minutes. “Let me just check…”

He hopped off the counter and dug around underneath for a moment. He brought out a lantern and held it and the ring in the air. 

Remus held back a frustrated sigh. “Can you tell what it does?”

Taking Remus' hand, Logan chuckles. "I think that's what he's testing for now, hun?" 

“I believe it’s a ring of evasion,” he said. He pulled a book out from under the counter and flipped around for a moment. “Yes, here. It has three charges that you can use to dodge an unexpected blow. It regains the charges slowly every day. Are you selling it?” 

“No, sorry.” He took the ring back and slipped it on Logan’s finger. “Do you have any interesting weapons? Health potions?” 

Logan blushes softly at the care in the action, pressing a soft kiss to Remus' horn.

“Well, show me what you have!”

Remus put down his sickles and dagger, and Logan his short sword and darts. 

The halfling man hummed. “Anything specific you’re looking for?” He took out a journal and flipped through it. 

Logan glances over at the book with a hum. "Not a specific plan, no… I was just handed this sword when I left. What do you recommend?"

“Well, if you want to trade in the short sword, I have a ghost blade I can give you for 350.” He flipped through the journal a bit more and hummed. “As for the sickles, I can trade one of those in for a sharper one for, let’s say, 400.” 

Remus wrinkled his nose. “Gold pieces?” 

"What advantage would a ghost blade have over this one?" A little much… Unless it's impressive. I might have to save up if it's worth the price.

“Well, your enemy’s wouldn’t be able to see it,” the halfling man said. “A lot harder to dodge a weapon you can’t see. And the sickle would simply do more damage— a lot more.” 

Remus tapped his foot a little, frustration tugging at his chest. 

Ask him about the kidnappings. 

Remus narrowed his eyes. 

Just ask him! 

“I’m sorry, have you known anyone affected by the recent kidnappings?” 

The man’s face paled. “I’m sorry?” 

Sliding an arm around Remus, Logan gives a soft squeeze. "Sorry, we just arrived yesterday and there was a lot of talk about people disappearing…. do you know anything that can put our minds at ease, or any information at all?" 

“We’re headed into the swamp soon,” Remus explained, “see if we can do what the guards aren’t.”

“You’re trying… To stop it?” 

Remus and Logan nodded. 

The man shook his head and looked away in disbelief. “If you can bring my husband back, I’ll give you these weapons for free. And, here, I’ve only got two health potions but I can give you half off. That’s fifty gold in total.” 

Logan's eyes soften as he slides over the gold. "That would be lovely indeed, sir. We'll do our best to bring him back, or at least closure." 

The halfling man handed them each a health potion. “I’m Alberic, by the way. Is there anything else you need?” 

Smiling, he tucks the potion and his darts away. "Logan, nice to meet you, Alberic. Hmm, what do you think, dear? Anything else you wanted to know?" I don't want to traumatize him, but any information is helpful.

 “Do you know anything?” Remus asked hesitantly. 

Alberic shook his head. “No, I… I’m sorry. I was working when they took him. I don’t know anything.”

“We should keep moving,” Remus mumbled. “Thank you, Alberic.” 

Nodding, Logan hums. "Thank you indeed… Oh! Do you know anyone who might have more information?" 

“I’d talk to the guards.” 

Remus nodded. “Let’s do that on the way out.” 

Logan grins. "Sure… they probably won't thank us for doing their jobs, but then again, they might! See you later, Alberic!" 

They made their way to town hall, headed up to the front desk. 

“Excuse me, who runs the guard here?” Remus asked. 

A dwarf who was reading some papers looks up and points back behind him. "Who wants to know? She's busy."

“We’re headed out to the swamp in a minute, see if we can help with the kidnappings. We’d like to talk to her first and see if we can get any more information.” 

He arches an eyebrow, trying and failing to not look impressed. "I'll see if I can get you back to see head guard Lucinda… One moment?" He shuffles off to the back where the offices of the higher guards are, knocking on a door and waiting to be let in.

The door opened and he stayed inside a few more moments before coming out and leading Remus and Logan into the office. A blue tiefling with highly decorated ram’s horns, tipped in gold, sat behind the desk in flowing pink robes. She raised a pierced eyebrow when they entered. 

Offering a respectful bow like he would to his former head monk, Logan smiles a little. "Good morn. We are travelers looking to aid in your disappearance problem if you have time to give us some information about that?" 

She folded her hands over the desk and stared at them for a moment. “How do you plan on stopping the kidnappings?”

“Killing the criminal,” Remus said simply. “Do you know if it’s a monster or a person?” 

She watched them carefully. “You arrived recently. What makes you care about Blackmarsh?” 

"Why would we not care to make the world we travel a better place?" Logan tips his head gently, making his holy symbol slide out of his robe before he tucks it away again. "There is but one world and it deserves to be safe, does it not?" 

She chuckled. “That certainly is one belief. There’s not much that we know. Seaweed has been left behind at the scenes, puddles of murky water… Anyone who’s seen the creature calls it a monster. Some say it’s the ugliest thing they’ve ever seen.”

“Seaweed?” Remus frowned. They were weeks from any coast, completely landlocked. 

She shrugged and nodded. 

"That is odd… any other descriptors that might help identify the person or thing or a motive?" 

Logan had read about sea hags in the past, but never why they’d be so far from the ocean. 

She shook her head. “No, unfortunately. If we had more information we’d do more to stop it.” 

"Well, of course you would. I'm just trying to gather my data." Opening his pack, he flips through a couple of books, settling on one and checking a few pages. "It seems to correlate most with a sea hag… But why one is so far from the ocean, hmm. When did this all start, was there something just before it that might have deposited this hag here? A large scale storm, a caravan with a cart perhaps?"

She shook her head. “A few weeks ago. I can’t think of anything… Hm…” 

Remus furrowed his eyebrows as she dug around in her desk. 

She pulled out a few scrolls and pushed them open against the desk. “Well, there were some travelers who came by just before all this started. They were… Tourists. Came to gather information on our town and its economy.” 

“You mean how you got rich?” Remus crossed his arms. 

She laughed a little. “I guess so, yes.” 

"One of the missing is the husband of the weapons and supplies shop owner… are any of the others tied to businesses like that? Possible leverage points?" Logan's eyes widen as he tries to put it together. 

She shook her head. “No, there haven’t been any similarities among the kidnapped.” 

“Those travelers, can you describe them for me?” 

“Uh… Okay, well, they were a dwarven family except a little human girl. They said they’d found her on the side of the road and offered to bring her here. She stayed at the orphanage for a few days but she was the first to be kidnapped.” 

"Interesting. Who was next after the girl?" Could she be the hag? 

“Um…” she flipped through her book for a moment, “Callie Dosrig. She works in the inn.” 

"So, the girl that was with the travelers disappears first? The second to vanish was someone that they would have met on first arrival and an individual that would know a lot about the town." He checked their map. "Where is the orphanage? Maybe they're related? It might be a sea hag looking for money and perhaps a way back to the more coastal areas she's used to.”

She pointed it out on the map. “The head of the orphanage is an elven man, Laucian Xilodon. He can tell you about the girl. You really think she’s… A hag? She looked perfectly normal to me.” 

Remus looked at Logan in confusion. Under his breath, he asked, “Do you know anything about hags?” 

Can’t say I do, love. 

Logan hums, flipping some more pages. "Usually their human form is rather, unsightly. Did she have a tendency to wear a hat? Perhaps that anchored a disguise?" 

Lucinda shook her head. “No. You’re certain it’s a hag? It doesn’t seem to match up with what you’re saying.” 

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Remus said. “We’ll check the orphanage regardless, and whatever it is, we’ll kill it.” 

"It might not be what it is, I'm merely trying to eliminate the possibilities." Logan shrugs, writing down the orphanage owner's name. 

“You’re really just going to waltz in there without any idea?” She folded her arms over the desk and leaned in, her black eyes. judgemental. “You realize that’s why I haven’t sent any guards, right? It could be a massacre.” 

Shrugging, Logan hums, focused on his notes and the patterns there. "Do you have more ideas to add, ma'am? We did stop for information first." 

She shook her head. “Past suggesting you do your business in town and leave? Nope. Nothing.”

Remus scowled. “You should care more about your people.”

"Well, you did hear her, darling. She'd rather we left rather than helping her take care of the problem that's potentially killing her town slowly." Standing, Logan hums. "Let's talk to the orphanage director perhaps, see if any more clues can be gathered."

Remus nodded and followed him out. He sighed and glanced around the streets, the groups of people milling about. 

“Bitch,” he grumbled. 

"We were told that they were likely to be little help, dear. Sadly, she was correct on that point." Sliding a gentle arm around Remus, he leads the way to the orphanage.

You should get them to pay you. They’re all rich and you’re doing their work. 

Remus shook his head. 

They arrived at the orphanage, a small building with a handful of children playing in the grass. An abnormal amount were human, considering most of what Logan and Remus had seen since they arrived had been halfling or elven. 

A little half-elven girl ran up and stopped them on their way to the front door. Her eyes were blown wide. “You have antlers! And hooves!” 

Logan can't help but chuckle softly, bending to be closer. "Greetings, small one… Might we enter?"

She pointed at Remus, eyes on Logan. “Is he a deer?” 

Shaking his head, he hums. "He isn't, but I can see where you'd get the idea. Just for clarity though, there are a few things that can differentiate. He has hands, not four hooves. Also, he is walking upright, deer walk on all four limbs. The horns are, I believe, also made of different material." 

She looked to Remus excitedly. “Can I touch? I saw a deer once and I felt its antlers!” 

Remus blushed and knelt, ducking his head. The girl stroked his horn for a moment, ‘ooo’ing. 

“They feel like Lucinda’s horns!” 

"Mmhmm! See, he's not a deer… but he is dear to me!" 

Remus’ face flushed bright red as the door opened and a lanky elven man with long, rose gold hair shook a bell. “Time for lunch, everyone!” 

As all the kids leapt to their feet and ran inside, the man’s eyes landed on the two adventurers and the small child still reaching for Remus’ horns. He pocketed the bell and came over with an amused smile. 

He picked up the girl, who squealed, and held her on his hip. “Ginger, you want to introduce me?” 

Sliding an arm around Remus and standing to keep Ginger from accidentally getting sliced by the sharp tips, Logan grins. "We hadn't quite gotten to introductions actually! I'm Logan, and this is Remus. Ginger was just comparing Remus' horns to a deer's antlers…"

He laughed. “Ginger has an interesting relationship with tieflings. Lucinda and some of her charges were the one to find Ginger and her brother, Lucinda cared for them on their way home.” He held his free hand out. “I’m Laucian Xilodon. Are you looking to adopt?” 

"Oh dear… I wish. We're usually on the road. That's no life for a child. I just can't stop myself from looking, I guess?" Logan sighs softly, trying his best to look apologetic as he internally squeals at the man assuming they're a couple. 

He raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly, forcing a light laugh. 

“Ignore him,” Remus sighed. “We only came to town for a stop along the way but we heard about your…” his eyes lingered on Ginger, “problem in town. We’re trying to get some information first. We heard there was a girl here a few weeks ago, could we talk about her?” 

Laucion hesitated. He set Ginger down and murmured, “Go inside and eat some lunch, I’m sure Chef Bertie saved you your portion.” 

After Ginger ran off, Laucion gestured the two to follow him. He led them to a group of pavilions and finished picnic tables, cushions tied down to each of the seats. 

"Thank you… I wasn't sure how to bring it up discreetly, dear." Logan blushes a little, whispering to Remus as they move through the area. 

    “What do you want to know?” Laucion asked. 

Logan hums softly. "The girl who was first to vanish…. what can you tell us about her?"

He sighed. “Not much. The dwarven family who brought her in dropped her pretty quick and I didn’t see them again. She didn’t speak. We didn’t know her name. The kids started referring to her as Silver, because of her hair, so that kind of caught on, but past that…” 

Remus frowned. “You don’t know anything about her?” 

“No, not really. She just trailed behind everyone and sulked, which isn’t that strange, but…”

"But what? Anything helps really. We're trying to get a picture of what might be behind this so we can stop it." Writing down some notes in a journal, Logan hums softly.

He shrugged and tipped his head to the side a few times, grimacing. “I guess, well, it was the way she looked at everyone that put me off. She was… Very jealous, that much was obvious. She never did a single thing to hurt anyone, I have to stress, and she seemed very sweet, just… Angry.” 

"Jealous of what, exactly? That they could speak, or of certain people more than others perhaps?" 

“No, I don’t think it had to do with her speech. I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t know what she could have been jealous of.” 

"The possibility that's crossed my mind was that this might be the daughter of a hag, perhaps jealous or confused about appearances being different to her own as she approached the birthday that she'd attain her true form and no longer be able to look human?" Tapping a few pages, he shows them the data he has on hags. "It all matches up to the real possibility that we have a young hag out there."

“Why would a hag want to kidnap a village?” Laucion sighed and dragged a hand down his face. 

"Well, you would call this village beautiful, yes? The decorations on the houses, the atmosphere before this even? Sea hags hate beauty and want to destroy all of it." 

Laucion frowned deeply. “But… We were trying to help her.”

“It’s a monster,” Remus mumbled. “It doesn’t care. You’re certain it’s a sea hag, Lo?”

"Unfortunately, you can't change a genetic disposition to hate things that show them that they can't be traditionally beautiful… I'm nearly 100% certain, Remus. It all fits." He hums, checking his notes and the information he'd collected from the monastery library before he left. 

“We should get going,” Remus sighed as he stood, “before it hurts anyone else. Do they have any weaknesses?” 

"Nothing that I can remember… They're scary though, they can frighten and kill just with their looks once you see their true form! Which, I mean, it makes sense why they'd hate beauty when they're so repulsive." Shuddering, he hums softly. "I promise we can attempt to reason with Silver, get her to move to a different area… but we will remove her if it proves necessary."

He nodded reluctantly. “I understand. Ginger’s brother has already been taken, I don’t want to risk the rest of the kids. Do what you need to. Unless there’s anything else you need from me, I should get back.” 

"I think we're all set, thank you for your time… if we find the taken alive, we'll bring them home, okay?" Logan offers a small smile.

He smiled weakly and shook their hands. “Thank you. You two come back safe.” 

"We'll do our best, sir. You have my word." Logan shakes his hand easily, accepting the comfort and well wishes. Looking to Remus, he offers his hand. "Shall we, dear?" 

Remus nodded wearily and took his hand. They left the orphanage ground and headed back to the stables, hopping onto Juniper and leaving the Blackmarsh Villas.

[havenoffandoms]

Hi! A little idea for your requests, if you don’t mind. A Jaskier x Geralt : Jaskier feels finally brave enough to confess his undying love to Geralt but each time he tries, something gets in the way. Yennefer and Ciri support him and even try to help (successfully or not). Fun and fluff please !!! I hope you find the idea interesting~ 🌟

Okay, sooooo I may have got slightly carried away with this idea and I won’t apologise for it. Your idea really inspired me and I think it’s the cutest thing. Jaskier and Geralt are just two idiots in love in this one. There is the slighest bit of angst at the end, but the rest is fun and fluff as you wanted it. I hope I did your request justice. 

Thanks for your ask! Hope you enjoy the read xx

Warning: teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff, mild swearing, smutty references, and mild canon typical violence

1.

Jaskier was known for many things across the Continent – his ballads, his poetry, his many, many conquests that often got him into trouble (and inspired many, many ballads) – but his bravery was certainly not one of them. The bard was painfully aware of this fact, and he thought that joining Geralt on his adventures would somehow remedy this, but he had been wrong. Nonetheless, after nearly twenty years of pining and admiring the Witcher from a distance, Jaskier had decided to tell Geralt how he truly felt about him. No matter the outcome, Jaskier would tell Geralt and finally get this secret off his chest. He needed to know if Geralt felt the same way and he was ready to face the possibility that Geralt only liked him as a friend. Geralt may live for several centuries, but Jaskier did not have nearly as much time left in this life and had to make the most of the time that he had left. Even if it meant spending that time getting over Geralt…

Jaskier had a plan. He would tell Geralt over dinner, the nicest dinner they could afford, which at present consisted of stale bread, meagre pieces of cheese and some fruit that had seen better days but would do just fine. The location would be wherever Geralt decided to stop for the night on their way to Kaer Morhen. They would likely set camp at the edge of the woods (moonlit dinner, anyone?) and probably start a fire for warmth – that classed as romantic, right? Jaskier knew he could not overthink this too much. He did not have the luxury of waiting until they reached a town with a half-decent inn that offered nice (and most importantly cheap) food. He would have to work with what he had, and at the minute all that mattered was that Geralt knew how Jaskier truly felt about him.

They stopped at the edge of the woods, as Jaskier had anticipated, with the added bonus of the mountain range in the distance backdropping their campsite. The bard noticed the white peaks as the sun set just behind the mountains, casting large shadows over the plains that stretched from their current location all the way to the foot of the mountain range. The surroundings looked nothing short of picturesque – not that Geralt, the big oaf, would notice it! He was too busy unsaddling Roach, gathering sticks for the campfire and gathering his dirty clothes from his back before tossing them on the muddy ground for Jaskier to deal with in the morning, as was usually the case. When the bard’s stomach began rumbling loudly, Geralt finally looked up and his amber eyes rested on his travel companion. He looked irritated, as per usual, but there was something else reflected in his cat-like eyes. Concern, perhaps?

“Here,” Geralt said, his voice gruff and raspy and sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine, “eat this.”

Jaskier barely managed to catch the piece of hard bread with his hands. He watched in a panic as Geralt strapped his swords onto his back and readied himself to leave.

“Wha- where are you going, Geralt?”

“Hunt. We need meat to last us the next couple of days on the road,” the witcher answered without looking at him.

“But… when will you be back?” Jaskier asked, trying not to sound as needy as he felt.

“When I’ve caught something, bard,” Geralt huffed before taking off into the woods without as much as a glance over his shoulder. Jaskier was speechless for a while even after Geralt had disappeared into the dark woods.

Son of a bitch!

***

“I think the best way to Geralt’s heart is through Roach,” Ciri told Jaskier over dinner one night. The young heir to Cintra and the bard had both hit it right off when they had met. Ciri enjoyed his ballads and his poetry, and Jaskier loved teaching her about the history of the Continent, algebra and even taught her one or two songs on his lute. The girl was a natural and he felt it would be a shame to let this talent go to waste. Of course the sword training with Geralt and magic lessons with Yennefer were a lot more glamorous, and Jaskier could not hope to compete with that. Yet, Ciri enjoyed the distraction nonetheless and often used her free time to visit Jaskier. She was like the little sister Jaskier had always wanted but never had.

“I don’t see how that’s helpful…,” Jaskier admitted after a minute of considering Ciri’s words.

“Geralt loves Roach. He has a special bond with her, and I think he trusts her instincts about people more than his own. I think if he were to see you bonding with Roach, he would considerably soften around you.”

Jaskier had to admit he had never thought of that before, but it did not sound like the worst idea. The following day, he decided to follow Ciri’s advice and headed to the stables early in the morning to be sure to beat Geralt to the chase. When he arrived near Roach’s stall he noticed that the mare’s ears perked up when she saw him coming. Jaskier made soft clicking noises as he brought his hand to pet her long head. The mare let out a happy snort as she nudged against his hand demanding more pets.

“Hey girl, how are you doing? I know it’s usually Geralt who takes care of you, but today I thought I’d come and say hi myself. You’re awfully more friendly than what Geralt makes you out to be, you know. I always thought the reason I couldn’t ride you was because you’re a temperamental little thing.”

Jaskier chuckled as Roach shook her head and huffed indignantly. The bard looked around the stables and spotted a bucket with brushes, hoof picks and mane combs. Blankets and leading rope hung inside the stall Roach was residing in, right next to her saddle. Jaskier went to grab the bucket and returned to the stall, opening the door gently as to not spook the mare. He entered Roach’s personal space and fished a body brush out of the bucket. He began brushing Roach’s coat, making sure to scrub the sand and dust out of her coarse hair as best as he could. His ministrations seemed to relax the horse judging by her steady heartbeats that Jaskier could feel through her ribcage as he slid his hand along her strong body.

“You know, I never realised how big you actually are, girl. You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you? And so sweet, too. Your coat is so silky. Geralt takes really good care of you,” Jaskier mused as he worked one side of Roach’s body.

“Of course I do,” a deep voice interrupted Jaskier’s actions and made him jump out of his skin, “Roach works hard when we’re on the road hunting monsters. The very least I can do is make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.” Geralt stared at Jaskier with a half-smile on his lips, his eyes soft as he watched the bard pamper Roach. Jaskier was not used to that kind of expression on the witcher’s face. The last time he had seen such kindness in Geralt’s eyes had been at princess Pavetta’s engagement festivities right after the witcher had saved him from yet another cuckold husband’s ire.

“I… I didn’t hear you come in,” Jaskier said, returning his attention to Roach and willing his racing heart to calm down. Geralt grabbed a second body brush from the bucket and got working on Roach’s coat as well. The mare let out a pleased snort at having both men take care of her.

“You were so lost in your own world that a troll choir could have burst into the stables and would’ve escaped your notice,” Geralt jested, making Jaskier stop in his tracks.

“My, my, Geralt, was this a joke? Who knew witchers have a sense of humour?”

“She likes you, you know?” Geralt commented, ignoring Jaskier’s sarcastic comment. The bard blushed at those words, and he was unsure how to respond.

“I like her, too. Despite her grumpy owner, she’s a surprisingly tame horse.”

“Hm… maybe it’s a blessing that she can’t hear your incessant singing,” Geralt teased, but his tone was light which told Jaskier that he was looking for a reaction. The bard was certainly not going to rise to the bait.

“My incessant singing is probably a nice change from the monosyllabic grunts she hears on a daily basis.”

Well, he tried not to rise at least. Jaskier dropped the brush in the bucket and retrieved the hoof pick. He kept a hand on Roach’s flank and allowed it to travel to her rump and down her leg to make her aware of where he was going. He pulled her leg up between his thighs and began picking out the dirt from between her hooves. Now was the time or never to tell Geralt how he felt about him, while they were both alone in the deserted stables and where no one could witness his humiliation if Geralt rejected him. Pull yourself together, Jask.

Deep breath in – 1, 2, 3 – and deep breath out. Go.

Just as Jaskier opened his mouth, he noticed Roach’s tail rise slightly out of the corner of his eyes. The movement distracted him long enough to momentarily forget about his intentions and before he had time to react, he felt a heavy weight land on the back of his head. Next thing he knew the stall was filled by loud and rich laughter and the stench of horse shit which had just landed on Jaskier. The bard stood frozen in place, unable to move and not wanting to believe what had just happened to him.

On the other hand, Geralt’s laughter was a sound that Jaskier wished he could bottle up and keep forever.

“Hardy-har-har… really funny, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled under his breath as he stepped away from the mare and glared at the witcher, who was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, it’s just…,” Geralt could not even finish his sentence before he was assaulted by another fit of giggles that brought fresh tears to his amber eyes. Well, Jaskier could definitely not tell him now… that would just look plain stupid.

“Yeah, I get it. Well, don’t just stand there! Help me!” Jaskier urged the witcher, who could barely contain his hilarity.

“Oh Jaskier… I haven’t laughed like this in a long time.”

Somehow, those words brought Jaskier joy despite the overwhelming humiliation he felt.

***

3.

“Yennefer, pleaaaaase,” Jaskier pleaded the sorceress, dragging out the vowels as much as he could and ignoring the irritated eye-roll.

“Oh fine, whatever it takes to get you to finally shut up about Geralt and let me get back to my work!” Yennefer snapped at him, slamming her book shut with enough force to make the entire desk rattle in protest. Jaskier smiled brightly at her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, Yen. My other attempts have failed dramatically.”

“So I have heard,” Yennefer said, a nasty smile appearing on her lips, “the smell of horseshit will follow you for the next months I can sense it.”

“Geralt told you, huh?” Jaskier guessed, feeling embarrassed at his expense all over again. Yennefer nodded, biting back the laughter that threatened to push past her lips.

“He told me and Ciri, and Ciri then told me what you had planned that day. I must admit that I felt slightly bad for you. So I’ll help you just because I’m sick of you and Geralt beating around the bush like blushing maidens who are too shy to tell her crush how she feels.”

“Wait, what do you mean Geralt and me... do you think that... he likes me back?” 

Jaskier was concerned that if Yennefer rolled her eyes any harder they would stay stuck like this forever. 

“Yes, dummy. Geralt is head over heels with you, how have you never noticed this before?”

“But... I...,” Jaskier was not too sure where he was going with this sentence, but as it seemed Yennefer was in no mood to wait any longer than necessary.

"If we’re going to do this, you need to do this my way, understood?”

Jaskier had a funny feeling that he would come to regret trusting Yennefer, but what other choice did he have?

“What have you got in mind?” he asked her, insecurity lacing his tone.

“Let’s just say we’ll have to hit where it hurts…,” she told him mysteriously, her smile growing more wicked and not exactly filling Jaskier with confidence.

***

Geralt grinded his teeth at the sight of Jaskier and Lambert in such close proximity. Vesemir had insisted that everyone stay several nights longer at Kaer Morhen and enjoy a feast together to celebrate the witchers returning to their former keep. There was plenty of food and ale to please everyone, and while Geralt thought he would take the opportunity to get drunk and finally admit his feelings to Jaskier, he had certainly not anticipated this turn of events. Ciri was sitting next to him but seemed blissfully unaware of his current emotional state. Why would Jaskier cosy up to Lambert of all people? His jokes were not funny, he had bad breath, not to mention a bad habit of drinking himself into an aggressive mood and physically Lambert had not much going for him either in Geralt’s humble and perfectly objective opinion. So why, oh gods why, was Jaskier looking at him like Lambert had plucked the moon from the sky?

“Aren’t they sweet together?” Yennefer cooed in his ear, only infuriating him further. Geralt barely managed a grunt as he brought his tankard of ale to his lips, took a large swig and all but slammed it back on the table, causing every dish in the vicinity to rattle. Ciri shot Geralt a quizzical side glance, which the witcher ignored.

“Why do I have a feeling that you did something shifty, Yen?” Geralt asked her, his voice barely above a growl as he watched Lambert pull Jaskier onto his lap. The sorceress merely shook her head.

“I don’t know Geralt, but I have to say it’s not your best quality.”

“Is Jaskier snogging Lambert?” Ciri asked, incredulity lacing her tone. Geralt felt every fibre in his body vibrate with anger and his blood boiled in his veins as he watched Lambert’s hand wander over Jaskier’s body like he somehow owned the bard.

Lambert had no fucking right to touch his bard.

Lambert would soon regret his decision to paw Jaskier like he was nothing but a common whore.

“Hey Vesemir,” Geralt was not acknowledging Vesemir but he knew that he had his mentor’s attention nonetheless, “have you ever heard of a witcher developing abilities to fly after undergoing the trials?”

Geralt noticed Yennefer, Ciri and Vesemir eye each other questioningly out of the corner of his eyes. The older witcher looked as puzzled as the rest of them.

“I have never come across such a case, Geralt. Why the interest?”

“Just making sure Lambert won’t survive a fall from my bedroom window,” Geralt announced as he rose from his chair and headed towards where Lambert and Jaskier were sitting. He ignored Vesemir and Yennefer’s protests, his eyes locked on Lambert who seemed to pale when he saw Geralt approach.

“Geralt, to what do I owe the…”

“Knock if off Lambert,” Geralt snapped at him, his anger only amplified by the fact that Lambert still had his arm wrapped around Jaskier, “Jaskier, how about you join me and the others over there…”

Although he had phrased it as a question, Geralt had definitely meant this as an order… something Jaskier picked up on and did not appreciate judging by the indignant expression on his face.

“I like it here, thank you very much.”

Those, as it turned out, had been the wrong words to use. Geralt had to actively calm down his nerves so he would not pummel Lambert to the ground and wipe off that cocky smile off his face.

“You heard the bard, Geralt. So piss off and go huff somewhere else.”

“There’s something I would much rather do,” Geralt said before landing a punch to Lambert’s face.

***

“What was that all about, you big brute?” Jaskier yelled at Geralt as soon as he found the witcher standing on the balcony of his room, brooding by himself as per usual. Geralt did not reply; in fact, he did not even seem to acknowledge Jaskier’s presence, which infuriated the bard to no end. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled on it with enough force that it attracted Geralt’s attention. The witcher groaned in warning, but at this point Jaskier did not care if he was punched in the stomach. He needed answers.

“I could ask you the same question, bard,” Geralt snapped, his voice low and menacing. His amber eyes narrowed as Jaskier stood toe to toe with him, not showing any willingness to back down.

“I’m allowed to snog whomever I please. You aren’t my father and don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt!”

This had all gone terribly wrong. Yennefer had suggested making Geralt jealous by flirting with Lamber, and at the time Jaskier thought it was a brilliant idea. He never thought that Geralt would act out like this. Much less give him orders like he had a say in Jaskier’s life and actions.

“I will tell you what to do when it means keeping you safe!” Geralt hissed back at Jaskier, and despite their barely noticeable height difference it felt like the witcher was towering over Jaskier.

“Keep me safe from what? Lambert is your friend, not a vampire or werewolf that you’re hunting. You know what, this was all a terrible idea, I should never have listened to Yennefer and her stupid ideas.” Jaskier did not wait for Geralt’s reply and meant to storm out of the room, but a large hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back.

“What do you mean by that?” Geralt demanded to know, but Jaskier was done talking.

“Let go of me, Geralt!”

“Lambert may be my friend, but I know what he’s like. I’ve seen it before. There’s been times where I partnered with him on hunts when we were younger. I saw the way he sweet-talked to women, promised them the world and took them to bed. You… you deserve better than this, Jaskier.”

Geralt’s words caused Jaskier to pause. It did not make sense. Since when did Geralt care who Jaskier went to bed with? And more importantly, since when did he care how these encounters left him feeling?

“This was all Yennefer’s idea. I was never interested in Lambert. I just… wanted to make you jealous,” Jaskier finally admitted, his voice small. He felt like a child who was being scolded. He braced himself for Geralt’s rejection.

“Why did you and Yen want to make me jealous?”

“Because I was sick and tired of seeing you two pining for each other and both being too cowardly to do anything about it,” Yennefer’s voice interrupted their little conversation. Jaskier and Geralt both looked up and saw Yennefer and Ciri standing at the door, wearing the same unimpressed expressions on their faces.

“Yen, stay out of this,” Geralt growled under his breath, but the sorceress merely smiled patronisingly at the witcher.

“Oh Geralt, I am in way too deep at this point. Either you two admit that you have feelings for each other, or I swear to the gods I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

Jaskier gulped audibly at Yennefer’s words, and as soon as Geralt felt his anxiety he pulled the bard closer to him. Geralt positioned himself before Jaskier so he was shielding the bard from Yennefer’s attacks. Yennefer and Ciri cast each other knowing looks at the witcher’s actions.

“I believe my work here is done. Geralt, don’t mess this up.”

With these final words Yennefer and Ciri disappeared leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone. The witcher kept his back turned to the bard, almost as if unwilling to face him now that his dirty little secret was out. Jaskier, on the other hand, could not have felt happier if he tried. Yennefer had been right. Geralt liked him back and that was why he had reacted the way he had upon seeing Lambert and Jaskier together.

“Oh Geralt…,” Jaskier whispered, running his hands along the broad shoulders and down the thick arms, pulling a shudder from the witcher, “and here I was worried that you would reject me.”

Geralt finally turned around at those words and hesitantly placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips, his eyes scanning Jaskier’s face nervously. Without any words being spoken, the witcher leaned closer and placed the softest kiss on the bard’s lips.

That was all the reassurance Jaskier needed as he returned the kiss. Safe to say they would not be leaving Geralt’s room any time soon.

[talesofealdancynedom]

Edmond Monabellan, in fairy robes. For that moment you want to research a character, for proper representation, but the information isn’t there because white washing of history!

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 4.2 -  Time Stands Still: Edmond 4/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

violence, murder, war

On the first day of Autumn, Meriam gave her kingdom a princess: Odette Craweleoth. In four week’s time, an army of Anglia needed to march north to aid Isfisceard, against Mage Prince Edmond of The Far North. Meriam knew he would win if she was not them. She had given her word on behalf of Anglia, in promise of peace with the two north kingdoms, to deal with the prince personally; as a stronger magic user. Meriam was being pulled into war. Furthermore, to arrive on time, the Anglian cavalry, and Meriam, would need to leave promptly. But she was still in recovery with her brand-new daughter, and was far to weak to use magic or ride long-distance and into war. Each week that passed, she made the army wait, in hopes she would recover just enough to join them. She wanted to hate Odette for holding her back, but couldn’t, because after almost a month of constant contact, Meriam had become attached to her only child. She was scared what would happen to her baby if she left for even a day. It was Meriam’s nightmare; ill from child bearing, homebound because of child she didn’t want, had the lives of hundreds of men in her hands, and being forced to use magic in battle. Meriam lay next to her husband, feeding her daughter, and humming her nephew to sleep, thinking; there had to be something she could do that would result in everyone, includer herself, winning.

Time is not to fooled with, but in Ealden Cynedom, it has a way of healing from tampering. As if everything is meant to be, and destiny is unchangeable. Meriam didn’t like using her powers to affect the minds and experiences of time on people, but she needed time. Unlike common folk, Meriam could afford to wait till the last possible minute. If she needed time, she could always make more, by stopping, reversing, or forwarding the clock. With little but a small hourglass, in a marble upon a chain, she was able to move the world around her, backwards. Two weeks after the battle she was supposed to attend, of which was likely won by Prince Edmond at the cost of many lives, Meriam made the world reverse to one week before the battle.  She reversed the event she had failed to attend, resurrecting all who had fallen, and erasing the memory of it ever taking place. It is one thing to use time on a person, a group, or a city; but Meriam was too great a mage to think so small. The whole world was within her control with enough concentration. Still weak, but able enough to use magic to compensate, she marched with the royal guard, who was unaware the Grand West was three weeks in the future compared to other lands. May her fairy robes protect her, for Meriam intended to come home and hold her daughter and husband again. She had a promise to keep, and intended only to return after Edmond Monabellan groveled for an alliance at her feet.

           At dawn, Feon woke like any other day. She put on the water to make the porridge, and her family ate breakfast while making their plans for the day. Feon was going to comb the town for daughters of the sea, her husband was going to get wood and sharpen their knives. Their daughters were doing laundry, and Lyra was sent to gather herbs and berries in the glens outside the village. By mid mourning, everyone was off to their tasks. while Feon kissed her husband at the door, the town guard came, and ripped her from his arms. Feon was dragged through the town, as she began to hear panicked yelling and horns. She struggled to get free. The men overpowered her, and dragged her to the edge of the short stone wall of the village. The lord was there, organizing soldiers into formation, and Feon’s captors pulled her head back by her hair, and yelled at her to sing. They pulled at her while the screams started, and a rally speech was given. And all Feon could think about, was where is Lyra? Feon looked around frantically as she was being yelled at to sing a protection enchantment over the town; but that would require feeling love and desire to protect, and Feon only felt fear. Then, lit arrows came, and landed in the nearby the roofs, causing a fire. There was more screaming and panic as the villagers attempted to put out the fire. The two men continued to pull Feon’s hair, and yell for her magical aid in battle. They needed to hold on until Anglia came. Then Feon looked across the field and hills. The world went silent, as directly across the field, her eyes met the yellow eyes of a black haired rough young man, in violet and gold wolf armored robes. He rode a bear, and was exuding a glow like a black hole. She could feel her heart pound against her chest, as a second wave of arrows fell, and the battalion charged to meet their enemy. The promised army of Anglia failed to arrive in time. Feon could not afford to wait for her son Lyra to return; So, she began to sing.

           Not a moment earlier, in a tent in the Algonquian camp, Edmond sat with his sister, Luthid. His painted hide tent, was lavished in furs, silver and fine fabrics. His general, who was promised lordship if he conquered the Northlands of Celticia, reminded Edmond of his uncles wishes. Algonquia did not want to kill the people of the Northlands, they just wanted access to its mild weather and greenery. The King of Algonquia did not wish to send his nephew to the imperialistic frontier; It was Edmond’s choice, as a paladin, to help his families kingdom. Even his own men feared him, after he cleared battle after battle to reach the island of Isfisceard. But after using magic for murder, and missing his home, and fearing for his sister, Edmond began to doubt his mission. The radiant green bogs, glens, hills, and song of the sea, were beautiful enough to make him cry; As he murdered its innocent people for someone else. He loved fey, and learned to use weapons as a boy groomed as an heir. The only male heir left. If his sister Luthid died as well, Algonquia would be kingless. And there would be no way for Edmond to give power to the people if the Far North was in untrustworthy hands. He wanted to go home. He wished he had suggested diplomacy sooner. But the soldiers of Algonquia crossed an entire nation, and tasted its blood and riches along the way. Edmond was too far to go back.

Edmond ordered his general out of his tent, and asked for his sister. The general denied his request; Luthid agreed to summon fey for battle in the camp, and was in a small tent preparing. The amount of magic required to control fey, needs a mage to have magic move through them constantly, destroying their bodies. If the battle went on too long, and Edmond did not aid her in controlling their collection of wolf fey, she may die. Edmond felt terror, but did not show it. He went upon the back of his familiar, and lead the lines forward in the crisp ocean air of morning, according to battle plans. They were silent as cats, and swift as foxes.

Edmond was to slowly advance with his foot soldiers, after the arrows of stone and fire had been shot. The yells, and miscellaneous weapons of Celtician men no longer scared them. They had tasted too much victory. After the arrows, behind Edmond, would be the wolf children controlled by Luthid in the camp. Including three Aliki wolf princes they had captured. The carnivoran fey and skilled warriors, tore threw the small army of Isfisceard; and Edmond was untouched as he drew a sword of darkness, while seated high upon his powerful mount. His fairy robes made him impenetrable. And then he heard the sweet song of a woman, and a veil of gold move over the burning town; his eyes met Feon’s, as she cried in fear, attempting to put a charm on the village. It reminded him of how he wanted to cry. For his brethren, for his actions, for his sister, and from the immense pain he felt as a black arrow pierced his familiar from the sky. He became disoriented and no longer absorbing sound for his spells; for a moment, he was weak. Just as quickly as sound had resumed, it dissipated. The battle field began to slow to a stillness, and the sound of hooves approached from the south.

Meriam swooped down upon Nihten, landing in front of Edmond who was gasping his chest on his knees. She looked like Raven, clad in black raven kingdom robes, and black makeup against her pale colours. She was unflinching, like a disappointed mother that saw through their child’s lies. She lifted a silver sword, the gift from Helrem that could cut anything, and pointed the blade at his neck.

“You bitch!” Edomnd yelled, lashing forward with his sword. His intent was to knock away Meriam’s blade. But Meriam held firm; and Edmond’s shadow sword met her own sword, it was cut in half. As time resumed, and her men swept the battle field, They started devastating his troops with their horses. Edmond was shocked, and then Meriam kneed him in the face.

“You disgust me. Those wolf children, and their princes, would have trusted you once. And you make them taste the foul blood of men. You are no mage.” Meriam scolded. Nihten began to peck and pull at his cape, as Meriam tore off his tunic and gloves. Without his robes he could be killed easily. Then he noticed the fey flee form the field, and the two dead Aliki wolves, and their third brother gagging on the blood in his mouth. The fey were free, thus Luthid, his sister, was dead. Edmond dropped his head. He would not come home, and he did not want too. The yelling, and clashing began to sting like his aching heart. The year of sieges resurfacing in his mind. Meriam held her blade high to kill him, and then noticed he was crying.

“Let me at least see my sister, even if she is dead, one last time.” He cried. Then Edmond lifted his head, and yelled for his troops to retreat. Meriam lowered her sword. “I don’t want death anymore. I want my palace bed, and to drink with my uncle, and see my sister wed. I want to howl charms of good dreams into the night, and be the last king Algonquia will ever need. I will leave this land and yours alone. I do not want it anymore. These warm green fjords, come at far to high a cost.” He cried. Meriam lowered her sword. That was exactly what she wanted to hear, and it made her sad. Meriam grabbed Edmond’s collar, and dragged him to his camp. All the soldiers parting ways she walked. As if her presence demanded the men of all three armies to show respect. She gave off an aura of darkness and regality. Meriam walked through the Algonquia camp, and turned their tents to water with only a whisper; and delivered the incapacitated prince to his dead sister’s side. Then she left the way she came, moving calmly across the battle field, and through the burning village. She walked through their house fires, saving their children, and alchemized water to put out the flames. Meriam seemed so steady, its scared people that they could not read her reaction to the battle. Neither joy nor woe. Inside, she was too sad to feel.

On the beach, that was now silent and raging, Meriam found Feon crying and dishevelled upon the pale quartz stone. Feon then ran to the Lighthouse, and up the cliffs. Meriam walked slowly after her. Her stern demeanor softening to one of sorrow, as she followed her friend up the stairs to the peak of the sea wall. Feon wailed into the stormy void, and Meriam walked up, and held her.

“My children and husband died putting out the fire. And Lyra never came back from the woods by the battle field. Down there, by the rocks, an evacuation ship has fallen to a kraken, who was summoned by their song. She must have really liked it. Then the stirring waves approach, and I believe Lyra has been claimed by the sea. Why am I alive Merry? Out of everyone, why me? Why not my children?”

“You protected your village from further danger. That is why you are alive like many of them. I must admit I am so sorry; I wish I could have come sooner. But you did not tell me how long it would take for me to gather strength for this mission, after bearing a child. I also didn’t expect I would love her so much.” Meriam whispered. “I understand, why you do not want to leave them behind. I can’t imagine your loss, Feon.”

“I am happy your family is safe. I am happy the Far North retreats and bargains for forgiveness and friendship. I am happy-” Feon sniffed.

“Do not lie. Even if this battle is over, you have lost so much this day. You may cry, I will be here next to you.” Meriam sniffed. “I will cry with you.”

           After a few days of restoring the village and resting, Meriam and her men prepared to leave. The people of Isfisceard and Celticia thanked them, for not only winning a battle, but ending a war. They were willing to leave the past behind them, for the chance at another dawn. Before Her troops left, Meriam walked to the beach. There was white fog that did not block the sun, upon the pristine beach. Laughter of selkies collecting shells echoed across the empty sand. Feon stood by her rock, looking into the perfectly flat sea.

“I came to say good bye; but now I am disturbed by the silence of the sea.” Meriam said.

“Oh, goodbye my friend.” Feon said starring into the fog. “Well wishes to your family; I trust helping with the village’s babes means your daughter won’t starve when you return. Though I know a woman of your noble standing shouldn’t need to worry about such thing. Sorry; I just miss my own babies so much. You know, you were right; I think I want to stop journaling magic texts, and instead write poetry for charms.” Feon said. She was still gazing into the horizonless distance.

“No worries. But, why do you observe nothing so closely?”

“This morning I saw a man on the beach; wearing white and gold fish robes, and with ginger hair twisted into strands that are tied in an elaborate knot. And I hear the fey of the sea thank their Queen father for a song of calmness and mist. I am happy; Lyra will live on, safely around magic.” Feon smiled.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

[a-r-t-h-u-r-m-o-r-g-a-n]

Desperate Times

Word Count: 6.6K 

Warnings: Angst, mention of domestic abuse, smut, language, violence. (wow sorry guys.)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Plot: Arthur takes up a Bounty Poster. It’s for you, he’s been promised a very handsome reward for bringing you in.

Notes: I really couldn’t stop once I started writing, if the response is good, maybe I’ll work on a part two? 

Arthur Morgan left the sheriffs office and mounted his horse, taking out the poster once more, just to be sure he knew where he was going.

The last known location of (Y/N) was outside of Annesburg, he was in Valentine. It was gonna be a long trip there and back, so he made a stop at the local general store, buying the appropriate provisions, before heading out. He’d been told you were very dangerous, but wanted alive. He’d questioned how dangerous, because to be honest, you didn’t appear threatening in the poster. Maybe ten years younger than he, and ten times more beautiful. But the sheriff and his deputies insisted, saying, “(Y/N) murdered her husband, stepfather, and burned the families house to the ground, leaving her mother with absolutely nothing, causing the poor women to commit suicide. When the first batch of law caught up to her, she gunned them down and disappeared once again.”

Arthur didn’t ask any more questions, wasn’t any of his business anyhow. All he needed to know, was the reward for bringing you in, and it was a big one. Sitting at two hundred dollars. He figured just for a bounty being brought in alive, it was a piece of cake.

You got wind of a bounty hunter asking for you. You overheard a few riders as you packed up camp that morning, discussing the prize for bringing you in, but also the risk. Which made you smirk. You’d chosen this life, and you’d spent four years preparing for it. You’d be damned if a couple of bounty hunters or deputies took it from you. But if there was already men looking for you in Annesburg, it was definitely time to move on.

You finished packing up your camp before mounting your beautiful Kentucky Saddler, and headed northeast. Your plan was to find a nice quiet spot on a mountain, live out your life in peace, and never look back. You’d done what you needed to do, and if no one understood that? To hell with them.

After about an hour into your travels, you noticed two riders ahead of you. You made sure to keep your head down as you continued onward, already veering Jesabelle to the side to pass with no issue. As you grew closer, your eyes peered up under your hat to judge the situation. They were definitely paying close attention to you. Your six shooter burned against your side, ready to be drawn and shot.

As you passed, one of them spoke. “S’cuse me ma’am. Do you happen to have a smoke?”

“No.” You responded plainly, continuing on. You heard the shift in the horses hooves as they turned to follow you. Great.

“Not even a hello?” The other spoke with a laugh. “You look familiar, do we know you?”

“I think we do William, I think this is (Y/N)-“ He didn’t even get out your last name and you had your weapon drawn and a shot fired right into his skull. You aimed it at the other, apparently named William, who raised his hands as his horse panicked under him.

“I-I’ll go, I didn’t see you. Please.” The look in his eyes was that of pure desperation.

“It’s not personal.” You exclaimed, firing the second shot and watching him fall to the ground as his horse took off. You slid off Jesabelle and moved over to the men, checking their pockets. You came up with six dollars and a pack of smokes, as well as some ammo for your pistol. You began moving the bodies off the road, and using your boots to kick dirt over the blood. Just in time too, another rider was coming behind you. But this one was slow moving, no doubt out for just a ride. You mounted back up, and took off at a slow gallop.

You covered a lot of ground before finding a suitable spot to camp for the night. You prepared some dinner, popped open your last bottle of whiskey, and settled in for the evening. Your eyes watched the stars above you, appreciating the constant that was the nights sky. Always so bold and beautiful, always changing but always appearing the same.

You heard the snap of a twig and your gun was drawn in a matter of moments as you pointed it in the direction of the sound. “Whoa!” You heard a voice call out, and then a man came into the light. “I didn’t mean to startle ya miss. I’m simply finding a place to move my camp to. There’s a bear out here, too dark to track it, and I don’t really wanna get eatin’ in my sleep.”

You looked him over, he had a kind enough face, and he was looking right at you without asking if you were someone he knew. Still, could never be too careful. “Move on then.” You said, pointing your pistol in the direction he’d been heading in.

“Thing is, I ain’t got no food, would ya mind?”

Again, you looked him over. Two pistols on either hip. His horse came up behind him, a few repeaters and a rifle. This was a traveling man, no doubt. Could be a bounty hunter, but most were so eager to collect their bounty. Ah hell, you could do with some good karma after the day you had.

“Sure.” You said dismissively. “Holster on your horse though. Then I lower the gun.”

“You make the rules.” He said as he took his holster off. “I’ve learned not to bite the hand that feeds ya.” He rested his holster over his saddle and moved forward once you lowered your gun, keeping it at the ready, however. “Foods in the pot. It ain’t much, but you can have the rest.”

The man moved towards the pot and helped himself. You took notice how he didn’t really take any double glances at you, he just seemed appreciative for the food. “What’s your name?” You asked, watching him carefully.

“Arthur Morgan.” He spoke as he ate, still not looking at you. Perhaps he was just hungry. “Yours?” He asked, finally letting his eyes find yours. And it seemed like there was something behind them, some sort of secret, you weren’t sure.

“(F/N).” You said plainly, giving him a fake name, just in case.

“Well, (F/N), I thank ya for the food. I’ll be on my way.” He tipped his hat and moved back to his horse.

“Head Southwest.” You said after him, causing him to turn and look at you again. “Tons of tree cover, and that bear of yours is movin’ North. I tracked it earlier just to be safe.”

“Again, thank you.” You watched him saddle up and head out, actually missing a little company for once. You hadn’t had any in so long, being on the run, it was nice to talk to someone without them recognizing you. But you’d chosen this life, you set yourself up for loneliness, might as well get used to it. After awhile, you settled in for the night, keeping your eyes on the stars as you lay flat on your back. You kept your pistol at the ready, before drifting off into sleep.

The next morning, something felt off. Wrong. You made your coffee, your senses on high alert as you began packing away your camp. Even Jesabelle seemed to know something was wrong. You made quick work of putting everything away, and right as you were about to pull yourself onto your saddle, a rope went around your middle and yanked you backwards.

You let out a string of curse words as you felt the ropes tighten, and a figure stood above you. “You?!” Arthur Morgan unceremoniously pulled you over so you were on your stomach, and he tied your hands and your feet before picking you up. “You son of a bitch! I fed you!”

“And again, I thank you for that.”

“Wait!” You shouted, your eyes catching sight of Jesabelle. “My horse!” He kept walking. “Oh have some fucking decency! I’ve had her since I was a kid, at least take her into town and put her in a stable for me!”

You heard the man sigh as he dropped you to the ground and went to fetch Jesabelle. You hadn’t expected him to actually agree to it. He lead her over to his horse, before tying her reigns to his saddle, and then headed over to you. He thought for a moment before cutting the ties from your feet, picking you up and put you on Jesabelle. “Now don’t get stupid, you ain’t gonna be able to outrun my horse, and with your hands tied you won’t get very far. You try anything? I leave your horse behind and you can get tossed over the back of mine. Got it? We got a three days ride, I’m bein’ polite by makin’ you comfortable, don’t make me regret it.”

All you did was glare at him, feeling absolutely humiliated and betrayed. “I fed you.” You repeated as he pulled your guns off your horse and holster.

“You did.” He said simply as he pulled himself onto his horse and began moving. You couldn’t believe you’d been so damn stupid. Letting a bounty hunter that close to you, letting him eat your food and move on his way.

“Why didn’t you just take me last night? Instead of coming up with some lie about a bear and being hungry?”

“Because I’d been followin’ you and I knew you was smart. You took out those two boys, you tracked that bear, I knew I had to get the drop on you, what better way than before you finish your morning coffee?” He’d been following you the whole time? You’d seen a rider after taking care of those other bounty hunters, had it been him? “After watching you shoot those fellers without a thought, and given yer crimes against yer own family, I figured I’d be safer watchin’ you and takin’ my shot when the moment was right.”

You didn’t say anything as the two of you rode on. Anger boiling through your being, wishing for any chance of escape, but it really was pointless. Even if you managed to escape into the woods, he’d track you. And with your hands tied behind your back, you wouldn’t get far, you weren’t stupid.

After about an hour, he spoke, “What? No, I’m innocent, don’t take me in, you got it all wrong, let me go?”

You rolled your eyes before tossing a glare at him. “I know what I did, and I’d do it again. I also know when I’m shit out of luck, so if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk to you.”

“Fine, fine, but I got one question, why?” Arthur turned a look to you, but the look on your face caused him to shake his head. “I’m just curious why a young lady such as yerself would do somethin’ like that.”

“Oh haven’t you heard, Mr. Morgan? Us ladies are crazy. Hysterical.”

He shook his head again before dismissing your sarcastic response with a wave of his hand.

After another several hours, you heard hooves behind you two. You tossed a look over your shoulder and noticed a group of four making their way quickly to you both. “Looks like you ain’t the only one lookin’ to bring me in.”

Arthur nodded without looking back. “They’ve been followin’ us awhile now. Guess they decided nows their moment.” You watched as he steadied his hand on his six shooter, and in a matter of seconds the men were in front of you, turning their horses around to block the road.

“I believe you’ve got our bounty, mister.” One of them said with a grin on his face. And you recognized him instantly, bringing a smile to yours.

“You again? Figured you’d given up after our last run in. How many of you did I kill? Six? Seven?”

“Don’t matter missy, you ain’t got a gun this time.”

“No, but he does.”

“Look fellas, move along. Trust me.” Arthur spike lowly, his hand tight on his gun. “I ain’t got your bounty, you’re after mine. I don’t want no trouble, so keep ridin’.”

“We’ve been after her for weeks. She ain’t yours to take in.”

“Sounds like she is, if she was able to drop six of you and it only took one of me to get ‘er, I think I’ve earned the right to take her in.” It took all of a second and Arthur had shot two bullets into two of their heads. The other two raised their hands instantly. “Now. Move along. I see either of yer faces again? I won’t be so kind.”

You watched as they raced away. “Nice shooting.” He holstered his pistol and continued forward. “You know, it’s polite to thank someone for a compliment.”

He side eyed you for a moment before turning back to the road. You rolled your eyes and let the two of you continue on in silence.

Once evening rolled around, Arthur took to setting up a camp for the night. Once he got it all set up, he got you off your horse and set you down, tying your legs together before switching the ties on your hands to bring them around to your front. “Aw, you worried about my comfort, cowboy?” You chided.

“No.” His tone was gruff as he finished off the knot. “Ya can’t eat with yer hands behind yer back. I ain’t havin’ you die before I get you back to Valentine.”

“Oh, Valentine is where you’re taking me? Strange. Not Saint Denis?”

“Why would it be Saint Denis?” Arthur moved to his horse, taking out an assortment of vegetables and what appeared to be a small piece of venison.

“Cause that’s where I killed them. The cities finest sheriff and his deputy!” You laughed as Arthur moved to get the venison over the fire.

“Maybe Valentine is offering the reward and you’ll hang in Saint Denis. I don’t much care about anything but the money.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll get you double what they’re offering you. Just cut me loose.”

Arthur laughed, “And get shot? I’d rather keep my heart pumpin’.”

“I know a few ways to get your heart pumpin’.” You flashed him a grin.

“I bet you do.” He said shaking his head before moving to you and placing a carrot in your hand.

“What, no venison for me?” He didn’t say anything as he moved back to the fire. “Come on, Arthur, if that’s your real name. Humor me at least a little.”

“I thought you said you knew when you were shit outta luck? That there was no point askin’ me to let you go?”

You shrugged as you leaned back against the tree he had propped you against. “Makin’ conversation. Besides, I know I’m shit outta luck, figure it wouldn’t hurt to offer you somethin’. I’d rather not die. What if you were in my shoes, Arthur? What if you were on your way to the rope? You ain’t a good man. For one, you’re a bounty hunter. Two, you shot those men without blinking.”

“Never said I was a good man, but I wouldn’t have gotten caught. And I wouldn’t have killed my family.”

“Stepfather.” You corrected.

“And yer husband.”

“Neither counts as family. Neither were blood, and I was forced into that marriage by my stepfather. Don’t pretend to know me.”

“Forced? I don’t see how someone like you could be forced into anything you don’t want. You ain’t that weak.”

Anger took over your features and heat flushed to your face, your mouth moving before your head could catch up with it. “Believe me, I’ll never be forced into anything ever again. I grew up watching that man come home drunker than sin and beat my ma. Beat her senseless every fucking night. When I got older I tried to step in, stop it from happening, but then he’d turn on me. And all I kept thinking was at least he wasn’t hitting her. And then? My ma got angry with me for begging her to leave him. She got angry with me because I stood up for her. Because she swore he loved her. So when I became too much of a problem, he married me off. To his deputy. His best friend. And then he took to hitting me too. So I learned. I learned how to shoot, I learned how to hunt, all while he was at work. And then finally I did what I had to do. So don’t assume to know anything about me. Don’t assume I’m weak. You know nothing, Arthur Morgan.” You looked away from him, unable to see the soft expression that came over his features. You were breathing heavily just thinking about it. “They got what they deserved. I’m only sorry what my ma did to herself. But at least she’s in a better place now.”

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t expecting those words, and you weren’t expecting the genuine tone that came with them.

Your eyes found his, but you had to look away. You hated feeling vulnerable. “Yeah.” Was your only response as you moved as best you could around the tree so you wouldn’t have to look at him. Your eyes found the stars, feeling the peace they always gave you wash over you. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

————————————————

The next morning, you felt so stiff. Sleeping in an upright position against a tree would do that. You stretched your arms above your head, bringing them back down to your sides, and then your eyes snapped open. No ropes? You weren’t tied. You scrambled to your feet, looking down and then looking around, to see Arthur packing up the rest of his things. He noticed you were awake and he gave you a nod. “I put your guns back on yer horse there.”

“Why?” You asked, unable to say anything else.

He shrugged. “You were right, they deserved it. No one should live a life like that, and you got out of it. I ain’t gonna be the one who makes you swing for survivin’.”

You ran your hands over your wrists, as if still disbelieving he was letting you go. “Thank you.” It wasn’t enough, but it was all you could say. You moved over to Jesabelle, running your hand over her before pulling yourself up. Should you say more? Was there anything else to say? Did you have anything to give him? All you had was your guns and some food. And a pack of cigarettes you’d gotten off those bounty hunters the day before you met him. You took them out of your saddle bag and tossed them to him. “Wish I had more.”

You clicked your spurs into Jesabelle and headed off, keeping her at a soft gallop as you headed northeast. You still couldn’t believe he let you go. Wasn’t it for the money? Just a job? Wasn’t he just another man in it for the reward? Plenty of the men you’d come in contact with knew your story, because you had pleaded it to the town, but no one believed you. Because a sheriff wouldn’t do that. A law man wouldn’t do what you claimed they were doing. But he believed you. He’d been the first.

Interrupting your thoughts, were several gunshots coming from behind you. Without a thought, you spun Jesabelle around and took off towards the shots, drawing your weapon as you got closer, hopping off Jesabelle and giving her a slap to flee. You moved quickly, taking up cover behind a tree as you looked out to assess the situation. It was the men that had been with the ones Arthur had shot. They’d brought more. You fired several shots, letting Arthur know he had help, and letting the other men know they weren’t fighting one man.

It was only a matter of minutes, between the way the two of you shot, it wasn’t long before they were all dealt with. You came out of cover, and so did Arthur. When he saw you, a look of surprise passed over his features. You shrugged. “You saved my life. I owed you one.”

“Well. Thank you.” Arthur said with a nod. “They was lookin’ for you.”

“They always are.” You said, holstering your gun before letting out a whistle for Jesabelle.

“Where you gonna go?”

“Northeast. Find a nice quiet spot on a mountain.”

“Alone?”

You shrugged. “I got no other choice.”

“They’ll keep comin’.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, Morgan, you’re doing a terrible job. You regretting letting me go? Think I’ll be better off dead?”

“No. I’m only sayin’ bein’ alone ain’t always the safest. You could come with me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry?”

“I got family. We’d keep you safe. Eventually they’ll stop lookin’ for you. Or at least less people’ll be lookin’.”

“You want to take me in, like some sort of lost puppy, just like that?”

“Look, I ain’t callin’ you a lost puppy. But you know how to shoot, you know how to take care of yerself, and you got no one. That’s all ya really need to be one of us. Family is important. Unless you think yer safer alone?”

You knew he was right. Course he was. “I can’t bring my baggage into your lives.”

“Trust me, we all got baggage, you won’t be any different. And most of the baggage we got, it ain’t for as good of a reason as yours, believe me.” You remained quiet, weighing your options. Sure, living alone on some mountain wasn’t exactly how you expected your life to turn out, but you knew that was going to be a small price to pay, given what you had to do. “I ain’t tryin’ to force you, or pressure you, I just know the life of an outlaw, and believe me, it’s better when you got a gang behind you.”

You wanted to say yes, but getting caught up with others, you didn’t want anything bad to happen because of you. Still, he made valid points, and if anything went wrong, you could always leave. “Alright.” You said with a nod, and the two of you were off.

————————————————

About a month had gone by, and you didn’t know what it meant to have a home, but you knew this was it. You’d settled in to Clemens Point quickly, and everyone accepted you just as quickly, once Arthur vouched for you. You’d inadvertently stuck by Arthur, he’d been the only one you knew for awhile, and the two of you managed to get along just fine. He was your favorite to run jobs with, not just because of his skill, but because the two of you working together was what Hosea liked to call the dream team.

You were both riding out for a simple house robbery, a tip he’d gotten earlier that day, the family was out of town, so it was going to be easier than pie, and the family was loaded. Huge house, too much money than they deserved. The two of you waited for nightfall, just to be on the safe side, before leaving the horses in the woods and heading up to the house. Arthur made quick work of picking the lock, and you were in. You headed upstairs while Arthur took the downstairs, pocketing everything that was of value, and looking for the safe that apparently held all the money. As you looked, you heard heavy and quick footsteps racing up the stairs. “I know we’re alone but you really should learn how to-”

Arthur clamped a hand over your mouth and pulled you into the closet, pulling the door closed behind you. “What the hell?” You asked through his hand, but he brought a finger to his lips. You heard the front door open, and footsteps sounded downstairs.

“We ain’t the only ones trying to score here.” He said quietly.

“So let’s take ‘em out!” You hissed at him, but he simply shook his head.

“Ten of ‘em, at least, we start shootin’, we ain’t far from neighbors. The law’ll be on us too quickly. Better to just wait.”

“And when they come to search upstairs? They’re gonna check the closet.”

“Not if they think it’s locked, now quiet.” He hissed, his hand holding firmly onto the door handle, and that’s when you realized his other hand was around your waist. You suddenly felt hot, and tried to slightly pull away, but your back was against a wall, and you realized how small this closet actually was.

It seemed at that moment is when he realized where his hand was and he pulled it back, only to let his elbow hit the wall. He cursed under his breath as he moved it back to your side. “Sorry.” He rumbled, and you could feel the vibration in his voice. You could feel the heat rise between you two, as you both realized your situation.

Footsteps sounded towards the stairs, and you took in a breath as the two of you stood there, pressed against each other, unable to say or do anything. His grip tightened on the door handle as the footsteps entered the room you were in, and began ransacking the place. You couldn’t figure out if you were scared you were both going to be found out, or if it was because you were pressed so closely to Arthur Morgan. You wouldn’t lie, the way you looked at him and started to change over the last month. How could it not? He was the kindest man you’d ever met, even if he tried to hide it under that gruff exterior. But you’d never let it show, never let it known, because you knew it wouldn’t make a difference. You had Hosea and discussed Arthur and his past, and he’d simply lost too much. He’d never let himself trust anyone that way again, understandably.

A loud crash brought you back to reality as you jumped against Arthur, whose hand tightened on your waist as you jumped, sending heat through you. “We got it!” One of them shouted as another crash sounded, and then what seemed to sound like him prying open a lock box. “There’s gotta be close to two grand here!”

“Well bring it down!” A voice sounded from downstairs. “Let’s get outta here!”

You heard the man leave, some loud cheering, and then the house was quiet. Neither of you moved, and you knew it was because you wanted to make sure they were gone, but you also didn’t want to be the first to pull away. You let out a shaky breath, wishing you could see his face, but it was too dark in the closet. His hand remained tight on your waist, as the two of you listened for any sign that the others hadn’t left.

After what felt like a lifetime, Arthur turned the door handle, and moonlight spilled into the closet as he moved his hand from your waist and walked out. You suddenly felt cold as you followed him, trying to let him see how nervous you’d gotten. It was silly, to get so worked up over something like that. “I think we’re alright.” He said lowly, looking out the window. “They’ve gone. With the money. Dammit, this woulda been a good score.”

You nodded with him, unable to say anything, because all you could think was how that had been nothing to him. You had to figure something out, stop thinking of him in that way. “You alright?” Your eyes found his, his brow creased as he looked at you.

“Yeah, great, just, ya know. Wish we coulda found the money first.” You cleared your throat, looking around the room. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much more value here. Might as well head out.”

“Sure.” His tone told you he knew you weren’t being entirely honest. You led the way out of the house and back to the horses.

You heard his footsteps behind you as he spoke, “(Y/N), if I made you at all uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I made a quick decision to keep us safe”

“I know.” You snapped, tossing a look over your shoulder. You sighed, stopping as you turned to face him. “You did nothing wrong, Arthur. I promise, alright? So can we keep moving?” He nodded, following behind you as you moved forward again. You needed to sort through these feelings, because at this point you knew you were just setting yourself up for disappointment.

————————————————

Another month had gone by, and you’d been distancing yourself from Arthur, because there was no way to stop your feelings for that man. He was kind, passionate, stubborn, headstrong, caring, and it was just too much. He’d noticed, you knew he did, because he’d keep asking you to go on jobs with him, but you’d always come up with an excuse. At first, he seemed fine, but as time went on, and as your excuses became less and less believable, he seemed to purposefully ignore you as well. Which pissed you off, but you did it to yourself.

You were riding alone, needing to just get away for awhile. If it hadn’t been for the connections you’d made back at camp, you would just move on. You’d fallen, and you’d fallen hard. Even after having barely any contact with Arthur Morgan, you always looked forward to seeing him, and you always caught yourself watching him. No matter how hard you tried, he’d snaked his way into your heart, and it seemed he was there to stay.

As you rode, you noticed someone was tailing you. You began making random turns on the paths, but they followed you each time. You needed to run. You clicked your spurs into Jesabelle sharply, and she took off. The rider behind you did the same, and you did your best to lose him, before realizing another rider joined behind him. And then another. There were three of them. You pulled out your gun and fired several shots, none of them finding their mark as you pushed your horse faster and faster.

Arthur’s warnings of you riding alone was all that you could hear. It had been two months, you had been hopeful they had stopped looking for you. You turned and fired two more shots, one hitting a man in the shoulder, and he fell off his horse. As you turned to face forward again, another two more riders were blocking the path, you tugged on Jesabelle’s reigns, trying to change direction quickly, but it only resulted in her loosing her footing, and the two of you hit the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of you, and you scrambled for your pistol, but you felt a kick in your side instead.

“Looks like we finally caught up to you, (Y/N).” You looked up, and you recognized the man as one of the officers from Saint Denis. “You’re gonna hang tomorrow.”

Suddenly, red filled your vision as the man fell to the ground. You heard several more shots before you were able to pull yourself to your feet, seeing Arthur and John riding up to you. “(Y/N)!” John shouted. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still catching your breath from the fall as the two of them pulled to a stop and got off their horses. Arthur made a beeline towards you, gripping your shoulders tightly. “What did I tell you about ridin’ alone?”

You slapped his hands away. “I was fine! You didn’t give me a chance to be fine!”

“You were on the ground! Surrounded! You weren’t fine, don’t be ridiculous!” Anger was dripping off his words like venom, which only made your blood boil.

“I don’t need you to save me, Arthur!” You shouted, “I can take care of myself!”

“Whoa guys, calm down.” You and Arthur both tossed a glare towards John, which made him throw up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’ll see myself back to camp.”

You watched him leave before turning your glare back to Arthur. “You got anything else you wanna yell at me? Or are we done here?” You asked, your eyes remaining steady with his.

“No. We’re done.” He growled, moving back towards his horse.

“Figures.” You mumbled as you moved towards Jesabelle.

“What was that?” He asked after you.

“Nothing.” You shouted over your shoulder, continuing to move to Jesabelle who had run into the woods. Right passed the tree line, before you could mount Jesabelle, you felt a hand spin you around. Your eyes found Arthur’s, his hands gripping your shoulders.

“You coulda died.” He said lowly. “They woulda taken you to swing, don’t that mean anything to you?” Your eyes searched his, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“I woulda gotten away.”

“But what if you hadn’t? I need to know whats goin’ on, (Y/N). You quit talkin’ to me, you run off alone, you yell at me when I save yer ass, what the hell is goin’ on?” His eyes searched yours now, and you noticed his brow creased as they did. You didn’t know what to say to him, you know you hadn’t been fair to him, but what were you supposed to say? Hey, sorry, I realized I was in love with you and had to back off? “If I...” He stopped himself, shaking his head. What was he going to say? “If I had lost you, I don’t know.” His voice was so low, his hands loosening as he let them slide off your shoulders, and he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What?” You asked, needing him to finish his sentence. “If you had lost me, what?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t wanna lose you. I feel like I already have. But I don’t know what I would do if you died. So just, just be careful. I know you don’t like me much, I don’t know what I did, so I know I can’t ask much, but just be careful, alright?”

He turned to leave, and your voice started before you could think. “You wanna know what’s goin’ on?” You asked, causing him to turn back to face you. “Why I quit talkin’ to you?” He just stood there, and you knew that was his way of saying yes. “I quit because I just couldn’t anymore, Arthur. I couldn’t spend all that time with you, and not-” Your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it before shaking your head. “You started meaning too much to me. I couldn’t look at you the same, because I knew, I knew it was pointless. But the more time I spent with you, the more I started to feel it. And I just couldn’t anymore, I couldn’t do that to myself, and I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t put you in that situation. I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry that I fell for you. I’m sorry that I didn’t handle it like I should have. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop, I’m sorry-”

Before you could finish, his lips crashed against yours in desperation, and what felt like relief. As if that had been all he had waited to hear. You kissed him back, your hands moving to his back, pulling his torso into yours as your lips matched his in desperation.

He walked you backwards, further into the woods, before your back found a tree, he pressed into you, and you could feel how much he wanted you. You pressed your hips closer to his, causing a groan from his mouth to escape into yours. His hands moved to the sides of your face, before trailing to your neck, all of his movement desperate, finite, passionate. You gripped his back harshly as his fingers found the top button of your shit, working his way down, his fingers grazing your skin as he did so.

He tossed the fabric away, his hand finding your breast, moving over it desperately, his thumb grazing over your nipple, his lips not leaving yours. His hand snaked down your stomach, leaving chills as he went, and he tugged on the button of your pants before sliding his hand under the fabric, finding your center, his fingers slipping between your folds, causing a moan to leave your throat and into his mouth. His fingers discovered your center, moving in soft circles before letting a finger enter you, and then another. You moved your hips, desperate for him.

You moved your hands to his shirt, trying to get the buttons to cooperate, but with his fingers inside of you, your mind wasn’t connected to your hands anymore. You ripped his shirt open, tossing it away and he pressed into you, your skin on fire as you felt his against yours. You let your hand move to the front of his pants, feeling how hard he was for you sent thrills through your body before you undid the button and gripped him, moving your hand over him.

You felt him tremble under your touch, and a low growl found his throat, and it echoed in your very soul. He moved quickly, removing his hand, causing an unexpected whine to leave your throat. You noticed the grin it brought to his face as he lifted you, your legs wrapping around him, your mouth finding his again as he moved the two of you further into the woods, before getting you onto your back. He kicked off his pants before sliding off yours. You watched him take a moment to let his eyes admire you, which caused you to shiver. Once his eyes locked with yours again, his expression changed, and he moved over you, guiding himself to you, and entering you quickly, causing a breathless gasp to escape your throat. He barely gave you time to adjust before he began moving in and out of you.

Your entire being was on fire for him, your knees resting on his hips, your hands entangled in his hair, his breath hot on your neck,. There was nothing else in this world except the two of you, here and now. Nothing else mattered, because nothing else existed.

Your moans matched his thrusts, your skin hot, your breathing ragged, as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. Your hands moved to his back, gripping him sharply, and he knew what it meant. He picked up his pace, your hips matching his, moving in perfect rhythm together. He moved up just a tad, his eyes finding yours, watching you. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt your body succumb under him, and the corners of his lips turned up as you rode out your pleasure. A few more hard thrusts, and you felt him empty himself inside of you.

His forehead fell into your shoulder, his breathing matched your labored breaths, your hands moving back up to his hair, running your fingers through it as you closed your eyes, basking in the leftover ecstasy. After a few moments, he pulled himself off of you, sitting on the wooded floor, his eyes watching you. You pulled yourself up, sitting next to him, unsure of what to say. Your eyes found his, and you felt a smile pull at your lips. “What?” You asked innocently.

“Nothin’.” His voice low, a smile on his lips and in his words. He lifted a hand, pulling a leaf out of your hair. “Just wish I had the balls to do that sooner.”

“You and me both.” You said with a laugh.