#DO NOT PUT ME IN A FOREST TO BE HUNTED BY A LADY WHOS HIP BONE CAN BE TAKEN OUT WITH A LARGGE HOLE IN HER HIP THATS ROTTING.

[waytoorambles]

Don’t you love when dreams are just like boredline traumatizing ☺️☺️

[happilyhertale]

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 14

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: At the beginning none – eventually smut (uncle/niece)

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

18+ NSFW

Word count: 3.6k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 15

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You have gone into the marquee with Helaena and the other Ladies in the evening because a small thunderstorm is passing overhead. It has been raining for a while and you can hear light thunder from time to time.

It suddenly gets louder outside and you hear some horses coming into the square.

You excuse yourself from the Ladies and step in front of the marquee. The riders have returned.

Quickly the crowd of Lords disperses and only the servants are running around looking after the horses. But you don't see Aemond in the crowd of Lords.

After a while you catch sight of white hair, but it belongs to your father. Daemon sees you coming towards him and smiles.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, "Daddy... I can't find Aemond?"

He looks at you seriously, "Well.... Look, I couldn't let anyone steal my little dragon.... He had to go. And this was just the easiest way."

You look at him in shock, "Dad! You didn't!"

Daemon chuckles briefly, "Calm down. But if I'm honest, I haven't seen him for a while."

You look at him worriedly, "What...? Dad... Where is he?"

Daemon strokes your cheek, "Don't worry, he'll arrive. It's not like he's incapable." He puts his arm around you and leads you into the marquee.

Aemond and Rob have been beating their way through the forest for what feels like hours now. Their clothes are now soaked from the rain.

They don't talk much on the way, but both feel reasonably comfortable walking through the forest together. Of course, neither of them would admit that.

After a seemingly never-ending march through the rain, they see the tent camp in the distance.

For some time now, you have been standing outside the marquee, under a small roof. You don't care how it storms, you want Aemond to arrive. You are aware that he is doing well on his own, but somehow you are worried because Rob is nowhere to be seen either. And if the two of them are really in the forest together… You don't feel comfortable with that thought.

When you see two figures in the distance. You notice that one of the figures has white hair and at that moment you run towards him. A guard who was standing with you at the entrance calls after you, but you do not let him stop you.

When you reach them, you see how wet and dirty and... how battered they are.

"What's going on here?" it slips breathlessly out of your mouth.

Aemond smiles at you, "We had a... stag accident"

"A what?!"

"It's fine!", Rob assures you and your eyes fall on him, he smiles at you.

Your attention falls back to Aemond as he says, "So you kissed the Stark Lord?" He smirks slightly.

You blush and only broken sentences pass your lips.

Rob walks past you, grinning, and strokes your arm briefly.

Aemond stops in front of you. He is bleeding above his eyebrow and his nose is glowing a beautiful blue.

"Will you tell me what happened?" you stroke his cheek gently.

"I told you we had an accident with a stag."

"Aemond..."

He puts his hands on your hips and presses you against him. "I'm afraid I haven't hunted anything for you... But do you still want to spend the evening with me?". He looks gently into your eyes.

You smile and nod.

Slowly you lean forward and kiss his cheek. You breathe in his ear, "Jealousy doesn't suit you, by the way."

He smiles. He breaks away from the embrace and leads you to his tent.

When you are in his tent, you only notice how soaked he actually is. His hair hangs down in wet strands and his leather waistcoat drips incessantly.

You stroke his shoulders, "We should get you out of your wet clothes."

Aemond grins at you, "Mhmmm." You smack him lightly, but have to bite your lower lip.

Slowly you undo the buckles on his leather waistcoat. Aemond watches your every gentle movement.

You carefully slip off his waistcoat and even his vest is slightly soaked.

You look at each other and stand close. You lean forward and kiss him. Your hands move tenderly from his chest to his neck and you press him closer to you.

Aemond grips your waist and pulls you close to him, kissing you passionately. A deep "mmmhm" forms in his chest as you moan into his mouth. He breaks the kiss to gently kiss along your jaw. Slowly he bends down to your neck and nibbles gently on your earlobe. Your breath catches briefly as you press closer to him and realise how aroused he has become.

Aemond stops suddenly and breathes heavily, you hear him whisper, "Y/N... we should..." you interrupt him, "Aemond... You.. are my perfect moment."

He looks at you again and gently strokes your lower lip. You lean forward and kiss him.

The arousal between your legs becomes more and more palpable and you can no longer ignore it. You moan out. Again you press yourself close to him.

Aemond gently pushes you towards the bed and you willingly give in.

He kisses you tenderly and lets his hands wander gently up your torso. When he reaches your chest, he lets his hands rest on the top buckle of your dress. Carefully, he opens one buckle after the other, not even interrupting the kiss. Gently he slips the dress off your arms and your dress slides down to your feet.

His gaze remains on your eyes as he breaks the kiss. For the first time you stand before him, completely exposed.

Slowly he pushes you onto the bed and you slide up to the pillows. You notice how his gaze is fixed on your eyes, but you feel him struggling to let his gaze simply wander over your body.

But he can't ignore how beautiful you are. So indescribably beautiful and you are lying on his bed, naked, waiting for him. He looks at you with a mixture of complete lust and adoration.

Slowly you let your fingers slide over your belly until you reach your underwear, not once breaking eye contact with Aemond. You pause for a moment and look at him. Aemond is breathing heavily and he has to let his gaze wander now. When you realise that his gaze is fixed on your fingers, you let your fingers slide under your underwear. You reach for your underwear and slowly pull them down over your long legs.

Aemond gasps briefly. He notices how his cock pulsates at the sight. You lean back as Aemond slowly approaches the bed. He hovers over you and kisses you. With his knees, he carefully spreads your legs and lowers his crotch onto your warm, pulsing core. You moan briefly as you feel his trousers against your exposed, warm core.

His lips find their way to the crook of your neck, he stops briefly and inhales your scent.

You whisper softly, "You know... that I will never leave you alone again?"

He pauses for a moment and looks at you, he nods barely noticeably and kisses you.

Gently, you begin to pull his vest upwards. Aemond helps you and pulls it over his head. You look into each other's eyes for a moment and he asks you, "Is this what you really want? ... If we go on now... I won't be able to hold back any more."

"Then.. don't", you whisper to him.

He pauses for a moment and then kisses you greedily, almost wildly. Your hand wanders around on his muscular chest. Your breathing quickens and you feel him moan softly. The sound makes the arousal between your legs flare up further.

You break the kiss, he looks at you questioningly, "I lie bare before you... so shall you."

He lets his hand wander down to his pants to undo them as you chuckle and stop his hand. He looks at you irritated. You just hear his heavy breathing as you remove your hand from his and let it slowly move towards his eye patch.

Aemond nods, barely perceptible, and you carefully reach for his eye patch and remove it.

This time Aemond keeps his eye open, he wants to see exactly how you will react. And he sees nothing but complete desire. Your hands caress his face as you pull him down to you and kiss him.

Aemond has never felt so aroused. You deepen the kiss and he moans into your mouth.

Slowly, his hand slides up your thigh until it reaches your wet fold.

"Just relax," he whispers.

He moans at the feeling of his fingers being wet immediately as he is at your aroused core. Carefully he lets his fingers glide over your wet folds. You moan as he touches your clit and massages it gently.

He continues to slide his fingers through your wetness until he is completely wet. He gently presses his finger against your entrance. It doesn't take much pressure, because your wetness and your rhythmic movements make him slide inside you as if by himself.

Again and again he pumps his finger into you. He guides another finger in and notices how your walls clench around him. With his thumb, he begins to make circular movements on your clit.

Your moans become more and more intense and Aemond is glad that a storm is raging outside.

"Aemond..., oh...! Aemond! I need you... please!"

Aemond chuckles briefly and lets the pace of his fingers increase once more.

You grab his shoulders for more support and groan. Your thighs start to tremble and he realises you're about to come.

He kisses you and lets his fingers slide out and in again. You cry out and he feels your nails digging into his shoulder.

Until he suddenly doesn't insert them again. A soft protest from you is heard, followed by your heavy breathing.

He starts to open his trousers. He has never been out of his trousers so quickly. Hot kisses follow when he is above you again. As your gaze wanders down, you see him. And somehow you only now really realise how big he is. You swallow and look back up at him, "Does this really fit me completely?"

He laughs softly, "Trust me, it fits." He kisses you.

You let your hand wander down and wrap it around his cock. He sputters out a shaky breath, a moan catching in his throat as you begin to trail your hand up and down his hot length.

Aemond already notices a feeling of tightness in his balls as you continue with your movements. It takes his last will to carefully remove your hand. But he has to do it if he wants to last a little longer.

He breathes heavily and starts kissing you again.

Gently, he lets his cock slide through your wet folds. The feeling overwhelms you, you reach for his firm upper arms. You can't help but groan. Aemond notices how his cock is already pulsing almost painfully.

He has waited so long for this moment. You beneath him, completely aroused, willing, totally wet.

Despite his experience, he is on the verge of just coming. To simply spread his seed on your belly. But he pulls himself together.

He continues to let his cock slide through your wet folds. He closes his eye.

Your rhythmic movements continue to push your wet core towards him. He takes this as a sign and positions himself in front of your entrance. He slides into you almost automatically, but holds back.

He lets his forehead rest on yours, "It's about to... hurt a little," he whispers. You look slightly startled.

"Don't worry, it's not for long. I'll do it... slowly, I promise..." You nod.

"When it feels good for you, and it will, you'll move slowly, okay?" Again you nod.

He kisses you and carefully moves rhythmically towards you. He penetrates. You moan and he pushes a little further and then stops. The tip of his cock breaks through the barrier. You gasp and feel a hint of pain, followed by the unfamiliar sensation of him filling you.

The pain is bearable. Years of dragon riding must have prepared you well. You exhale heavily. After a while you push yourself towards him, again and again.

You keep moving towards him and he penetrates you deeper each time. You close your eyes and exhale heavily again. Aemond kisses you gently on the cheek, but he does not move.

Every time you think he won't fit any further, he goes in even deeper. Until he is completely inside you. He fills you completely. You hold your breath for a few seconds, your soft core still trying to adjust to his size.

Finally, you take a deep breath and feel the unique feeling of complete arousal flow through you. You start to move rhythmically, you kiss him and moan into his mouth. You are aware that no feeling in this world would ever feel as good as the feeling of Aemond filling you up.

Between kisses, Aemond gasps, "Oh seven hells... you are so incredibly tight."

He starts thrusting into you, each time your moans get louder.

"Ssh... my Love... It's storming outside, but I really don't want to see anyone storming in here right now."

You bite his shoulder lightly and he hisses lightly in response.

His thrusts don't let up and he notices you clenching around him again and again.

Aemond pauses, you whimper, "You have to stop... squeezing me so hard... please..."

You chuckle slightly, "I apologise?"

Aemond buries his face in the crook of your neck and exhales heavily.

He moves on, deeper and deeper into you, when he stops again. Now he has to chuckle slightly. "Keep moving," you tell him almost impatiently.

"If I move now, I'll cum inside you right away"

You move instead and an "ooooh fuuuuck" leaves his lips.

"Please... stop squeezing my... cock so hard. I won't be able to... last long"

You take his face in your hands and you kiss him. Passionately you let your tongue wander around his.

Slowly you start moving again and with circular movements you let your hips slide towards him. He moans into your mouth. And this is how it works. He concentrates on you, on your soft lips. He thrusts into you again.

Aemond has never experienced anything like this before. He is flooded with all kinds of feelings. To feel you like this, to be so close to you...

Similar feelings flood through you, you are overwhelmed.

"Fuck... you're... so wet," Aemond gasps suddenly. You answer almost immediately, "Aemond... I need... to feel you deeper"

He smirks at you and kisses you greedily.

He takes your thigh and bends it, thrusts into you rhythmically, deeper, but still carefully. You can't help but moan again, you wrap your thigh around his waist.

You look at each other. Your breathing is heavy. You can't hold it back, "Aemond... I love you," you almost whimper.

You notice how he looks at you helplessly. He cannot handle so many emotions at once. You just kiss him and he returns your kiss passionately.

He notices that your inner walls are tightening around him again, wanting to keep him inside you, wanting to milk him dry. Your moans are getting louder again, but Aemond can't bring himself to care about the volume of your moans now. He also groans and has to do everything in his power not to ram his hips into you with full force.

Your breathing becomes more frantic, "Don't stop Aemond.... You... you feel... so good... inside me"

He doesn't stop until he feels your walls now rhythmically squeezing his cock. You feel the warmth spreading through your abdomen and flowing through your entire body. Your belly finally reaches its peak and snaps. Your back arches and in response you grab the back of his neck and hold on to him, "Aemond! oh...! Aemond!"

No climax you have experienced so far has felt comparatively like this.

And that's it for him, his orgasm follows immediately. His thrusts become sloppy, almost weaker as he feels his lower abdomen tighten. His thighs tremble and he feels a tight twitch move through his balls and into his cock. He moans pulling his cock out of you, you whimper briefly at the sudden emptiness. He bends over and squirts his hot cum onto your belly.

You watch him, breathing heavily. He gasps and lets his hand slide up and down on his cock.

You like this sight.

He leans on his knees between your spread legs. He gasps and smiles at you. He reaches for his vest, which lies at the end of the bed, and carefully cleans your belly.

"This, my Love, is what will get you pregnant, by the way."

You look at him, "You mean with beautiful, pure Targaryens?"

He looks you in the eye and has to grin at your innuendo.

"Though that looks like milk"

He chuckles, "Believe me, it's not even close to milk."

He puts the vest aside and climbs back over you, kissing you passionately. You feel his heart pounding and place your hand against his chest.

You start talking, "I..." but he interrupts you, "I love you... Y/N". He looks at you gently. You return his gaze. You softly caress his cheek and kiss him.

His heart almost bursts, he has never felt anything like this for a person before. Not this kind of love.

He breaks the kiss and looks at you again. Your gaze is fixed on his chest until you eventually look up.

"Wed me," he almost whispers.

Your eyes turn wide, "What...?"

"Wed me... Finally be my Queen."

You smile, "Aemond..." He looks at you, almost worried

"Why do I hesitate? Of course I want to be your Queen!" You pull him down to you and kiss him again.

Aemond rolls up next to you and wraps his arms around you.

He holds you close and gently kisses your neck.

You hold his arms tightly and he manages to spread the blanket over you. You listen for a while to the rain, which still hasn't subsided. Aemond kisses your neck gently a few more times and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You don't remember when, but at some point you fall asleep.

It's early the next morning when you hear the first servants outside starting to dismantle everything.

Aemond is behind you. He still has you tightly in his arms. You search for his arm with your hand and begin to stroke him lightly. Aemond starts to move slightly, slowly pressing his head into your neck, leaving light kisses there. "Good morning, my Queen," he murmurs into your neck.

You have to smile, "My King".

He rolls onto his back with you in his arms, "Oh how I love the way that rolls off your tongue!"

You laugh, "Aemond put me down!" He chuckles and lets you slide back to his side. He gently embraces you again from behind and inhales your scent.

You pause, "I need to talk to my father. I have to tell him I want to wed you. No one else."

He holds you close and whispers in your ear, "I'm going to go to my father right now and ask for the betrothal."

You think for a moment, "Mhm... Just a thought, but maybe we should wait until the hunt is over."

He has to laugh, "Perhaps not the worst idea"

When you hear the first carriages being loaded. You don't want to leave this bed.

"I want to lie here with you forever," you whisper.

He chuckles, "That sounds very tempting... but I don't think it will quite work. At the latest when the tent is taken down, we have to get up..."

You turn in his arms and look at him, he smiles. You let your thumb wander gently over his wounds and you suspect that they must have come from Rob.

You kiss him and he returns the kiss.

Slowly your hands glide over his chest, a deep "mmhmm", sounds in his chest.

You lift your leg and place your thigh on his, you press yourself against him. You want to feel the beautiful closeness of last night again with Aemond. With rhythmic movements you press yourself against him repeatedly as you deepen your kiss.

You feel that he is aroused too. You let your warm core wander gently over his hot length.  "Mmmh... You will be the death of me, woman."

You smile and let your hand wander gently down his torso.

"We can't make love now," you hear him whisper. You give him a pouty look. He has to laugh briefly.

"Now we're guaranteed to be heard as your moans echo through the tent."

You punch him in the arm, almost indignantly.

"But... we are almost betrothed..."

He smiles and kisses you. He leans his forehead against yours, "Almost betrothed means not wed yet."

You make a grumpy noise and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Pressed tightly against him, he holds you and gently strokes your back.

At some point Aemond managed to get you out of bed. Perhaps with the help of a promise that you would be in bed together again in the evening.

You grab some books from him to have an excuse to leave the tent with him in the morning. Outside the tent, he gently strokes your cheek, "See you later, princess". You nod and smile. On your way back to your tent, Aemond's gaze follows you. He smiles almost dreamily.

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[hanzajesthanza]

what does milva look like?

since my post about geralt was so popular, i thought to make this a kind of series of posts, because i also realized how helpful they can be when trying to draw or write the characters...

and instead of complaining that depictions of characters are not books-accurate, i could actually do something to actually help😅

physical description

she is tall and lithe, muscular... apologies for putting this passage upon you immediately, but it is a thorough description of her, and i've redacted the annoying bits.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: “(...) Slender and graceful, she walks as if she's dancing. A bit too narrow in the hips for my taste, and her shoulders are a little broad, but still feminine, ah yes feminine (...)” “Shut up, Dandelion.” “On the road,” the dreaming poet continued, “I happened to touch her by accident. Her thighs, I tell you, they are like marble.”

by the way, dandelion mentions she's wearing a shirt here, but i don't like the context in which he says it, but just know she's wearing a shirt.

when she shoots, her skill and strength is striking and beautiful:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: For a few heartbeats Milva stood motionless, like a marble statue of a petrified goddess in the forest. Only when all the noises had subsided, she removed her right hand from her left cheek, lowering the bow. Noting the escape route of the animal in the corner of her memory, she sat quietly, propping her back against the trunk. She was an experienced hunter, she had trotted in from the woods since childhood, having shot her first deer at eleven, and a fourteenhorns stag - an extremely happy hunting omen - on her fourteenth birthday. But experience had taught her that pursuit of a wounded animal was pointless.

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 9: ‘Run for it! We have to!’ ‘No!’ screamed Milva, standing up with bow in hand. She straightened up, assumed a shooting position; a veritable statue, a marble Amazon with a bow. The marksmen on the gallery yelled.

an important detail is that when she shoots, she always brings the arrow to the same point:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: Maria Barring, nicknamed Milva, stretched her bow. She measured, calmly, with the chord pressed to her face. (...) Milva wiped her face splashed with rain, in which you could still see the imprint of the chord. Although she fired several times, there was only one mark – the string was always placed at exactly the same position.

spoilers | her miscarriage occurs when she was ten weeks pregnant, meaning she was in the first trimester of pregnancy and was not 'showing' the pregnancy yet. kind of obvious because the plot point is that she hid the pregnancy from the rest of the company, but i felt like i should include this detail anyways:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 7: ‘In which month?’ ‘She refused, fairly impolitely, to give me a date, including the date of her last menstrual cycle. But I know this. This will be the tenth week.’

as for her age, she is an adult, but not as young as someone like angouleme, who is approximately eighteen or nineteen. this description of the company contrasts the two. likely, she's in her late 20s or early 30s.

Lady of the Lake Ch. 9: One had hair as white as snow, and the sword in his hand flashed like lightning. Another was a fair-haired woman, bending a bow as she rode. The third rider, quite a young woman, carved open Zadarlik’s temple with a sweeping blow of a curved sabre.

her hair

her hair is tawny or dark blonde. unfortunately this is mistranslated in the english translations as "flaxen" or "flaxenhaired" which is mildly inaccurate, as flaxen suggests a light yellow blonde.

the word used in polish is płowy, like a pale brown color tinted with yellow. like, tawny, fawny, i guess? dark blonde is a catch-all... she's a type of blonde, but not flaxen blonde or the golden color typically associated with blonde hair.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: A long time passed as they walked through the woods cloaked in shadow, the tall silver haired dryad and the girl with flaxen (płowy) hair. Neither interrupted the silence.

she typically has a long braid, but when unbraided, her hair is long to her shoulders (in this scene, she has just bathed and changed clothes before speaking to geralt):

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: However, she obeyed the summons, convinced that it was some elf being treated who wanted contact with his detachment through her. When she saw the wounded witcher and found out what he wanted, she flew into a veritable frenzy, running out of the cave with her hair wild and unloaded all of her anger onto Aglaïs.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: “Forgive me.” he said after a moment. “You're right. I exposed you. It was too dangerous a job for …” “For a woman, yes?” She tossed her head, and threw back her hair which was still damp. (...) She wiped the sweat from her brow, and gestured at the dryads who came. She seized the witcher, who was still seated, by the shoulders and leaned over him so that her long blond hair fell on his pale face.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: Milva will lead you through the woods… What is it?’ ‘Nothing.’ Milva brushed her hair from her shoulders. ‘Nothing. Speak, witcher. I want to know what else you have to say.’

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 7: And disgusting aberrations shall be handed down as myths. For sociological purposes.’ ‘ I understand shit all of this,’ Milva said calmly, brushing aside hair from her forehead with the shaft of an arrow.

in mid-september of 1267, after geralt's company crossed the yaruga on september 10th, during the time in which they were in riverdell, she cuts her hair at the nape of her neck...

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: The archer regained her physical capacity soon – with the psychological it looked worse. She would not say a word for whole days, from morning to night. She would gladly disappear and hold herself apart, which started to worry everyone a little. But at last came the change for the better. Milva reacted like a Dryad or an elf – violent, impulsive and hard to understand. One morning, before our eyes, she pulled out her knife and, without a word, cut off the braid at the nape of her neck. ‘I do not deserve this, because I’m not a virgin,’ she said when she saw us watching open-mouthed. ‘And also not a widow,’ she added, ‘this concludes my mourning.’ From that moment on she was like before – harsh, caustic, with a loose tongue and with quick access to words not socially acceptable.

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: ‘You’re going to make jokes on the scaffold, Angouleme. Which is fine with me. Who is Geralt travelling with?’ ‘I have already told you this also! With a pretty boy named Dandelion, a troubadour who has a lute. With a young woman who has dark blond hair, worn in a braid that is cut at the neck. I do not know their names. And with a man without a description, his name likewise was not described. Altogether there are four.’

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: (...) ‘We are five, not four,’ he [Regis] quickly summarized after Geralt had finished his story. ‘We have been five since the end of August, and five crossed the Yaruga. Milva only cut off her braid in the river country. Only one week ago.* Your blond protégé knew of Milva’s cut braid. But did not count five. Strange.’

* a note on the exact timing of when she cuts her braid: the company crosses the yaruga on the 10th of september. they arrive in riedbrune on the 17th of september, and it's stated that they spent five days travelling with the beekeepers, so they began to travel with the beekeepers on the 12th of september. this conversation between regis and geralt occurs directly after they adopt angouleme into the company. the fight between geralt and cahir occurs on the 23th of september (the equinox). thus "one week ago" likely means something like the 11th or 12th of september? so before this, during august and during baptism of fire, she has a braid, but after this, around the time they were travelling in riverdell, during tower of the swallow and lady of the lake, she has cut, short hair.

her outfit, clothing, accessories

she wears practical wear, ... i.e., pants:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 7: Milva was the last, for her movement suddenly became frighteningly slow. She was hit with a bolt, thought the witcher seeing the girl drag herself overboard with effort, and then fall limp onto the sand. He jumped towards her, but the vampire was faster. ‘Something has torn in me,’ she said very slowly. Her hands were pressed to her lower abdomen. Geralt saw the legs of her wool trousers darken with blood.

her outfit is not described thoroughly, but something interesting to me is that zoltan says she looks too much like a member of the scoia'tael to approach human cottages. this is just my imagination, but perhaps it has to do with her style of dress, certain patterns, or maybe it's just the fact that she's tall, graceful, and has a bow.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: “I will go.” Milva declared. “No,” protested the dwarf. “You look too much like a Squirrel. If they see you, they may be frightened and humans tend to be unpredictable when they're scared. Yazon and Caleb will go. As for you, keep your bow ready to shoot, to cover them if need be. Percival will be ready to warn the others. Stay alert, in case we need to retreat.”

cahir also confuses her for an elf when he hasn't yet seen her up close:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 5: Then the rider, with slow movements, drew from his belt an arrow with long feathered fletching and threw it at Milva’s feet. ‘I knew,’ he said calmly, ‘I would get the chance to give you back your arrow, elf.’ ‘I’m not an elf, Nilfgaardian.’ ‘I’m not a Nilfgaardian. So put down the bow. If I wished you any evil, I would have let those peasants beat you.’ ‘The devil knows who you are,’ she said, ‘but thank you for the help. And my arrow. And for the evil bastard I kicked.’

perhaps it's something to do with pattern and cut of her outfit, as described earlier in the book:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: Geralt was not surprised by the mistake. He and Dandelion were wrapped in gray cloaks that had belonged to elves. He himself wore a doublet given to him by the Dryads, patterned with the leafy motifs favored by elves, his face was partially covered by his hood and he was sitting on a horse with reins that were typically elven and characteristically decorated.

she's mentioned to have a silk scarf which she gives to geralt to disguise him as he rides to belhaven with angouleme and cahir:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: He carefully wriggled Milva’s silk scarf around his head. He jammed on Regis’ hat. Once again, he checked the position of sihill on his back and the two stilettos in his boots.

another accessory she has is a fox-fur kalpak she wears when they departed beauclair to ride south:

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 7: ‘Moufflon yourself!’ yelled Angoulême. ‘When I say a horse, I mean a horse!’ Milva, as usual, preferred practice to theory. She dismounted and bent over, pushing her fox-fur kalpak back on her head. ‘The brat’s right,’ she decided after moment. ‘It’s a horse. I think it’s even shod, but it’s hard to say, the blizzard has covered the tracks. It rode over there, into that ravine.’

she also has a broad leather belt (this will be a surprise tool which will help us later...):

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: And suddenly they parted, rolling away in different directions, hands curled above their heads to protect themselves against the whistling blows raining down on them. Milva had removed the wide leather belt from her hips and wrapped the buckle once around her hand. She ran to the fighters and began to beat them with all her strength, sparing neither her arm nor the belt.

her shoes, or boots are laced in baptism of fire, and she also wears boots when at a casual breakfast in beauclair:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 1: “Please tell me. Did you learn anything?” “Yes I did.” she snorted, unlacing and removing her soaked shoes. “With little difficulty, because she seems to have caused quite a stir. You had not mentioned that this young lady was so important! I thought she must be your stepdaughter, she must be one of those poor little unfortunate and abused orphans. And here we have the princess of Cintra! Ha! And perhaps you are too a prince in disguise?”

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 4: The hens, the black and the speckled one, had become audacious enough to begin pecking at Milva’s boots. The archer drove them away with a brisk kick (...)

her gear

she has a belt with a pouch and a bone-handled hunting knife:

Baptism of Fire, Ch 1: “No?” The dispassionate voice of the healer snatched her away from her thoughts, “How will it be then? What should I tell him?” “Let him go to the Devil.” Milva growled, tugging at her belt from which hung a pouch and a hunting knife, “And you too can go to the devil, Aglaïs.”

later, on september 25th, at the parting of the hanza, she gives this knife to angouleme (which comes in handy later during the two fights they find themselves in):

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 5: Nearby, Cahir sharpened his long Nilfgaardian sword. Angouleme wrapped a woollen band around her forehead and stuck a hunting knife stuck in her boot – a gift from Milva. The archer and Regis saddled their horses. The vampire had left his black horse to Angouleme, upgrading her from the mule Draakul.

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 6: The witcher dodged the blow with a half spin and hit him just below the temple. Even before Novosad fell, Angouleme made a throwing motion – a knife whizzed through the air and the attacking Yirrel staggered, a bone handle jutting out from under his chin. The bandit dropped his sword and tore the knife out with both hands. Blood poured from his throat as Angouleme jumped up and kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. (...) One of the men holding Geralt was killed. And one of those who held Angouleme. The girl broke away from the other, quickly drew a knife from her boot, and cut with a sweeping motion. In her haste she missed Nightingale’s throat, but made a pretty slit on his cheek, almost to the teeth. Nightingale cried instead of croaking, and his eyes almost bulged out of his head. He sank to his knees as blood gushed between the hands with which he held his face.

she also has a leather brace on her left forearm and a quiver of arrows on her thigh:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: Milva adjusted the worn to a shine leather protector on her left forearm, held together with a bunch of grips attached to a loop. She plunged a hand into the quiver on her thigh.

the most interesting part, her bow:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: But she had finally found such a bow. This was of course in the Cidaris Seaside Bazaar (...)The bow came from the far North. It had a wingspan of sixty-two inches. It was crafted from mahogany, had a perfectly poised grip and a smooth neck with laminated layers of woven wood, whale bones and tendons. (...) The arch had an incredible lightness and was accurate to perfection. Although not too long, hiding in the composite entwined a considerable distance of wire. Equipped with silk-hemp string and velvet accurately stretched over the protruding handles twenty-four inches, to give the tension precisely fifty-five pounds of power. True, there were arches which gave even eighty, but Milva considered this to be an exaggeration. Fired from her bow, an arrow penetrated two hundred feet within a heartbeat, and at a hundred paces had more than enough momentum to effectively strike a deer and a man if he wore no armor, pierced through. Milva rarely hunted animals larger than deer, or men in heavy armor.

and the arrows she uses, grey-feathered and spiral-fletched herself, with four blades:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: Instinctively, out of habit she inspected the blade tip and fletching. The blades were bought from market – she chose on average just one out of ten offered to her - but she always feathered the arrows herself. With most commercially available ready-made arrows, the feathers were too short and arranged directly over the pole, while Milva applied hers to fin in a spiral, lying no shorter than five inches.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: She ran quickly to the slope of the hill, searching intently through the brambles, moss and ferns. She was looking for her arrow. Equipped with a four-bezelled tip, so sharp that it shaved the hair on her forearm, launched from a distance of fifty yards, it would have pierced the deer right through.

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 2: The rider didn't manage to say anything more. An arrow with gray feathers hit him in the centre of the chest and he dropped from the saddle. Before he fell to the ground, Geralt already heard the whistle of a second arrow. The tip hit the other soldier in the abdomen, low, right between his fingers that were holding his fly. He howled like an animal, bent in half and fell back over the fence, knocking over and breaking the poles.

later happenings and outfits

her ribs are broken by the druids during their meeting in caed myrkvid in early october:

Tower of the Swallow Ch. 7: In the next instant they hung in the air, surrounded by branches and shouting at the top of their lungs. (...) Milva just grunted. Her head dropped to her chest. Geralt cursed outrageously. It was all he could do. (...) ‘I think she has a broken rib,’ she said, looking down at Milva. ‘But I have a cure. I will give it to her to aid in healing. I regret what has happened. But how was I to know who you were? (...)’

at beauclair in october through january, she had some different outfits depending on the situation:

Lady of the Lake, Ch. 3: ‘It turned out that Milva was well,’ said the Witcher pensively, ‘although she still had a bandage around her ribs. She remained in her chamber, though, and refused to leave, not wanting at any cost to put on the dress she’d been presented with. It looked as though there would be a protocolary scandal, but the omniscient Regis pacified the situation. After quoting a good dozen precedents he made the chamberlain bring a male outfit to the archer. Angoulême, for a change, joyfully discarded her trousers, riding boots and footwraps, and soap, a dress and a comb turned her into quite a pretty lass. All of us, let’s face it, were cheered up by the bathhouse and the clean clothes. Even me. We set off for the audience in a very decent mood—’ (...) ‘The famous succubus,’ remarked Reynart, serving himself more cabbage, ‘began the memorable series of witcher contracts that you took on in Toussaint. Then things speeded up and you couldn’t keep the customers away. Funny, I don’t remember which vineyard gave you the first contract …’ ‘You weren’t present. It happened the day after the audience with the duchess.’ ‘No wonder. It was a private audience.’ ‘Private, huh,’ snorted Geralt. ‘It was attended by some twenty people (...) And there were we, our entire gang, including Milva in male costume.’

later, at the october banquet, she does wear a dress, however:

Lady of the Lake Ch. 3: ‘The great and grandiosely heralded feast,’ began Geralt, ‘was preceded by serious preparations. We had to find Milva, who’d hidden in the stables, and convince her that the fate of Ciri and almost the entire world depended on her participation in the banquet. We almost had to force her into a dress. Then we had to make Angoulême promise she would avoid saying “fuck” and “ass”.

horse

in baptism of fire, she rides a black horse:

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 1: The witcher stood up. “Will the elves give me a horse?” He repeated. “Take whichever one you want.” she said after a moment. “Just make sure they do not see you. The mercenaries attacked us on the crossing, it was bloody … Oh and do not touch the black one, that one is mine … Why are you still standing here?”

Baptism of Fire, Ch. 4: ‘You speak the truth,’ the old peasant said. ‘We must finish the task, because time is running out. Give us the horse. The black one. We need it to find the vampire. Take down the child from the saddle, woman.’ Milva, who during the entire conversation was staring impassively at the clouds, slowly looked down at the peasant, her features sharpened dangerously. ‘Are you talking to me, pig?’ ‘Of course you. Give us the black horse, we need it.’ Milva wiped her sweaty neck and clenched her teeth. The look in her tired eyes became that of a wolf.

however this horse dies along with the rest of the company's horses during the battle of the bridge:

Tower of the Swallow, Ch. 3: Apart from Milva’s tragic accident and the numerous injuries and wounds Geralt and Cahir had sustained, all of our horses had been killed or maimed in the battle – excepting my trusty Pegasus and the wayward Roach, the mare of the witcher.

tldr:

hair: dark blonde, fawny-colored. long and often braided before mid-september, at which she cuts the braid at the nape of her neck.

eye color: not described!

age: adult, age not described, likely late 20s to early 30s

build: tall, slim, muscular. slim hips, broad shoulders.

clothing: generally, practical wear. a shirt with sleeves (she rolls up her sleeves to butcher her kill in baptism of fire ch. 1). she also wears woolen leggings. she has a strong preference for wearing "male costume", i.e., no dresses unless she's forced into it.

gear: a wide leather belt, a bone-handle hunting knife which she gives to angouleme on september 25th, a leather bracer worn to a shine worn on her left forearm, a quiver worn on her hip, a 62-inch mahogany bow. her arrows are grey-feathered, spiral-fletched, and the blades are bought from market so it likely varies but she is described as using four-bladed arrowheads.

occassional accessories: a silk scarf, a fox-fur kalpak.

rides a black horse during july and august.

[fanfics4all]

Banished

Request: Yes / No  roan x reader (smut preferably) where you get banished from skaikru about a month in after landing on earth and you meet roan. since he’s wounded and you’re a healer you patch him up and end up travelling together and become rlly close?? idk i read your trick or treat fic and it was my favourite roan fic i’ve read (and i’ve read them all...no shame)😭 @szhead31​

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Roan x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1735

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name 

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“What do you mean I’m kicked out?” I asked Clarke and Bellamy. 

“Y/N, you’ve been a danger to the camp.” Bellamy said with his arms crossed. 

“A danger? I’m a damn healer!” I shouted. 

“And half of the people in our infirmary are because of you!” He shouted back at me. 

“Enough!” Clarke shouted, stopping anything before it started. 

“Y/N, Bellamy’s right. You’ve been fighting everyone in camp and with the Grounders wanting to kill us, we need to think of the bigger picture.” She said and I scoffed. 

“Ya know what? I don’t even care anymore. Screw all of you and I hope the Grounders kick your ass!” I shouted and stormed out of the dropship. I went to my tent and grabbed my shit then left without another word. Those assholes can kiss my damn ass. 

*One Month Later*

I was out hunting in the snow. I don’t entirely remember how I got here, but I was alive so that’s all that matters. I had the perfect angle on the deer I was hunting when all of a sudden a scream scared it away. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I groaned. I decided that I should run and see who was screaming. Maybe someone from camp got lost and I could fix them up, it was the damn doctor in me… If I heal them maybe they’ll see I’m not as bad as everyone says I am! I pushed myself to run faster and found a man leaning against a tree with a serious wound in his stomach. I’m honestly surprised his guts weren’t falling out. I kneeled down by his side and quickly pulled out my supplies. 

“Who are you?” He asked with a groan. 

“I’m here to help, who are you? What happened?” I asked as I started to work on his stomach. 

“I am Roan, Prince of Azgeda.” He answered then hissed in pain. 

“Don’t move, I need to disinfect it before I stitch you up. Here, bite on this.” I said and pushed a cloth into his mouth. He bit down on it and continued my work. It took about a half hour to patch him up enough to get him somewhere safe. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked as we were walking through the forest. 

“My Father was a doctor, he taught me everything I know.” I answered with a small smile. 

“Your Father taught you well.” He said, returning my smile. 

“Up ahead, there’s a small cabin I found, I’ve been staying there.” I said and pointed at the building ahead. He nodded and the two of us quickly but carefully made our way into the cabin. I laid him on the bed and checked his wound again. 

“If you’re a Prince, what are you doing out here alone? Shouldn’t you have guards with you?” I asked. 

“I was banished so my people could join with the Commander.” He said sadly. 

“Your parents banished you?” I asked shocked and he nodded sadly. 

“Why are you out here on your own?” He asked and I bit my lip. 

“Same reason you are. I was banished because my people thought I was more dangerous than the Grounders.” I answered and his eyes widened slightly. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“I was a healer to my people, there weren’t many, but the two people that basically put themselves in charge kicked me out because I kept fighting people. Those people talked a lot of shit about me and I was just making sure they knew not to mess with me, turns out that putting your own people in the infirmary while at ‘war’ isn’t a great idea.” I half laughed. 

“How long have you been out here?” He asked. 

“About a month, maybe a little more.” I shrugged. 

“You’re strong.” He smiled and his eyes slowly started to close. 

“Get some rest, I’ll check on you in the morning.” I said and walked off to make myself food. 

*Another Month Later* 

Roan had healed well. He was strong and wanted to get better. He was actually a very good patient and did everything I asked of him. The two of us got to know each other while he was healing and he was amazing. At first he was pretty reserved and hesitant to let me into his life, but eventually he opened up to me. He was sweet with a very strong sense of loyalty. When he was finally better I thought he would just leave, which broke my heart at the thought, but he stayed. He explained to me how he was a bounty hunter and asked me to join him on his adventures. I had agreed, but we always ended up coming back to the cabin we now claimed as ours. The two of us knew we had developed feelings for one another, but we never fully confessed. Sure we acted like a couple, but it was never solidified. That was until we got snowed in our cabin with no way of leaving. 

“I suppose it’s good that we got extra food yesterday when we were out.” I said and Roan smiled. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He said and joined me in the bed. Roan pulled me towards him and I rested my head on his chest. We sat in silence, revelling in the warmth that our bodies gave to each other. After a few minutes Roan pulled my face up to look at him and he did something unexpected. He held my chin with two of his fingers and gently kissed me. I was breathless when he broke away, his eyes shining as he admired me. 

“What was that for?” I whispered. 

“I just finally got the courage to confess how I feel.” He said and I smiled with a slight blush dusting my cheeks. 

“I feel the same way.” I said and kissed him again. The kiss started off as sweet and loving, but it quickly turned hotter. The two of us were feeling each other’s bodies and enjoying the feelings. When Roan dipped into my pants I pulled away. 

“Wait, I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” I said, blushing deeply and looked away. Roan grabbed my face and made me look at him. 

“Let me teach you. We’ll be nice and warm after.” He said with a small smirk. There was something about Roan that made me trust him with all of my heart. 

“Okay…” I whispered. Roan pulled my shirt off and then my pants were quick to follow. My arms immediately went to cover my chest. 

“What about you?” I asked. He smirked and rid himself of his clothing, naked. Roan gently pried my arms from my chest and smiled. 

“Beautiful.” He hummed and kissed me, making my cheeks turn pink. 

“No need to be shy, Y/N.” He promised. He gently pushed me to lay on the bed and his lips went to my chest. 

“Roan…” I breathed, lacing my fingers into his brown hair. He pulled my underwear from me and looked up at me for consent. I gave him a small nod and he moved to my entrance. The sensation was overwhelming as his cock entered my pussy for the very first time. Delightful flashes of tingles coursed through my body. It felt amazing, until he broke through the one thing that indicated I was indeed a virgin. I grunted at the sharp burst of pain in my pussy. He held still, deep within me. 

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He whispered in my ear. My breathing was fast and shallow as I felt my walls absorbing his shaft. The sharp pain dulled to an ache, but was slowly overcome by a heavenly feeling of fullness. The tingles from him pressing against my clit increasing as his body moved subtly with each of his deep breaths. 

“It’s okay… I’m fine.” I finally whispered. Roan’s hips pulled back slowly, his gaze still concentrated on my face, probably looking for any signs of pain. He stopped with the head of his cock placed just in the entrance on my pussy. He teased me for only a moment, making me moan and grip the sheets. 

“Please don’t tease.” I begged. 

“Sorry love.” He said and pushed back inside me. One of his hands found my clit and I arched my back as he played with it. My muscles eased, allowing the pain to dissipate. Roan’s thrusts began to build pressure in my stomach and stars in my eyes. The soft pleasure washed over me with ease. My breaths were coming out in shallow stutters as I tried to hold back my orgasm. I was throbbing around Roan and he could feel every second of my building pleasure. 

“Roan, fuck!” I choked out as I withered on the bed. 

“Harder, harder please!” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut. Roan leaned down, capturing my lips in a messy but loving kiss as he did what I wanted. The ache in my every muscle released all at once. A shudder ran through my body as my orgasm took over me. 

“You look so beautiful when you cum like that.” Roan praised, and it only made it better. Roan pulled my legs over his shoulders and hit a deeper spot inside me. 

“Oh my God!” I shrieked. My back arched off the bed as Roan slid into me with the deep, angled thrusts. My moans were loud, escaping my lips with every other thrust he made. His hips rolled against mine with his hand still trying to pull another orgasm from me. I gripped the sheets tighter as I jolted upward from his powerful force. 

“Oh fuck! Roan!” I screamed, pleasure bursting through my veins. I was cumming for a second time tonight.

���Oh Y/N!” He moaned as he came inside me. I whined when he pulled out of me. He gave a small chuckle and pulled me into him under the blanket. 

“Warmer?” He asked and I nodded. 

“That was amazing.” I sighed happily. 

“We can do that as often as you want.” He smiled and I captured his lips in a kiss. 

“I think I want to do that all the time.” I said and he laughed. 

“Whatever you want, my Princess.” He said and I smiled. This was what earth was all about. This was my new start.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs-blog1​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches28​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @rachelxwayne​ @emo-godess-loves-you​ @now-imagine​ @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @vanessa-kom-skaikru​

[221bshrlocked]

Be My Enemy, Be My Remedy

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 9647 (again, I wish I was sorry but I’m not)

Warnings: Angst and Smut. Rough sex. Breeding kink (sorry not sorry). Touch “kink” due to touch starvation.

Summary: You couldn’t really consider him as a friend, not because you didn’t want him to be but because he never gave you any inclinations for wanting to change your little “happy-hunting” arrangement, whatever that even was. So, that left you as partners...at best. But a mission gone wrong forces the Mandalorian to reevaluate his relationship with you, finally realizing you were not his enemy but the complete opposite.

A/N: Fasten your seatbelts ladies and gentlemen, here is the second Mando fic. I seem to be incapable of writing Smut without Angst, I don’t know why. Please let me know how I’m doing in the comments and how I can improve. Thank you!! Some quick notes: Beskad is a Mandalorian Sword and the Whistling Bird releases small guided munitions from the vambrace (forearm brace). I planned on including some *whispers* weapon porn but I got sidetracked and so expect some beskad and glove smut in the next fic enshallah.

For a bounty hunter who prided himself in never getting distracted from the hunting trade, the Mandalorian sure was preoccupied by the crystal spires reaching farther than the eye could see. You couldn’t blame him though, Christophsis was among the most exquisite of planets and not just those belonging to the Savareen sector. You followed behind and continued to glance next to you to make sure the crib was floating nearby. 

“Where are you you doshing little shabuir? I know you’re around here somewhere.” You whispered to yourself as you kept moving away from the busyness of the noisy bazaar, hoping to the maker that the child wouldn’t wake up from the sharp calls of drunkards and sellers arguing over horribly brewed spotchka. 

“Hey, told you to watch your language around the kid.” The Mandalorian hissed at you from ahead, turning his head slightly towards your narrowed eyes and glaring at you through the visor. Or at least that’s what you thought he was doing. With the way he was currently moving through the quieter streets, you knew he was definitely not happy with where the three of you ended up, let alone your lack of respect for his ‘parenting’ methods. 

“Relax big guy, he’s in his crib dreaming of all the frogs his soft little heart wishes he could eat. Besides, you told me I need to practice my Mando’a.” You motioned towards the crib and rolled your eyes at him, raising an eyebrow when you saw the minuscule shake of his helmet before he looked down at the tracking fob.

“Not around the kid…” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response because he just had to always get the last word in. Mando hoped his rough response would distract you from the way his body seemed to react to being called ‘big guy.’ He knew what you were referring to and yet he felt goosebumps erupt on his strictly covered skin at the thought of you saying those specific words but under different circumstances. 

“Waadar Ke'sush'.” He hissed more to himself than you and didn’t bother to respond when you asked him what those words meant. 

As you made your way towards the skirts of the town, you felt a pair of eyes boring into your neck and knew instantly the quarry must have known you were here. And you knew the Mandalorian could sense his presence as well when he placed the tracking fob back into his pocket and trailed his hands down to the blaster on his hip. You wished you could ask him why he continued to walk towards the forest but knew better than to question his methods. Any conversation held between the two of you might spook the bounty and the last thing you needed was to make a scene on a planet you weren’t that fond of being on to begin with. 

But it was getting a tad bit annoying once you were far enough past the trees and the Mandalorian continued to walk through the brightly-colored plants. 

“Shouldn’t we-” Before you could finish the question, Mando was turning around and shooting at a large tree not twenty feet behind you. You pushed the crib out of the way before taking out the beskad as well, squinting your eyes to try and see where the wanted Rodian was. 

“Dank farrik!” You swore when you realized the Mandalorian was more likely to get a better shot than you because of the heat-sensors in his helmet. You felt useless, torn between shooting wherever he was and making sure the kid wasn’t harmed in the crossfire. 

“Watch out,” it took you a second too late to realize that Mando was yelling at you and you fell backwards as one of the beams roughly grazed your thigh. As you attempted to wrap a band around the wound, you heard the familiar sound of the crib opening and before you could do anything, the child was already approaching you, his eyes filled with worry as he stretched out his little hand and shut his eyes. 

“Oh no you don’t,” you put the hand down and make quick work of the wound, about to stand up and put the kid back into his crib. 

“Haar'chak,” you looked up as soon as you heard the Mandalorian swear at the top of his lungs, the vocoder not hiding his anger and causing you to lose your equilibrium for a split moment. This was not the time to dwell on the effects his voice had on you or the fact that he was angry at you getting hurt. You wished to dwell on the latter thought for a little bit longer but shook your head to clear the haze his voice placed you under. 

Putting the sharp Mandalorian weapon back into the holster, you realized you were of no use to the Mandalorian now that you were compromised, deciding to make sure the child was safe instead of running after the Rodian with him. But that plan was gone as soon as it came once you looked down and realized why the Mandalorian swore. 

The kid wasn’t next to you. 

In fact, he was nowhere near you.

Turning around, you saw the bounty holding the child against his chest, a knife in one hand and a blaster aimed at the little one’s head in the other. 

“Wait,” you held out your hands against your partner and the quarry, refusing to let anything happen to the kid because of some stupid bounty. And as hard as you tried to dismiss it, you felt hurt at knowing that the Mandalorian was angry because the kid was taken and not because you were hurt. 

“You’re getting soft Mandalorian,” the bounty, Tig Bayantik, smiled as he taunted the man behind you and you hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

“Let him go,” the growl that emitted from the vocoder could have brought you to your knees under other circumstances, and you turned to look at Mando before returning your focus on the kid. Your heart broke at the thought of him getting hurt because of one simple and stupid mistake you made. A mistake that should cost you your life and not his or his father’s.

“Alright alright, everyone just calm down.” You forced a smile and kept your hands in Tig’s eyesight so he wouldn’t misinterpret your movements. “Let’s solve this like the rational adults we are. Tig, what do you want...besides us not coming after you?” You raised your eyebrows at him, hoping to steer the conversation your way until you trapped him with an offer. An offer you were most definitely going to regret as soon as it left your lips. But there was no other option. The last thing you expected was for something like this to happen. The child was only ever in dangerous situations when one of you was caring for him, never when the two of you were around. This was not ideal and you hated what you were willing to do to ensure his safety. 

“Simple, your chain code for the kid.” He pointed at Mando and smiled when he noticed him shift uncomfortably. 

“Why?” The Mandalorian hissed his question and you sighed annoyingly because since when did he ever question anything that had to do with the little womp rat. 

“Since when do you ask questions Mandalorian?” Tig screamed and held the kid too tightly to your liking, causing you to lean forwards when you heard him cooing and moving his little hands towards you.

“Alright,” hoping he would follow your lead, you reluctantly took the beskad out of its holster and threw it at Mando, ignoring the obvious discomfort shedding off of him. As you asked him to give you the tracking fob, the Mandalorian thought of ten different ways where this could go from bad to worse now that you gave him the main weapon you had on you. He titled his head to the side when you asked him for the tracking fob and reluctantly threw it at you, watching in annoyance as you dropped it to the floor and stomped on it twice until it broke beneath your feet. 

“I’ll do you one better, me for the little womp rat who couldn’t stay in his fucking crib a second longer.” You could see Mando’s little head tilt from your peripheral vision and weren’t sure if it was because he hated that you swore in front of the kid again or because he was most certainly not going to follow along with the sharade and considered the idea incredibly idiotic. Before he could say anything, you took a few steps forward, hands aimed towards the turquoise skies while silently praying to the maker that your hunch would be correct. When you saw Tig’s hands twitch and begin to lower the blaster from the kid, you knew you had him. 

“You must be desperate.” Tig held onto the kid tighter and you hoped he wouldn’t question you anymore because at this point, you were sure you would be the one doing something stupid to get him back. 

“No, I’m just the moof-milker who wasn’t supposed to care about some tinman and his foundling...and yet here I am.” Your admission filled the silent air and you thought you heard the bounty hunter lightly gasp behind you but knew better. Call it wishful thinking but if you were to ever make it alive out of this situation, with no one harmed, you were going to think of finally telling him how you feel. How you’ve felt ever since you joined his clan. No, that wasn’t it. You weren’t part of his clan. You just...were.

“I don’t have a single weapon on me...not even a whistle. Plus, I’ll fetch for a good price on Malachor…” You turned to your partner and held back from smiling once you saw the minuscule nod he threw at you. He couldn’t afford one of the munitions from his whistling bird hitting the kid, but he could use it if you took his place...or so you thought at least. 

“That’s the...they pay in-” As Tig tripped over his words, you held back a sigh of relief because he was finally falling for the trap. 

“That’s right baby, they pay exclusively in Nova Crystals...only a moron would let the opportunity slide from his fingers. Come on, what do you say? Last I heard, I was worth five-” Before you could finish your sentence, Tig was setting the child down on the ground, the blaster instantly aimed at your head so you wouldn’t think of escaping. You waited until the kid ran to the Mandalorian before stepping towards the Rodian in front of you.

“Smart man,” you hissed when he grabbed your arm and twisted it behind your back before pulling you flush to his chest, making sure the Mandalorian didn’t have an opening to shoot him. 

“Our business here is finished Mandalorian,” Tig warned the beskar-clad hunter and you instantly felt sorry for him because it was one thing to threaten the kid but a whole other to warn him. As he stepped back and took you with him, you took a deep breath and shut your eyes, praying that if and when the munition hit you, it wouldn’t hurt badly. You snorted loudly before you could silence yourself and the Rodian dug his nails into your forearms. “What’s so funny girly?”

“Girly? Oh you’re dead meat now.” Almost instantly, you heard the Mandalorian fire two small munitions from his vambrace, falling backward in pain when sure enough, one of them broke the skin of your hip right before it hit the bounty in his side. He immediately rolled you down beneath him and was about to shoot you right between your eyes if it weren’t for the Mandalorian running towards the two of you and kicking his head. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized he fainted from how hard the hit was, gaze instantly landing on the man standing above your battered body. You could tell he was definitely killing you in a thousand different ways but feigned ignorance at the obvious anger, smiling when the green goblin waddled towards you and stretched his hands out again. 

“I thought I told you not to do that,” you warned him again, struggling to stand up and ignoring the heat rushing through your clothes when you felt Mando support your back. He let go when he noticed the way you reacted to him, thanking the maker for the helmet that hid his hurt expression. As you put the child back in his crib and shut it to ensure he wouldn’t get out again, you turned around and found the Mandalorian violently cuffing Tig and forcing him to stand up. He was a little dazed but knew better than to attempt and fight the Mandalorian. If you could feel the rage rolling off of him, then the Rodian was certainly aware of it as well. You kept on glancing at him and noticed the way he was clutching the beskad, a part of you hurt that he didn’t return it to you once he cuffed the bounty. There weren’t any more dangers, to your knowledge, but it still felt like he was purposely ignoring the weapon in his hand. Maybe he just didn’t trust you with it at the moment. You couldn’t blame him if he was reluctant to hand it to you ever again. It was a most valuable position and he was technically crossing a line by allowing you to use it so the fact that you felt the need to give it back to him must have struck a sensitive nerve. As your eyes took in his rigid form sulking and strutting ahead of you, you hated the way you were reacting to him holding onto the beskar sword and shook your head at how absolutely fucked up your mind was for thinking of him using that beskad a little differently on you.

The four of you made your way back to the Razor Crest in silence and you could tell the couple merchants left in the bazaar were staring at you as you made your way through the alleys. But you didn’t care for any of that because you now had another issue at hand. There was no way the Mandalorian wasn’t going to ask about why there is, or was, a bounty on your head. Those on Malachor who wanted you were known across the Outer Rim Territories, not because of the nature of their work but because of the history tied with them. Only a fool with a death wish would mess with the Zabraks and the Mandalorian was no idiot. He’d heard you saying how much you were worth. You knew he would never try and take up that bounty for himself, at least you hoped he wouldn’t. Not after everything you’ve been through.

But there was no way he wasn’t going to ask you to leave. The longer you thought about it, the quicker you realized he was probably going to just leave you on Christophsis. The kid was too important to him and he couldn’t afford losing him. 

Hell, he was too important to you. Both of them were. And you wouldn’t want to take that chance if you were in his place.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the Crest, clutching at your side and looking around you to make sure no one was following you. You pushed the crib up the ramp and vaguely heard the sound of the carbon freezer going off, muffling the rage of the Rodian who was sure he was going to be richer than the Empire in a matter of hours should he have taken you. 

Reluctance filled your heart and you thought it better to not bother and attempt to get on the ship when you knew its owner no longer welcomed your presence. Looking to the side, you saw a dimly-lit turquoise tree bark on its side facing the lake behind the ship. Barely making it across, you threw yourself down and sighed, opening your eyes and looking out to the different shades of blue coloring the luminescent lake. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there and you didn’t care. It was too beautiful to let your worries run with you. 

It was bound to happen. 

“What did I say about wasting time we don’t have?” The Mandalorian’s voice broke your daydreams and you jumped at the modulated voice, crying in pain when the gash at your hips oozed out more blood. 

“Pfassk!” Hearing him swear beneath his breath before getting down on his knees to get a better look at the wound gave you butterflies in your stomach and you thought back to what happened earlier with the kid. Maybe he did care if you got hurt after all. 

“It isn’t bad. The bacta spray will take care of this.” He grabbed your arm and helped you to your feet, his visor turning away from you when he met your eyes. 

“You mean...o-on the ship?” You wished you didn’t sound so helpless but the thought of not being turned away from him put you at ease and you hoped he wasn’t just going to help you get back on your feet before leaving you. He wasn’t that cruel...

“No in the cantina.” His response was instant and you couldn’t hold back the laughter from bubbling up your throat even if you tried. 

“Did- did you just make a joke? Maker, you...hah, you actually made a joke. Did I hit myself on the head or did you j-”

“Enough,” his grasp tightened around your upper arm and you swallowed the lump in your throat when his gruff voice hit your core. As soon as you went up the ramp, Mando was shutting it behind him, pushing you towards your cot in the back before leaving for the cockpit. You didn’t know what else to do so you decided to sit there until he returned. The bacta spray was in his quarters and there was no way in hell you were going to go there. You were barely hanging by a thread and feared how he’d react if he found you going through his things. 

The bounty hunter, on the other hand, purposely left you there for a few moments to try and get himself together. As he plotted the course to Nevarro, and made sure everything was in place, he thought back to what you were willing to do to ensure the kid’s safety. And he wished he didn’t feel his heart swell with anticipation following your confession. Sure he knew you care for the child, you’d proven on many occasions that you have. But hearing you admit you cared about him stirred something into his chest, a feeling he purposely ignored these past few months of having you on the ship. A feeling which he tried his hardest not to humor because as far as he knew, you were strictly business partners, and nothing more. Hell, the two of you barely considered yourselves as that considering how often you headbutted during the hunts. He was forced to bring you on board because a pair of extra eyes were necessary to make sure the kid was safe. Had anyone asked him weeks ago about what he thought of you, he would have said he considered you as an acquaintance, since the word ‘enemy’ would have been a little too harsh. 

Of course that would have been a blatant lie because this same feeling residing in the pit of his stomach grew every time he saw you interact with the child. Something about seeing you switch from being a deadly bounty hunter to a caring m-, a caring woman, made his chest swell with need and...dare he say, hope. It was a feeling unlike any other.

A feeling which quickly turned into a deep yearning when he finally noticed the effect he had on you as he tried to help you onto the Crest. He felt guilt wash over him because the purpose of the heat sensors was to track his bounties and not to fill his eyes with your heated skin and warm c-

A loud crash brought him out of his haze and as he descended the stairs and looked towards your cot, dread filled his soul. You must have lost more blood than he initially thought because you were lying on the ground with the child attempting to move out of his crib.

In an instant, he was carrying you into the makeshift bed, head shaking when he looked at you and saw you deliriously giggling at him. 

“Must I almost die for you to finally remember I-” You attempted to joke to put him at ease but regretted it immediately when you realized it had the opposite effect on him. 

“Shut up.” He left you sitting on the bed before bringing the kid to his quarters, warning him not to get out of his crib before aggressively grabbing the kit and returning to your side. 

“Take your shirt off.” He barked out the command without giving too much thought to it and winced when he realized how careful he must be when he’s talking to you, especially now when you looked so weak and...fuck. No. He can’t think like that. 

“P-pardon?” You were visibly shaking at the sudden request and wished you weren’t thinking of-

“Do you not speak Basic anymore? Take the kriffing shirt off.” You flushed under his gaze and looked away from him as you tried to remove the ripped article of clothing. When you hissed and lowered your arm, Mando sighed in annoyance because of course you wouldn’t be able to raise your arm.

“Not all of us can hide the pain behind a mask Mando, I just ne-” He didn’t let you finish your comment, setting everything aside and softly grabbing the hem of your shirt. You forgot how to breathe for a moment, looking at him quizzically when he remained unmoving for a few seconds. It occurred to you that he was probably waiting for your permission and you nodded slightly before looking everywhere else but him. Mando tried his hardest to control his reaction at seeing your soft skin and he was sure he was doing a good job until he saw your nipples harden behind the chest band. 

Clearing his throat once, Mando stood up and helped you take your shoes off before preparing the bacta spray. “Will you...can you remove your pants?” His question was filled with reluctance and you wished with all your heart you could tease him about his tone but didn’t trust how he’d react to you. 

“I-I’m sorry I- can’t. It hurts to bend d-”

“Okay.” For maker knows what time that day, Mando cut you off and moved closer to you, willing himself to take deep breaths as he unzipped the front of your pants and held them at your hips. As you raised yourself to help him get the pants off, you couldn’t help but gasp as soon as you felt his gloved hands make contact with your skin. Mando stopped moving and kept his visor away from your face towards the medical supplies on the bed to give you some form of privacy. He could hear your heartbeat elevate, could feel your skin growing hotter beneath his touch, could almost smell the scent of your arousal sticking to the humid air. But he chose to ignore it, all of it. 

Slowly pulling the pants off, he maneuvered you around until you were facing towards the wall.

“This might hurt a bit Ad'ika.” The endearment left his lips before he could stop himself and he felt you still under his touch. 

“What- what does that mean?” Your voice was weaker than usual and he didn’t know he could feel any guiltier than before but the way you responded to his touch and his voice had him growing hard in his pants and if it weren’t for the fact that you entrusted him with caring for you, he would have pushed you down to the bed and swallowed those little sighs and whimpers until you begged him to stop. 

“I’ll tell you later.” The Mandalorian was never one to avoid such simple questions and you knew he could definitely see goosebumps growing across your skin once you realized why he might be refusing to tell you now. 

You felt the cold sting of the bacta spray spread across your thigh and grabbed the nearest object to you which so happened to be his forearm. Shutting your eyes harder than intended, you hissed out in pain when you felt him mirror your actions and tighten his fingers around your wrist. 

“Ni'm Ni ceta, Cyar'ika.” He whispered as he moved you around to face him, not giving you a chance to adjust to the position as he sprayed your hip. You didn’t let go of his arm once and felt hot tears rolling down your cheeks the more he pressed the medication into the open gash across your hip. He continued to whisper in Mando’a and you found it more soothing than you liked to admit even though you understood absolutely nothing of what he was saying. 

“M-mando please...I can’t- s-stop ple-” You cried out when the bacta spray hit the deepest corner of the cut, hands instantly moving to his shoulder and fisting into his cowl before unintentionally pulling him closer to you. Mando placed the top of his helmet against your forehead, willing himself to continue and care for you even though his touch was only bringing you pain in that instant. He almost shook his head when he noticed what he was doing, the gesture going completely unnoticed by you because he never told you what it meant in his culture to lean one’s head against another’s. He enjoyed the moment and whispered his apologies the harder you began to shake in his arms.

“Gedet'ye Cyare, I’m almost done. Take a deep breath for me,” he waited until you sucked in as much air as you could before applying the bacta spray to the last corner of the wound, setting it down and staring into the gash until he saw it slowly closing. You weren’t sure how long he sat there looking at you but you knew he could see the effect he had on you because his visor moved back and forth from the wound to where your thighs shifted. Once he was sure the skin was almost healed, he stood up and stepped away from you, already missing the heat of your skin touching his clothed armor. 

“Vor entye,” you weren’t sure why you felt the need to thank him in his mother tongue and hoped he wouldn’t dwell too much on it as you attempted to stand up. As you held out your arms to keep your balance, the Mandalorian was next to you in the blink of an eye, holding onto your waist to prevent you from falling over.

“You need to get some rest.” He half-yelled at you and you wished he wasn’t standing so close to you because one more rough command and you were going to fall on your knees and beg him to fuck your mouth. 

“No, I need to use the refresher.” You were surprised by how steady your voice came out and refused to be distracted by the way his fingers continued to twitch against your bruised hips.

“You can barely stand without my help.” Mando was frustrated beyond measure and recalled back to what he was thinking of when he was in the cockpit. A slow realization came to him and he stepped away from you when he knew it was never anger that bugged him whenever you challenged his commands, but frustration. More particularly, sexual frustration. Because if there was ever a time you looked absolutely divine, it was when you were fuming and yelling at him at the top of your lungs. And for some odd reason, he loved seeing you stand up to him. 

“I am using the refresher. I feel sweaty and disgusting and wet a-” You probably shouldn’t have said that last bit because Mando was letting go of you and collecting the supplies, not bothering to look back at you as he unlocked his cot and set the kit aside before checking on the kid. 

You mentally smacked yourself at the ridiculous word vomit and grabbed the nearest dry shirt and undergarments before wobbling to the refresher. Once the Mandalorian was sure you were in the refresher, he took the child to his little space near your cot and rubbed behind his ears until he fell asleep. He kept on looking at the door of the refresher, a part of him worried you’d slip and hit your head if it became too foggy in there. 

He was finally allowing his thoughts to become less hostile and worried when he picked up on a faint groan. Standing against the refresher door, he remained silent and shook his head when he heard you moan a string of ‘fucks’ a few times before something fell. 

“Pfassk,” shutting the curtain around the child, the Mandalorian walked to his cot and began to strip out of his armor. He refused to dwell too much on what he was about to do and the meaning behind his actions. Before long, Mando was standing in the middle of the Crest as nude as the day he was born and he took a deep, calming breath before taking off his helmet and setting it on the ground. Walking to the control box, he shut the lights off and ignored your sudden cries at losing sight of the room.

He approached the refresher and hoped what he was about to do wouldn’t pull your relationship apart, whatever that relationship was. Unlocking the door, he waited at the foot of the small room before stepping in, the heat of your shower already making him lose his mind. 

“Mando?” Your voice came out hoarse and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands to prevent himself from jumping on you right then and there. 

“Hmm.”

“Why...w-what are you doing?” He hated how much fear was laced in your words and realized you might completely misunderstand his actions. 

“Making sure you won’t fall and die on me.” The Mandalorian hoped his voice emitted some semblance of control and when you said nothing, he panicked and thought of the worst. Unbeknownst to him, you were struggling for a response not because you wanted him to leave but because he wasn’t wearing his mask. He chose to take his mask off and be in the same room as you. True the lights were off and you couldn’t see even a foot ahead of you but it was still a big deal, even more so for him. And maker, his voice was smoother than the finest Opaline Creed honey. You weren’t sure what you expected it to sound like but you genuinely thought the vocoder was what made it sound so guttural. Turns out, it was already smooth and deep and was just intensified through the helmet. You felt your legs shaking at the knowledge of hearing that same voice whispering the filthiest things in your ears and instantly decided to move away from that grey area.

“T-thank you.” The soft exclamation shot through his spine and he didn’t bother to slow his movements as he pushed open the door of the even smaller privy and stepped through. Years of adapting to the mask as well as walking around in the darkness of his ship without it allowed him to see where you were standing. He could just make out the shape of your curves and held back a moan when the water hit his tired muscles. You refused to move an inch, afraid to break whatever spell fell over the two of you and allowed you to be in close proximity. The bounty hunter rarely articulated his inner thoughts and emotions so anything you could say might genuinely spook him. 

When your hand fell from your chest to try and readjust the heat of the water, it accidentally trailed over his skin and you gasped when it finally occurred to you that yes, he was very much as naked as you. His mask was not the only thing that was off. You weren’t sure what that meant for him or for you apart from the fact that he felt the need to strip off his armor, physically and metaphorically, to ensure your safety. 

“M-mando…”

“Mesh'la, if you keep calling for me with that sinful voice, I- I am not sure I will be able to restrain myself.” For the first time since you’d joined him on the ship, Mando was losing his patience and control, and he hoped his words wouldn’t scare you away. He never sounded so...breathy? Was that even the right word? It took you a few longer moments to finally register what his words meant and you set the soap on the shelf before stepping towards him. You could sense the moment he acknowledged just how close you were to him because he finally let himself react to your heat and gasp at knowing you were within arm’s reach.

“T-then don’t…” The words were left hanging in the damp air around you and you thought you crossed a line which he so obviously sounded like he didn’t wish to move past.

But Mando was on you in the blink of an eye, grabbing your hips and pushing you roughly until your back hit the cold wall, the feeling of his wet skin sliding against yours turning you on way more than it should. Before you could have any time to react to the sudden movement, Mando was leaning down and hoisting you up against the cool metal, moaning against your cheeks when your legs crossed behind his back and pulled his achingly hard cock to your heated core. 

“Mando, oh fuck- I...y-you’re-” You wrapped your arms arond his neck and felt the soft hair at the nape of his neck tickle your skin. You couldn’t hold back even if you tried, fingers instantly fisting in his hair and finding it much longer than you thought it would be. Mando groaned and felt himself growing harder as you bucked your hips against him and the thought of finally sheathing himself inside you drove him mad with lust. He felt how warm your cunt is and his knees almost gave out when for a moment, he brushed against your clit and felt you whimper beneath him.

“Ad'ika, I- I need you...I burn for you. Please, sweet girl, will you let me have you? I can feel you pulling me in...can smell your wetness calling for me.” You were sure you died and joined the stars because the man before you rarely spoke and here he was spilling his heart’s deepest desires unabashedly and rather enthusiastically. You threw your head back as he bucked his hips against you and bit down on your neck, smiling when you knew you’d wake up to numerous bruises and marks coloring your skin and showing the universe whom you belonged to.

“Please...pl-please, I'm yours Mando, do what you want with me. T-take whatever you want, ohh ffuh- fuck me until I...till I can’t feel anything but your cock. Kriffing hell I-” Mando couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. He knew he should prepare you for him. He knew he should make sure he wasn’t forcing you into anything. But your words nudged at that primal lust he reserved for you and in that moment, only one thing mattered. 

Making sure he marked every single inch of you until he didn’t know where he ended and you began. 

With as much focus as he could muster up, Mando trailed one of his hands down your thighs and took himself in his hand, jerking the head of his cock against your wet slit and feeling you shiver at his ministrations. Bracing his feet better against the warm floor, Mando ceased to breathe as he thrust harshly inside you, swallowing your moans as he brought his lips against yours. The two of you couldn’t move a muscle for a few seconds and Mando thanked the maker you weren’t trying to meet his hips because he was sure he would cum right then and there should you clench any harder around him. You couldn’t get enough of the way his tongue danced against your lips and you tried your hardest to keep kissing him for as long as possible. But then he was pulling away and nipping at your neck, and you swore he was going to be the death of you because you never pictured him with a beard and now you were feeling it rubbing against your already hyper-sensitive skin.

“Mand-” You whimpered into his lips once more and felt him become more aggressive by the second.

“None of that...my name is- it’s Din. Remember it, memorize it...fucking say it as you take my cock into that wet, tight cunt of yours. I-I want you to scream my name as I fuck you sweet girl...I want to hear these walls shaking with how much I pleasure you.” You couldn’t wrap your head around what he’d just willingly allowed you to know. It was too much to take in and you felt tears rolling down your cheeks as you realized what this man has done for you in the span of a few hours. Din faintly heard you sniff  and hoped he wasn’t hurting you in any way. 

“Din,” he curled into you as soon as his name left your lips, unable to stop himself from pulling out and plunging back into you time and again just to hear you whisper his name in his ears. He was intoxicated by the little sounds you were emitting, squeezing your thighs and making sure you were holding yourself up as he began to pound into you until the only sounds left in the small room were his skin slapping against yours and the running water. 

“Oh- gah...D-Din, I-” You couldn’t form a proper sentence even if you tried, fingers digging into his back as you felt his cock hit near your cervix. Before you knew it, you were clenching around him, screaming his name as you arched your back and came on his dick. Din growled when he felt you squeeze his cock, his hips stuttering for a moment before he continued to fuck you with abandon, carrying you over the edge once more until you were a moaning mess. 

“Fuck, ah Cyare...you’re everything I dreamed of a-and so much kriffing better...I- I want to brand you darling...I want to leave my mark on every single one of your holes. So, fucking, good for me,” Din couldn’t believ what he was saying because a part of him felt guilty for using such filthy language with you. But he didn’t want to stop, he wanted you to know how much you affected him. He yearned for you and wished with all his being to become one with you in every single possible way.

“Din, Din...oh pfassk- cum for me. Cum for me please, fill me up...let me feel you hot and deep inside me.” You begged for him and prayed to the stars he wouldn’t be turned off by what you were asking of him. 

“Mesh'la...you- is that what you want? You want me to cum inside this sweet little cunt? Want to walk around with my seed leaking down your thighs- ah fuck, you’re a dream. A kriffing dream...and you’re all mine. Mine to fuck when I please, mine to mark- ah by the gods woman...mine to fucking breed when I feel like it.” Din was no longer in control of himself, grinding his teeth before he leaned down and attacked the skin of your chest. You clenched around him when you felt his teeth nip at your nipples a little harder than you liked. But you didn’t have the heart to tell him to go easier on you. It was intoxicating how much he wanted you and you didn’t want this to end because now that you’ve had a taste of how much of a generous lover he is, you didn’ want to give it up, even if it meant having purple and blue spots coloring your body the following day. 

“Yes, yes...Din, ‘m all yours. Please-” He wasn’t sure if it was your desperate pleas that forced him to cross that threshold or if it was how sinfully warm your cunt felt as he thrust into you time and again. But it didn’t matter because Din was close to losing his mind as he stilled all his motions, cock pulsating and shooting his seed so deep inside you he was sure you were going to have another kid running around the ship. In all honesty, the Mandalorian was not sure he wanted to have another child but the image of your grown belly was engraved into his mind now and he didn’t know if he could ever stop himself from bending you over every part of the ship, at any given moment in time, and breeding you until you couldn’t feel anything but his hot cum filling your insides. 

You were gasping for air at this point, leaning down and sucking on his Adam's apple just to get a rise out of him. You smiled when he unintentionally jutted against you and somehow managed to push his hot seed deeper inside you. Maybe he was more touch-starved than you initially thought...

“Mine. All mine,” he whispered right before slowly setting you down on the ground and you hissed when you felt him pull out, the sudden emptiness making you wish he could stay inside you just a little while longer. 

“Come on, it’s going to get cold soon.” His words seemed calculated and you almost got a whiplash from how quickly he managed to compose himself. As he shut the water off and stepped out, you were met with a thousand doubts and the Mandalorian must have sensed your reluctance because he grabbed your arm and forced you to get out of the privy, quickly wrapping a towel around you before opening the door of the refresher and pulling you along with him.

A quick look at the child’s curtain and Din knew he was still fast asleep. Not knowing what to say after your activities, Mando unlocked the door to his quarters and turned around to face you, taking hold of your towel and softly passing it over your wet skin until he was sure you were dry enough to not catch anything. You waited patiently until he dried himself off and stood there in silence, hoping he wasn’t going to turn you away. 

You felt a faint touch smoothing through your fingers before engulfing the palm of your hand and you let yourself smile at the thought of Din being so shy with you even after the last hour or so. You stepped closer to him and rested your head on his chest, rubbing your cheeks on him before kissing across the scarred expanse of his skin. Din was having a hard time, in more ways than one, keeping himself in check but feeling your lips leave open-mouthed kisses on him broke the thin thread he was hanging by. 

Before you could say anything, Din was leaning down and carrying you in his arms, immediately taking your lips into his as he kneeled down and stepped into his cot. He quickly shut the door of the semi-private corner in hopes of not waking the kid. Now that he knew how loud you were capable of screaming, he wasn’t planning on terrifying the child and making him think he was hurting you in some way. 

“Din-” You melted into his arms as his fingers massaged down your arms, stilling when they reached your navel before slowly pushing your thighs open. 

“Cyare...the things I want to do to you. You make me want to lose control.” His admission twisted your stomach and you turned your head to the side to avoid his words because as much as you enjoyed hearing how much you affected him, it was embarrassing to listen to him praise you in such a way when up until hours ago, he barely managed to keep a conversation for more than five minutes. Din noticed the shift in your body language and retracted his fingers, choosing to lay them on the covers beneath you so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed with his presence.

“Did I offend you sweet girl?” He grinned against your cheeks before laying lazy kisses across your clavicle, smiling when he coaxed more needy moans out of you. 

“N-no, no it’s...I- I’m just not used to-” You tripped over your words and wished he wasn’t distracting you with his lips so you could try and tell him what you were thinking of.

“Being told you’re a good girl?” Mando could tell he struck a nerve because you shifted your thighs and arched your back against him when his hand shot to your legs to keep them from closing. 

“I- uhh, that’s n-not wha-”

“Come on Mesh'la, since when do you get so tongue tied while talking to me?” Din knew he was pushing all your buttons and wished you could finally lose it and try to challenge him because he was as ready as he’d ever be now that he sort of knew where you stood with him.

“Din, I don’t want you t- to think that I...that you need to do...this, because I...I can’t bear the thought of you pushing me away if you...oh maker, if you regret this tomorrow.” 

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, he was certainly not expecting such a nervous response to his actions. He wished he wasn’t so hostile with you since you joined him but he was only trying to protect the kid, and himself. The fact that you thought he was with you out of pity and not because of how much he wanted you was preposterous and as much as he wanted to ease all your worries away, he couldn’t deny how hard he became just from hearing your small voice telling him to not regret sleeping with you. 

Without giving you any warning, Din pulled away from you, grabbing your hips aggressively before turning you on your stomach. You barely had any time to react as he forced you on your knees and shoved his hands into your hair to pull you against him. Your hands shot to his calloused ones and grabbed onto them like your life depended on it, whimpering and shaking in his arms as you felt his cock slide across your wet slit.

“Feel how much I want you Cyar'ika, how much I crave being inside this sweet cunt,” Din shoved three fingers inside your pussy and growled when he felt his cum mixed with your wetness and rolling down his palm. “You drive me mad with lust baby and there is nothing, absolutely nothing in this universe, that will ever convince me to not want you.” 

“D-din…” You cried his name as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, not bothering to let up as he felt you reach your peak and gush down his hand onto the covers. You tried to grab his wrist and beg him to stop but he didn’t, couldn’t if he tried. Letting go of your hair, he slapped the hand grabbing at his wrist away before wrapping those same fingers around your throat, pushing you back against his chest as he continued to finger you until the only sounds he heard were your desperate pleas for him to slow down

“That’s right, scream my name sweet girl. Fuck...I could smell your cunt. L-let me have a taste, please.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Din pushed you down and laid between your thighs, immediately descending on your heated slit like a parched man in the middle of Tatooine looking for a drink of water. Your hands shot to his hair and pulled on it as soon as you felt his beard tickle the inside of your thighs. He was being rough, he knew he was being overbearing and a little too much. But he didn’t know how to respond to your doubts so he thought it best to show you just how much he needed you.

Din groaned as he licked and sucked on your clit and when you tried to push him away, he clasped his hands above your navel and kept you close to him, not caring that your thighs were crushing his head as he took your clit between his lips and roughly swiped his tongue on it.

“Ahh D-din I can’t…please n-no more-”

“You’ll take what I give you Mesh'la,” Din let go of you and kneeled above you for a few moments to allow you to catch your breath. When he could hear your heart rate almost return to normal, he once again turned you around on your stomach before raising your hips up against him. Spitting on his fingers, he jerked his cock a few times before repeating the action and rubbing it across your pussy, chuckling when you tried to lean away from him.

“Don’t even try to run away from me. You asked me if I really wanted to fuck you so, here is my answer. Take my cock like the sweet little girl you are,” nudging your wet lips with the painfully hard head of his dick, Din snapped his hips forward until he was completely sheathed inside you, his chest shaking with anticipation at the thought of being able to fuck you again. 

“Oh kriffing hell you feel so tight around me, so wet and tight and perfect. Can you feel me Cyar'ika? Can you feel how much I burn for you, how much I need you- oh maker, you’re better than what I’ve dreamed of.” He didn’t care what that last admission implied because if it meant putting you at ease then he’d say it over and over again until you believed him. As he thrust into you relentlessly, you didn’t know what else to do except bite down on your forearms and beg for him, not sure if you wanted him to slow down or fuck into you harder. 

“Ner...all mine. Don’t want anyone else, ne-never wanted anyone else. You’re it for me Mesh'la. Oh fuck, I could feel you pulling me in deeper sweet girl.” The Mandalorian could feel you shaking beneath him and his chest filled with shameless pride at the thought of knowing he was the one bringing you this much pleasure. He forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could see your dimly-lit body obeying his every command. When he saw you biting down on your hands, he fell forward on top of you and brushed your hair to the side, biting at your shoulder blades as he rutted against you.

“Your sounds belong to me...your sighs, your moans, your fucking pleas. They belong to me so don’t fucking hold back.” Din growled his commands into your neck before wrapping one arm across your sternum while the other maintained its violent hold on your hips to help you meet his thrusts. He pulled back up again and took you with him, continuing to whisper in your ears as he felt your cunt squeezing his cock before pushing it out. Your whole body convulsed in his arms and Din couldn’t believe what he felt rolling down his thighs. He maintained his hold on you as he rammed his dick inside you again, barely managing to turn your head around so he could kiss you. 

And as he swallowed your whimpers, he marveled at how much you were willing to give him, feeling his heart skip a beat when he realized you have placed complete trust into his hands and allowed him to do what he wanted. The desperation of wanting to be with you in every possible way drove him mad and he barely recognized his own self when he pulled from your mouth and breathed heavily against your cheek.

“Fuck, ah kriffing hell- I don’t want to leave this cunt...want to fill it up with my cum till you can’t fucking breathe from how full you are. Fucking beautiful, letting me touch you, brand you...breed this tight pussy over and over again.”

“Din I- please...cum for me, I want to f-feel you cum inside me- I need you to- I can’t wait. Oh maker I l-lah ahh-” Din lost his rhythm as soon as he heard what you almost said to him, pushing you down beneath him as he shoved his cock a few times inside you before you felt him pulse against you, hot streams of his cum painting your walls and driving you over the edge one more time before completely stilling. His hips continued to buck against you and you knew he was trying his hardest to ensure you wouldn’t lose a single drop of his seed. 

The two of you fell over and you hissed when Din pulled out and turned you over, immediately pushing his softening dick back inside you once he found a comfortable position. You laid your head against his chest and smiled when you heard his heart beat against your cheeks. The two of you sat in silence, with Din drawing patterns on your shoulders while you kissed the scars painting his skin. 

It was a while later when you heard him sigh once that you knew what he wanted to say but was reluctant to admit.

“Go ahead, I know you want to ask.” You whispered to him, hoping any loud voice would break the blissful haze and make him turn you away, even though he told you there was no chance of him ever letting you go now.

“I didn’t want to presume I had a right to ask.” He leaned down and kissed your head before wiping away the wet hair from your face. 

“You have the right to do anything you want with me, Din.” The Mandalorian was surprised by how matter-of-fact your admission sounded and he couldn’t understand how you made such an amount of trust sound so easy and straightforward. 

“What do the Zabraks want with you, Cyar'ika? There are only a few of them around so you must have done something deserving of their attention.” He didn’t want to make it seem like he was judging you and hoped you didn’t misunderstand why he wanted to know. 

“I- I may or may not have found an ancient “artifact” that belonged to an important ancestor of theirs...and I may or may not have given it to-” You didn’t know if you should tell him about the mutual friend and felt your chest tighten when he urged you to continue. 

“To whom?”

“Ahsoka Tano.” His silence made you nervous and you were about to ask him if he was angry at you for not saying anything but he returned to massaging your back before speaking up again. 

“That’s why she recognized you.” You heard his smile when he spoke and felt at ease immediately because he really was much softer than he let on.

“You noticed that did you,” you chuckled against him and hummed in pleasure when he pulled you up to kiss him. 

“Did you mean that?” Din asked as he continued to touch every inch of your skin he had access to.

“Hmm?”

“That I have the right to-” He couldn’t finish the sentence because while he knew he meant every word he said, he wasn’t too sure about what you wanted from him. 

“Yes, Mando.” Din frowned at your use of his nickname and rolled you under him, ignoring the way you whined as he slipped out of you. 

“Don’t...please, sweet girl. Please say my name...when we’re alone.” There were so many promises hiding behind his request and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say at such a heartfelt admittance. 

“Din, I-”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Anything you want with me, from me...I’m yours Din, always.” You laid your hands on his cheeks and pulled him to your mouth, swirling your tongue against his before tightening your grip around him as you felt him nudge at your entrance. 

“Mesh'la...Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Ni nu’ru'kir. A Ni vaabir.” His voice was soft as he whispered those words against your lips and you wished to ask him what he was saying but decided to bug him about it later. Right now, you wanted to enjoy the moment and feel his warm skin slide against yours. A part of you, a very small part, hoped he would have a slower stamina because you weren’t sure if you were able to do anything else in the next few hours. But you knew, in your heart, that you would give him anything, and all of you, even if he didn’t ask you to. 

Translation (which are not always accurate but I tried):

Doshing - A “derogatory” modifier

Shabuir - extreme insult; "jerk", but much stronger

Waadar Ke'sush' - Pay attention. 

Haar'chak - Damn it!

Moof-milker - A term for a dimwitted individual

Pfassk - An adaptable expletive

Ad'ika - Little one

Ni'm Ni ceta, Cyar'ika. - I’m sorry.

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Gedet'ye - Please.

Cyare - Beloved

Vor entye - Thank you

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner - Mine

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Ni nu’ru'kir.  A Ni vaabir. - I love you. I shouldn’t. But I do.

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Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

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By The Witch's Grace

Chapter One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

It seems Y/n, a known and hated magic user in their small town, has a lot to deal with after the rowdy bunch that is Philza, Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy, show up at their door step in the midst of a giant snow storm...

Warning: Cursing, talk of hate/discrimination

2.6k words

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“Alright, we need flour, milk, apples... Uh no no stop meowing, please. Shit okay, flour, milk, apples, and what? Oh god, was it- oh! Bottles! Of course, geez.” Y/n laughs at themself before kneeling down, and pets the head of their cat who was demanding their attention. The little feline, who looked like a little toasted marshmallow, purred and meowed as she was happy with the much-needed attention.

“Alright Poppy, I’ll be back. Be a good little girl for me, okay? I’ll be back in time to give you supper I promise.” They baby talked to the cat with little forehead kisses before getting back up to their feet and reaching toward the wall where a large cloak was hung on a large nail next to the door. They threw on the heavy fabric and clasped the small glass button to keep it on their shoulders, their hand lingering as it passed over the glassy eye that permanently stayed on a chain around their neck. The result of a curse placed, not too long ago, that bound it to their person until death. Just the luck of someone who often plays with magic that they can barely comprehend.

The piece would pass as a decoration to any untrained eye, but to those who delved into the arts of magic, any one of them could tell you what this object was. With the deep and light greens with accents of blue and a cat-eye pupil that was forever staring, there was no mistaking an eye of ender. The object was rich in stored-up mana, but it was no joke. Even with the most skilled of mages, they had to be most cautious and limit their time interacting with the eye. The sooner they distanced themself from it the better as the eye has been heavily rumored to take possession of people who use its magic for too long. Mages long past wrote notes in books, Y/n as read countless times, on how the eye has influenced beings to cause great harm and destruction. Its motives are still unknown. 

With the object on their person 24/7, they take caution every moment in case the eye decides it's time to take control. They hope it isn't any time soon.

Tucking the eye of ender under the latch of the cloak, they peeked outside to be met with chilled air kissing their cheeks. The bitter promise of snow.

More the reason to get their errands done as soon as they could to get back home. As if their life being in danger wasn’t the biggest reason to rush so they could hide again. They carefully pulled on their hood and hid as much of their features as they could within the cloak before stashing a satchel that jingled with coins and setting off through the door.

Being able to leave their distant home was always a treat, but also a constant threat to their life. They were never positive if they would return home after each venture. As a magic user, thoughtfully given the nickname of ‘Witch’ from the townsfolk, they weren’t liked much. They made the mistake of trying to show off their powers once before learning quickly that magic was despised among these people. It was only associated with the rich who treated people lower than them like they were dirt under their shiny boots. Luckily they still had a vendor in the town that sold to them, it was the only thing keeping them going.

After about a hour walk down a few winding forest paths that they carved out by themself after years of taking the same route, the port town was in view. Snow littered the ground to the sides of the dirt roads that they walked along and the small breeze that was present ran cold, the overcast sky promised a harsh amount of snow. That is bound to make next week fun. They sure were lucky to bring extra coins so they can stock up.

Once reaching the main town, they made sure to keep their head down and slip through the hundreds of bodies at the markets. It was all routine now, sadly. They took a turn down an alley that harbored a few stray cats and even a dog that scattered when they pressed on down the alley. Softly, they knocked a code to the shopkeep on the old wooden door.

The door just barely creaked open and an old green eye peered out. Y/n looked down to meet the weary eye peeking out at them and couldn't fight a smile. An old cackle rang out and the door opened up wide to an older woman. She was small and had all gray and white hair that was long and braided over her shoulder, but her eyes were alive and she was brimming with joy.

“Oh my little bird, how are you doing?” She said fondly with a slight German accent and Y/n knelt for the woman when she reached to hold their cheeks and look them over.

“I’m well Oma, thank you. You look as young as ever.” The kind words made the woman laugh and she put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh of contentment.

“So what do you need today? I just got in a big order of sugar if you want some.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful actually. I need flour, milk, and is Opa at his shop today? I need apples and he always has those bottles that I need.”

“Actually, he is home sick today,” She started and she walked into the shop to retrieve what Y/n needed. “He caught a small cold but he’ll be better soon. Wait just a moment and I’ll go grab everything.”

The lady went off on her way and Y/n sat on the doorstep, waiting and watching the people walk past the end of the alley. They cringed to themselves whenever they caught the word witch in some distant conversations, they seemed to be a tall tale at this point. At least they weren’t being actively hunted down anymore.

A few long minutes passed and there was a small thump that caught their attention in the shop, when they looked back there were two large sacks and no sign of the woman. Rest assured, after a few moments, the old lady was just barely managing to carry two more large sacks filled to the brim with the few things they had asked for plus much more as they usually only bring one sack home each trip.

“Oma! Oh no, I don’t have enough for all of this! Besides, I can’t possibly carry this all back home.”

“I know, I know. You’ll need it with the weather we have coming on tonight, as payment you can show me that magic you talked about last time. You know that… carrying magic..” She gestured wildly, trying her hardest to remember the word as Y/n stood back up.

“Oh, my spatial magic? I’m not too good at it, but I am sure I can manage this. Alright, are you ready?” They checked the alley for possible watching eyes before holding their hands out with their palms toward the bags.

The old woman stepped back and watched with excitement, her eyes practically sparkling already. Y/n closed their eyes and sucked in a deep breath, their hand flexing a bit and opening wider. A soft purple light began to emit from their hands and two thin, long arms that seemed to be made from the night sky itself stretched out and each hand touched the sack and engulfed it in darkness before retreating back within Y/n’s hands. They let out their held and concentrated breath with a deep sigh, their muscles and bones feeling heavy as they held some of the weight of the sacks within their being.

“That was amazing! Oh, you are so talented, I am so proud of you.” The woman said happily and walked forward, pulling Y/n down and kissing the head of the young mage she seemed to love. “Please hurry home now, stay safe. Opa and I love you and I hope to see you again soon.” 

She waved them off and Y/n waved back, pulling their hood down more for precaution, and slipped into the crowd toward the road they took back home. They felt rather blessed they were able to make it home without even a scare.

They walked along the road, waiting to see their well-worn path as the heaviness of their body grew with walking uphill. Using magic like this weighed on the body and the soul with however much the individual was carrying. They reached up, pulling down the clasp to their cloak to reveal the eye of ender to the world. As much as they didn't want to rely on its power, it was the only way they would confidently make it home. Grasping the warm object tight, it pulsed with magic beneath their fingers as if it were alive, they sent their mana into the eye to mix and grant them a magic boost. They knew quite well the item was evil and no good to toy with, what else should one do when it's bound to them for life? With a soft purple glow to their eyes now, their body felt lighter and the strain to keep their goodies in a personal pocket in the dimension lifted almost completely. They shook off their bits of anxiety with the gain of power and picked up the pace to get home as small flurries were filling the air around them.

The walk back home was fast and they were beyond relieved upon opening the door and feeling the hug of the warm cottage and a string of excited meows when their familiar raced to greet them.

“Hey Poppy, miss me?” They stroked the cat before kneeling on the ground to perform the same technique of magic for consuming the sacks to spit them back out onto the ground in front of them and hummed a soft tune while they went through the goodies and put them in their respected places around the three stories of the home. Before they noticed it, the world outside had grown dark and they lit the lanterns around the house and peered through a window to see the snow blowing strongly and the wind howling, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to see the sunset. This was turning out to be a real blizzard, they did a silent prayer that it wouldn’t last long.

Just as Y/n was trying to put the last of the sugar away there was a heavy thump on the door followed by a hurried couple of knocks of which were all inconsistent but did the job of grabbing their attention. They fumbled with the sugar but safely put it down before hurrying to the door, their fast movements spooked the cat and caused her to scramble away to go hide.

Once getting the locks undone they opened up the door to see four individuals standing there, waiting. Two of the larger individuals there stood on the sides to frame the group in a way. The one on the left most who had shoulder-length pink hair and noticeable tusks sticking out from his bottom lip and inhuman down pointed ears, was using his large, red cloak to hold a blond boy who was about to his shoulder, against him and shield him from the snow. The two both had on heavy armor, though, the blond’s armor was a bit more leather than metal. On the other end stood a taller man with brown hair who also was in armor and was hunched over to be able to get covered by a large dark grey wing that held him. Said wings belonging to a man who was shorter than the brunette and had on expensive-looking mage robes and messy blond hair. The winged man looked to Y/n in desperation as he began to speak.

“Please let us stay for the night. We will leave as the sun rises, please just-”

“Stop talking- just come in. Hurry! It’s got to be below zero out there.” Y/n hurriedly ushered the bunch inside as they held the door open for them.

The burly pink-haired man was the first to make a move as he pushed the blond boy off of him and through the doorway and was already reaching over to push the brown-haired man next. He made sure the winged individual made his way in before going in. He looked at Y/n who was still holding the door and adjusted his jaw, a nervous habit it seemed, eyes darting around a bit before he returned his eyes to them and gave a nod of appreciation.

Y/n barley was able to get the door closed after him before they turned around and was assaulted with a hug from the winged man, he was incredibly cold. They hugged the man back, rubbing his back a little as he said many soft thank yous to them, though they watched the other three who stood close and looked around at the bottom portion of their home. The blond boy hugged himself close, shivering and the brunette rubbed his back as he looked around.

They hope they wouldn’t regret not thinking it through before letting a bunch of strange people into their home.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for this. We would have died out there.” The man said as he finally let go of Y/n and studied their face for a moment, looking for words it seemed. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Phil and the big guy back there is Technoblade. The lanky one is Wilbur and the blond one between them is Tommy. They are my sons.”

Y/n watched them as Phil introduced them, each of them giving them some sort of little greeting when they were called. Whether it was a head nod or a little wave or a smile. They seemed nice.

“One hell of a family..” Y/n mumbled which Phil seemed quite funny and even Wilbur chuckled a bit.

“Oh yeah, but they are my boys.” He said while looking at the three with fondness.

The sweet moment was caught a little short when Technoblade crossed his arms, his body language screaming distrust. He looked down at Y/n and sized them up as he grumbled out a question that sounded more like a command. “What is your name. Who are you.”

“Techno- for god’s sake be a little nicer could ya? Bloody hell, they just saved us.” Wilbur retorted and Technoblade huffed a little growl and looked away. Wilbur gave a short and annoyed sigh, looking back at Y/n as he pulled his hand away from Tommy and instead rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. It wasn’t meant to be seen as a threat, but the gesture did make Y/n a bit uneasy as they shuffled back a tad. Instead, he just spoke kindly with an inviting hand gesture.

“What is your name?” He stated and he and Phil looked at them expectantly.

They hesitated for a moment with the eyes on them and cleared their throat, standing taller. “My name is Y/n... it’s nice to meet all of you.” They thought for a moment about what they should say to these people who stood awkwardly, warming up from the cold. “How about I uh… go get some blankets for you all. Blankets and I’ll set up my two spare rooms.” They added as more of a side note to themselves than the group and hurried up the stairs to get things together. 

This was going to be a long night. They can only hope the snow stops soon.

[Chapter Two]

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[ikeromantic]

Middle Ground

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2200 words. This scene occurs well after the events of the romantic epilogue. Fluff.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Bonding

“So . . . separate beds?” Mitsuhide’s wry smile was only a little bitter.

“Yes. I know it’s silly. I’d . . . I’d rather be in there with you.” The chatelaine, soon to be Lady Akechi, looked down, her expression a mixture of shame and defiance.

“It’s fine. I will have you all to myself soon enough. What is a night or two apart?”

She looked up without raising her head, trying to gauge his emotions.

Mitsuhide wasn’t having any of that. He took her chin between his finger and thumb and gently lifted until her gaze met his. “It is fine.” Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. With his lips almost close enough to touch her skin, he added. “Are you so eager to be in my arms again? Do you want to . . . test out the guest room? Or your childhood bed?”

He had the intended effect. She shivered and licked her lips. “You are so bad!”

“You are the one protesting our brief separation.” Mitsuhide pressed another kiss to her cheek and leaned back.

She crossed her arms. “You’re right. It’s just a few nights. But when we get back to the city -” a wicked smile turned her lips up at the corners, promising all sorts of fun.

“So forward, my little mouse. So eager. You make me wish we were home already.”

“That’s the idea.” She turned and threw him a saucy look. “Something to dream about.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “Good night, little one.” Something to dream about indeed. He watched her hips as she walked down the hall, until she turned into her room and shut the door. She really had no idea what impact she had on him. He wondered if it was his practiced art of hiding his true emotion, or simply that she couldn’t see how beautiful she was. How desirable.

He went into the room and shut the door. It was so strange. The electronic hum of household devices. The cold fluorescent light from the street lamps in his window. Distant traffic sounds blending with barking dogs and strains of music. Mitsuhide felt suddenly very alone and very out of place.

Despite his refusal, the thought of spending one night, much less three, without his little one, felt impossible. A burden too heavy for him to bear. He needed to feel her in his arms, to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart. Her warmth grounded him in this strange place.

Mitsuhide gave a dry, soundless laugh. Who was the little mouse now?

Slowly, meditatively, he dressed for bed and lay down. He would embrace this world, different as it was from his own. He had to, because it was the one that gave birth to his beloved. And so, listening to the heartbeat of this small town, the viscous thrum of modern life, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Miyake and Sasuke arrived the following day at lunch. They met up at a local restaurant. Youko was friends with the owner and able to borrow a few tables in the back for privacy.

Minoru, the chatelaine’s often grumpy father, seemed to be on his best behavior. Not smiling, but distantly polite to the two newcomers. He thawed a little when his daughter threw her arms around each of the men in greeting.

No one said much as they ate. Youko and Minoru sat beside their daughter on one side of the table, glancing up at her strange friends. Sasuke, Mitsuhide and Miyake sat across from them, looking nervous.

It was Sasuke who finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat. “I understand your daughter told you about our time in the Sengoku. Understandably, you want proof. You have questions. We are here to give you what evidence we can.”

Minoru snorted. “What do you get out of this charade?” He gestured to Mitsuhide. “Is he paying you?”

Miyake looked as if he wanted to speak up, but Sasuke beat him to it. “No. I am here because your daughter is my friend.” He reached into his bag. “I know it isn’t much, but I brought my ninja kit as proof. These - these are smoke pellets. And that is a kunai. This is a sleeping poison, and this -” he went through the items, explaining what they were and how he made them. Detailed descriptions of the tools and materials he had available.

When Sasuke finished, Minoru looked thoughtful.

Youko smiled across as Sasuke. “You seem a very resourceful young man. And you are also the one that discovered these wormholes?”

“Yes ma’am.” Sasuke dipped his head, embarrassed by the compliment.

“It could just be you have a - a fascination with this stuff. Read a lot. Saw some movies,” Minoru said. His gruff voice held more than a hint of doubt. Even he didn’t buy his own explanation.

Sasuke nodded. “I could have. But even that would not yield the encyclopedic knowledge I’ve developed. I would go into greater detail, but I imagine you don’t have the underlying historical education to make use of most of the information I could provide. Unless . . . Are you a history buff?” His voice sounded different at the end, as if this question was important. Light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes. The air around him was charged, almost crackling with a sudden and unexpected energy.

“No. I can’t say I am,” Minoru replied.

“Hm, too bad.” The strange tension in the ninja disappeared as suddenly as it came.

Mitsuhide nudged Miyake. The warrior muttered something under his breath and then rolled his shoulders. “Alright, old man. I don’t blame you for doubting us. I’d think I was crazy too, or lying. But what Lady Akechi told you is true. She’s been living with my lord for the last few months. And it’s a good thing too. He smiles a lot more now. Eats too, and sleeps almost like a human.”

“Miyake,” Mitsuhide growled. “That’s not the kind of evidence they need to hear.”

“Sorry, but it’s the truth. And if you don’t mind me saying, well, even if you do, your daughter makes for one hell of a princess. She makes the servants happy to do a good job because she notices the little things. And the guards . . . they’d all die for her, and not just because Lord Akechi demands it. She’s kind and good to all of us. I don’t get to spend time at the castle, but I hear how she remembers birthdays and congratulates newlyweds and -”

Youko laughed, a sound Mitsuhide recognized. Much like his own little one, but matured. More elegance with just the same amount of joy. “It sounds like you have a following,” she smiled at her daughter.

The chatelaine blushed. “I really don’t. He’s exaggerating, mom. Really.”

“He is not,” Mitsuhide chided. “Though I don’t think that’s the kind of proof her father -”

Minoru interrupted, his gruff voice quieting the table. “It’s clear you’ve gotten to know her. My little girl.” He gave her a brief smile. “I am still . . . it’s a lot to take in. This wild story. But she stands by it and there is clearly - something true in it.”

His daughter hugged him. “I knew you’d come around, papa.”

He dislodged himself from her unexpected embrace. “I didn’t say I’m buying the whole story. Just,” he waved his hand, “some of it rings true.”

The tension at their table eased, and conversation began to flow more naturally. Youko and Minoru had a lot of questions, and were finally ready to hear the answers.

***

Kyubei followed Ranmaru through the thick forest undergrowth, barely able to make out the dirt path he led them down. This was supposed to lead to a safe house, one that Kennyo agreed to meet him in. He wished the demon-abbot had a taste for teahouses instead of abandoned forest shacks, but it could be worse.

He could be with Hideyoshi, hunting Motonari across the ports. Kyubei wasn’t afraid of pirates, but being on a boat . . . the constant roll of the ocean waves made him sick as a dog. No matter how many trips he made, he never gained any kind of tolerance for the motion. So this, the dirt and the bugs and the thick air under the trees, was a better deal all around.

“This is it.” Ranmaru stopped just before the path opened on a small clearing. There was a half-rotted shack ahead, once a shrine to some local deity, now fallen into disrepair.

Kyubei was surprised to see he wasn't’ the only one here to speak to the monk. Another familiar figure sat on the wooden steps outside the shrine. “Shingen?”

Takeda grinned up at him, pushing a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. “If it isn’t Mitsuhide’s maid!” He laughed. “Kidding, kidding! I just expected to see the kitsune out here himself.”

“He is otherwise engaged.”

“Is he?” Shingen’s smile was dangerous now. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with our missing ninja, would it?”

“If it does, I’ll send him your head,” Yukimura spoke up from somewhere to Kyubei’s left.

Ranmaru put his hands up, laughing as if this were all so silly. “It’s too early for threats. Come on! Let’s make some tea and relax. The abbot will be here shortly.”

Kyubei turned his head a fraction, just enough to see Yukimura lower his spear. “Tea would be good.” He ignored the younger warrior’s scowl as he followed Ranmaru to the shrine.

He didn’t sit, but stood near Takeda, resting his back against a tree.

Shingen, for his part, pretended to be fully relaxed. It wasn’t quite effective though. His brow held a waxy sheen, his eyes looked sunken and fevered. Worse, his breathing was labored. A rasp, harsh as a winter cough.

Kyubei watched him carefully. This was a bad situation. A dying man had fewer qualms than one that had to live with his decisions. He hadn’t realized Takeda was so bad off though, despite the reports he’d received. The Tiger of the Kai was legend. Not a man to be taken down by sickness. And yet.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Yukimura snapped, coming to stand beside his lord.

Shingen chuckled. “So protective, Yuki.” His laugh turned into a thick, unproductive cough. When he finally got control of himself, he directed his attention to Kyubei. “So. Where did your lord and my ninja go off to? And don’t tell me you don’t know. There’s too much tying their disappearance together. I’d rather not have to kill you today for lying to me.”

Another situation he wished he had his lord’s guidance. What information was safe to pass along, and what plans would the ripples of this conversation affect? Kyubei swallowed. “I suspect they have gone to visit the chatelaine’s home. 500 years in the future.”

Shingen nodded as if this was the answer he expected. “Sasuke asked me if I’d like to visit his hometown. He said - he said they could cure me.”

“And then he left without you.” Yukimura punched the shrine wall, causing the whole building to tremble.

Ranmaru poked his head out. “Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the whole thing down on my head!”

“Sorry,” Yukimura growled.

“If it is any consolation, I don’t believe Lord Akechi or Sarutobi left when they did intentionally. The information my lord left indicates the trip was meant to take place later. He was still . . . putting things in place for his extended absence.”

“That’s bull,” Yukimura grumbled, but he relaxed his grip on the spear.

They had no more time to talk it over as Kennyo’s shadow fell across the clearing. He came out of the trees like a spirit, the rings on his staff clinking. “It appears you found me. Again.”

Shingen grinned. “Well, old friend, I did have to hunt through every abandoned shrine in the province to get to this one.”

Kennyo snorted in disbelief.

“Ranmaru brought me,” Kyubei bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“I have little time or patience for guests. Tell me what you want.” Kennyo crossed his arms.

“Your help with the false emperor.” Kyubei didn’t look up from his bow. “We both know Ashikaga is dead. The scribe we set up in his place, or the men around him, have gone astray.”

“I could care less. Let the exiled shogun harass the devil-king. Nobunaga and his pawns can go to hell.” Kennyo’s eyes were dark and full of anger. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.

Shingen shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I hate him too. But it’s not just him getting hit. These idiot daimyos in his retinue are conscripting farmers. Villagers. Innocent folk that should be left out of a power grab.”

The demon abbot’s eyes fell on his old friend. “And you believe this is a worse fate than what the Oda have in store for them?”

“I do.” Shingen’s gaze didn’t waver.

Kennyo’s shoulders shook and it took Kyubei a moment to realize the abbot was laughing. He shook his head. “You always were a fool, Shingen. But fine. I will tell you what I know. I don’t think you can stop what has been set in motion.”

Next: Double Dating

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 1: Donald

[ao3 link]

She was nobody’s aunt.

Well, maybe she was once, but she’d lost touch with her family decades earlier and they were long dead by the time she arrived at this new, unfounded dilemma.

When she’d first come across her rival-with-benefits carrying around two little kids, her initial reaction was a twinge of angry jealousy. Maybe they weren’t exclusive but come on! Kids? A family? Seriously? Then it hit her that these kids were at least eleven or twelve (or eight or sixteen, who knew how kids aged) and she’d last visited Scrooge just a few years prior. So the jealousy dissipated and was replaced with pure confusion.

“They’re Hortense’s kids,” he’d said succinctly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. They didn’t look that much like Hortense, though Goldie had only met the woman once.

“So what is this, then? Babysitting?”

Scrooge laughed in a way that pissed her off the tiniest bit. “No, no. Hortense and her husband just decided to take a wee trip for themselves is all.”

“...so you’re babysitting,” she’d said with a hand on her hip. Why couldn’t he just answer her questions with a yes or a no? She didn’t need all the extra details. Him blabbing on with unnecessary detail was the whole reason she knew more about his family than she did her own.

“Ack, call it what you will!”

The 1990s was an odd decade for her. Just a few years earlier, Scrooge had personally invited her to his home for the very first time and she thought something was going to come of that. Of course, nothing did. Then he started bringing children with him on his adventures, the adventures she used to tag along on - out of all his attempts over the years, it was the most effective way to keep her from following him. She didn’t want to hang out with kids, lower their excursions to a PG-rating and split treasure four ways instead of two.

Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and she did find herself spending time with the twins every now and again. They didn’t seem to understand her any better than their uncle did, and she didn’t understand them at all. They were loud and rambunctious and very different from one another and very different from Scrooge. Della was overly enthusiastic and kept trying to jump headfirst into danger. Donald clearly didn’t want to be out and about - Goldie had the distinct feeling he just wanted to sit in his room and play guitar. She liked that he had an appreciation for music.

He also seemed to appreciate having another adult around on dangerous adventures, what with the way he’d grab her arm or try to hide behind her when things got tough. Goldie found it very, very annoying, but it’d be even more annoying to shove him away and deal with that aftermath. So on a particular adventure in the Middle East - one where she’d legitimately accidentally come across Scrooge and his family while she was hunting the same treasure - she let him grab while Scrooge and Della forged ahead and ignored the boy’s discomfort.

She watched Scrooge talking so animatedly with the young girl and felt her own discomfort creeping in. She'd only just started to accept the fact that he was turning into a family man. But there were some obvious concerns with that realization. Particularly the fact that family men didn’t want to spend time with women like her. Family men wanted a wife.

“Miss Goldie?”

She looked down at the boy who’d finally let go of her arm, but was awkwardly trying to walk at the exact same speed as her while trying to look casual about it. “Hm?”

“Are you gonna come back to the manor with us this time?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Um...probably not.”

“Why not?”

“...why would I?”

Donald frowned. “Uncle Scrooge always gets sad when you leave. Didn’t he ask you to come over?”

“Oh, please. Scrooge would never purposefully invite me into his home.” She didn’t count the Christmas party. She let her expectations get ahead of her that night when he was just inviting everyone he knew and didn’t want to exclude her. It didn’t count.

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll steal stuff?”

“Seems like a good enough reason to me.” She shrugged and stared at the back of Scrooge’s head. “He’s pretty protective of all his priceless junk, you know.”

The kid stayed silent for a few moments and Goldie thought she was in the clear from this odd little conversation, but then he was back with more. “It’s just kinda weird.”

“...hm?” she mumbled while taking a drink from the canteen she’d stolen from Scrooge two decades earlier.

“I mean, like...you’re basically our aunt, right?”

What a waste of water. Goldie’s nice, clean water that she’d collected for herself before this adventure started, and now it’d been dramatically spit all over the ground, almost hitting Scrooge and his niece. But in her defense, there was no way in the world she could’ve seen that question coming. None. Nada. Zip.

Donald looked exceptionally concerned as she coughed and sputtered and slammed her fist against her chest a few times. Scrooge and Della even turned to see what was going on.

Goldie just shook her head at them and Scrooge immediately turned back around while Della gave the older woman a suspicious glare before joining him.

As soon as her voice came back to her, she pointed an aggressive finger in Donald’s face. “I am absolutely not your aunt, not even close, not even a little bit. Never,” she said quietly but angrily, not wanting Scrooge to hear this embarrassing conversation. “I am just some lady you know that likes to piss off your uncle, got it?”

Donald made a face that said the-lady-doth-protest-too-much but shrugged and went back to being silent. They still had another mile to walk through this forest before they reached the supposed location of the Temple of Nanna, which Della was particularly excited about because why wouldn’t she be? She wasn’t afraid of all the snakes they’d seen and she didn’t wonder if there were any apex predators waiting to eat them and she wasn’t paranoid about falling off a ledge and respawning back at the beginning again. Er, well. Yeah.

He shook his head and looked up at Goldie. She didn’t seem afraid of any of that stuff, either. Why did TV shows always make girls seem so frail and scared when every girl he knew was tougher and braver than him? It seemed kind of unfair. But maybe their family was just weird.

Goldie caught him staring at her and glared as if she was about to yell at him about mentally referring to her as family. He turned his attention forward to stare at the back of Della’s head instead. Then he turned to look at Uncle Scrooge, who was talking about the god of the ziggurat they were going to and how he impacted the people who used to live there.

He peeked up at Goldie again and noticed her staring at Scrooge and looking...weirdly sad. Like she was bored and didn’t expect to be. He considered saying something to her when he heard a hissing sound to his left and immediately screeched and jumped up, wrapping his arms around Goldie’s neck.

“AUNT GOLDIE HELP MEEEEEE!”

On reflex, Goldie did hold onto the kid and kick the tiny little baby snake away from them, but she looked very pissed off.

Scrooge and Della stared at them and Scrooge was blushing quite a bit while Donald’s words processed in his head. “...Aunt?”

“What did I just say?!” Goldie angry-whispered at the boy in her arms.

Donald’s eyes watered and he frowned. “I-I’m sorry, I just got really scared, and-”

As he spoke, Goldie accidentally looked up and made eye contact with Scrooge, who looked somewhere between excited and flattered and confused and maybe even a bit disturbed. His look made her heart do a backflip and she felt her brain deflate as she tried to think of what to say or do next. Aunt, wife, family...it was a bit too much for her. She tugged Donald’s arms off of her and roughly threw him at Scrooge, who caught him with relative ease.

“I’m done with this,” Goldie muttered in annoyance. She could see Scrooge was about to comment and ask what she meant by that, but then she quickly zipped past him in the direction of the temple, tired of going slow so the kids could keep up. She wasn’t in the mood for family-friendly adventures and she was barely in the mood for Scrooge-friendly adventures anymore.

Scrooge scoffed as she ran on ahead. “Goldie you no-good, greedy-!!!” he shouted, shaking a fist as he put Donald back down. “Ack, I’m sorry, kids. I thought she and I were in a good place right now, but it seems I misjudged.”

“She always does this, Uncle Scrooge!” Della crossed her arms over her chest. “I just don’t get why you let her come along!”

He chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “Ah...it’s hard to explain. We have a lot of history.” Scrooge glanced at Donald, who looked uncomfortably sad. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he blamed himself for Goldie leaving them. He put a hand on the boy’s head and hoped it was at least a little comforting. “She always finds a reason to leave me behind, but I’m glad I’ve got you two with me this time!”

Della rolled her eyes and Donald just shrugged. Scrooge had a feeling they needed a distraction, since they were bound to run into Goldie again when they reached the temple. “Let me just grab the map and we’ll continue on our way……………..”

Scrooge patted at his pocket that he knew the map was in. Then he patted at his other pockets. Then he took off his hat and reached into it, checking the many pockets in there. Empty. Which could only mean one thing...

“GOLDIE!!!!” he shouted suddenly, scaring the twins and making animals scatter away from them.

Goldie, sweaty and out-of-breath and just a few feet from the temple entrance, smirked at the sound of Scrooge’s scream. She pulled out the map and looked up to make sure she was using the right entrance to avoid booby traps. She almost laughed at the thought of Scrooge having to navigate his way through spikes and arrows.

Then she thought about Donald’s stupid little face and the way he looked at her when he called her aunt and she felt an angry betraying twinge in her heart. She sighed in frustration before grabbing a knife out of her pocket and carving a checkmark into the entranceway that she knew was safe. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that Scrooge was dragging him on dangerous adventures. She’d be nice. Just this once.

[novaiya]

Birthday Girl - Micah x Reader

Summary: Under the moonlight, hidden from the prying eyes by the forest trees, Micah gives you your birthday gift. What is it?

Words: 933

Warnings: None. 

Although today was your birthday, it felt like any other day; you drank the morning coffee among the ladies, did your daily chores, and hunted a deer for Pearson. 

Being that today was your birthday, Miss Grimshaw let you take the rest of the day off. You couldn’t contain your happiness and leaped at the woman, engulfing her in a hug.

“Okay there, dear,” she said as she patted your back. “But tomorrow you’re right back to work, no slacking.”

You decided to spend the rest of the day doing the things that you haven’t had the time for in a while. You drew a little in your journal, took a nap in the shade by the trees and even practiced playing guitar, something you haven’t done in a while.

By the time the night rolled around, there was festivity in the air. Sean and Bill brought a few boxes of whiskey and beer, and Dutch announced that the night was to be spent in celebration of you. Javier brought out his guitar, and everyone fell into song after song, their voices echoing through the bushy woods. Drinks flew freely, and the spirits were high. Even Dutch and Molly joined for one of the songs.

After a while, you went for a walk through the woods. You loved the atmosphere, but you felt the need to recharge for a moment before going back. You could still faintly hear Uncle’s voice singing “Ring-Dang-Do” but it mostly gave away to the sound of birds singing on the trees, and the wind howling.

“Missing the party?”

You turned around trying to see who was talking. After looking around, you saw Micah, leaning against a tree, light from the moon the only thing illuminating his features.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Crowds are not really my thing,” he said from the brim of his hat.

“Likewise,” you said, coming closer and standing next to him, looking out into the distance. “I enjoy the festivities once in a while, just not for a prolonged period of time.”

Micah hummed at your answer, before silence fell over the two of you. If it was anyone else, the silence might’ve been awkward, but you didn’t feel so when it was with Micah. There was something about this man that didn’t make you feel like you needed to fill each and every silent moment. With him, you could be quiet, let the air between the two of you do the talking.

“I, uh, got something for you,” he said as he shuffled a bit, taking something out of his pocket.

You cocked your head at him, trying to see what he was doing. 

“Here,” he said, as he handed you a knife.

You took the knife from his hand, examining it under the moonlight. The silver blade shined brightly in the darkness, so bright you could see your own reflection in it. Along the blade, you saw an engraving. It was a mix of patterns and spiral motifs, some resembling flowers and leaves and others simply winding around.

You couldn’t contain a huge smile on your face as you looked over the knife, studying it from every corner, as much as the moon light allowed.

“Don’t get mushy about it,” Micah said. “I just had it laying around and thought it might be of more use to you.”

You knew he was lying. Being that you handled everyone’s laundry and cleaned everyone’s weapons, Micah’s included, you knew what he did and didn’t have, and he didn’t have this knife before.

“Whatever you say, Micah,” you said, putting the knife away in one of your holsters. “Thank you, really.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

His breath caught in his throat when he felt your hand on his check, turning his face to you. You waited a second, giving him an opportunity to push you away. When he didn’t, you moved closer, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was slow, sensual, something that you never imagined you’d share with Micah, who was anything but slow and sensual. His hands found your hips, pushing you against the tree that he was leaning not a moment ago. You pushed his hat off of his head, waving your fingers through his hair and bringing him closer. 

You could feel his facial hair tickling your skin. You didn’t mind, all your attention was on the kiss and nothing else. Everything faded into the background noise; the sound of the guitar, Sean and Uncle’s voices singing yet another song, the sound of bottles clacking. All of it disappeared as you melted into the kiss, your lips moving against his, your hands in his hair.

When the need for air became stronger than the need for Micah, you broke away, panting slightly. Micah’s face was flushed a little, and his lips were wet with your combined spit. You figured you were in the same state. 

Gradually, your senses were returning, and you once again became aware of the party that was happening in your honor. You should probably go back before people went looking for you, you thought.

You slid your hand down from Micah’s hair and to his cheek, running soft circles with your thumb. 

“Go back with me,” you said, motioning with your head toward the party in the distance. 

Micah looked at where the celebration was happening. As he said previously, he wasn’t a fan of big gatherings, but if it meant so much to you, maybe he could stomach it for a few hours.

“Whatever you want, birthday girl.”

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Chance

A/N: Well, I have officially joined the club of writers who have a list of WIPs and still start ANOTHER ONE. Oh well. This brought me SO MUCH happiness and comfort and tinglies because of all the fluffuty fluff and that’s what matters. Sometimes you just gotta take a villain and make him soft for ONE (1) person. This may or may not continue. ;) Also I drew him because it makes me happy to make him sweet. With his little flowers!!!

Pairing: Gaston x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,181

Warnings: harassment, alcohol (but no excessive drinking), minor injuries, a helluva lot of (what could be called) misogyny that gets turned on its tail, therefore fluff ensues

Summary: After a heroic act, Gaston confronts you.

Working in the tavern wasn’t that bad. Your family didn’t have a fortune, or even a farm to their name, so you took up a tray and an apron as soon as you were of age. In the early years of your career you mastered the important skills with speed and accuracy. Recently, however, you also learned to keep your business out of the villagers’ mouths and your skirts out of the customers’ grubby hands. 

Well, you did your best, anyway.

Most of the tavern’s patrons were men and most of the men were nice to you. Some were even generous with their tips. You knew who preferred ales over lagers and how long you could refill mugs before you had to push a bowl of pretzels or a plate of bread on the table. Out of respect for you, most brawls were even taken outside. After all, you had the power to sneak free rounds or spit in their brewskies- it was really up the customers which they received.

There was one, however, who was always honored with preferential treatment. Gaston came to the tavern often, almost every evening, to be fawned over by ladies and men alike. You’d heard rumors of maidens losing their titles to him and husbands losing their wives. From the way Gaston stalked around the bar, laying a hand on every shoulder he passed, you didn’t doubt the gossip. Still, he was admired by all. He never bought a drink himself, his looming, cushioned seat by the fireplace was always empty, and every trap shut when he told one of his hunting tales. His entertainment was the reason you had customers. If he wasn’t your first priority at all times, you’d be out of a job faster than Gaston could knock a bull unconscious with his bare hands.

Which is why you delivered a second beer to his table just as he sipped the last swig of his first. He hadn’t waved, hadn’t even looked at you, and when you took his empty glass and left him with the fresh one, he didn’t thank you. He always ignored you.

Once that was done and you knew all your patrons were happy, you slipped behind the bar to clean some of the empty glasses. It was better to do some now, rather than have to stay late into the night to finish them all. You’d learned that lesson the hard way in the past.

With one bucket filled with hot soapy suds and the other with clean water, you twisted the glasses around the standing scrubber, before dipping each twice and placing it on the flat counter beneath the bar. There was real scrubbing to be done on some of them, so you leaned down and dug into your work until you heard a disturbing hum come from the other side of the bar. 

       “Can I help you, Tom?” you asked, dipping the glass in the steaming water, then the cold, before tipping it upside down in its place. It was hard to miss the lewd pair of eyes staring at your chest as you leaned forward.

       “Nah. I have everything I need right… here.” He stuck a finger down your dress and pulled your shoulders over the bar.

You slapped him hard across the face, sending him reeling backwards into the stools behind him. Unfortunately, he caught his balance before he fell flat on his rump. He flew back at you, dirty nails reaching for your neck, but you had the bucket of hot, sudsy water close at hand. As soon as his head came into your space you dumped it all over him, making his curse and cry out before the whole tavern.

       “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” you asked the drenched man.

Before he could snarl his answer, the bartender dragged you away by the elbow. You eyed Tom with gritted teeth until you landed in front of the kitchen door.

       “(Y/N)! What have I told you time and again?” the bartender asked, voice low for your ears only. “Hm? Anyone bothers you, you come and get me.”

       “So you can give the man a free beer?” you asked.

That earned you a good shove and a growl of “Mop that up now.” Towels were thrown your way with little grace and the mop was dropped on the floor as you reached for it. 

A hiss of “Git” slithered through the air and you couldn’t get away fast enough. 

By the time you returned, Tom had gone and the soapy water had traveled all the way to the middle of the bar until it was stopped with a dam of towels. Stanley had done it, saving you some work. 

       “Did he hurt ya, (Y/N)? Tom?” Stanley asked.

       “No,” you said. You pushed the dam down the bar, sending waves to the other end as if you were Poseidon himself. With a splat it landed on the floor, adding to the puddle you’d have to mop up. “I’m fine.”

Stanley had followed you down the bar like a little sailboat tailing a mighty ship. “He’s gone now anyway. Won’t be coming back.”

       “Why do you say that?”

       “‘Cause Gaston took him outside,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “Roughed him up pretty good. Gaston said Tom got in his way, but I think he didn’t like Tom treatin’ you like that.”

You smiled. Stanley had always been nice to you. He was always patient and tipped you with no hidden goals of his own. 

       “I think I’ve given you too many beers tonight,” you said with a poke. “Gaston doesn’t pay attention to me. I bet he doesn’t even know my name.”

Every head in the tavern swivelled as the front door flung open and Gaston walked inside. His sleeves were rolled up and a sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline. Then a change, a sudden bright smile, and he said, “What’s with you dopes? I’ve been here all night and no one’s even mentioned the new chandelier I had made from my newest prize!”

There was a rush, a cacophony of cheering, praise, and admiration of the tavern’s new decoration. Gaston sauntered over to it, shoulders pulled back and hips rocking, and reached up to caress the smooth antlers that jutted out from the center like rays of the sun. 

       “He put up a fight, but I got him!” he said.

       “Well done, Gaston!”

       “You’re the best hunter in the country!”

       “-In the world!”

You recognized the young woman who’d followed Gaston inside, swooning over him the whole way. She spent her days walking through the hunting shops and taverns with hopes of running into Gaston as if she had nothing else in the world to do other than fall at his feet. Or apparently, sit on his shoulders. She giggled profusely as she pretended to admire the antlers just above her head, but really, she was blushing and wriggling into the large hands squeezing her thighs and bottom.

The praise and hunting stories swirled around you as you mopped up the water on the floor. Gaston had killed the buck with no help, not even from the hounds. He’d found this prey all by himself in the thickest forest around and didn’t miss a single shot. 

Before the end of his story, he knocked the girl from her pedestal and carried her as if she were a sack of flour. She squealed when she fell, which earned her a sharp smack on her bum. 

       “Then I threw the thing over my shoulder and carried it five miles home!” Gaston yelled, circling the tables in the bar with the woman laughing as she swung with his gait. You barely got out of his way as he passed the bar to show all the men the loot strung over his shoulder. 

Though the following uproar of cackles and guffaws was deafening, it was easy for you to ignore everything else that was said. You’d been a server for too long not to have learned to drown out the goons that surrounded you every evening. You wrung out the mop and replaced it in its corner, cleaned and stacked the glasses and mugs at the bar, and collected the empties on the various tables. Before you served anyone else, you brought a fresh mug of ale to Gaston’s chair. He wasn’t yet sitting, but the beer would be there for him when he returned from his own celebratory parade. Before you set the mug down, you wiped the wooden table with a rag from your apron pocket. 

       “(Y/N!)”

You whirled just in time to see Gaston rush from the bar and grab you. His arms wrapped around you, body encasing you almost completely as he pulled you away from his chair. His wide hand on the back of your head encouraged you to hide your face in his chest as he put himself between you and the loud crash that made you jerk in fear.

You hadn’t realized he’d pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck until he pulled away. Still tucked against him, you peeked around his arm to see what had crashed, what he’d save you from.

       “The chandelier!”

       “The chandelier fell.”

       “He saved her.”

You doubt you would have understood what happened if you hadn’t heard the customers’ voices. But it was true. Behind Gaston on the floor was his prized chandelier. It had hurtled to the ground and landed exactly where you had been standing as if you alone were its target. His mug of beer had shattered and spilled across the floor while branches of antlers had skidded below tables at the opposite end of the bar. Even the cushion of Gaston’s chair was pierced with the pointed metal frame of the fixture.

You stood behind Gaston, hiding as if the chandelier had a mind of its own and could plummet to the ground again at any moment. Your only movement was guided by Gaston himself when he put his hand to your cheek and directed your attention to his face, rather than the catastrophe behind him.

       “(Y/N), are you hurt?”

You shook your head. Your fingers tingled as they squeezed his arm, most of which was wrapped around your middle. “I’m fine,” you said, slinking out of his hold. “Are you? Are you all right?”

He smiled. You’d seen him smile before- more of a toothy smirk that etched itself into one of his cheeks. But this was different. It was soft and barely there, but even so, it still reached his eyes like none of his smirks ever had.

       “No buck will ever bring me down. Don’t worry.”

When you chuckled, the round of your cheek pushed a tear from your eye. You weren’t afraid of sleazy customers or wild horses, or even many other things, but this accident had you thoroughly spooked. Over Gaston’s shoulder was the table you were just cleaning, smashed completely by the weight of what was once more than half of the chandelier. It would have easily killed you.

Gaston wiped your tear with his thumb. “Come with me, we’ll get some air.”

       “No.” You straightened your apron. “I’m fine. Someone has to clean this up-”

       “Not you. We’ll take a walk and be back with plenty of time for you to throw hot water in my face if I do something stupid.”

You hummed a warning.

He led you outside with a hand on your back. You didn’t mind it. You were trembling and the touch was calming- even safe- despite your condemning thoughts of the man it belonged to. You took a deep breath of the chill air and when your lungs shook a bit from the shock, he rubbed circles into your bodice. But when you looked at him, his hand disappeared. 

       “You can’t say I don’t bring entertainment with me everywhere I go,” he said with a brow as cocked and pointed as the roof of the tavern.

       “I wish you had kept that show to yourself.”

He stopped in front of you, towering over you. “At least it got your attention.”

       “And almost killed us both.” You ducked around him, but he caught your hand and pulled you back to him.

       “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

You hummed in an attempt to remain unimpressed. He was playing with you as he played with the feelings of every other woman in town. 

His fingers wrapped around your hand, enveloping it as completely as his arms had done to your entire body only a moment ago. He slid his thumb down just enough for his kiss to land on your knuckles before setting his free hand on top, all attention on you. That’s when you saw the beginnings of a purple bruise on the top of his hand.

       “You did get hurt,” you said. “Is this from the chandelier?”

       “No.”

       “But it’s a recent injury.” You leaned away from his arm that had miraculously ended up around your waist again.

       “How do you know so much about silly bruises?”

       “I work in a tavern, remember? I usually bandage a few hands before I even sweep the floors at night.”

His face fell close to yours, his voice low as he said, “Will you take care of me then?”

You whipped your arm at him, smacking his chest with a hard thunk. “Will you stop it? Give it a rest!” As you backed away you felt your frustration rise higher than it ever had because of him. “For a moment I actually thought you might have cared about anything else! My mistake.”

He chased after you, which was something you didn’t expect. Usually he was the one being chased. 

       “I do care!” He blocked the door, back straight and tall against the wood. “Why else would I come to this tavern every night? There are other ones- better ones- just down the street.”

       “Go to one of those, then!”

       “I don’t want to go anywhere else! I want to see you.” His large, hot hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. He was sincere, and even nervous. You could see it all in his face as he spoke to you. “I come to see you. To impress you, keep you safe-”

You shook out of his grasp. He’s lying! He’s playing you! You had to admit, this was a new, and even tempting tactic for him, but none of it is true!

       “(Y/N), please. I don’t know how to talk to you.”

       “Because you never have until today!”

       “Then let me try now.” He stepped toward you as if you were one of his deer that would run away at any moment. When you didn’t move, he took another step and then another until he could take your hand in his and bring it to his chest. “I have feelings for you. For a long time I couldn’t explain it. You’re different than anyone I’ve ever known- anyone I’m used to. You’re smart and you don’t depend on anyone, but you’re still so kind to those who deserve it from you. I’ve accepted that nothing I am or do is important to you- I can’t impress you with my skills or my looks. It doesn’t matter to you. But there are other things I can do for you to make you happy if you’ll let me try.” He tucked his chin to kiss your fingers that lie against the collar of his tunic. “I know you have your own life. I just want to be a part of it.”

His heartbeat vibrated against your hand. You had obviously never spoken much to him before today, but you had also never stood this close to him, had never been touched by him. You didn’t expect his hands to be so gentle or his lips so soft. You also, never in a million years expected these words from him. Yes, you often caught him watching you work, but he’d never blushed or even smiled at you. Meanwhile the other women that fawned over him received constant winks and pinches, praise and coos. Maybe the difference between those treatments meant more than you thought it did.

       “Are you saying that you bring countless women in here to impress me?” you asked, stealing his trademark high brow.

       “I… thought they’d convince you that some part of me was worth chasing.”

The wind blew around, but not between the two of you. A lock of his hair was pushed out of place and into his eyes, but his hands didn’t move from yours, not even a twitch.

       “And tonight with-”

       “The chandelier? I was angry that you would sneak over to my chair while I wasn’t there,” he said with teasing warning and a popped brow. “But when that first chain link cracked right above you, I couldn’t run to you fast enough. I’ve never been so scared in my life and I’ve fought off a grizzly single handed.” 

The glee your smirk brought him was incandescent, but it faded to a warm glow as he continued.

       “And then I held you in my arms and I never wanted to let go.” His free hand snaked around your body and you allowed it.

       “I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me from the chandelier. And as for Tom-”

Gaston snarled. “That spineless pig-”

       “He’s why your hand is cut up.”

       “Don’t tell me he didn’t deserve a beating, (Y/N). That I won’t listen to. No one treats you like that.”

       “Except you.”

He looked at you, jaw set and sharp as stone, brow no longer pointed, but low and determined. “Not me. Not again.”

With tender fingers, you pushed the stray black curl out of his eyes and behind his ear. You didn’t stop yourself from wondering what his hair looked like out of his coiffure- natural and relaxed first thing in the morning.

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, defenses down.

       “This is a Gaston I would like to get to know,” you said to yourself as much as to him.

His eyes flew open, sparkling. “You’ll give me a chance then?”

       “Maybe. If you don’t have any more faulty chandeliers made.”

He laughed from his belly. “No, no more. We’ll just, we’ll walk together again. Tomorrow? Will you take a walk with me?”

       “Yes.”

He kissed your hand again, every knuckle and then some. They were dry, soft and respectful, extremely affectionate. 

       “You won’t regret it,” he said.

He led you back to the tavern door with one arm wrapped tightly and entirely around your waist. Before he could open the door, however, you stopped him.

       “Gaston?” You hand slid up the center of his chest and cupped the nape of his neck so you could pull his face down to you. “Thank you for saving my life.” You kissed his high cheekbone and smiled against his skin when he leaned into your touch.

       “You’re welcome.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Rest assured there is a serious conversation had about how he treats women... there’s no way (Y/N)’s going to put up with any of that shiz! ;)

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 13

Here it is!

"Nice spot, eh?" 

"Yeah, really nice, Uncle Phil." 

Philip had taken his nephew to enjoy some fishing, on a lake. 

"And so far, your mum will have enough to cook for the next few days at least." 

Phil fished his thermos and two cups out of the bag he had brought. He poured some coffee for Mundy and himself.

"Yeah, she'll be happy it's fresh from the lake."

The lake was located at the heart of a forest. Mundy and his uncle had to cross the forest and go quite deep. They passed joggers and dog walkers, families taking a stroll in the sunny and cold November. When they reached the lake, their only company was that of a few other fishermen. 

“Bit cold this time of year, eh?” Phil asked. 

“As cold as autumn for us in Oz.”

“So you’re not that cold, are ya? I don’t want you to catch a cold, then your mum’s gonna tell me off.” Phil chuckled.

“Nah, don’t worry.”

The fishing had been more than successful as Phil had commented, so both uncle and nephew took it easy and just lay on their long chairs.

“D’you know what, son?”

“Mh?”

“I wish I was your age again…”

“Why?”

“Oh, the fun I had when I was young like you…” Phil smiled to himself in nostalgia. “Back in those days, I used to go out quite often with some friends. We’d go around bars and all…”

“Ah, I see.”

“Twas good fun." Phil sipped more of his coffee. "You never go out and have fun with your mates?" 

"Used to." Mundy answered. 

"Don't do it anymore?" 

Mundy shrugged. 

"Don't tell me you think you're too old, eh?" Phil chuckled and Mundy joined him. 

"Nah, I don't know. I just don't see my mates as much as I used to."

"Why?" 

"They've got their lives now with kids and all. Can't really call them for a night out."

"Ah, yeah, right… But you like that kind of things, don't you?"

"What?" Mundy asked. 

"Nightclubs and all the mumbo jumbo you young folks go to in the evenings." 

"Y-yeah, I think so." 

"Tell you what," Phil started and turned to look his nephew in the eye. "Tonight, you get your grilled fish and then you go to town. I'll tell your mum you wanted to see around the city and all. I'm sure you'll have fun." 

Mundy smiled. 

"Thanks, Uncle Phil."

"I'll give you a few addresses. I'm sure you'll meet nice folks your age and all. Ah, remind me to give you the address for the Bull and Horn."

"What's that?"

"It's a pub. You might find a few hunters like you there."

"Oh, really?" 

"Yeah! They've got a hunting club and more than a few enthusiasts. I'm sure you'll make friends there." 

"Ah, right…" Mundy put a hand behind his neck and smiled. "Thanks."

"I get it, y'know? You're not like your Mum and I, old folks. You gotta live, go out and see the sights out there! When was the last time you got out of your desert in Australia, eh?"

"Y-yeah, it's been quite a while."

"A young boy like you, ah… Plus, I've been to the Bull and Horn myself…" Phil started and let his sentence hang in the air. Mundy felt that there was more.

"And?" He asked. 

Phil wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Well, a good few catches there, eh, if you see what I mean…" 

Mundy blushed to his ears. 

"Right…" 

"Yeah. But there's women of your age too, eh! I'm not sendin' my nephew to old folks like me!" Phil laughed and tapped his nephew's shoulder. 

"Yeah, uhm… Thanks, Uncle Phil, but you don't need to.. uh… I mean…"

"Hey, you've been here for a few weeks already. You must be bored out of your mind! No! Don't even worry about your Mum! I'll take care of that! You go and have your fun, yeah?" 

Mundy looked at his uncle. His eyes were shining bright and his smile couldn't be bigger.

"Sure." 

"Attaboy!" 

After they finished with their coffee, both gathered their fishing gear and their generous catch of the day before moving back to Mundy's van. The ride back home was punctuated by Phil's banter, his anecdotes. When they reached home, both went straight to the kitchen. 

"Carrie!"

"Ah! It's you guys! Marty was startin' to worry about you, eh!" Caroline answered as the German Shepherd rose to his feet to greet Philip and Mundy. 

"Marty's been fine, it's you who's worryin'!" Phil answered. "Micky, go ahead and put the box on the table. Have a look inside, Carrie! Guess how many fishes we caught, eh?"

Caroline went to her son and as soon as he put the cold box down, she went to hug him. She gently pulled him down and Mundy bent down to kiss her cheek. 

"Hey, Mum."

"Micky, so… Let me see how much luck you brought to your Uncle…" Caroline went to the cold box and opened it. 

"Oi! As if I couldn't catch any fish on my own!" Phil answered.

"Good God! That's a lot of fish!" Caroline took them in her hand. "And some big ones too, eh?" 

"Yes, Ma'am!" Phil answered proudly, inflating his chest with air. 

"Great job, Micky!” Caroline taunted her brother who put his hands on his hips.

“Oi! I caught some too”

“Good that you taught your uncle, Micky.” She tapped her son’s shoulders and Mundy smiled. “I’ll get busy cleaning them now.”

“Right, right…” Phil chuckled. “Let me help you, Carrie.”

“Nah, you go and get yourself a seat, you’ve moved enough today. Micky, help him do the stretches that the doctor ordered, yeah?”

“Yeah, Mum. Let’s go, Uncle Phil.”

Both men moved to the living-room and Phil put his cane down next to the sofa before he sat down. 

“Can you stretch your leg? Yeah, great, alright, I’ll hold it from here and you do the stretchin’, yeah?” Mundy said and his uncle took a deep breath.

Caroline came to see them a bit later and stopped at the door between the kitchen and the living-room. She smiled, seeing her normally tall son on his knees helping his uncle was both endearing and funny; although she knew that Mundy was very helpful. Even though he was one to disappear to the desert, he would always drop everything and help his parents whenever they needed. 

“How is it going with your leg, Phil?” She finally stepped in and asked. 

“Yeah, better I think. I mean, it hurts a bit less, and after Micky does the stretches and exercises, it tingles for a while, and then it’s better.”

“He likes the massages by the physio best though, eh?” Mundy looked up at his uncle with a smile. 

“Hey, can’t compete with a professional massage, son.”

They all shared a laugh.

“Oh by the way, Carrie,” Phil winked at his nephew. “Tonight, Micky’s gonna go out.”

“Oh? You’re taking him around?” She asked her brother. 

“Nah, he’s goin’ out to, y’know, have fun!”

Mundy blushed and lowered his head back to his uncle’s leg. He wished he could shrink to a mouse. 

“Oh…” Caroline’s surprise was obvious. “Uh, alright…”

Dinner was delicious and the fresh catch of the day made the best impression on all three of them. But as Mundy came closer to finish his dinner, he dreaded the moment that he would have to leave to, well, have fun. 

“So, where will you go tonight, Micky?” Caroline asked. 

“Uhm…”

“He’ll go to a pub I’m recommendin’.” Phil jumped in and answered. "He can even tell them he comes from me, they know me there."

“Oh, whereabouts is that?”

“It’s about a fifteen minute drive.” Phil went on. “They’ve got a huntin’ club there, they do huntin’ like Micky. I’m sure he’ll make friends. And they also have lady hunters, eh?” Phil chuckled and nudged his nephew with his elbow. Mundy turned the same colour as the tomatoes in his plate. 

“I see.” Caroline chuckled. 

“He’s bored, Carrie! The boy is bored! He’s been actin’ like second physio to an old man like me for weeks! He must be bored out of his mind. And he’s not like us, Carrie, eh! He’s young and all! He’s wild! Lives in the desert and all! An adventurer!”

“I-I just hunt, eh?”

Caroline’s eyes went to her son and she read the discomfort painted all across his face and his body. She wanted to save him from what his uncle was creating. 

“Right, Phil, give me your plate.”

“What?”

“Salad.” She answered.

“Carrie, Carrie you know I don’t like those green things. How can we eat somethin’ the cows and all eat, eh? We’re stealin’ their food? Have you thought about that? That’s selfish!”

Obviously, Caroline didn’t listen and proceeded to fill Philip’s plate with the salad she had prepared. After dinner, she found him still stuck to Mundy. 

“Micky?”  

“Yeah?” The Aussie raised his eyes to his mother, at the kitchen door.

“C’mere a minute, I need you.”

Mundy turned to his uncle. 

“Go and see your mum, we’ll talk later.”

“Thanks, Uncle Phil.” The son went to join his mother and left his uncle in front of the television.

As soon as Mundy entered the kitchen, Caroline closed the door. 

“Oh, are you alright, Mum?”

“I was about to ask you the same.” She answered with a gentle chuckle. 

“What? Why?”

“Come on…” She answered while readying a kettle. “Phil’s been pressuring you to go out tonight more than you’ve ever wanted to in your life.”

Mundy sighed. 

“Yeah, well, couldn’t really say no to him, could I?” He admitted with a shy grin. 

“Hey, Micky. You’re a big boy, you do whatever you want." Caroline gave her back to her son to take care of the herbal tea. "So, what would you rather do?" 

"I don't know…" He scratched his head and ruffled his own hair. 

"Tell me." Caroline insisted. 

Mundy took a deep breath. 

"Part of me doesn't wanna go out much, I mean, not to a crowded place. 's too much." 

"But?" Caroline asked, feeling that there was a 'but'. 

"But I… I don't know… if they're hunters too… Maybe I'll find a few mates to get along with?" 

Caroline smiled and poured the tea in two cups before sitting next to her son and handing him one. 

"What's your gut feeling?" She asked. 

"Hm…" He took the cup and nodded in thanks before staring at the tea and the wisps of smoke wreathing above it. "What d'you think I should do?" He asked, raising his eyes to his mother. 

"If I were you, I'd give it a try. If you like it, you can go back from time to time." She took a sip of her tea. "Y'know, your uncle's right. You've come here with me to not let me travel on my own and to help your uncle but you've played nurse long enough. You're young and you should go out and meet people." She smiled at him and he reciprocated. "Who knows," She went on. "You might find a nice sheila who likes huntin' and days out in the desert too, eh?" 

Mundy's smile vanished and he blushed. 

"Y-yeah, maybe, I don't know… I should probably go, it's late…" He pushed the chair back and started springing to his feet.

"Micky." Caroline stopped him with a hand on his own. Mundy looked down at her. "Please." She insisted and he resumed his seat. 

"What?" He asked in a hoarse, thin voice. 

"Tell me." 

"Tell you what?" 

"Why is it that everytime your uncle or I mention a sheila, you run away faster than a hare?" 

Mundy frowned. He stared down at his cup of herbal tea. 

"Is there anythin' you want to tell us?" She asked.

Mundy's thigh started bouncing and his eyes darted left and right. 

"I won't say anythin' to your Dad." She added and gently stroked Mundy's hand with hers. He hunched his back. 

"I-I gotta go. G'night." 

Mundy left and went straight to his van. He didn't know how but he fastened his seatbelt and before he knew it, the van was driving him around.

Caroline was left in the kitchen, her thoughts running wild in her mind. Why would Micky, her Micky, not trust her more? She thought they had walked a mile more in the right direction, that Mundy would open up more? 

Hm. She was missing something, she knew that much. But in the wild, vast range of possibilities, what could it be? Well, let's take the pragmatic approach and see what she knew. 

It had something to do with her son's feelings. Yeah, alright. But then what? Why would he hide like a snail in its shell when she mentioned a loved one? He looked so distraught as well… Why would he be so sad…? 

Oh. Oh, bugger. Of course! 

Caroline's eyes widened and she rushed to Mundy's bedroom. It was empty. 

"Bugger…" 

She went straight to the living-room and opened the front door, looking where the van had been parked. It wasn't there anymore. 

"If you wanna make a draft, you'd better open that window, instead of the door…!" Phil said from the sofa, as he turned to look at his sister.

"Ah, he's gone…" She closed the door and put her hand on her hip. "Well, meetin' someone new at the pub will help." She shrugged and thought to herself that she could wait, because now, she knew what was going on. 

-- The Bull and Horn --

Mundy pushed the door and entered. He went straight to the counter. 

"Oh hey, there. What can I get'cha?" 

"Uh, a beer, whatever you'd recommend." 

"Alright, one beer for the gent over here…!" The bartender got busy and turned back to Mundy in a minute. "Here we go, that's the house's special." 

"Right, thanks." Mundy took a sip not so much to enjoy the drink, but rather to gulp down the discussion he had just had with his mum.

"You're new around here? And why the long face, eh?" 

Mundy raised his eyes to the bartender. 

"Ah, uh, nah, yeah, I'm not from here originally." 

"Funky accent you got, that's not from around these parts or this country at all… Let me guess, English?" 

"Nah, I'm an Aussie." 

"Oh ho, Australian, eh? I know a guy who's originally from there too, Phil. He used to come here from time to time. Nice police officer, great humour too."

"That's… my uncle."

"No way?! You must be Mundy then!" The bartender burst out. 

"Yeah, that's me… I see Uncle Phil's talked about me, eh?" Mundy's lips pursed up in a shy smile.

"He said you were in the business too, eh? Huntin' I mean! That true?" 

"Nah, yeah, I am." Mundy removed his hat and gave a timid nod.

"Good to meet'cha!" The tall and broad shouldered man extended his hand. Mundy shook it and thought he would lose a few fingers…! "Hey, guys! Come round here! This here gent is Phil's nephew, the Aussie hunter!" 

Suddenly, Mundy was surrounded by people who… looked like him! Hats on their head, worn out leather boots and not a care in the world for what fashion was, mullets, long, greasy haired men and even in the dimly lit, cosy atmosphere of the pub, Mundy could see that their skins were tanned by the sun, like him! 

Mundy's eyes opened to his surroundings, the wooden beams, the hunting trophies on the walls, the fireplace that a few sofas circled, in a corner… Of course, the lingering smell of beer, the few hunting rifles hung on the walls, with golden plaques, true beauties of old things. 

The Aussie took a deep breath and smiled. Yeah, for once, he didn't look like the odd one in the crowd. He fit right in. 

"So, Mundy, next round's on me! C'mon, tell us about the game in Australia!" 

Mundy's head swished and swooshed, left and right, he looked at the faces of men and women looking up at him with curiosity, with eagerness even! 

And he started. He explained the kinds of games, the season, the more recent regulations, to protect some beasts, the poachers, the nightmare it had become to own a gun, and how rare good gun shops were. All in all, Mundy's throat went dry and he couldn't believe it! When was the last time he had talked so much that his saliva had vaporised?! And his new friends kept asking him questions, or they sometimes explained to him how different it was there, in New Mexico. 

The chats went on and on, until he found himself around a pool table, sharing a game with a few men. 

"Your turn, Larry." 

"Heh, look at this one, Mark, I'm tellin' you, you'll lose it!" The large man aligned his pool cue with the white ball. He bent over the table and closed one eye to take his aim. 

Clack…!

The white ball knocked the yellow one in a hole straight. It bounced a few times on the edges and finally stopped. 

"Your turn now, Mundy, and I'm sorry to leave it in a tight spot…!" Larry chuckled. 

The white ball had rested near one of the edges of the table. 

"She'll be alright." Mundy smiled and downed more of his beer before leaving his pint on the nearby table and taking the pool cue from Larry's hand. 

"I'd go for the green one." Mark said, and Mundy's eyes shot up to him. They exchanged a smile. 

"Yeah, was thinkin' the same. The blue one's at a tricky angle, but I can probably get the green one." Mundy positioned himself, bending over the table and taking his aim. He raised his eyes for an instant and saw Mark's brown eyes riveted on him. "Ahem…" Mundy frowned and focused on the white ball again. 

Clack…

And the white ball bounced on the edge to meet back with the green one and pushed it straight to the nearest hole, in the corner of the table. It finished rolling right next to the blue one. 

"Not bad, not bad at all, eh?" Larry chuckled. "I'll go get myself another pint. Anyone wants anything?" 

"Nah, thanks." Both Mundy and Mark answered.

"Alright, I'll be right back." And Larry left the table.

"Right, here, Mark." Mundy handed him the pool cue. 

"Thanks, mate?" 

Mundy chuckled. 

"Y'know some Aussie slang?" 

"Barely any." Mark chuckled. "Wish I knew more, I like the accent."

"Can teach you a few things." 

"Good luck, I'm shit at learnin'." 

"That makes us two then." 

Mark must have been around Mundy's age, not more. He was slim and a bit shorter than the Aussie. His blond mullet shone nicely under the lamp over the pool table, and his brown eyes looked… gentle? He had a stubble, the stuff of a few days, like Mundy, maybe even shorter. Being a blonde, it was very light.

"Should I get the blue one, then?" Mark's voice cut Mundy's stare. The American was standing next to the table, tilting his head on one side.

"Think so. If you feel like it, you can try the blue and that red one but you might need to push quite hard." 

"Depends how it bounces off that edge… Hm… Gosh, all this beer's gettin' to me and I'm afraid I can't aim as well as you can, Mundy." Mark chuckled. 

"Well, you can try." 

They exchanged a smile. 

"Right then, I'll bite. Blue and red it is, then…!" Mark bent over the table and took a few seconds to aim. 

Clack…

The white ball pushed the blue one with no problem, it bounced off of the wall and… 

"Fuck, I really thought I'd get it…!" 

"I'm back with more beer, what did I miss?" Larry interrupted. "Did Mundy win already or is your drunk self holding out still, Mark?"

"Well I'll have you know that I'm not losin' yet, old man!" Mark answered. "But you're right, the beers ain't helpin'!" 

They laughed and the stick went to Larry who didn't score anything. 

"Ah ha! You can't aim for shit anymore either, Larry!" Mark mocked and laughed. 

"It's just my age catchin' up!" Larry answered. "You'll see when your hair turns white and all!" He turned to Mundy. "Here, your turn." 

"Thanks, mate." 

"What're you thinkin'?" Mark asked. 

"Watch this." Mundy took his aim and struck. The white ball pushed the red, the orange and the purple one. 

"Holy shit, that was amazin'!" Mark exclaimed. "Larry, I think we should quit now, before we lose!"

"Bah, I'll go sit over one of the couches and leave you kids have your fun." Larry took his pint and moved away. 

"Bugger, did I piss him off?" Mundy asked. 

"Nah, don't worry… Martin's just arrived, he's best friends with Larry since before George Washington's time…!"

Mundy chuckled. 

"D'you wanna go on or…?" He asked. 

"I think you won. And I can't see as straight as when I'm sober… Not that I am particularly… Uh…"

"Sober?" Mundy asked. 

"Straight…" Drunk Mark answered and Mundy's eyebrows jumped. "Anyway, sorry, I'm pissed… I should go back home." 

"You want me to drive you back? I'm still alright, haven't drunk half as much as you did." 

"Nah, I ain't that bad, can still drive." 

"Mate, you shouldn't risk it. I've got my van, you'll just have to guide me." Mundy said. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I don't mind." 

"Well, if that's no problem for you…" Mark said. "But I'll owe you one, eh?" 

Mundy smiled. 

"Alright, I'll remember it." 

Both men went to say goodbye to their friends and left. 

"You sure you don't want me to drive you home, Mark?" Larry asked from the sofa. Mundy looked down at Mark. The blonde looked up at Mundy and smiled. 

"Nah, I'll be fine." 

"Right, I see…" Larry answered and nervously chuckled as he shook his head. "You be safe, eh?" 

"Yup!" Mark answered and Mundy blushed. The shorter man's eyes were stuck on him. "Let's go, Mundy." 

They exited the pub and went straight to Mundy's van. 

"Ooh, she looks nice and cosy, eh? Quite old, but man, that's how you know they're friends for life…"

"Yeah, you're right." 

They climbed in, Mundy on the driver's seat and Mark next to him. 

"You have a camper yourself?" 

"Nah, but wish I had… I mean, look, we live in a desert, yeah, and some people don't like it but… C'mon, you gotta admit, it's fuckin' beautiful." Mark said as Mundy started the van and drove away. The Aussie smiled. 

"You're preachin' to the choir. Where I come from, we've got deserts too, a bit more red than here, but deserts still."

"You ever go and sleep there, in the middle of nowhere?" Mark asked. 

"Oh yeah, all the time." Mundy answered and quickly looked at his passenger. They exchanged a smile. 

"Have you seen the stars here at night, in New Mexico?" 

"Once, yeah." Mundy nodded. 

"Wanna go see them again? I know a good spot." 

The grin they shared was more than an answer.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Summary: An ancient game is played in the forest of Asgard by the noblemen. To the winners, go the spoils.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: A Loki one shot I’ve been meaning to write. It’s is vaguely inspired by Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game but obvi I gotta make it kinky. Lol. Thanks for reading <3

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help.

It was one of those cool summer mornings that foretells of autumn. The sun was yet to rise but the sky was woven in a rich blue. The trees clung to the night and loomed over the line of shivering women, scared and shivering in thin shifts.

You were one of the eight. Confused and silent as guards in golden armor watched over you with spear and sword. You wondered how much of a threat you could be; unarmed and exhausted.

They came in the night. Your mother clung to you as the guards tore you from her. Your sister Bera hid in the closet. Your mother could not lose two daughters. You bid her a frantic goodbye as your father held her back.

Your family's name had been drawn for the leikr. Rumours were whispered but they were easy to doubt; easy to dismiss without a royal proclamation. The ancient rite was abolished years ago but the new king brought back many other archaic laws. It seemed this was just another dusty scroll put back on the table.

Many thought Thor was a beacon of light after Odin's death but he quickly crushed the hopes of the people. The poor paid more to the rich and the aristocracy thrived on corruption and greed. The leikr was another of their little games. Another pleasure carried on the backs of peasants.

You crossed your arms and peered down the line of woman. Tilly, the butcher's daughter was there, her golden hair loose down her back. Hildi, a girl you knew from the market, too. Her round green eyes shone with tears. Yrsa, the statuesque redhead, was an only daughter; her parents would be distraught. The other girls you didn't know but they were from the same neighbourhood; the same streets that turned bleak in the eclipse of kings.

Before they led you out before the brush, the riki forest shadowy and ominous behind you, they brought you to the palace. The lower floors where the servants slept and worked. You were stripped of your sandals, if you wore any, and all but your thin sleeping gowns.

None of the woman dared speak, not since you had. A single question, a reasonable "what are you doing?" earned you a gauntlet cross your cheek. You felt the dried blood around the small cut, the swelling of the bruised flesh. The others looked to you when they thought to speak up and quickly forgot their words.

Finally, the dirt stirred and the approach of horses sounded. The voices of men and snorts of horses broke the eerie still of the morning. You shivered in time with the other women. Tilly sniffed and Hildi covered her face.

"Enough," A guard approached Tilly. "The king doesn't want to see your tears." He moved along and ripped Hildi's hands from her face. "Stand straight. When your king arrives, you bow your head and keep quiet."

He shoved Hildi's arm down and stepped back. You watched as the nobles appeared along the wide path. The King's golden hair streamed over his shoulders, the waves soft and thick. His men Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun kept their horses just a foot behind his. They laughed as they led the others into the clearing before the Riki.

The guards stood at alert as Thor drew his horse up and the other men lined up beside him. Volstagg made lewd jokes to Hogun as his eyes devoured the women stood before the trees. Fandral shook his head with a smirk as he passed and brought his steed into order. The other nobles chattered here and there as they followed suit. Many stared overtly at the thinly clad peasants.

Tilly leaned on Yrsa and whispered that she would faint. The redhead nudged the blond onto her feet and warned her to keep in line. You snapped your head forward and lowered it as you recalled the guard’s orders.

You peeked up at the last of the nobles. Lords Broddi, Reinn, and Ornulf leered at the trembling women and Prince Loki brought up the rear with a lazy glance towards the forest. You lowered your eyes and braced yourself for what was to come.

"Ladies," Thor greeted above the din. The men laughed, amused at lowly women receiving such a title from the king. "Welcome to the leikr. Your families have been honoured, chosen by the gods, and yourselves are the anointed."

The words made your blood curdle and you clasped your hands together. You bit down and snarled at the malice hidden behind pretty words. The leikr had long been the terror of wives tales; an ancient barbarism meant for storybooks. Even Odin had decried it.

"Before the day is over, you will be blessed with glorious purpose. To serve your sacred king and his lords, each borne of gods' blood."

You looked up again as the fury seared your veins. You glared at the king and your gaze drifted down the line of smug nobles. Some whispered and pointed to the woman they preferred. At the end of the line, your eyes met with another's.

Loki, to that point disinterested, noticed your silent loathing. His brow arched as he tilted his head and you quickly bowed your chin once more. You peeked over at the other women, cowering on bare feet and prone in barely there linen.

"But first there is the fun part. The selection, the game." Thor carried on. "You will have an hour to yourselves. To run, to hide. Should any remain undiscovered till the next dawn, they shall be allowed back to their former lot. Unchosen and unclaimed, you will not be bound by the law of the leikr."

The men chuckled again. That had never happened. None had yet evaded the leikr.

"Thus, without further ado, I shall appease my men's impatience, and declare the leikr begun." Thor announced. "Your hour commences now."

Silence rose around you. You looked to the other girls as they turned to each other in confusion. You turned back to the men, entertained by the clueless women, and your heart seized. You spun around and raced towards the trees. In a moment, several others followed as you plunged into the depths of the forest. The guffaws and shouts of the men rose and faded behind you.

-

You were lost. Not that it mattered. Perhaps the best thing that could happen was to lose yourself so entirely that none could find you. To perish out here, perhaps was a better fate than to be found.

You heard horses before and quickly charged in the opposite direction. Your stomach plummeted as you ignored the calls of other women when they found themselves sighted. You felt grimy beyond the mud on your feet. This was a self-serving game all around.

Out of breath, you came upon an arm of the river that pooled beneath a great oak. You were thirsty and unconcerned by the water's quality. It looked clear enough. You neared edge and cupped a hand to dip into the depths.

As you sipped from your palm, you heard it. The snap of a twig. Distant but close enough. You blinked and peered around at the wraith-like trees. You heard a hoof and then another. You held in the gasp as you tried to measure the direction of the approach.

You couldn't tell as all noise seemed to surround you. You lowered yourself onto your bottom and eased into the water, careful not to make too much commotion. It was cold against your hot skin and your feet met the silty bottom.

You moved carefully towards the base of the tree, beneath a hole that housed the wild. A bear could sleep there but worse predators chased you. You reached the twisted roots curled beneath the lip of the cave and stepped into the darkness.

You turned and covered your chattering teeth. The hooves grew closer, the twigs snapped, the dirty crunched, the clink of metal sharpened. You waited as you listened to their approach. The sound of boots on the ground as they dismounted.

Whoever it was made careful inspection of the river's edge. The water swirled softly around you and you clung to a gnarled root to keep yourself still. A subtle splash of water as they stooped to drink as you had.

Then, another set of hooves sounded. The panting of a horse as it came upon the shore. "Brother," It must have been Loki as you knew Thor's voice but not his. "Tired already?"

"This is a hunt, you know it is more than just riding around. We must track our game." Thor replied. "Thought I heard something but it must've been a critter."

"Mmm," The second-born hummed.

"I wanted the blond. The one with the teary eyes but Volstagg claimed her before I could."

"Pathetic thing. Not worthy of a king." Loki remarked. "Who do you seek now?"

"The redhead perhaps." Thor answered. "Nice hips. I wouldn't mind a bastard. And you? Have you a fancy for any or do you only come to humour me?"

"This is not my type of game," Loki said. "By rite, I have come along but my preference remains uninspired."

"Oh brother, I know you." Thor returned. "Unlike the others, I saw your pique." Thor grunted as he climbed back on his horse. "That plain one. The angry one. You might just have her because the other men barely noticed the creature."

"They are all the same to me," Loki chuckled. "I think I shall enjoy this little ride through the forest and see if perhaps this year the leikr will see a woman free."

"Mischievous as you are, you cannot lie to me, brother." You listened as the hooves moved slowly through the dirt. "Come on. Follow the river and we will surely stumble upon one soon. The sun grows hot and the air stolid. They will thirst."

“After you,” Loki intoned and you waited for their horses to trot away. The brothers called after each other and you stayed a little longer in the water. Making sure they were truly gone.

When you climbed out, your shift was soaked to your chest and you shivered as you dragged yourself up onto the dirty shore. Streaks of mud lined your nightgown and you crossed your arms as the late afternoon sun slipped through the leaves above and warmed your damp skin.

You began in the direction opposite to where the royal brothers had departed. You climbed up around the great oak and looked off into the untrodden brush behind. Your feet were sore already, scratched and raw from the forest floor. The branches above were thicker and closer together, slowly blotting out the sun the deeper your went.

Ten, maybe twelve feet into the woody umbrage, you heard it. Like a whisper. The subtle whish of fabric around the lithe figure. You turned slowly to face the green eyes as they shone in the dim. You sighed and took a step back as Loki grinned at you.

“My illusions tend to work on the untrained eye, though my brother is just as gullible,” He began. “You couldn’t see me though so how were you to know?”

You continued backward, feeling out each step with your feet. He followed at a similar pace.

“You said you did not like this game,” You said. “So why seek me out?”

“What I say is not always as I feel,” He reached up an unclasped his rich green cloak. “You’re cold. If you come with me, you will be warm. For so long as you wish.”

“I don’t wish it,” You insisted as you continued to walk back into the thickening brush. “I’d rather freeze.”

“Those other men are just lords. I am a prince,” He declared. “Would you rather be used for the night and discarded in the morning. What is left to the leikr woman but a life of whoredom?”

“There are seven other girls.”

“Two. The others were not so clever.” He corrected. “My brother will catch the red head soon enough and the black-haired baker’s daughter isn’t very quick.”

“You could go and let me disappear here. Walk away from the leikr for your boredom---”

“No, I cannot. To be the first to walk away without a prize would be worse than any shame thrust upon me by my brother.” He took a big step and you did too. “Come on, pet,” He held out his cloak. “This needn’t be tedious.”

You stared at him, searching for an ounce of empathy. There was none to be had in his gemlike eyes. You turned and dove into the trees only to be stopped by something quite solid. You looked up as the hands closed around your upper arms and held you in place.

Loki smirked as you glanced over your shoulder at the emptiness behind you. He had his cloak on his shoulders again but his eyes were no longer so hollow. You cringed as you realized his deception. The trickery he was known for. How easy you’d fallen for it.

“I am not of the mood to run after you any longer,” He said. “So come with me timidly or I shall drag you from here kicking and screaming. Your choice will be met with appropriate consequences.”

“Let me go!” You pushed against him. “You monster. You pretend not to be but you are as vile as the rest of them.”

He laughed as you struggled against his unyielding grip. He bent as he slid his hands down your arms and scooped you up over his shoulder in a single motion. You cried out and beat on his back as he carried you back towards the great oak. He was cautious on the decline that led around to the tree and when he came onto even ground, his steps were more swift.

He whistled and the black stallion he rode emerged from the trees, a blade of grass stuck to its lip. He neared the beast and as he rounded it, the beast sniffed your hair and huffed its hot breath down your neck. He chuckled and flipped you up onto your feet. He held your wrist as he stirred with his other hand in his saddlebag. You tried to wrench away from him but only twisted your own arm painfully.

He pulled out a rope and turned you easily and pressed you against the side of the horse. You could smell the stable, the leaves, and sweat of the stallion. He wound the length around your wrists so tightly you were certain your fingers would balloon. He took another and wrapped it around your ankles until you were bound up firmly.

He spun you back to face him and you threatened to topple over. He caught your shoulder and you leaned against the horse. He reached into his bag again as the steed dipped his head to chew on the thin grass.

“Myrkr doesn’t usually like strangers,” He mused as he pulled out a bundle. “Are you hungry?”

You sneered at him and said nothing.

“Well, if you don’t eat now, you’ll not eat for hours to come.” He warned. “So you can sit and let me feed you. A small respite before your duty begins or you can starve and wallow in misery.”

You shrugged and lowered your head. You didn’t care either way. Your appetite wasn’t especially ravenous despite your hours of running. He tucked the bundle under his arm and grabbed your elbow. He led you around the horse as you hopped clumsily. He sat you down in the dirt and unwrapped his fare.

He knelt and watched you, his face foretold of unspoken remarks. He offered you a heel of bread, holding it as you took a bite. Inner musings that irked you more and more. You watched the river just feet away and imagined yourself washing away with the stream. You chewed but didn’t taste the grainy loaf.

“I am most pleased I didn’t pursue that moping mess of a mouse,” He said as he cut a small piece of cheese from the aged chunk. “How interesting you are, pet. Even as you look away, I can feel the loathing.” Your eyes flicked to him as he offered you the cheese. “That won’t last long, I promise.”

-

The other girls were filthier. Evening set as you came upon the clearing. Loki had you across the saddle as he led his stallion from the path. Tilly wept as she sat on the ground. Her face was red with tears and the bright hand mark across her cheek. Each woman was separated from the others, waiting beside the horse of their respective captor.

Yrsa’s dress was torn and exposed her milky breasts. She stood with her eyes to the ground, her wrists in golden cuffs. The king sent lurid glances her way as he japed with his men. They turned as Loki appeared from the trees, his expression blank, his steps even and unhurried. Thor laughed and boomed as his brother approached.

“I knew you would catch her, brother,” He hollered. “Late but not lost.”

“Do not fret for me. We both know you’d not have caught the scarlet haired wench were it not for my sharp eye.” Loki returned.

Thor sighed and turned back to his men. “Well, I declare this leikr foremost a success and secondly, at an end. At least, the game itself. We have some fun ahead of us, don’t we men.”

The lords laughed and you winced. You looked around as best you could at the other woman. They were pulled from their silent surrender back to reality. Some were tied like you, others were too weak to resist, too scared. They were lifted and slung over saddles like you as the men mounted and settled in.

Loki climbed up behind you in kind, shifting you closer to the horse’s shoulders. He waited as the others kicked their steeds into step before he did the same. He kept to the rear, you felt a tickle along your arm. He held the reins with one hand as his other traced between your shoulders and down your spine.

“You see,” He kept his voice low, “It could be worse. The blonde won’t be able to walk tomorrow and when she does, she’ll work the streets where she was raised. The red-haired beauty might warm my brother’s bed for more than a night but only until he finds his next delight.”

You didn’t say a word. Your stomach hurt as you bounced with the movement of the horse. Loki’s fingers played with the dirty fabric along your hip.

“Be good and I’ll not send you to the gutter.” He continued. “You could be a maid, or a cook. If I like you enough...well, we will wait for promises.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Painful because of your position, more so due to your predicament. When at last the palace came into sight and the horses followed the road to the rear gate, the night bloomed completely. The moon shone in a half crescent and winked above you as the horse continued to jostle your body.

There was a flurry as the men entered the courtyard and attendants rushed to aid their returning masters. Loki dropped down with a lingering touch along your side. He handed the reins to a small boy with straw like hair and patted his shoulder. Servants emerged and offered refreshments to the nobles who left their prizes with their steeds.

Each woman was pulled down without grace and rushed in away from the lords. Your binds were left as they were and you hopped behind the rest of them. Inside the palace, it was dark and a scurry of skirts and aprons surrounded you. Your feet were cut loose but your hands left tied.

The parade of dirtied women was led down a flight of stairs and along a lower corridor. At each, a woman was left with a couple servants and closed up behind the dungeon like doors. You were the last, filled with the same panic more overtly displayed by the others. You were herded inside and two servants remained within as the lock was bolted into place.

“Get her in the tub,” The elder of the two commanded the other. “She’s filthy.”

Neither would look at you as they went about their work. The younger loosed your hands and you stood numb. The shock set in, the grim acceptance crawled down your spine. You were undressed roughly as the room blurred and made your head spin.

“The prince has arranged everything. Make her as presentable as you can.” The older servant explained.

“The prince seeks a lover at last and he chooses her?” The other bemoaned.

“Quiet, girl,” The other retorted. “You think he would want for you? Be her a commoner herself, do not envy her lot.”

The other pursed her lips and stayed silent as she shook her head at her companion. You let them lead you to the large metal tub and you stepped into the steamy water. As you lowered yourself, the fog filled your mind and added to the sudden haze. This could not be.

-

When the women finished washing you, they dressed you in a sheer green gown and gold sandals. They styled your hair and powdered your bruised face. Dark liner around your eyes and the rosy lip stain made you feel inhuman.

You weren't you anymore, you thought, you were his.

They placed a black rope over the sultry green attire and the door was unlocked at their tapping. You'd heard other doors before, small voices, frightened and pleading. You gulped down your fear and tried not to shake. You wouldn't go with cowardice but with stubborn defiance. Defy the fates and their efforts to crush you.

A twisted stairwell, hidden behind a small door, wound up and up and up. The higher corridors were brighter, lit by golden lamps, lined in red carpet and intricate tapestry. Empty given the hour but you imagined it bustled with gossip and pretension in daylight's grace.

You were stopped at another door. The older servant knocked and the handle clicked. No answer came and you felt a gentle nudge.

"Go on. He will not wait long." The old maid said. "Best not to test his patience."

You took a breath and reached for the handle. She waited for you to open the door and as you stepped inside she reached to grab the golden handle after you. She waited until you were past the threshold and pulled it shut.

You turned and looked around. Your ears rang in the silence, the closing of the door echoed in your head. It was a receiving chamber, a large desk faced you, a grand chair behind it. Green velvet covered chair and sofa, tables of ebony complimented the rich decorations.

"This way, pet," You looked to Loki as he leaned on the door frame to your left. He wore a pair of black silk pants and nothing more. "Unless you prefer the desk to a bed."

You frowned and hesitated before your body responded. Don't let him see you quake. You neared him and he offered his hand to you. You stared at his palm, his slender fingers, his snare-like hand. You took it without a word.

"You look better," He said. "Not so plain now."

You kept your eyes averted as he led you through the door. You looked at carpet, canopy, and curtain before you dared turn to him. As immaculate as the first room. He released you as he let you precede him. He pulled the door closed after him.

"A drink? Wine?" He ventured. "I could send for ale."

You shook your head and he tutted. He caught your wrist before you could move further from him. He turned you to face him.

"You'll have to use your words. I am still a prince and you are still a peasant. ‘Your grace’ or ‘my prince should do’." He smirked. "I prefer the latter."

"I am not thirsty, my grace," You said.

"Eager?" He teased.

You tried to pull away but he was stronger than he looked. He might be slimmer than his brother but certainly not weaker. He unballed your fist with his other hand and placed it flat against his chest. You felt the muscle and at last let yourself look.

"Remove your robe," He released you and stepped away.

You noticed the way the silk twitched along his crotch. He backed away and sat in a chair by the small round table. He reached for his crystal goblet and drank.

"Your grace."

You pulled loose the belt and the robe fell open. You let it slip down from your shoulders and folded it over your arm.

"On the chair," He arched a brow as he set aside his cup. "I'd like a good look at you."

You draped the robe over the back of the other chair and stepped back. You knew the light from the sconces thinned the material and bared all. You stood before him, stiff as you fought not to quiver.

"Well," He leaned on his elbow. "You look ravishing in green, pet."

Your lips were straight but you forced them apart. "Thank you, your grace."

"Let's work on your obedience." He said. "You can try to hide it but I see that little spark. So let's see how good a pet you can be."

"Your grace."

"I hear it too," He chimed. "Sounds a lot like a curse when you say it."

You cleared your throat and repeated yourself. He chuckled.

"Take the dress off." He ordered. "I want to see all of you."

You gave him his title again and inhaled. You reached to slip the straps from your shoulders. You didn't look at Loki, rather past him. Every inch of flesh bared made it harder not to shudder.

You paused before you let the fabric below your chest and over your stomach. You bent to step out of the skirts and stood with the dress in hand. You relinquished the gown to the chair with the robe and kicked the sandals from your feet.

Your turned again to Loki and waited. He didn't move but you felt his gaze. Heard his breath as it wisped between his lips.

"Get down. On your knees." You swallowed and obeyed. "Now…" He pushed his legs apart and his hand rubbed along his thigh, just around his arousal. "Crawl to me, pet."

You blanched and met his eyes. He grinned and pushed his shoulders back. Your jaw tensed as you bit down. Your anger burned through your humiliation and fear. You hated this. You hated him.

"Let me warn you, I do not like to repeat myself so if you insist on disobedience, I will bend you to my will with more than words."

You slowly let yourself down onto your hands. You didn't look away as you began to crawl across the carpet. You stopped before him and waited. You peered up at him and felt another surge within.

"Good pet," He purred and lifted himself slightly from the chair. He lifted the silk over his lap and past his arousal. He sat back as his cock stood against his stomach, just above the top of the black pants. "Now, I want you to put that scowling little mouth of yours to use."

You sat back on your heels and finally you had to look away. You knew what he was asking. You'd done it once with Brenn, the smith just down the road from your father. It hadn't gone much further once you met his wife. The introduction being his first allusion to his marriage.

You grabbed Loki's thighs and drew yourself close. Your fingers stretched over the silk. You wanted it done with. He said if you were good, you could live as a servant. You might not be left to the streets; discarded and disgraced.

You slid your hand over and gripped the base of his cock. He was thicker than you expected. Long, too. The veins stood out against your palm and he groaned as you bent your head over his lap.

You hovered your lips over his tip and when you touched his cock, you slowly parted them. Just the tip at first, you swirled your tongue and pulled back, easing him in and out. You teased the most sensitive part of him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Oho, you've...done this before." He breathed.

You didn't stop. You had to keep going because once you stopped, you wouldn't be able to go on. You took a little more of him and his hum rose with delight. You pressed tongue to his shaft and moved up and down his length until your mouth met your hand. Then you worked them in tandem.

He squirmed and his hand went to the back of your head. "Oh, pet, you are surpri--sing.” He gasped. "More. More. Take all of me."

He reached down and pulled on your arm until your hand slipped away. He pushed your head down until you choked and held you at your limit. Your nails dug into his thigh but he only seemed to enjoy the pain.

When he relented you pulled back but not entirely. You kept your lips around him and carried on. You let his hand guide your head and bobbed up and down his length. Your jaw ached as the saliva gathered and dripped down his cock.

"Gods," He swore and fisted your hair.

He pulled you off him and grabbed his cock. He stroked himself as he slid forward on the chair and held your head back. You closed your eyes as he grunted and his cum spurted across your face, along your nose and lips and across your cheek.

He let go as he finished and fell back in his chair. He panted and you opened your eyes. There was cum on his pants too and you reached to wipe away that on your face.

"Don't," He warned. "Leave it. A prince's seed is gift. You should wear it with pride."

He grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. You fell back onto your ass as he stood, he hadn't softened at all. He pushed his pants down until they fell to his ankles and stepped out of them and strode past you. He looked around the room as he rubbed his chin.

"My pet, I can't decide where to fuck you," He taunted. "Shall I bend you over the bed? Maybe take you on your back? Perhaps against the wall?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to once more present his erection to you. "Tell me, are you wet?"

You shook your head. A lie. He laughed and dropped his hands.

"No?" He neared. "Show me then. Touch yourself and show me how dry you are."

"Your grace," You croaked and your hand felt heavy as pushed it between your legs. You were sopping and when you pulled away, your fingers glistened in the glow of the chamber.

"Do not lie to me, pet," He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up to your feet. He forced your hand up and shoved your fingers into his mouth as he sucked your juices off them. "Delicious."

He released you and played with himself as he once more considered the room and walked to the side of the bed.

"Get on the bed. On your knees." He pointed to the wide mattress. "Back to me."

You walked towards him and stood between him and the bed. You climbed up before him and walked forward on your knees until you were just past the edge. You stopped and waited.

The mattress dipped behind you as he got up too. He pressed himself to your back, his cock bobbed against your ass. He snaked his arm around you and slowly inched down your stomach and along your vee. He forced his hand between your legs and rubbed you with two fingers.

His other hand came around and grasped your chest. He held you against him and toyed with your nipple and clit at the same time. Your breath picked up, a tell, and he bent to nuzzle your head.

"Oh, pet, I told you it wouldn't last," He twirled his fingers. "You want me. You can hate me but you want me too."

You gritted your teeth as he plucked at your nerves. As your shallow breaths turned to barely muffled moans and your body buzzed against his. You twitched and your hand pressed against his as he stirred your body to a boil. You came with a spasm and a squeak and he purred into your hair.

"I want it too. I didn't. I thought this game was a joke but I want you, pet." He reached between you and gripped his cock. He led it along your ass and leaned into you. "I want to feel you around me."

He slipped down along your entrance as his other hand fell to your pelvis. He pushed until you were forced to arch your back. His tip tickled your folds and he guided it with his fingers.

He rested the head of his cock there and pressed until you stretched around his tip. He gasped and you did too. You couldn't resist the ache in your walls that called for any relief. Even him. You pushed back onto him and took more.

He once more began to play with your clit as he eased himself into you. Little by little until he filled you entirely. His other hand trailed up your stomach and his fingers hooked over your shoulder as your spine curved to accommodate him.

"I want more than you, my pet. I want all of me in you." He pushed again and you moaned. You might've been at your limit but he wasn't. "I want to put my seed in you."

He thrust and groaned. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as you squirmed. He did it again and again and again until your body longed for the pain of it.

"I want to watch you grow, my pet. To see the life blossom inside of you," He rocked steadily into you. "Because of me. Because I willed it."

You reached back to touch his thighs. Wanting him to keep going and stop all at once. Your body was in turmoil. The battle within threatened to tear you in half.

"Tell me you want my seed," He sped up and the sound of his flesh and yours filled the room. "Tell me you want me."

"I…" You breathed between thrusts. "I...want...you."

The lie was easy if it meant you were closer. Closer to the end. Closer to release. You moaned as your walls clung to him.

He impaled you entirely, again he lingered in your warmth before starting again. This time harder and faster. He contorted your body to fit his and his hand wrapped around your throat.

"'I want you, my prince.'" He corrected, each word followed by a sharp thrust.

"I. Want. You. My. P-p-prince." You latched onto his wrist as you struggled to breathe.

He pounded into you, nearly taking you off the bed with each plunge. Your moans mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh and his groans were hot against your ear.

You came, a cry betrayed you, and he nipped at your ear. He relished your orgasm, an unwilling white flag as he chased another. You shook again in another flash of ecstasy and his grip tightened on your neck.

"Gods, oh my pet, I'm….oh."

You felt him cum. He filled you as he shuddered. He fucked his seed deep inside of you and didn't slow until he was out of breath. He let go of your throat and leaned on you until you were forced onto your stomach. He fell atop you, still inside of you.

"Oh, my pet," He wiggled his hips. "I think I might just keep you."

[justmeandmyinnermostthoughts]

Nightmares In The Woods ~The Witcher

Hello my chickadees. Here it is. The meeting between the Witcher, the Bard, and the mysterious Mage. She’s been in my other Witcher fics but this is how they meet. Hope you all like it. (If I misspelled Jaskier’s name anywhere please let me know. I keep spelling it wrong.) Sorry for being gone so long!

Word count: 7106 (I can’t believe it) 

Warnings: language, sick children, worried parents, violence (if I missed any that should be tagged please let me know.) 

If you want to be added to a tag list please let me know! And requests are still open. {Credit to the creature of this image, I love it and it gave me a lot of inspiration. If anyone knows who the artist is please let me know.) 

“Geralt?” Jaskier speaks quietly beside the Witcher. “Something is off here.” He sounds worried, gripping the strap of his lute case tightly. 

Geralt hums in agreement, looking around the town as they walk down the main road. The town seems almost empty and far too quiet. The people seem to move with quick steps and furtive glances. There is something wrong here. Geralt sees it the same time Jaskier does. 

“Geralt, where are the children?” Jaskier asks in a whisper. He looks around him, searching for children playing or running around but he sees none. 

Geralt remains quiet as they step up to the tavern. He ties Roach’s reins to the post outside and leads Jaskier inside. Even the interior of the tavern seems emptier than it should be. The few people inside seem to have a haunted look in their eyes as they nurse their drinks. Geralt and Jaskier make their way to the bar, taking places to the left of its only occupant. 

The innkeeper steps up in front of them, tossing one end of the cloth he’s holding over his shoulder so it hangs there. He rests his hands on the counter as he looks the two men over. His eyes seem tired and the quiet way he speaks confirms the emotion. Too tired to show the usual distrust of Witchers. “What can I get you, Witcher?” His eyes glance from Geralt’s medallion up to his golden eyes. 

Geralt rests his arms on the counter. “Information. What’s going on here?” 

“And where are the children? Surely a town this size should have a few dozen running around?” Jaskier speaks up and Geralt shoots him a glare. Jaskier shrugs and his expression says what did I do? Geralt looks back at the innkeep. 

The man sighs and places two mugs on the counter. “Aye, thirteen or so. But they are being kept indoors for the time being. Not safe for them outside.” 

“Or inside it seems.” The man at the bar grumbles. Geralt and Jaskier turn to look at him. He has deep, dark bags under his red rimmed eyes and the look of a man who hasn’t slept well in days. 

Geralt turns back to the innkeep when it’s clear the other man doesn’t intend to say more. “Why isn’t it safe?” 

The innkeep pours some ale into the mugs. “They are being hunted by a monster. Started a few weeks ago. A child began to get tired more often than she should.” He glances at the man at the bar. “Then she fell asleep and couldn’t be woken. She slept for days before her fever started and another child fell asleep. And then the nightmares began.” 

“Nightmares?” Jaskier asks hesitantly. He pulls a mug towards him but doesn’t drink, just has a need to hold something solid. 

The innkeep nods. “The other children began to complain of nightmares. Waking up screaming and crying in fear. Describing dreams of being hunted by a terrible creature. And one by one more children just didn’t wake up.” The man stares down at the counter, his eyes far away. He takes a breath and looks back up at the two men. “And then the Mage arrived.” 

Geralt’s eyebrows pull together slightly. “The Mage?” 

The innkeep nods. “Aye. She rode into town a week ago. Strange woman, wears a mask and a sword but speaks like a noble woman. She’s been treating the children, helping to keep the nightmares away and keeping the sleeping ones alive. She’s been putting wards around the town since she arrived. Think she's trying to catch the beast.” 

“What’s her name?” Geralt asks, his curiosity triggered. 

The innkeep shrugs. “Don’t know. We’ve taken to calling her Lady Mage." 

Geralt hums. "And where can we find this Lady Mage?" 

The man beside them speaks up, his voice tight with emotion. "Caring for Carter." 

The innkeep stiffens and looks at the man in shock. "Oh, Resh, no. Not him too." The man sounds pained. 

Resh sniffles, eyes a bit watery. "Wouldn't wake up this mornin'. Seemed okay last night but-" He cuts himself off and swallows thickly before taking a drink of his ale. "The Lady's been seein to him since this morning." 

The innkeeper steps over to his friend and refills his tankard. "And Rilla? How's she doing?" The question is quiet. 

Resh swallows again. "Still asleep. Lady says her fevers' gone down but I don't think that's a good thing." He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, pulling in a shuddering breath. "She's getting weaker, Cam." 

The innkeep, Cam, reaches out and grips his friend’s arm. “Well the Witcher is here now. I’m sure him and the Lady can find the monster that’s doin’ this.” 

“Nightmare.” Resh drags in another breath and lowers his hand. Cam is looking at him confused so he continues. “Lady Mage called the beast a Nightmare. This mornin’ when she was talking to Jack. Think she had a way to trap it.” 

Cam pats his arm. “Then that’s good news ain’t it?” 

The door swings open before Resh can respond and Geralt and Jaskier turn to look. A woman dressed in a long-sleeved tunic and pants, cloak pulled back over one shoulder, steps inside. The soft brown of her knee-high leather boots accent the shades of red that make up the rest of her clothing. A sword wrapped in a dark scabbard hangs from her left hip, strapped to a dark belt alongside a small dagger and various pouches. Her sleeves are pushed up past the elbows, hands clad in leather gloves. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face and tied back behind her head, giving a clear view of the smooth porcelain mask covering her face. The mask seems flush with her skin, running along her jawline and up to her hairline. Red lips and dark eyebrows have been painted on the white surface along what appears to be faint cracks at first glance. On closer inspection the cracks appear to be faint runes to the knowing eye. The only part of her face that can be seen are her pale green eyes that sweep the room upon her entrance. Her eyes scan over Jaskier and Geralt, noting them and moving on, before they come to rest on Resh. “Goodman Resh.” She calls, voice clear and strong. 

Resh turns at his name, leaping up from his seat at the sight of her. He rushes to her with quick steps. “Lady Mage! Is something wrong? My children, are they-” 

She holds up her hands, stalling the man. “Your children are the same, Resh. I have someone keeping an eye on them. That’s not why I’m here. You are the towns blacksmith, correct?” Her hands lower to her sides as she speaks. 

Resh bobs his head. “Yes ma’am. That’d be me.” 

She nods. “Good. Come quickly then, there is equipment I need.” She turns and steps towards the door. 

Resh reaches out and grabs her elbow, releasing her nearly immediately as she begins to turn back to him. “Lady Mage, a Witcher has arrived. Perhaps he can aid you in hunting the beast?” He points at Geralt as the Mage faces him. 

She looks back at the bar, making eye contact with Geralt and pauses a moment before turning away. “No. He cannot. I’ve already created the groundwork for my spells. I don’t have time to change them now.” She turns away. “The Witcher may have his chance tomorrow if I fail tonight. Come Resh, time is of the essence.” With quick steps she sweeps out the front door. Resh glances back at Geralt before hurrying after her. 

Jaskier slowly pulls his eyes away from the door to look at Geralt. “You think she didn’t want your help because it would actually mess with her spells or because she doesn’t like Witchers?” 

Geralt gives a noncommittal grunt, eyes still on the closing door. “Nightmares are tricky. It’s probably the magic.” He turns back to the bar. 

~ 

Geralt follows the small path into the trees with quiet steps, Jaskier following along behind. He had tried to leave the Bard at the inn but the man insisted on coming along, much to Geralt’s irritation. The path narrows the farther into the trees they travel. The light dwindles as the sun begins to set. 

A voice breaks through the quiet as the two men reach the edge of a clearing. “Do not step into the clearing Witcher, you will damage my spellwork.” Geralt and Jaskier stop at the edge of the trees. The Mage sits with her back to them in the center of the cleared ground, sword resting across her lap. “Why are you here?” 

Geralt turns his gaze downwards and is able to make out a faint line of disturbance running around the perimeter of the clearing. He turns his gaze back to the Mage. “To offer assistance with the Nightmare.” 

“And the Bard?” 

Geralt turns an unamused expression to Jaskier who shrugs with no regrets and grins. “He has a problem with doing what he’s told. He refused to stay behind.” 

“If I did I would never get the whole story.” Jaskier shrugs. “And Geralt won’t tell me what a Nightmare looks like. So I’ll see for myself.” 

The Mage doesn’t shift from her meditative position. “Thank you for the offer. If you had arrived earlier I would have accepted it, but the spells are set and can’t be changed now. If you wish, you may stay in case I fail and give yourself a chance to fight it tonight but you cannot help me. Stay out of the circle, do not draw attention to yourselves, and stay off the forest floor. That is how you can help me now.” Geralt hums and scans the trees, looking for one suited to hold his, and Jaskier’s, weight. “And Witcher,” Geralt turns his eyes back to her. Her head turns just enough to look over her shoulder. “Don’t let the Bard fall.” She resumes her meditation. 

Geralt grunts and turns back to the trees. He picks one and begins to climb, pulling Jaskier up into the tree behind him. They settle in to wait. 

As the sun’s light continues to dim a faint glow begins to illuminate the edges of the circle. As the darkness continues to deepen the glow brightens, giving a clear view of the clearing but leaving the surrounding trees in shadows. The Mage waits within the circle, unmoving. Time passes and the sun sets completely, the last of its natural light blinking out and still the Mage sits unmoving. 

After more time passes Jaskier shifts slightly on his branch to lean closer to Geralt. He opens his mouth to whisper a question but Geralt shoots him a glare and firmly shakes his head. Jaskier pauses and then shuts his mouth, leaning away once again. 

After a few moments more Geralt's eyebrows draw together and he turns his head, attempting to catch the faint sound he heard again. Jaskier raises an eyebrow and Geralt points to his ear, telling the bard to be quiet and listen. They both strain their ears, listening to the faint sounds of the forest. Geralt's heightened senses allow him to pick out the soft sound even as the quiet backdrop of a sleeping forest fades away. Footsteps, coming closer with each heartbeat. The wind shifts and Geralt is silently thankful for his strong sense of smell as he shifts on the branch, quickly covering the Bard's mouth moments before the smell reaches Jaskier. Jaskier blinks in confusion before his eyes go wide, his heart beginning to race and his fight or flight instincts kick into high gear. 

Fear is what the wind brought with it, thick and foul and frightening. It causes the heart to race and the mind to cloud over with the need to run, to get away from the heavy feeling of every terror the soul has ever experienced brought forth at once and multiplied over and over until breath comes short and shallow in the lungs and the heart constricts with the icy grip of dread. 

The Witcher tightens his grip on the Bard's face in an effort to discourage the whimpers of fear trying to claw their way out of Jaskier's throat. He urges the Bard to look at him, makes the man focus on his golden eyes instead of the creature making its way slowly through the trees. Breathe slowly. Calm down. The Witcher mouths to the Bard, waiting until Jaskier gives him a shaky nod before he glances back at the clearing. 

The Mage remains in the middle of her magic circle, unphased. 

Geralt turns his attention back to Jaskier and his own breathing. Jaskier looks back at him, eyes less wild and breathing less erratic but still shaky, Geralt can feel the warm air pass over the back of his fingers. Geralt shifts in the tree, bringing his lips to Jaskier's ear. "Don't make a noise. Don't draw it's attention. Be still and keep breathing." He breathes into Jaskier's ear. The Bard dips his chin in acknowledgement. 

The footsteps stop, leaving complete and utter silence in their absence. Geralt turns his head to face the clearing, shoulder still pressed against Jaskier and his hand clasped tightly over the Bard's mouth. 

A black, hooved foot emerges from the dark trees, gently setting down on the inside of the circle. As the hoof, far larger than that of a normal deer, makes contact with the ground the grass begins to wilt and decay around it, spreading out in a wave. Another hoof follows the first and the creature begins to emerge from the trees. Slender legs give way to a thick chest and the slim neck of a deer. Large antlers spread out wide, twisting cruelly around each other, over the thick skull of the creature. Half the flesh on one side of its jaw has been ripped away leaving pieces of muscles hanging down and exposing the ghastly white jaw bones, a stark contrast to the ebony darkness of the creature. As the creature steps fully into the clearing the grass continues to decay around its feet in ever widening circles. Geralt notes decay stops at the edge of the magic circle, unable to pass beyond the boundary. The glowing light reveals horrible wounds scattered across the skin of the beast. Tares in the flesh show dark red muscle and white bones underneath. Flaps of skin hang from its hide and the creature appears to be in a constant state of decay. Dark fluid oozes from the wounds and drips to the ground, killing whatever it falls upon. 

Jaskier feels his heart clench in fear and his breath dies in his lungs as his gaze is drawn to the red hateful eyes of the creature. He takes hold of Geralt's arm and clings tightly to the Witcher. Geralt squeezes the Bard's jaw and moves his head minutely to the side. This small movement is enough to allow Jaskier to wrench his eyes away from the seething gaze. He focuses them instead on the Mage. 

She still sits perfectly still in the center of her circle, seemingly unphased by the monster in front of her. 

The creature scans the tree line meticulously, head turning slowly as it sweeps its eyes across the trees as if searching for something. Geralt holds his breath as the creature looks their way, his fingers squeezing a warning against Jaskier's jaw. The Bard freezes, not daring to risk movement of any kind. The creature moves its gaze past them and the two men feel safe to breathe once again. 

Satisfied that there is no one lurking in the shadows the creature turns its gaze to the woman sitting in the middle of the clearing. As it begins to approach her its form starts to twist and shudder, the muscles and bones moving unnaturally beneath the skin. The deer-like facade fades away as the hind legs shorten and the front ones begin to lengthen. The front hooves start to change, dark fur creeping down to cover them as they flatten, splitting and stretching into grotesque hands with spindly, twisted fingers ending in wickedly sharp claws. Its shoulders shift as its ribcage lengthens, growing taller, a hump forming between the shoulders. The bones and muscles grow more distinct under the skin, as if the skin is tightening, shrinking down tight on the body. The ridges in the spine grow more defined. The skin on its face begins to peel back, revealing a bleached white skull underneath. The skin continues to crawl backwards, stopping just past the antlers and the jaw line. Ripples along the fur continue where the skin stopped, thick dark fur begins to sprout forming a thick, matted mane that covers the neck to the shoulders, splitting to flow up over its back and down its chest. Its ears lengthen, becoming sharply pointed. Its antlers grow larger, jagged edges and ridges forming along them. Its mouth opens in a disturbing grin revealing sharp, curved fangs and the unforgiving teeth of a carnivore. Its red eyes glow darkly from within the black eye sockets, full of hunger and hatred. 

The Nightmare stands before the Mage, a low growl beginning in its throat as she continues to ignore its existence. It crouches and springs at her. 

The Mage throws herself out of the way in a sudden burst of speed, drawing her sword from its sheath and tossing the cover away, her movements nearly too quick to follow. With a quick skidding roll she's on her feet, weapon at the ready. The creature spins and throws itself at her again. And so the fight begins. 

The Nightmare jumps and lunges, swiping with its claws and antlers and teeth. It tries to take pieces out of the Mage at every turn but she remains ever just out of reach. 

She dances around the creature, taking slices out of its hide with each slash of her silvered blade. Her footsteps are quick and light. Her movements blurring together. They spin away from each other once more, a fresh lash clear in the creature's skin. 

They face one another across the clearing. Clouds of steam rise from the Nightmare's nostrils, its breath billowing in and out of its lungs. The Mage flicks black icour from her blade and waits. The Nightmare's eyes flash with anger and it rips at the ground. It bellows, the sound shaking the trees. The Nightmare charges and the Mage spins away. It whips around and charges again, lashing out with its horns. The Mage moves to parry the blow but her foot catches in the torn dirt and she stumbles. The Nightmare catches her sword in its antlers and rips it from her grasp, flinging it away. It whips its head around again and catches the woman across the chest and face with the twisted structures, flinging her to the ground and tearing the porcelain mask from her face. It flies across the clearing, changing and shrinking back into a simple white mask meant to cover the eyes. It lands near the base of the tree, empty eyes seeming to stare up at the two men. 

The Mage rises to her hands and knees. The beast paws at the ground, puffs of hot air leaving its nostrils as it squares up to the Mage. 

The Mage raises her eyes and meets the red gaze of the Nightmare. She’s unable to move, unable to blink as she faces the Nightmare. It holds her locked in place. Without her protective wards she’s fallen under its spell. 

Jaskier clutches Geralt’s arm as the two men watch the scene below. Geralt sees the fear take hold of the Mage. Her eyes widen, a stiffness taking over her limbs. His eyes flicker between the beast and the Mage. Geralt tenses, ready to jump in and lend his aid, spellwork be damned. 

The Nightmare snorts and shakes its head. It paws at the ground again before lowering its head so the wickedly twisted, serrated antlers are in line to skewer the Mage. It charges with a feral roar, Geralt begins to react but is frozen in his movement. A shout echoes around the clearing. It had ripped its way out of Jaskier’s throat involuntarily. The sound of the unformed words of fear and concern is enough. It shatters the Nightmare’s hold on the Mage and her mind clears. She throws herself out of the path of the raging Nightmare. Her fingers wrap around the hilt of her sword and courage warms her heart as her protective wards once again take effect. 

The Nightmare roars in rage as it rushes past her, skidding to a stop and spinning to face her again. 

The Mage turns, hair flying around her and she readies herself. When she turns she reveals her face to the two men for the first time. Her eyes are bright and a determined grin is set upon her face. 

Geralt feels a deep pang of surprise and recognition as his eyes flicker over the Mage’s features. He knows her. She’s gone by many names, many faces, but her eyes and that grin never changes. The last time he saw her she was disappearing into a palace garden late at night. That was well over five years ago. He thought she was dead. But he shouldn’t be surprised. She always seems to appear when he’s least expecting it. And here she is, fighting a Nightmare. She is a woman of many mysteries. 

She readies herself, set against the oncoming charge. The Nightmare thunders forward, antlers poised to run her through. The Mage holds her position until the last moment, throwing herself to the side and whipping her sword up and to the side, embedding itself deep into the side of the Nightmare. 

The creature screams, the sound harsh and painful in the ears, and thrashes away from the Mage, taking her sword with it. It tries to escape the weapon but it’s too late, the magic is already taking effect. The Nightmare runs into the barrier at the clearings edge and releases another agonizing scream, high and earsplitting. It falls upon its side and begins to convulse, a faint light beginning to shine around where the sword pieces the Nightmare’s side. 

The Mage holds out her hand and speaks a word so old and forgotten Geralt can feel the ancient weight of it in his mind. The sword pulls itself from the beast and returns to the Mage’s hand. 

Bright white light shines from the injury. The light begins to brighten until it’s near blinding. The creature’s screams cut off suddenly, leaving a ringing in the ears. A shock wave spreads out from the creature, causing a visible wave of disturbance, as the creature seems to burst into multicolored mists, dark and light colors swirling around each other in agitation. 

The Mage raises a hand and begins to chant. As she speaks the incantation the small crystals making up the boundary of the clearing begin to pulse and rise into the air. The barrier begins to close in on the swirling mists, passing harmlessly through the Mage as she continues to chant. As the barrier closes in on the mists, the white cloud separates itself from the dark cloud and passes freely through the barrier. The dark cloud tries to escape the barrier but is unable to, bouncing itself off the edges over and over. It presses itself against the barrier and then swirls around in agitation as the barrier gets smaller and smaller. The barrier condenses the dark mist into the smallest sphere it can and then begins to glow and flash. The barrier begins to crystalize, solidifying into a magical crystalline container. With one last flash it falls into the Mage’s waiting hand. 

The forest is suddenly quiet and dark. The only light left to light up the clearing is the faintly glowing white mist as it swirls around itself. The glowing mist swirls around in the center of the clearing, glowing brighter and brighter until it’s near impossible to look at. The light fades leaving a pale, softly glowing doe standing in the center of the clearing. 

The Mage holds out her hand and the doe approaches her, ears and tail flicking. 

Geralt gives Jaskier a small shake to snap him out of his shock before the Witcher begins to make his way down the tree. He reaches the bottom and gives the Bard a hand down. He takes the Bard gently by the shoulders and faces Jaskier towards the Mage and the creature. He mumbles quietly to the Bard. “Approach slowly and keep your voice down. Be respectful and wait to touch it until it gives its approval. Forest spirits are ancient and rare, do not scare it.” Jaskier swallows and nods, only moving forward when Geralt gives him a slight push against his shoulders. 

As Jaskier slowly approaches the Mage, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, Geralt steps over to the fallen mask and picks it up. He turns it over in his hands, running fingers over the inside, feeling the ancient symbols carved into the strange material. Not quite porcelain, not quite glass or metal but somewhere in between them all. It’s a very old enchanted item. He shouldn’t be surprised she has it. He flips it back over and looks at the smooth white surface, noting the faint symbols on the front, well hidden but present. Spells for courage and protection, speed and strength. All things needed to fight a Nightmare. At least she was prepared. He’d bet there were similar spells on her sword as well. 

Geralt turns in time to see the forest spirit nuzzle into Jaskier’s hand. He hears the faint laugh of the Bard as he approaches the group. 

“So what happened?” The Bard asks, running fingers over the softly glowing fur on the spirits neck. “With the Nightmare? And how did you turn it into a forest spirit?” 

“I didn’t turn it into a forest spirit. I released it from the Nightmare.” Jaskier looks confused so the Mage continues. “Nightmares are creatures that have been taken over by a negative spirit. For nature spirits like this one it can happen after something traumatic happens in its domain. The villagers accidently cut down an ancient tree. It was important to the spirit. I defeated the negative spirit and trapped it in this. “She shows the dark crystal in her hand before stowing it in a belt pouch. “It can’t harm anyone anymore.”

“Oh. Good.” The Bard looks back at the spirit, a wide smile spreading across his face. “You’re going to be just fine.” He mumbles quietly to the spirit who nudges his cheek as if to agree. 

The spirit turns to Geralt as he joins the group, stepping forward and nudging its snout against his chest. He slowly raises a hand and is allowed to pet the spirit. He holds out the mask to the Mage. “You dropped this.” She takes it from him with a nod and ties it next to her sheathed sword. “What name are you going by these days?” 

The Mage studies the Witcher for a moment. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you recognized me, Geralt.” The way his name falls from her lips stirs up a strange feeling within Geralt, it always does. 

Jaskier can feel the strange magic in the word and glances between them. He rolls his eyes and puts a hand on his hip. “Of course you know her. Do you just know every pretty mage we come across?” 

Geralt just glances at Jaskier before focusing on the Mage again. “No.” 

The Mage chuckles, lips curled up at the edges. “The Witcher and I go back a long time. I think I may be his oldest friend.” She tilts her head at him, eyes twinkling in amusement. They look at each other, the weight of history passing all around them. 

Jaskier faines being hurt. “And here I thought I was his only friend.” The spirit nudges him in the chest, and the Bard chuckles stroking its neck again. “I know. So rude of him not to tell me he has more friends.” 

The Mage smiles watching the Bard. She turns the smile on Geralt. “I like this one.” Geralt says nothing but the Mage can see something hidden behind his yellow eyes. “Y/N. Y/N of Wraith is what I’m currently going by these days. Or Lady Mage as the villagers have taken to calling me.” Geralt chuckles and Y/N shoots him a glare, no real malice behind it. 

“Feeling nostalgic?” The Witcher asks. The Mage just shrugs. 

The spirit turns its head to the Mage. It takes a step forward, tail flicking, and looks at her with its large doe eyes. The Mage raises both hands and the spirit rests its head in her cupped hands. The Mage strokes the side of the spirit’s face with her thumbs. The two look at each other, unspoken words and feelings hanging in the air. The Mage presses her forehead against the spirit’s, closing her eyes. 

“I know you’ve been hurt. It was not done on purpose. It was done out of ignorance and I will ensure it will be mended. But there are children dying. They need your help. I can only do so much.” The Mage speaks the quiet words, heavy with unspun magic. 

The spirit lets out a loud breath. A feeling of peace and hope envelops the three people, settling into their spirits and they know things will turn out fine. 

Silent tears slide down Jaskier’s cheeks and rim Geralt’s eyes. The Mage opens her eyes and two tears, shining in the glow of the spirit, fall and land upon the Spirit’s snout, quickly disappearing. 

The Spirit opens its opalescent eyes and blinks at the Mage. It then gently steps away from the trio, not making a sound as it moves to the edge of the clearing and stops, waiting. 

The Mage looks between Geralt and Jaskier. “Return to the village. Tell Cam the Nightmare has been dealt with.” 

Geralt nods and begins to step away. 

“What about you?” The Bard asks, unmoving. 

“I still have things to do tonight. I’ll be back in the morning. Go on.” 

Geralt puts a hand on the Bard’s shoulder and pulls him away. Jaskier glances over his shoulder as they leave the clearing to see the Mage disappearing into the trees with the Spirit. 

“Where is she going?” Jaskier asks, following the Witcher. 

“To do damage control probably.” Comes the quiet reply. 

“How is she going to fix a tree?”

Geralt just shrugs and leads the way back to the village. 

~  ~  ~ 

It’s passed midnight by the time Geralt and Jaskier return to the inn. Many worried fathers are sitting around nursing tankards. What little conversation there was dies as the Witcher steps into the room. 

“Which one is Cam again?” Geralt mutters to Jaskier. 

“The man behind the bar. Honestly, what would you do without me?” Jaskier shakes his head and pats Geralt on the shoulder. They make their way to the bar. 

As they take seats Cam, the innkeep, steps up to them with quick feet. He reaches under the bar and retrieves Jaskier’s lute and returns it to the grateful Bard. Geralt had made him leave it behind. 

“Any news Witcher?” Cam asks, trying to hide his hope and concern. 

“Lady Mage took care of the Nightmare. No more children should fall ill. The ones that are should begin to recover soon.” Geralt speaks loud enough for everyone in the quiet room to hear. 

Sighs of relief and words of hope spread through the room. Cam leans against the bar and lowers his head. “Thank the gods.” He breathes. He straightens and calls to a few men in the room. “Go home and tell your wives. Come back here if there is any change in your children. Jack!” He calls the name over his shoulder. The men stand and move to the door. 

A young man, obviously related to the innkeep steps out of a back room. “Yes?” 

“Run out to Resh’s. Tell him the news and stay with him tonight. If there is any change in Carter or Rilla you run back here and tell me right away. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” Jack moves quickly to the door and outside. 

Cam takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He faces the two men. “Now. What can I get you? It’s on the house.” Cam asks, his spirit lighter and standing straighter than he has in days. 

~  ~  ~  

It’s well past mid-morning and getting onto noon before the Mage returns to the inn. A group of people had gathered in the inn, most childless and unmarried. They sit wrapped up in the story Jaskier is telling about the night before. 

The door opening goes unnoticed by most as the Bard describes the Nightmare. “.... large talons and a wicked beak. And its feathers looked like they were rotting and flaking away.” 

The Mage steps up to the bar and takes the seat by Geralt, one of the two to notice her quiet entrance. “So you saw something birdlike? Interesting.” 

Jaskier’s head snaps around in surprise. “You’re back!” 

There’s a sudden clamor of chairs moving and excited voices asking questions as the people move closer to the Mage. 

She raises her hand and the room falls quiet. She turns to look at Cam who had stepped up to her on the other side of the bar, the other person to notice her entrance. He sets a steaming mug in front of her. “Has there been a change in any of the children?” 

He shakes his head. “Not much. Their fevers are gone and they seem to be sleeping peacefully now but beyond that, no.” 

She nods and takes the mug. “Thank you.” She looks over at Jaskier. “Please continue. I’m sure you can tell the story better than I can.” 

Jaskier waves his hand. “In a moment. Did you not see something birdlike?” He leans towards her, highly interested in her view of events. 

She shakes her head. “Nightmares are strange things. No one sees the same thing when faced with one. I saw a twisted version of the forest spirit. Horribly deformed and mutated deer with a tangled mass of antlers. Its face was bone and had large fangs. The skin seemed to be rotting off as it moved.” She gestures at the bard. “You saw something birdlike, probably twisted and deformed right?” He nods, eyes wide. The Mage turns to the Witcher and he lowers his tankard to look at her. “And you Witcher? What did you see?” She takes a drink from her steaming mug, smug at putting him on the spot. 

Geralt lets out a quiet sigh, giving her a glare. “It was wolflike.” He grumbles, taking another drink. 

The Mage pulls her eyes away from the Witcher, a faint smile on her lips, and turns back to the Bard. “See? Now please, continue.” 

Jaskier does hesitantly but steps back into the story with ease. 

Geralt looks at Y/N, leaning on the bar. She turns to look at him, noting his faint smile and raises an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

Geralt just looks at her, his smirk growing and an eyebrow raising. 

The Mage rolls her eyes and looks away. “I planted a new tree and placed protective magic around it.” Geralt just continues to look at her. She glances at him, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. “Yes, there’s more, I’m not done yet but the rest will come after the children recover.” 

Geralt chuckles and raises his tankard, shaking his head a bit. 

“But the children will recover?” Cam asks from behind them. The Witcher and the Mage turn to look at the innkeep. Cam holds out a pitcher and Geralt allows him to refill the tankard. Cam looks at the Mage, hope and concern fighting over each other behind his eyes. 

“Yes, they will recover.” She sets her mug on the bar. 

“All of them?” 

Y/N gives Cam a gentle smile. “Yes, all of them. It will take time for some of them to recover but they will. And I already checked on Rilla. She is stable and sleeping peacefully now. She’ll be alright.” 

Cam’s shoulders sag and he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lady.” She smiles and nods. Cam moves down the bar to refill more drinks. 

Geralt and Y/N turn back to Jaskier, listening to the Bard and exchanging quiet words between themselves. 

An hour or so passes before the inn door is thrown open. Jack, the innkeeper's son, stands in the doorway breathing heavily from the run. He finds the Mage at the bar. “Lady Mage! It’s Carter. He’s woken up!” 

The Mage leaves the mug on the bar and stands. “Back to work.” She says quietly to Geralt whose lips quirk up in a tiny smile. The Mage makes her way to the door, putting her mask back on as she does. It molds itself to her face and changes, pulling down at the corners. “Let’s go.” She moves past Jack and out the door. He follows behind her. 

~  ~  ~  

The next few days pass in that way. The Mage checking in on each sleeping child, monitoring their progress. Each time one wakes up she would tend to them, instructing the parents and the child on what to do for the next few days. Heavy broths with proteins and limited exercise until they recovered. 

Jaskier insisted he and the Witcher stay until all the children wake up, with the excuse he wants the end to the story. Geralt grumbles but agrees, not mentioning that he was planning on staying anyways. 

Each child that wakes tells of the nightmares that suddenly went away and the beautiful glowing golden deer that suddenly appeared and chased away the nightmares. And before they would wake up the deer would lead them through the woods to a tree. Each child described the tree a bit different but each one said they knew it was special and very important. It was to be protected. Each child described the glowing doe coxing them to place a hand on the trunk and a strong feeling of peace folding over them before they woke up. 

Within a week every child who had fallen asleep woke up. All except the first. Rilla sleeps on, unchanging for two days longer than all the others. 

The Bard, Witcher, and Mage are sitting by the fire at the inn, laughing and exchanging stories when the door flies open once again. The noise within dies out and everyone turns to the door. 

“Lady Mage, it’s Rilla-” Jack’s hurried words are cut off by the echo of her chair clattering on the stone floor and the Mage sweeping past him. 

He turns and is called back by his father. “She’s waking up.” He answers before hurrying out into the night. 

~  ~  ~ 

Word spreads through the village by the following day. Little Rilla woke up. She’s weak but will recover. No one is more relieved than her father Resh. 

Geralt and Jaskier remain one more night before moving on. The Witcher wanted to make sure nothing else was threatening the village. 

They prepare to leave in the morning. Jaskier is prattling on about something and Geralt is ignoring him as he makes the final adjustments to Roach’s saddle when someone calls out to him. 

“And where do you think you’re going Witcher?” 

Geralt slips past Roach to see Y/N leading two saddled horses towards them. “Moving on.” He answers shortly. 

The Mage grins. “Well how convenient, so am I.” She hands the reins of the extra horse to Jaskier. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow and she shrugs. “There’s no reason for you to walk while the Witcher and I ride.” She swings up into the saddle of her horse. 

“No. You’re not going with. I already have one annoyance to deal with, I don’t need another.” Geralt protests, glaring up at her in annoyance. 

Y/N settles into her saddle and looks down at the White Wolf before taking a breath and squinting at the sky. “I go where I am needed, Geralt of Rivia. I travel with the wind and the seasons. Most of the time I don’t know where I’m going but I always know when I get there and what I’m needed for. And when I’m no longer needed I move on. This town doesn’t need me anymore.” She looks down into his golden eyes and her voice softens. She leans down, hands on the saddle horn. “But you, my dear Witcher, you are who needs me most right now.” She breaks eye contact, straightening up and hiding the small smile trying to make itself known on her lips. Her voice strengthens once more. “So, by your side I will remain until you no longer need me or I am called away again.” She looks down at him smugly, grinning. “And you can’t do anything about it. And that irritates you like nothing else.” 

Geralt glares up at her before growling and muttering a quiet “fuck.” He mounts up on Roach and turns the horse down the road, not looking back at the Bard and Mage. 

“Well,” Jaskier says from his place atop the horse, amusement in his voice. “That’s settled then. Welcome to the party.” He grins brightly at the Mage as they nudge their horses to follow Roach. 

“Thank you.” She returns the grin. 

A few beats pass before Jaskier speaks up again. “I hope you didn’t feel obligated to get me a horse just because you and Geralt have one. I’m perfectly happy to walk.” The Mage raises an eyebrow at him, not fully believing that and the Bard shrugs. 

“I got her over a month ago in a different town I passed through. I had a strong feeling that I would need her, so I bought her. Didn’t know why at the time but it makes sense now.” 

“Ah, I see. And how does that work exactly? The knowing when you are needed somewhere and knowing you’ll need something, like the horse?” 

“Magic.” She grins, not elaborating more. 

“...Right. Okay then.” Jaskier falls silent once more. The silence is not long lasting, however, as he strikes up another conversation with the Mage. Much to Geralt’s irritation. 

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Lady in White: UtivichxFem!Reader

Happy Halloween guys! :))) Here's a lil spooky basterds fic for y'all 

TW: Gore/blood/animal attacks/ghost stories

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

******************************* 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' "Baba Yaga wanders the forest, even here."

Aldo narrowed his eyes as he stood over a heavily wounded Soviet spy with weary eyes and a frightened whisper. The basterds had been hunting a patrol, and just when they were close, they heard blood curdling screams. All they found was this Soviet spy, tortured half to death...who could only speak Russian, German, and French. "What's he sayin' Wicki?" The spy was loosing blood, but seemed to speak with a sly smirk, repeating it over, 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' Wicki shrugged, "I don't know he's saying it in Russian now." Hugo hovered over the wounded man, "Deutsch sprechen?" "You speak German?" The agent's eyes darted, and looked directly at Hugo, speaking with as much conviction as a half-dead man could, "Baba Yaga wandert auch hier durch den Wald." Aldo nodded, his hands at his hips, "That. What's that mean?" Wicki turned back, "He's saying Baba Yaga wanders in the woods, even here." Donny narrowed his eyes, "Who, or what the fuck is Baba Yaga?" Hugo grunted, "Slavic myth. A witch." Smitty, who had just returned with a member of the resistance the basterds were friends with, managed to sputter, "W...witch?" "It's only a myth. Besides, he's lost a lot of blood. He's delirious." Wicki chuckled, though he looked back at the agent, "Die Franzosen werden sich um Sie kümmern." 'The French will take care of you.' The day went on as usual. Evening came, and the basterds sat around a fire, eating some Hershey bars as the wind tussled the red leaves of autumn. "So... suppose the patrol did see something out in the woods, and they left the commie behind..." Smitty looked around, hoping for some reassurance. "There's nothing in the goddamn woods, Uti." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, though he held his breath, and turned to the others, "Right?"

Wicki, who loved a good scare, chuckled and shrugged, "I don't know, kid. The Soviet said somethin' about 'dama v belom'. Know what that is?"

They shook their heads. "Lady in white." He smirked, and Hugo muttered, with a slight nod, "Haus Ausel..." referring to an old German myth about a ghostly lady in white. Wicki chuckled, but shook his head dismissively. "He was delirious. There's no such thing as ghosts." "But...we heard the screams. Krauts wouldn't have just left a high stakes prize like a Soviety spy behind like that." Donny shrugged, grumbling with a mouth full of chococlate, "So they saw a wolf or something." Smitty shook his head, "When have you ever seen a fucking wolf around here?" "Well.....fucken..." Donny scrunched up his nose in thought for a moment, then muttered"...just eat some hersheys damn it." Wicki smirked a little, "You afraid of a ghost story, Utivich?" "Wh....no...."

Aldo smirked, catching on, "Well, you ain't been scared till you seen the ghost of Sadie Baker." "Who the hell is that?" Omar rolled his eyes, though...he did love a good ghost story. "Well ain't you a lucky man," Aldo cleared his throat, snorting some tobacco, and then facing the boys, about to make them 'unlucky,' and telling them about Sadie Baker. Omar laughed, "Get the hell outta here." "You got a better one?" Aldo leaned back against a tree with a dismissive smirk, and Omar shrugged, "Better one? Here's a good one: Ghosts aren't real."

Hirschberg shrugged, "Maybe not...but you ever hear of the Jersey Devil?" Omar rolled his eyes, "Oh again with this shit? There is no Jersey Devil!" Donny frowned a little, "You ever hear about somethin' called the wendigo? Now...I'm not sayin' it's real...but that is some scary shit...if you believe in those things.... Which I don't." The night went on, the leaves rattled in the breeze, the yellow moon rose. There was wild screaming in the distance the likes of which they had only heard in chilling radio shows or horror pictures. Wicki and Hugo smirked seeing Smitty jump and look around nervously with every snapping twig and falling lead. They started joking around about the supposed 'lady in white,'. The only one who seemed fully unfazed was Aldo. When asked why, he replied simply, "Down south everything's either built on an Indian burial ground or on a civil war battlefield. This ain't nothin'." Though Utivich was the only visibly frightened basterd, the others were beginning to wonder about the howling in the distance. "Maybe there is a wolf..." "So that explains the screaming?" "If you saw a wolf you wouldn't scream?" "Not like that." Omar smirked, "Hey...isn't there a cemetery around here? Between that last village and the forest?" Smitty narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "You're setting me up, aren't you?" "You think I'd make all this up to get to you? I have other things to do." Omar rolled his eyes, and Hirschberg sighed, "Cemetery's down that way. Southeast." They heard another bone chilling scream, followed by an echoing howl. "It's...uh....just the wind." Hirschberg cleared his throat, crossed his arms, trying to look unbothered. "Hell of a wind," Donny mumbled as he looked up and around. Omar was smirking, poking around as he walked away from the group, "Aldo?" "Yeah?" "Can we go check it out?" Aldo sighed, having just taken off his boots for the night. "Take two of the boys with ya. Come back in an hour. We got a long day ahead of us, and ain't no ghoul out there gon' help us scalp nazis. Got it?" Omar nodded, "Got it. Come on." He grabbed Hirschberg and Utivich. Hirschberg seemed game, being bored out of his mind and not quite tired enough to get to sleep yet. Utivich....well... he stammered "Oh no. No fucking way. Take....take literally anyone but me. Take Hugo or-" Hugo scowled. "Or maybe not....How about Wicki?" Wicki was already laying down, his arms crossed behind his head, and his coat draped over his upper body. He sighed, half yawning, half disinterested, and one hundred percent too old for this shit. "Not tonight, boychik."

"But...but..." Utivich turned to Donny, panic seeping through his wide eyes, "Donny?" Donny was sharpening his knife, "You heard Aldo. We got a big day tomorrow, kid" He smirked, not just because of the big mission, but because he got a kick out of giving Utivich a good scare. Which wasn't very hard to do. "Come on, we're just checking it out." Omar nudged Smitty, who sighed as he dropped his head and followed along. About thirty minutes in, he asked "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Omar turned around, "Look." he sighed, "Ghosts aren't real. You know that." "Yeah but...." "For the last time, Uti, there is no wolf," Hirschberg chuckled and patted Utivich on the back as they kept walking. Omar asked, "What are you scared of anyway? If anyone's out there, they should be scared of us." Smitty chuckled a little, "I guess you're right." "Atta boy, now-" They reached the last few trees, and could see the looming, ancient gates, and the silhouettes of crooked and broken tombs just beyond it beneath the silver moonlight. And just as it came into view, they heard a shrill, guttural scream of a man. "It's uh...coming from the cemetery..." Hrischberg stalled for a moment, and Omar rolled his eyes, pulling them both behind him. "Come on." "You know...in the pictures, it's always one dumbass that gets everyone killed." Omar shook his head with a smirk, "Yeah, well we ain't in the pictures, Hirschberg." Omar pushed open the rusting, dusty, forgotten gates, and stepped in. "Footprints. Ghosts don't leave footprints." He turned around, "And no, a dybbuk wouldn't either." Hirschberg narrowed his eyes, "How do you know..." "We don't have time for this! I'm just saying that w-" There was another scream. "This way..." He seemed a little more hesitant, but still, made his way toward the screams, towing along the other two basterds. The cemetery seemed to go on for miles and miles, almost as if it were endless. "See? Nothing. I told y-" Omar's eyes went wide as he wobbled at the edge of an open grave, "WHOA-" Hirschberg grabbed onto Omar's arms and pulled him to safety. "Alright. That's it, asshole. Let's go home." "Aww you scared of a little wind?" "No." He clenched his jaw, "I just...it don't seem too respectful to be stompin' around these graves." Utivich nodded hastily, "Y-yeah...r...respectful..." "You coulda gotten hurt, Omar. Let's go." Omar sighed, "Just a few more minutes. I wanna see if-" They heard a low, ghastly groan, "Hilfe..." it almost seemed to be begging for mercy. Begging for death itself, "Hilfe!" 'help...' It was German. Omar then peered over the ditch he nearly fell into....and realized it was far deeper than six feet. And it was far from empty. There was a pile of men, bloodied, seeming as if they'd been gutted and torn apart by a wild animal. "Hilfe...." 'Help...' Omar's eyes shot wide, his heart stopped, and his blood went ice cold when he saw one of the bodies reach up with a shaking, bloody, mangled hand, eyes looking directly into Omar's. Hirschberg then peered over, "Holy shit. It's a nazi!" He laughed, putting his hands at his hips as he looked on at the bloody masterpiece. "I-it is?" Utivich felt significantly less scared, as he  looked between his friends' shoulders, and saw just that. An endless pile of dead nazis in a seemingly bottomless pit. "It is!" He smiled, though he was still a little uneasy with the idea of being in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Hirschberg kicked some dirt in, "Wonder what happened." "Who cares." Omar crouched down, wondering what to do next. Killing the nazi was too much mercy...leaving him be meant a small chance that he'd survive and tell someone he saw the basterds. Hirschberg seemed to read his mind. He called out, "English?" The nazi sobbed, "Ja...Yes!" "What happened?" He sputtered, blood trailing out of his mouth, his eyes shifting back and forth as he struggled for a breath of air long enough to speak. "W-woman...." He looked with blank eyes remained unblinking and unresponsivein fear, gasping for breath,  "W-white...white dress..." he gulped, "Wolf....attacked..." His mangled  arm wrapped around his sliced abdomen. Omar looked back at the other two basterds, "Ok...so he's delirious." "Omar, I don't think-" Smitty peered over, "Are you delirious?" Hirschberg rolled his eyes. "Hey." Omar threw a rock into the pit, but the nazi didn't answer. His wide, yellow eyes glazed over. His mouth dropped open as final streams of blood poured out. His arms fell to the sides. His organs spilled out. "....A wolf could do that..." Hirschberg pointed at the evisceration with a shrug. "Let's go." "Don't you wanna know how the bodies got here? I mean-" Omar loved a good mystery. "Why would a wolf drag bodies to a grave? A spirit can't pull bodies into a ditch. A spirit wouldn't care if all the evidence was found! Someone's gotta be out there." "Or....s-something...." Smitty's hands were shaking as he looked around. Omar rolled his eyes, "For the last time, there is no such thing as ghosts." Hirschberg pushed Omar, "Who cares. It's late. It's way past the hour that Aldo gave us. Leave well enough alone."

"You too, Hirschberg?" "What!" Hirschberg was visibily irritated, and uneasy, mostly because of the pungent smell. He didn't care about the nazis...he cared about being in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, with the possibility of a wild animal attacking. "You're scared too." Omar grinned smugly. "I'm scared of Aldo knowing we stayed out here for more than an hour on purpose. Sure. Come on, kid." He pulled Smitty along, and Omar sighed, "Fine. Fine, lets go." The three wandered back through the gates in silence, not even commenting on what they found. "Umm...Omar?" Omar sighed in annoyance, "What, Smitty?" "Do you know where we are?" He slowed down, beginning to realize they had been walking for a lot longer than when they left camp. He looked around, suddenly not recognizing anything despite having known this side of the forest like the back of his hand. "Uh..." He practically turned in a circle, squinting, trying to make something out of the dark, vast nothing among the dense trees. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Hirschberg groaned, more annoyed than scared, as he sunk down on the ground, catching his breath. "What? We can't be that far!" Omar stepped a little further into the woods. "I...think we should stay here till morning." "Oh is someone getting scared?" Omar smirked a little as he glanced back at Smitty. "This isn't fucking funny, Omar. We're lost!" Hirschberg crossed his arms, and Smitty said, "Besides...even if there's nothing out here, it's fucking cold." "Then let's keep moving." Smitty  shook his head, "No."

Hirschberg knew Omar wouldn't stop.. As much as he hated the idea, he couldn't let Omar go on his own. "Fine." Smitty definitely couldn't handle being alone, so he quickly followed. After what seemed like a thousand years, Omar stopped to catch his breath, finally conceding, "Ok...so we're lost." "Fucking knew it." Smitty looked out into the darkness, whispering under his breath, "lost..." Omar and Hirschberg stood beside each other, looking up at the towering trees.Suddenly, they both felt a heavy, iron grip grab at their shoulders, and pull them back. Both of them screamed at the top of their lungs. "What part of 'one hour' and 'big fucken day tomorrow' did you not fucken understand?!" Their hearts eased, and the color came back to their cheeks when they turned and saw it had been Donny who snuck up on them. "Oh fuck...." Omar rested his hand over his racing heart, "Ok..." he took a deep breath, "Ok..." Donny saw how pale they were. Smitty suddenly hugged him. He'd always been like a younger brother to Donny, though Donny found the hug odd as it seemingly came out of the blue. "You uh...you alright, kid?" Smitty looked up at him, and said about a million words in half a minute, none of which were understood by Donny. "I'll take that as a no?" Donny then glared at Omar and Hirschberg ,"What'd you do to the kid?" Donny knew it was a sort of favorite past time among the basterds to scare Smitty, but this seemed to have gone too far. "Nothing!" Before Donny could respond, they heard a howling sound. It wasn't the wind because there was no wind. And it wasn't a distant figment of their imagination. They all heard it....and it was close. "Can we please get back to camp for the love of- They heard snarling and growling as if they were surrounded by a single creature. The four basterds stood back to back, keeping their eyes ahead of them. A pair of glowing, pale, yellow eyes appeared in the underbrush. "oh shit..." Donny's heart skipped as he fumbled with his gun, trying to load it. Just before he could, they all heard a distant, bubbly, almost innocent laugh. Smitty's hands shook almost as violently as his voice when he raised his finger, pointing at something behind the wolf's eyes, "Wh-what the fuck is that!" It was a white silhouette, barely within sight.

He shut his eyes, and as if in response, there was a whistle. The snarling stopped, and was instead replaced with a whine, and the sound of retreating paws. The figure was gone, along with the glowing eyes. Donny still had his gun aimed at the now vacant forest. He didn't dare look away yet. He did ask one thing. "You...you wanna run that story by me again, Smitty?" ***** Aldo didn't believe a word of it. Neither did Wicki, or Hugo. After their mission, they went back to the cemetery with the younger basterds. Aldo joked as they stepped through the gates, "Whatever it is, it's making our jobs a hell of a lot easier." "There." Omar pointed to. The rest of the basterds huddled around it....a patch of dirt... "I swear it was right here." Hirschberg and Smitty looked on in shock. There was dirt where there were bodies the night before.  Wicki shrugged, "You dragged us all the way out here...for an unmarked grave?" Hirschberg picked up a handful of soil, letting it sift through his fingers, "Why is it so fresh?" Smitty nodded, "Yeah...it looks like it was just dug." Hugo grunted "Maybe because we're in a cemetery." Donny shook his head, "No. We saw something." He was so adamant, it made Aldo pause for a moment. Donny had never lied to him before, why would he now? "Alright." Just as the basterds were beginning to push dirt aside, they heard an old, creaking voice that nearly stopped the hearts of the younger basterds. " Puis-je vous aider?" 'Can I help you?' Omar, Smitty, and Hirschberg immediately held on to each other. Aldo rolled his eyes. It was an old man in worker's clothes, and was presumably the graveyard's care taker. The old man repeated again, "Puis-je vous aider?" In broken French, Wicki and Hugo pieced together a story: The kids heard a ghost story in town, and they'd all leave and stop bothering him. Instead, the caretaker invited them all to his house, seeing as though they might be hungry. Smitty shook his head, "Creepy old man in a creepy cemetery with a creepier house..." Aldo, being a southerner, and  therefore literate in the art of hospitality, knew it was rude to say no. "Just cause he's old, and we're surrounded by dead people don't mean you get to be rude. Ya did break into the man's property, after all." And with that, the basterds followed the old man through the cemetery to another gate, newer...and less creaky, behind which there was an open space, and a small cottage, with a fresh coat of paint in whatever spots weren't covered with bright bougainvillea. It seemed so out of place, so charming, almost enchanted. It didn't seem to belong there, like an oasis in the middle of a barren desert, but boy was it a sight for sore eyes for the tired basterds The old man apologized, as all he had to offer the brave basterds was some stale bread and water. Rations had been cut in half in the village. He sighed with a smile, though. "She'll be home any minute with more." Wicki asked, "She? " The heavy wooden door opened with a slight creak, and in appeared a figure in a deep green dress, with a basket, "Je suis de retour, papa!" you announced your return, and just as you stepped in, you spotted the crowd of strangers.  "Visiteurs?" 'Visitors' you asked, seeming a little uneasy, unable to identify their allegiance. 'Soldats américains,' He explained with a hearty laugh, "american soldiers"  with pure joy in his eyes and all the hope an old man could have. Wicki began to explain, "Well..." Hugo waved it off dismissively. Your dad explained that the younger basterds had heard some scary story around the town, and had come by to investigate. You laughed, though nervously...it sounded familiar to at least one Basterd. Smitty mumbled, "It's you..." Donny instantly caught on. He nudged Smitty, "Shut up." Aldo introduced himself, and each of his basterds to you. You nodded with a simple innocent smile, and introduced yourself, as shortly as possible, "Y/n." Aldo nodded, "Pleased to meet you, Y/n..." He turned to Smitty, "Utivich, why don't you go on and help Y/n." "I....ok..." You forced a polite smile to keep up appearances, and he followed you into the kitchen to put away what you'd brought. You were both quiet for a moment, though at one moment, you both looked at each other. You spoke at the same time saying, "I know who you are." You both raised your eyebrows, stepping back in shock, and again on the same beat, quipped, "No you don't!" "Quit it!" You put the tea kettle on, and arranged some cakes you'd brought into a tray, remarking, "You're a basterd." He raised his eyebrow with a smirk, as he leaned against a cupboard, "And you're a ghost." You rolled your eyes, "Really?" You tapped on your left forearm, "I think I know a dead person when I see one, soldier boy. And you should, too." He was quiet as you turned around to pour the boiling water into cups. You sighed reluctantly, "Sorry....that was mean," You sighed sighed again, "Things have been so..." He nodded, having seen the decimated, occupied village himself not too long ago. "I know everything." You looked at him, "You know nothing of hell." You stepped outside through the back door, into a peaceful meadow, seeming even more out of place than the cottage itself, and he followed, "I saw you." "I don't know what you're talking about." "The lady in white bullshit everyone's talking about. Killer wolf. Unmarked grave with a stack of dead nazis in it? I-" You turned around, "Do you see me wearing white? Don't you see endless graves around here? And killer wolf? Here? That's absolutely ridicu-" You both heard a whining.... You shut your eyes, and sighed, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Pais maintenant, Brouillard..." 'Not now, Brouillard...' Smitty saw a greyish-white wolf standing by your side, "No wolf, huh?" "He's not a wolf," you crossed your arms defensively. Smitty looked at you, absolutely puzzled for a moment, and you muttered, giving up. "He's a wolf-dog." "So it was you." "You're lucky you weren't here a few nights  too soon, or Brouillard would've howled, and papa would have shot you down." "Your dad? That sweet little old man?" You chuckled with an understanding smile, "It doesn't seem like it, but he takes his job real serious. And well... last night of course you know Brouillard wasn't here to warn him about your little...uh...escapade... We had our hands full." "Does he know?" Smitty spoke softly now, looking at you with wide eyes. "No. And..." You smirked a little, "Let's keep it that way." He nodded, and you stepped back inside, reaching for the tray with cakes as he took the tray with tea, "Wait..." You glanced back, "Yes, private?" "Why?" "Why?"

"I mean...thank you for the help and  all, but...why you?" You sighed, putting the tray back down on the counter. "Let me show you something..." You pulled him back outside, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the wolf again. Brouillard trotted up and rubbed his head on Smitty's leg, as you laughed, "Go ahead." Smitty smiled, and patted Brouillard on the head, commenting, "Your laugh is a lot less ominous now....I mean...I...uh..." You laughed again, taking no offense, as you reached for the young soldier's arm, "Come on." You climbed up a trellis hidden by the vines, and sturdy enough to hold you. You popped into the second floor, and peeked over the window, "You won't fall, I promise!" Smitty nodded, trusting you for reasons he'd figure some day. You helped him in, and he looked around, immediately blushing realizing it was your bedroom. "Ummm..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and chuckled, "No one's going to come up. It's the only room up here." You still peeked into the hallway and half down the stairs before slowly shutting the door, and then the window, and closing the curtains. "Y/n....I hate to say this...but I-I think y-you, this is a misunderstanding! I-I don't want to- I mean you're gorgous but. Fuck! I mean-" You opened a dresser, produced a long, lovely, lace and pearl dress, and laid it over the bed. He stopped stammering, and was more intrigued than embarrassed now. He spotted the ragged, torn bottom, with leaves and twigs etched into the lace. "It's a wedding dress." He looked up at you with a sly smirk, "Impressive...Nice disguise." "It was my wedding dress." You sighed, as your fingertips brushed over pearl buttons. Smitty caught his breath, knowing there were a million things that could have led to this: Number one: Widowed by the war But he was wrong... And when he heard the truth he wished he had been right. "No." You smiled a little, "I was happy here. We all were. Then the nazis came." You held the dress up, "One of them, a sergeant... He saw me, and demanded I marry him, or he'd never stop terrorizing the town." "Y/n..." He shook his head, heart broken by the extent that war could go. "The night before the wedding," You turned to him, with the glint of a grin hidden behind your eyes as they wandered over the lace, "He was in the pub, and I knew it. I knew where he'd be. I knew where he would go. And..well, people here are very superstitious. Everyone knows these old myths.  Especially in small, isolated places like this. So, naturally, if a...say....vengeful spirit appeared when the town was disturbed, no villager would really say it was fake. They wouldn't dare." "You killed him?" Smitty was grinning a little, as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Me?" You smirked, pleating the white dress against your chest, tracing the details with your finger, "I simply lured him into the forest." "You?" "Well," You shrugged, "You know what they say. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." His jaw dropped, both in awe and in shock. "Now, it looked complicated, but Brouillard is a watch-dog...wolf-dog. Very protective. But, it's also not uncommon to spot wolves around here every few years. So naturally, have him howl around a little for a week or so before the deed, and people think it's just one of those wild lone wolves wandering in the woods. So...when a nazi turned up mauled in the woods, well, c'est la vie." "It was that easy?" "Easy?" You scoffed, "It was messy. But...there was no blame. Oh, no. Just what a tragedy before a wedding. Killed by a wolf, well, no one's to blame but his drunken self... Now, when his mates refused to leave town, a little more luring and a few more unpredictable wolf attacks meant the town was free. Well..." "Till more nazis showed up?" "Well...the people seem to understand that wandering the forest late at night might not be the best idea. Naturally the new nazis always want to be the one to solve the mystery of their missing soldiers, they want to get a prize.... So the nazis have no problem ending up at say, the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, Brouillard is a lone wolf. He can't get to each and every one of them so quickly, so, a few have gotten away having spotted a 'lady in white,' But, as of last night, the town is free of nazis. And when the next patrol arrives, I'll be here, waiting." You sighed, placing the dress back into the dresser. "I never would've....This..This is fucking amazing! How have you not been caught?" "The last place anyone would look for a dead body is in a graveyard," you smirked as you sat by him. "You're fucking brilliant..." "Well...I don't  know if I'd say 'brilliant,' but...." You stammered a little, tilting your head down, though you now shyly glanced up. You opened the curtains and the window, and stood there for a while. You felt him standing by you.  You both looked out at the endless graves, and he asked, "Do you ever feel scared by that?" "Scared?" You shook your head, though your eyes didn't part from the cemetery bathed in the falling red light of sunset. "I think it's peaceful...Though, maybe a little lonely at times." Your shy glance met his timid eyes, and you both smiled softly. In only a moment, you both began leaning in for a kiss, before sneaking back down to the garden, and back to the kitchen.

**** The basterds were walking back to their camp out in the woods, and Donny smirked, "So, Uti...." "What? Yeah?" Utivich snapped out of a trance where he was smiling dreamily at nothing. Donny raised his voice up a few pitches, "YoUr LaUgH is LesS ominous..." "Fuck. You." Utivich blushed as the basterds cackled, and Aldo sighed with a smile, "So? What'd she say?" Utivich sighed and explained the whole story. Aldo nodded, "Well...I'll be damned." Omar grinned, "Ha! No ghost." Hirschberg nodded, "No...but that's one hell of a girl..."

For as long as the basterds hid out in that part of the woods, a year or so, Smitty snuck off alone into the woods late at  night, no longer scared of howls or shadows. Where he went....well it didn't take a genius to figure it out. All it took was a minute of bravery to run through the graveyard, luck to not trip over any crooked tombs, and a good grip to climb up to your open window. When the inevitable day came for the basterds to move on, Smitty went back into the woods one last time. This time, he didn't run through the cemetery. He took his time... He'd take his time for once. He walked around to the back of the small cottage that didn't seem to belong, and found a dim, orange glow in the second story. He climbed up carefully after petting Brouillard once more, and bribing him with some dried meat so he wouldn't blow his cover with whines. You heard the familiar shuffling and rustling. You smiled, as you met him with an open window, and a kiss. He couldn't stay much longer, though you knew the day  would come. So when the night was over,  the dark blue sky began to give way to a new day and mission, he was off to a town in the other side of occupied France called Nadine, about thirty kilometres from Paris, to meet a British contact. Smitty said goodbye to you... But not before swearing he'd come back some day, when the war was over. You watched, as you sat by the window, as the basterd disappeared beyond the forest, as the moon faded and the sun rose. You smiled softly, knowing he'd be back. And, you'd heard that patrols in the area would be discontinued until an investigation gave an answer as to what lurked in the woods... So, as you wondered about the end of the war, you put the dress away with a soft, and relieved smile. You knew he'd be back...and when he was, you knew just what to do. Maybe the dress needed some mending....maybe a new one was in order... But, he'd be back. And when he was, you'd leave the window open and the candle on just for him.

[huntertheblackwolf]

The Morning After

I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t think it would take over 3 months (??wtf, what happened to January and February??) but here you guys go!🤧 Also, I’m dedicating this chapter to @eisukevint and @i-loves-2dguys​, you guys stuck through so thanks! (P.S. I’ll be sure to do the games you tagged me in tag buddy, I haven’t forgotten!) Enjoy!

Chapter V: A Cup of Tea and Coffee

Bright flames reflected off his face, but he didn’t feel the smothering heat. Screams of both men and women alike were heard throughout the night sky, a chill blowing through the dense woods. He watched the destruction happen, unmoved by the howling shrieks and the smell of burning flesh.

‘Another dream then.’ He thought, still feeling nothing as he looked on. The fire still blazing on, black smoke rising high in the air, almost obstructing the sky and its stars. The shrill screaming slowly coming to a halt and he turned his back towards it, walking into the woods. 

He glanced around as he steadily walked forward, knowing this particular forest held secrets and dangers, waiting for something to throw itself at him. 

He didn't have to wait long. 

He heard a snarl before feeling a heavy weight on top of him, white teeth flashing towards his face, saliva dripping down its muzzle. Grabbing the wolf's neck, he held it back, trying to keep its teeth away from his vulnerable neck. Kicking his feet to its chest, he threw the wolf off of him, quickly standing. 

What he didn't expect was another wolf bearing down on him as it landed on his back. 

The wolf lunged for his neck as he- 

A gasp tore from his mouth as Hunter shot awake, a hand coming to clasp the nape of his neck. He could almost feel the tearing of his flesh, the heavy blood flow that should have been there.

There was nothing.

Slowly, his breathing became steady, feeling no sensation of pain or blood. His trembling hands slowly came to a halt and he closed his eyes before falling backwards onto his bed.

‘Fuckin’ hell. Not this bullshit again.’

Nightmares like these weren’t strange to him, just unwelcomed, as they came and went, sometimes ruining mornings for him.

Like now.

Reaching towards the hotel’s bedside table, he grabbed his phone and checked the time.

11:07

With a grimace, he got up and began to undress, planning to take a shower as a start for today. Walking up towards the bathroom, he began to play with the shower’s dials and found the perfect temperature. Tugging off his black boxers, he jumped in and began to wash himself from yesterday and this morning’s grime.

-----------------------

Running the towel through his chocolate brown hair one more time, Hunter threw it into the hamper, knowing that the maids would be here to pick up the dirty laundry and clean the room once he was gone for the day. Letting go of the towel around his waist, he began to dress, hoping to leave the hotel and find somewhere to relax.

‘Maybe a restaurant? Nah, too loud. The park? Too many people and it’ll be hot. A cafe then? Maybe somewhere far-’ Hunter continued to think as he put on a white dress shirt before putting on a black crewneck sweatshirt. Wiggling into black skinny jeans, he placed on some converse and as he was picking up his phone, he noticed a text sent from his sister.

Hunt! You’re probably still sleeping or IDK but! Wanted to tell you that Cooner and I are out for today. We’ll see you later on tonight! K, bye love you!

*Cooner

**Cooner

***CONNER fucking autocorrect!!

Smiling a bit, Hunter put his phone away and began to walk towards the door, not before grabbing his wallet and a notepad with a pen. Stuffing the items into a shoulder bag, he began to arrive at the elevator and as he waited, Hunter took out a coin and tossed it into the air. Before it could land on the floor, he snatched it from the air and slammed it into the back of his hand.

‘Heads means I go right. Tails means left.’

Just as the elevator arrived, he uncovered the coin and his decision was made. Walking into the elevator, he pressed for the lobby and the elevator doors closed. 

-----------------------

ローグタイタンカフェ

‘Rogue Titan Cafe? Gotta say, that’s kind of- it’s cute in its own little weird kind of way.’

Looking at the sign once more, he shrugged and walked in. He was met with a swirl of teal, gray, and some gold touches here and there. It wasn’t overwhelming like the other cafes he’s visited before now and more importantly, it was quiet and not crowded. Stepping up to the register, he pulled out his notepad and pen. He was then greeted by a male, although shorter than him, who had a commanding aura surrounding him, hinting at power he had in him. Bored slanted eyes filled with a mixture of gray and cobalt blue met his eyes and the shorter male spoke. 

“Good afternoon. What would you like?”

Looking up to the blackboard menu, he quickly wrote down his order and placed it in view of the worker.

Warm butter croissant + a cup of chamomile tea please

With a raised brow, the worker put down his order and told him his amount. Fishing out the correct payment, Hunter gave it to the worker and proceeded to take a seat near the windows and waited for his order. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time before putting it away, and looked towards the windows. Watching people was interesting at times, something which Hunter didn’t do often unless it was necessary, but as of now, it was the only interesting thing to do. Placing the notepad in front of him on the table, he just watched as crowds of people walked by, not paying him any mind as they went on their day. Hearing a clatter besides him, he saw the shorter man set down his order onto the table, before leaving, nodding at Hunter once, who nodded back. Blowing before taking a sip, Hunter hummed a little at the mixture of apple and honey taste. Looking out towards the window again, he saw a slick limousine drive past the cafe, before disregarding it as anything important. Picking up the warm croissant, he took a bite and hummed again. The cafe door swung open and someone entered just as he was taking another bite. Not paying the other customer any attention, Hunter sipped at his tea again. Hearing the low murmuring, he looked straight at the windows again, until he was interrupted as someone walked towards him and a voice spoke up.

“Good afternoon Hunter.”

Looking up, he was greeted by Eisuke Ichinomiya, dressed in a brown leather jacket and white t-shirt. He looked normal, but still oozed an aurora of being someone big and rich. Someone important. He nodded back in greeting and Eisuke spoke again. 

“May I have a seat?” Ichinomiya asked as he smiled, gesturing at the seat in front of Hunter. He nodded and Ichinomiya sat down. It was quiet for a while as Hunter looked out the window and the man in front of him waited for his drink. The silence was interrupted as the worker gently set down Ichinomiya’s drink, the bitter aroma drifting towards Hunter.

‘Coffee.’ He thought as he turned away from the window and towards the other two men. 

“Will that be all?” The worker asked and both males nodded and Ichinomiya thanked him. He nodded back and left, going back to his station and leaving them. It was quiet again until Ichinomiya spoke up.

“I hope I’m not intruding. I saw you from my car and I wanted to say hello.” He explained in a soft tone of voice, aware of quietness surrounding both of them. Sipping his coffee, he waited for any response as he grimaced slightly from the taste.

Glancing at Ichinomiya, Hunter grasped his notepad and quickly wrote down his response.

No, you're fine. May I ask where you were planning to go? Hunter questioned, wanting to be polite, even though he didn’t like talking. He didn’t dislike Ichinomiya or even consider him an acquaintance, but he would still be considerate and contribute to the conversation. 

“I was planning to go shopping until I saw you from the limo’s window. What are you doing here?”

I wanted to enjoy a warm snack and beverage, just to relax.

“And your siblings? Where are they?”

Hunter shrugged.

Somewhere, probably shopping for stuff for our other siblings.

Ichinomiya smirked before tilting his head towards the window.

“And why were you looking out the window? Something interesting going on out there?”

Hunter blinked at him, before writing down his answer.

It’s interesting to see people and try to guess what they do for a living or what they might be going through. Looking towards Ichinomiya, he quirked an eyebrow. Would you like an example?

Ichinomiya’s smirk grew bigger and he nodded. Both looked towards the window and Hunter scouted his victim. Gazing at each person rushing past the window, he settled on a woman who was dressed rather expensively, showing jewelry and cleavage at the same time. Pointing towards her, he looked back at Ichinomiya and nodded his head towards the lady walking by. He waited until Ichinomiya had a good glimpse of her and as she slowed her pace, Hunter jolted down his observations.

She’s married. She has a white gold wedding ring with three diamond rings. Her spouse is rich, but she constantly cheats on her husband. He doesn’t know. With the way she dresses, she displays herself and likes the attention she gains, especially from the rich and or handsome. She chooses her prey from those categories. Hunter points to a business man across the street who was ogling the female as she stops in front of the window, not paying attention to him. You’re handsome enough to gain her attention though. Ichinomiya’s eyes widened a bit as he read Hunter’s comment. Hunter continued writing. She might like you enough to come in. She probably has prior commitments though. As Hunter finished writing, the woman looked towards them, but zeroed in on Ichinomiya and she smirked as she walked away, swaying her hips. The two were quiet as Ichinomiya blinked a couple of times, before smirking again. 

“How do you know she’s cheating? She probably likes the attention, that’s all.”

Sipping his tea, Hunter pointed across the street as he closed his eyes. Following his finger, Ichinomiya saw the woman lean into a window, which was cracked open slightly and saw her speak to someone, her breast pushed up as she crossed her arms before entering the car and driving off.

“I see.” Eisuke hummed as he looked at Hunter, amazed at how quick was to figure the woman out. “What did you think of me when you first saw me?” He questioned, starting at Hunter who slowly opened his eyes.

Hunter looked at Ichinomiya for a moment, deciding on whether or not he should say what he first thought when he saw him on that morning he was leaving Oh behind, before writing down his answer.

Someone who was stern and important. Had a certain level of self confidence. You’re powerful and you know it. You take what you want and you’re brave.

Hunter stopped writing before taking a bite from his croissant, finishing it after a couple of bits, drinking his tea as Ichinomiya read his comment. He hummed as he looked at Hunter before sipping his own coffee. It was quiet as they both dwelled in silence, Ichinomiya smiling towards Hunter, behind his cup.

Setting it down, Ichinomiya folded his arms on the table as he smirked and looked towards Hunter.

“Would you like to come with me? To shop, of course. I’ve overheard during dinner that your other brothers might want some souvenirs from here. There might be a store that might interest you?” Ichinomiya questioned, seeing Hunter savoring the last bit of his tea. Glancing up, Hunter tilted his head slightly as he looked at him emotionless before looking out the window. Sipping the last of his tea, Hunter looked back at Ichinomiya and nodded, who smiled in response. Getting up, they proceeded to leave, Hunter staying back to clean up after himself and placed a tip on the table before leaving with Ichinomiya.

With Ichinomiya in the lead, Hunter followed him into his limo, the one he saw earlier, and seated himself far enough to be considered more than polite. Putting his notepad onto his lap, he looked towards Ichinomiya who looked as though he was about to speak until he was interrupted by a phone ringing. Apologizing to Hunter, who waved him off, Ichinomiya picked up the call and proceeded to talk business all the way until they almost arrived at what seemed like a parking lot. Ending the call Ichinomiya, with a frown on his face, began to apologize to Hunter.

“I’m sorry about the inconvenience. It won’t happen again.” He sighed as he put away his phone. Waving him off, Hunter started to write in his notepad again.

Don’t worry about it. You’re a businessman, so I understand. Where are we anyways? Hunter asked, looking out the window as the car started to slow down as it came to a stop in front of a large expensive building. A mall that was mostly likely for the rich it seemed. Opening the door, the chauffeur bowed and kept silent as Eisuke exited the vehicle first, followed by Hunter. Looking up towards the building, Hunter kept up with Ichinomiya’s pace as he answered the question.

“This is the Ruby Plaza, a mall I frequent if I’m available and somewhere I thought you might enjoy.” He responded as he smiled towards Hunter who only nodded, expressionless. Entering the building, Ichinomiya took the lead again as Hunters’ eyes wandered as they passed through the grand entrance and finally into the plaza. Stores lined up and displayed expensive goods from clothes to jewelry and other things. People walked by wearing expensive looking clothes and if not that, then they displayed their wealth with the amount of shopping bags they had or the jewelry that sometimes flashed. Walking with Ichinomiya, Hunter watched for any stores of interest that might hold something for his little brothers or sister. Unaware of the man besides him looking at him from the corner of his eye, he looked on and kept pace with Ichinomiya.