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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Fever

Flip Zimmerman X Reader

Sequel to Cabin

2.6k ; N*FW yeehaw

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When you awoke it was with a slight frown. This was the last morning you and Flip would be at the cabin, the last chance to be completely and utterly together before having to return to Colorado Springs, have to return to life, to work. You didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the fairy tale to be over.

The past three days had been filled with so much fun – fucking yes, all over the place – but genuine fun. Flip had taken you hiking and you had built a snowman and made snow angels and he had hunted and fished for your dinner which you happily cooked. It was so quiet in the mountains, at the cabin, and you didn’t want to go back to a busy life at the library and police station.

As sad as you were, you knew you still had today, the last day before having to pack up and hit the road back home.

You took in a deep breath, let the cool air fill your lungs, crisp and icy, before exhaling slowly. You found yourself laying on your side, with you boyfriend pressed firmly against your back. And it wasn’t just your boyfriend, but his cock, hard and straining, resting hot and heavy against the backs of your thighs from where he had tucked you against him.

Flip had been such a generous lover, during this trip. You’d never been eaten out before in your entire life and suddenly with him it was like the only thing he ever wanted to do. You couldn’t get enough of it, and you were starting to wonder the implications of that – how would you go on without sitting on his face every minute of the day?

Experimentally, you shifted your hips back, wiggled them ever so gently against his crotch. You were both naked of course, lying on the big soft bed in his room, the only sound you could hear was dying embers of the night’s fire crackling and spitting. He grumbled something unintelligible, and you grinned.

He had been so kind, so generous, so hungry for you all weekend – wouldn’t it be nice to return the favor?

Granted, you had only ever sucked his cock once, and it…hadn’t gone well. But Flip only got better and better each time he went down on you, each time he explored your cunt with his lips and tongue and fingers, so you thought, practice makes anything perfect, didn’t it?

“Flip?” You asked, so soft, not wanting to wake him up accidentally. No, you wanted to give him a good morning, a great morning. You wanted to make this last day worth it.

The hardest challenge was getting out of his grip, you found with an amused smile. He didn’t like to let you go, clingy, even at night, even asleep. The more you tried to slip out of his arms, the tighter he wound them shut around your middle. But oh he was so hard the poor thing, so so hard against you. Your mouth salivated at the thought of waking him up with your lips around his cock, and when you set your mind to something, you damn well did it.

Carefully, ever so carefully, you reached behind your back and felt around for his cock. It was practically swollen, and you did your best to stroke him off just enough to bring him to the edge of sleep, to that place in between consciousness and dreams, to where he could let you free for just long enough to change positions.

And it worked, his lips parted with a thick click, arms slackening just just just enough for you to turn around, to kiss down his body like he had done to you the first night at the cabin.

He had such an impressive physique, you thought, all of him muscular and firm. The training at the police academy had done him well, had done him very well. His chest rose and fell evenly, until your tongue and lips and teeth moved farther south, until you were level with his cock, practically hanging off the edge of the bed. You admired him for a moment, the way his strong thighs had a light dusting of dark hair, the way they twitched and tensed.

You ran a finger down his happy trail, up and down, lightly scratching at it. You smiled, it made his cock jump. It was, for lack of a better word, leaking. Pearly white fluid collecting at the very tip of his dick, right at the head there. You continued to trace his lower stomach while you let your tongue lap it up.

It was salty, but not unpleasant, not enough to deter you from continuing to do it anyway. Your other hand came up to hold the base of his cock steady, and you wrapped your lips around the head entirely, just the head, just the tip.

Flip moaned then, his hips pushing upwards in short little bucks, not entirely awake yet. You pulled off of him and smiled, nuzzled your face against his cock, rubbing your cheek against it.

You jerked him off, just enough to get those hips of his moving, to get his brow to pinch in, to get him moaning. You wondered if he thought this was a dream, if he was dreaming of you.

You decided to wake him up for real.

Licking a broad stripe up his shaft you captured as much of his cock as you could, and gave a hard suck and moaned around him, a combination that had his eyes flying open, had his hands shooting down to grab a hold of your head, your hair.

“Holy shit.” His mouth drops even wider, a perfect O as you take in deep breaths through your nose, as you deep-throat him, as you stretch around him.

“Mmmm.” You try your best not to smile, because if you smile you’ll choke, choke on his big fucking cock that you’ve managed to bury nearly all the way. Your hand makes up for the inch or two you just can’t get, and the vibrations of the sound make him thrust his hips more purposefully, more intentionally.

One of his hands grip your hair tight, splays against your skull and closes in a fist to hold you in place as he fucks your face, as he shifts himself so that he can plant his feet on the mattress and use those strong thighs of his to squeeze against your ears.

“Good morning.” He groans, and that makes your heart flutter – because despite how gross you’re both being, how sweaty and slick and spit covered you’re both becoming, he still wants to be sweet with you, still wants to greet you warmly. The greeting doesn’t last long, before melting into incoherent groaning, chest heaving, “Fuck, (Y/N), fuck.”

You didn’t let up, instead you swallowed him down down down, relaxed your throat and let yourself open up to him. You had asked around discreetly, had read illicit books on the subject. You had been determined to get it right, to do “all the right things that will drive your man wild.”

The headline of the article’s didn’t seem to be lying, at least.

Flip was now flushed down to his navel, growling and groaning as he thunked his head back against the pillows, especially when your hand slipped down to stroke at his balls. He moaned long and low as you rolled them in your hand, as you sucked his cock and hummed around him.

He was so fucking big, you kept forgetting that, somehow kept forgetting how long and wide his cock was. It felt incredible while it fucked into you, as he used your face to chase his own pleasure, as he punched the air in and out of your throat in a way that you knew would make you hiccup when you were done, but your jaw was beginning to ache from having it so wide.

The thought of him fucking you made your cunt clench, made you grow wet. The whole time you’d been growing more and more wet, turned on by the size and smell and taste of him. You did your best to press your thighs together, knowing you’d get taken care of soon. Flip was so good at taking care of you, at fucking you blind, at fucking you hoarse. This was for him, your pussy could drool all it wanted, this was for him.

You decided to improvise just a little, and tapped out slightly. You pulled off of his cock with only the smallest bit of a gag as it slid out of your throat, spit stringing all over the place. Flip looked at you with wide eyes, shuffled up the bed to give you more space, to give you whatever you wanted, and when he saw you pushing your tits together he literally took your pillow and placed it over his head to let out a big, “Fuck!”

Mouth free to do as you pleased, you laughed as he rolled you around and around the bed, as he got you underneath him, as you pressed your tits together and he fucked them, slid his cock in between your cleavage, still sticky and wet from your spit.

He was mesmerized by the sight of it, almost as much as he had been with it going deeper down your throat. He watched the head of his cock poking out of the top of your tits, watched as it appeared and disappeared as he ground his dick between your perfect breasts.

Your nipples were hard and the friction was starting to chafe, it was going to leave you red all over. But you knew it was just another opportunity for him to take your tits into his mouth, into his hands, to soothe and calm you once the dirty work had its chance.

“I’m gonna come on your perfect tits,” He warned, looking wild, hair all tossed around from sleep, face blotchy splotchy flushed, lips red and swollen from where he had bitten them while you were busy bringing him to the very brink of orgasm, “I’m gonna come all over you.”

You nodded, licked your lips and arched your back.

“Do it, please – please come on me.” You faulted only for a moment as his hand came down around your throat, holding your jaw, prying your mouth open.

“Will you eat it?” He asked, delirious, hungry, desperate. He was covered in sweat, it was dripping off of him despite the cool air, like he had a fever, like he was sick with his want for you.

“Huh?” You asked, not understanding for a minute, brain addled and dizzy and hazy.

He licked his lips and thrust into your cleavage with a little more desperation, he was getting close, you could tell, could tell by the way his hand squeezed at your throat, how his other hand pinched at your nipple. You wondered if you could come like that, tits fucked raw.

“My come, will you eat it? Can I come on your mouth?” He asked, clarifying, and something about that thrilled you, made your cunt drip steadily onto the sheets and you nodded as best as you could while being pinned down.

“Oh – yes, yeah I’ll eat it, I’ll swallow all of it, give it to me.” You begged, because you would, you would.

And he did, come all over your tits and chin, getting some in your mouth in great big arcs of his come. It was hot, and that didn’t surprise you, everything about Flip was overheated, everything. He came with a long groan, jerked off his cock and aimed it at your lips, as more and more pulsed out of him and onto your skin.

It splattered on your nipples and in the well made by the pit of your throat, and Flip scooped it all up with shaking hands to smear it against your open tongue. Just like the beads of precoma that you had licked up at the beginning of all this, he was salty and tangy but not overly bitter, which was surprising considering what you had read, and how much he smoked.

You lapped it all up, sucked on his fingers to get every last drop. Something in you was sad you were swallowing his come and that it wouldn’t be pumped into your cunt, it almost felt like a waste. Almost.

Speaking of your cunt, Flip tweaked your nipples enough to make your hips lift, and for the first time that morning he had the frame of mind to touch you, to run his fingers through the folds of your pussy.

“Pretty girl, you’re so wet.” He murmured, low and soft and sweet as he pushed those fingers inside of you, big thumb on your clit.

He had learned all your favorite spots over the past couple days, learned exactly where to touch you to make you cry out for him, and he was taking advantage of that.

But he did so leisurely, blissed out and warm from his own orgasm, and that tension only built up your own more and more.

“Let me.” He said, and you gave yourself over to him happily, eagerly, as he latched onto one of your nipples and sucked at your breast while his hand slid nearly all the way inside you, four big fingers curving against your walls. Your hand combed into his hair, held him against your chest as he gripped your hip with his free hand.

You knew that he’d be ready to fuck you for real in no time at all, but there was something dangerously addictive about the steady and sure pace he set. The squelch of it was music to both of your ears, and you moaned for him, for the slow sweet torture that was him dragging out your orgasm as long as he could, before it crashed over you by surprise.

“Fuck.” You gasped out, a sound that he abandoned your breast for, kissed you instead.

The two of you made out for a little while, kissed and slid your tongues against one another, smeared come between you and stuck together with spit and sweat. You kissed and kissed until you both came down from your high, until your bladders demanded attention as did your stomachs.

“Guess what?” Flip asked suddenly, leaving you to crack an eye open at him as he sat up, as he stuck his face up to the window.

“What?” You asked, propping yourself up on an elbow, fully aware of how crazy you must have looked, with your face a blotchy mess and your hair all over the place, tangled and knotted from the events of the morning, bruises and bite marks leftover from the events of the night before.

“We’re snowed in.” Flip grinned, devious, and your heart thudded.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, believing him but wanting to see for yourself, joining him at the window where indeed there was just a great wall of white.

“Yeah. It’ll take an extra day or two for someone to come get us.” Flip said, smoothing his hands down your sides, before pulling you back down to the bed.

“Oh no.” You said with a grin, not displeased at all, that grin turning into a laugh as Flip buried himself under the covers, “Where are you going?”

You found your answer soon enough, as he looped his arms under your thighs and pulled you flush down onto the bed, legs spread for him as he licked his lips, only inches away from your still very slick and swollen pussy.

“You had your breakfast, I want mine.” He said simply, before grinning against you, the two of you thrilled to know that this wouldn’t be the end of your weekend together – not by a long shot.

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Tagging some pals lol! @dreamboatdriver�� @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets @fullofbees @spinebarrel @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @ladygrey03 @venusianmaiden marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes @softcrybabykid @tinyplanet-explorers

#reader insert #flip zimmerman x reader #flip x reader #blackkklansman #my writing #adam driver character #adam driver #sinday

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vaniri · 5 years ago

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Hostage [Arthur Morgan x Reader]

Ono, I’ve committed another smutty fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Y’all remember “Kidnapped”? It’s the sequel. Arthur and reader's relationship develops and it leads to some smutty stuff.

It’s mad long. And weird. And a little bit kinky, too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but I know you like it ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) smut ahead, of course.

BIG THANKS TO @ugh-my-back WHO DID THE BETA-READING AND HELPED ME GREATLY WITH LITERALLY EVERYTHING 😭❤️❤️❤️

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You've been with the van der Linde gang for weeks.

You were never truly their hostage. Arthur stated clearly why he brought you to camp, but even after realizing how much they could demand for your release, none of the folks treated you like you'd expect someone in your position to be treated. They untied your hands immediately and didn't tie them back when you sobered up; they let you sleep off your inebriation on a quite comfy cot and fed you in the morning; they never locked you up or constricted you in any other way, they let you walk among them freely. Well, almost freely, as there was always someone who had an eye on you.

Arthur was that someone, to be exact. He was always watching, always close to you, yet still keeping his distance. You didn’t mind that, at least at the beginning. You never talked about what had happened on his horse and acted pretty civil towards each other, but you couldn't deny that this night woke something in you. Something that not only didn't want to subside even after you realized that he probably wasn't interested in taking your friendship to the next level, but grew stronger with every passing day.

Despite his rough nature, Arthur Morgan - yes, you eventually learned his last name - turned out to be a fine man. He realized pretty quickly that you had no idea how to survive in a world outside your family mansion and was kind enough to teach you the basics of living in the wilds. First, he showed you how to shoot a gun, letting you train with his own revolver, which seemed pretty intimate to you. And so were his touches when he corrected your position or readjusted your grip. You tried your best to focus, but every brush of his coarse hands against your skin felt like a flame spreading in your body, making your knees weak. He was probably fully aware of the effect he had on you, but never said anything about it, never took advantage of it, nor acted improperly, even despite the fact you were usually alone during these lessons. To your surprise, you realized that you actually felt sad about that.

But he wasn't completely passive, you noticed at some point, he did show some interest in you. Sometimes you could have even sworn that he was purposefully teasing you. Seemingly innocent smiles that belied not so innocent thoughts, given away by that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The way he put his hands on your shoulders when he joined your conversations, or these subtle "accidental" touches when he was passing you, that carried a hidden message you couldn’t fully understand. He sure wanted something from you, but never expressed it clearly. It was confusing.

You were determined to figure that out. To figure him out. You tried to spend as much time as possible in his company, helping him out with his camp chores, or just sitting beside him by the campfire. One evening, when you were slightly tipsy and in great mood - thanks to equally tipsy Sean and his stories - you gathered up enough courage to put your hand atop Arthur's. He let you keep it there, and you saw a glimpse of a slight smile tugging at his lips for a while, but that was the only reaction your gesture provoked. Maybe he was reluctant to open up and show his feelings in front of the gang members, you thought later, a man like him could not want the others to see his softer and vulnerable side. So you changed your approach.

You were doing everything to spend as much time with him outside the camp as possible, trying to bond and waiting for him to reveal his true intentions. You were trying to get closer to him during your shooting lessons. You also eagerly followed him on his everyday hunting trips, which he allowed, as you were supposed to learn how to provide food in the wilds. Yes, you definitely needed those skills. And you tried hard to do as he was saying, but you were usually too occupied with studying him and just enjoying your time alone to actually listen to his instructions.

"You're gonna be so dead when we finally release you." He commented one day, when you missed a clear shot because you were more interested by the way Arthur bit on his lower lip while focusing than the animal before you.

"If you release me." You corrected, giving him a sheepish smile. He didn't look angry though, rather kind of amused. "So far my father doesn’t seem willing to pay you anything. Maybe he just threw your letter on the pile of "to read when I'm not so busy" papers, which is never, as he’s always busy. That sounds like him. Maybe he didn't even notice that his "beloved" daughter's gone missing. Or maybe…" You moved closer to him, and his eyes involuntarily darted to your lips. Interesting. "you misinterpreted and I'm not worth anything."

You hoped that having you so close, alone and looking him straight in the eyes, will spur him into action. For a moment it seemed to be working, he leaned in and slightly tilted his head, as if he was going to kiss you. And you were sure he was, so you slowly closed the gap between you two, but when your lips nearly brushed his, he drew back, avoiding your gaze. You immediately thought that you misunderstood his intentions and felt like a fool. How could you have expected that a man like him would want to kiss a woman like you? Teasing, innocent flirting, and even that damn night were one thing, but this? This was probably too intimate and meaningful.

"[Y/N], why’d you leave your home?" He asked suddenly, when you were on the way to your horse. A fine beast Arthur stole for you one day and taught you to ride properly - like an outlaw, not a lady.

"What? Why are you asking?"

"You told me that your family treated you badly, but... I thought you came here prepared, having some basic survival skills."

"I have them now, right? You taught me how to shoot a gun, and I do it fine when my target stands motionless right before me. You also taught me how to fish, and how to cook over an open fire. I can survive now, barely, but I would manage somehow. Why, are you going kick me out now? Or you're just going to nag me about that deer I missed?"

"No and no. I'm just wondering what was the real reason you left your home, so suddenly and without a plan."

"It wasn't sudden, it was growing in me for years. That feeling, an awful realization that I don't want to live my life as my parents' doll, or a prize wife of some boring prick, who can't see past the sum on his bank account. I knew that if I'd stayed, I could have never truly been myself. I just wanted to live, for real. Make my own decisions and finally be free. And maybe see a bit of the world, too."

"But your little adventure ended pretty quickly, with a bunch of outlaws" He remarked, approaching you in two long strides. "who kidnapped you and now keep you as their hostage."

"I was a hostage before our paths crossed, Arthur." You pointed out somberly, mounting your horse. "Yes, you kidnapped me to make me your hostage, but also gave me more freedom than I could have ever imagined. You freed me from my previous life, and now you’re giving me the possibilities to lead another one. An independent one. A life of my own. Looking at it all now, I can tell for sure that meeting you that night was the best thing that ever happened to me. You are right, I came here completely unprepared. I could have been robbed, raped, murdered even. But you found me before any of that happened, and even though your intentions were impure, I'm really grateful for that."

The man said nothing about your confession, only nodded as if in understanding. But looking at the way he reacted to it - by grabbing his belt, what was, as you'd learned from observing him, how he kept himself comfortable in stressing situations; and lowering his eyes - you could say for sure that your words got to him.

“I really mean it, Arthur.”

"If I knew I was being a knight on a white horse, I would sure act like one. Or at least wouldn't act like a bastard. I'm sorry, [Y/N]. For treating you so horribly." He raised his head and looked you in the eyes with something you could only define as shame. "I just... wasn't myself that day. I mean, I'm an idiot every day, but then I was even a bigger fool than usual. I'm sorry for that, [Y/N], truly."

"I'm not mad, but it confused me. You confuse me." You admitted. "You did something like that to me, said we were going to be friends, and then didn't act on that promise. You were teasing me for weeks, getting my hopes for something more up, and then doing nothing about it. What do you want from me, Arthur Morgan? What you really want?"

"I... don't know, [Y/N]. I legit don't know anymore. That day I was really desperate, okay? I met someone from my past, someone who was very dear to me, and that encounter didn't go well, to say the least. I came to that saloon to drink my sorry ass into a stupor and forget about everything and everyone around me. But instead of finding my solace in alcohol, I found you. I don't even know what I was thinking that night, I was drunk, angry, and so damn hopeless."

Seeing the everyday facade of a cruel and heartless outlaw Arthur usually hid behind, it was so easy to forget that he was still a man capable of feeling and showing emotions, full of self-doubt and uncertainty about his own morality and the actions he took. So far you hadn't had many occasions to behold this side of him, and watching it surge to the surface now was so completely unexpected that you were sitting there stunned, not knowing what to say. Should you comfort him somehow? Should you ask him what made him so sad? Tell him you had no idea he didn't feel well, because he didn't look or act like that? You were absolutely bewildered. All you could do was watch as he grabbed your reins, as if he feared you could leave before he could say all the things he wanted you to hear, and looked at you with remorse in his eyes.

"I took you with me because I thought that I could... we could..." He tried to explain himself. "Yes, it was mostly about money, but also... You was so nice to me, and I just didn't want to be alone that night. With you I felt better, and later I saw that you was fond of me. Of course you was, idiot me made you hopeful for something more between us. And honestly, I've been thinking about it since that night. But I can't do this to you, [Y/N]. I'm an outlaw, murderer, a bad man..."

"Not in my eyes." You cut him off, and before he had a chance to open his mouth and speak again, you leaned down to him and pressed your lips against his. Maybe it was wrong, you didn't think it through, just acted on an impulse; but at that moment you wanted him to shut up and stop degrading himself.

He was clearly surprised by your bold move, but didn't push you away, which you took as a sign to continue. You kissed a man only once in your life, when you were fifteen and slightly smitten with the garden boy your family hired, but you instinctively knew what to do. Or at least you thought you did. Luckily for you, after a moment of shock, Arthur decided to not only kiss you back - the realization that he was no longer just passively letting you kiss him without taking any action made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazies - but also take the lead. The kiss became unexpectedly passionate within seconds; carried away with all the feelings that surged over him, Arthur pulled you off your horse and pressed against his muscular chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. After denying the need to be loved for so long he was absolutely love-starved and your affection intoxicated him completely. At some point of your heated makeout he lost balance and landed on the ground, with you on top of him. But he didn't break the kiss even for a second.

The feeling of his voracious lips against yours drove you completely insane, but you lost the last bits of control over yourself when he pushed his tongue past your teeth, and hungrily explored your mouth. Your hands were all over him even before the fall, but now one of them snuck between your pressed bodies, into his pants, and grabbed his crotch. Through the thin fabric of his union suit you could feel the outline of his member perfectly; he was still quite flaccid, but after a couple of firm strokes you felt it harden under your touch. Arthur's lips finally left yours and let out a shaky breath. He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes when a wave of pleasure surged through his body.

"[Y/N], stop." He whispered softly, trying to grab your wrist. Your hand immediately stopped its movements, but didn't withdraw from his pants.

"Is something wrong?"

"You ain't never laid with a man before, have you?"

"Why do you think that?" You probably weren't doing as good as you thought. Or your poor kissing skills gave you away.

"That's pretty obvious. You come from a good family, so you was probably raised to be a decent girl, and your innocence was highly protected."

"I'm not so decent anymore, remember? But you are correct, I’ve never been with man before. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me." He blessed you with the prettiest and warmest smile you have ever seen in your life.

"I want you, Arthur." You confessed, before he had a chance to belittle himself or say something about him not being good enough for a 'lady like you'. "I would love you to be my first." And only, crossed your mind unexpectedly.

Arthur seemed to be both delighted and slightly worried about your statement. He felt honored and absolutely overjoyed that you openly declared your willingness to be with a man like him, ugly and miserable outlaw, who had nothing to offer to you. But he also knew that you could do better. Still, it was your decision and damn, at this moment he felt like he could do anything you asked for, respecting your choices - even these poor ones, like him - included. So despite his doubts, he decided to let you have him. But not like that, you deserved something better than quick dirty sex on the forest floor.

"Then at least let me make sure you enjoy it properly." He suggested and pulled your hand out of his trousers, then kissed it courteously. You would happily have him here and now, you didn't really care about it being special or memorable, like your mother used to say about your 'future wedding night', but eventually you agreed to do it his way.

Unluckily for you, your first time together had to be put off due to unpredictable circumstances the gang had encountered. One day Arthur, John, and Dutch came back from Valentine all bloodied up and with Strauss yelling something about being shot. You weren’t told exactly what happened, but you knew it was something bad. And big. Dutch ordered an immediate pack-up, in which you were actively involved, and you had to move your camp, very suddenly and to another state.

In Lemoyne things were different. Arthur was spending days on playing local lawmen and trying to outwit these two wealthy families, all to get to their money. You were usually busy with camp chores you were given as a member of the van der Linde gang. It's been over two months since Arthur brought you in and at this point everyone had already forgotten that you were actually a hostage there. For the first couple of weeks the folks were pretty hopeful that you could make them rich enough to make most of their problems go away - you were worth a small fortune, it seemed. But days were passing, another letters were sent, and your father didn’t even deign to send a word back. So after a few attempts to contact him, to no avail, no one probably believed that they would see even a cent for you. Dutch still had faith, being overly optimistic about matters associated with possible money income was peculiar to him, but the others understood that you were probably a lost cause. No one really minded though, as you were, by any means, one of them now.

Despite his rather tight schedule, Arthur could always find time to spend a moment with you. He wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, so among the others you confined yourselves to light brief touches and deep meaningful looks. He wasn't ashamed of what was between you two though, or trying to hide your relationship - he stated clearly and to everyone that you were his woman now and the other boys should back off. He just preferred to enjoy it in private. When no one was watching, he was becoming a completely different man. And it wasn't only about heated kisses and intimate (but never too intimate) touches you exchanged when you were lying together at night, or sitting alone by the fire. It was more about the connection that was born between you two. After some time Arthur grew so comfortable around you that he wasn’t afraid to show you his real face. He could talk about everything, or just sit in silence and enjoy your company. You learned more about his insecurities, his doubts, and even his thoughts about the situation the gang wound up in. He told you about his past and you gladly shared your story. It felt so good to be able to let it all out, for both of you; to finally have someone so close and trusted that opening up didn't feel wrong. You were beginning to be really satisfied with your life. But your happy times couldn't last forever.

Due to the character of his "profession", and also his short temper, Arthur often came back to camp covered in blood, bruises, and sometimes even wounded. You were never happy about that, but despite that you always helped clean these up, or patched your man up if needed. At some point you even got kind of used to that. At least he was fine after all, you told yourself. But one time he didn't come back. Dutch said they had split during the parley with that enemy gang and later he was nowhere to be found. It was so unlike Arthur to disappear without a word, in such an important moment, and you dreaded to think what could have happened to him. The truth about his disappearance came to light a couple days later, when he appeared unexpectedly in Clemens Point, wearing nothing but his union suit, and fell off his horse before anyone could reach him, weak and limp with fever and pain that grisly gunshot wound in his shoulder surely caused. He only managed to gasp out that the parley was a set-up and he got captured by that bastard Colm O'Driscoll, who tortured him and planned to use as a bait, and fell into a deep slumber.

He was bedridden for almost three weeks. First couple of days he lay completely unconscious with high fever. You stayed with him all day and all night, leaving his side only for a short while to catch some sleep, and tried to help him as best you could. You were no nurse, but you remembered how in your childhood days your family maids were taking care of you when you fell ill, and also listened to Grimshaw's advice. You put cold compresses on Arthur's forehead, around his wrists and ankles to bring down his fever. You washed the sweat away from his skin regularly and made sure his wound was clean and bandages always fresh. And, most importantly, you talked to him, almost all the time, hoping he could hear your voice and go back to you. Dutch said it was probably blood poisoning that got him, and thus he could not survive this. But you knew Arthur was a fighter, he wouldn't give up so easily. Not now. And you were right - after what seemed to be forever, he finally opened his eyes. His path to full recovery was long and painful - so much that two or three times he even agreed to take morphine Swanson offered him - but at least he was alive.

"What are you doing there?" You were delighted as one day, when you brought him a bowl of freshly made stew, you found him on the pier instead of his cot, sitting and scribbling something in his journal. He finally had enough energy to get up and walk around camp, which was a very good sign.

"Drawing."

"What?"

"You." He raised his head and took a quick look at you, for reference apparently, then went back to sketching.

"May I see?" You could always just crane your neck and glance at his creation, but no matter how curious you were, you always respected his privacy.

"Absolutely not." Arthur closed his journal and tucked his pencil behind his ear. "It's not finished yet."

"Will it ever be?" You gave him a simpering smile and handed him the stew. He gladly accepted, which was another good sign. "You look better."

"It's probably because I feel better. A bit dirty and unkempt, but definitely better."

"I could give you a trim If you want." You quickly examined his bushy beard, neglected since the day he disappeared, and his definitely longer than usual hair. Yeah, you should be able to deal with that. Hopefully. "And there's plenty of water around us, help yourself."

"A trim sounds nice, but I’ll better leave swimming in the lake to John." He decided, finally giving some attention to the bowl he was holding.

An amused smile tugged at your lips when you heard his comment. Normally sarcastic and witty Arthur was extraordinarily meek and silent during his recovery days. Seeing the old him back made you feel certain that he was indeed doing better.

"I'll leave you with your food now. Holler if you need me for more drawing reference."

"[Y/N] wait. Ride with me to Rhodes." He called after you. "I mean, not today, I'm probably not ready to ride a horse yet. But in a few days maybe. I could take a bath, and then we could spend some time together. Alone."

You knew exactly what he meant and felt your heart flutter in your chest. You had to wait a long time, but you knew he wouldn't forget about his promise. You really wanted that, so you nodded immediately, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, but you were not ashamed of how eager to spend some time alone with him you were and intended to show it to him. Arthur only smiled at you, in that exact way that made you want to take his face in your hands and press your lips against his in a long and passionate kiss, and got back to eating.

You arrived in Rhodes a week later. You didn't like this place, something about it made you feel uneasy, but having Arthur at your side helped to keep your nerves at bay. He booked a room in the saloon, and two baths, so you could focus on each other and not the fact that you smell and feel like a mixture of sweat and horseshit. You went first. You liked to keep yourself clean and did it regularly, as much as possible when living in a camp somewhere in the wild, so you needed only a quick scrubbing, and after making sure your most important parts were washed properly you could go back to your room. Arthur needed a little more time to make himself acceptably clean, so you had a moment to prepare yourself for what was going to happen. You had no idea how, though. Should you undress and wait for him sprawled on the bed, wearing nothing but a seductive smile? Or should you keep your clothes on and let Arthur take care of that matter himself? Should you do something with your hair? Or prepare your lower parts somehow? You had no clue, so you did what your instincts told you. And left the rest to him.

When he came back to your room a couple minutes later, he found you sitting comfortably on the bed, with the first two buttons of your shirt open and the belt already unbuckled. He sure liked what he saw, you figured, looking at the contented smile that flickered across his face. And you had to admit that you also liked the view before you - Arthur didn't bother to put his shirt back on, knowing that he would have to take it off again in a few moments, so his broad chest and deliciously muscled stomach were on full display. And those arms. You couldn't take your eyes off him, you always knew this man was attractive, but in this moment you realized how much. You wanted to touch him, run your fingers through the hair on his chest, follow his happy trail down his abdomen, past the waistband of his trousers, straight into his underwear…

"My my, look at you. I barely shucked off my shirt and you're all ready to jump on me." Arthur locked the door, so no drunken patron could disturb you. "Nervous?"

"A bit. But I really want you."

"Yes, I can see that." He sat beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. His eyes roamed over your figure, lingering a bit longer on your cleavage. "I must warn you though. I ain't a gentle man when it comes to sex. I won't hurt you, but I like it rough."

"I know. I mean, I wouldn't expect anything else from a man like you. I’m ready."

"You're a smart girl. I knew you'd figure that out."

He took your hand in his and, without a word, guided it into his pants. His rough pubes brushed against your palm and you felt your heart pound fast in your chest, in unison with intensifying with every second throbbing between your legs, when your fingers finally found what you craved the most. You instinctively wrapped them around his still soft dick and gave it a few experimental strokes, reveling in soft pants that escaped his seductively parted lips. Arthur didn't say anything, didn't spur or instruct you in any way, only watched with a contented smile how eager to pleasure him you were. Even though you lacked certain skills, your hand felt amazing on his cock and he let you know about that by letting out a quiet but expressive groan that made you shift your gaze from his still clothed crotch to his slightly flushed face.

You locked your eyes with him as he caressed your cheek. You kept stroking him, experimenting with the pace and grip, and felt his member slowly harden under your touch. The effect you had on your man made you immensely proud of yourself. He looked like a wonder, with his naked chest rising and falling rapidly, rosy cheeks, and that lascivious smile that sent a wave of pleasant heat straight to your core. You couldn't resist and pressed your lips against Arthur's, tentatively at first, but you deepened the kiss when you felt his hands play with your breasts. You didn't put your camisole back on after the bath - pointless, you thought - so now only the thin fabric of your shirt separated your skin from his touch. It still felt good though, his skilled fingers made you shiver, kneading your flesh and rubbing your now erect nipples.

"I'd love to see them." He unexpectedly broke the kiss and, to your discontent, took his hands off you. "Show me your tits."

You obediently undid one button, then another, trying not to go too fast so you didn't seem too keen. Arthur's eyes were following every move your fingers made and you were sure he wouldn't mind, or would even prefer it, if you just ripped your clothes off. You felt his lustful gaze on your skin and knew he was very willing to see you naked, but even though he didn't hurry or scold you for undressing too slowly; he was only watching you fumble with your shirt, waiting patiently until you finally revealed your chest to him.

"You're so pretty." He purred, taking in the sight before him. He gently cupped one breast, then the other one, and you closed your eyes, succumbing to the sensation. "You like it when I touch them, don't you?"

"I like your touch in general, no matter what you're touching."

Arthur chuckled gutturally at your response.

"Good girl." But even though he was clearly pleased with you and your reactions, he took his hands off you, again. "I like your touch, too."

"So I've noticed." Your eyes darted to his crotch and that impressive bulge his dick made there.

"Eager to get back to business?" He undid his trousers and drew his half-hard cock out in one swift motion. You were staring with your mouth agape, absolutely enthralled, when he gave it a few unhurried tugs, letting out a quiet groan - his reaction was probably a bit exaggerated, but it sure had its effect on you. You wanted to make him groan like that, to make him moan and harden in your grasp, so you put your hand atop his, trying to make your intentions clear. "You want me to teach you how to jerk a man, me, off properly?"

You nodded vigorously.

"Don't get me wrong, you did amazing there." He assured, taking your hand in his and putting it on his member, making you wrap your fingers around it. "But I strongly believe that it's really important to learn what your partner likes most. And tell them what gets you going, too."

"Show me then."

Arthur guided your hand down on his shaft, then back up to the head, where he made you tighten your grip a little, and again to the base of his cock. He repeated the whole motion a couple times, going slowly, so you could watch his reactions and memorize how to cause them. Your eyes flicked to his flushed face, then back to your hand working on his dick, and you felt the throbbing between your legs grow unbearably strong. You were fighting the urge to touch yourself, give yourself some pleasure before Arthur could take care of the matter, but you decided to focus on satisfying him first. Your fingers couldn't measure up to what he was going to do with you anyway, and it was definitely worth the wait.

Gradually picking up the pace, he stroked himself to full hardness with your hand, and then released it, letting you go on your own. You eagerly followed his instructions and jerked him off with firm but unhurried tugs, adding a bit more pressure where you noticed he clearly liked it. Arthur loved every second of it, especially how bold and creative with your other hand you were, massaging his balls and raking your nails along the insides of his thighs, even though he hadn't suggested that. Pleasure took over him completely quicker that he could have anticipated, having considered being with an inexperienced woman, and he was barely able to control himself. He threw his head back and bucked his hips up, letting out a loud moan that was probably heard in the entire saloon.

"Shit." He panted out, suddenly catching your hands and making them stop their doings. "Shiiiit."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, quite the contrary. Shit. [Y/N], no offence, but you are a natural. I almost came just from that." You smiled triumphantly at his comment, not even trying to hide how proud of your work you were. "Enjoying yourself so far?"

"Definitely."

"Good. Because now it's my turn to have some fun."

Arthur's hand cupped your rosy cheek as he leaned over you, forcing you to lie down on your back. He pulled your trousers down almost effortlessly and spread your legs, taking in the sight he had before his eyes. You felt so exposed under his voracious gaze, roaming all over your figure, and so naked, even though you still had your underpants on. You let his eyes devour your body, impatiently waiting to be finally touched, but not giving him any hints on how wanting your were. At least not deliberately. He noticed it almost immediately though and his hands found their way to your inner thighs, where they rested for a while. He was waiting for your reaction and when he got it, as you whimpered softly, prompting him to make another move, his palms began their tantalizingly slow journey towards your crotch.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he finally dragged a finger along your clothed slit. It soon focused on your bud, rubbing it lazily in a circular motion. You still remembered how Arthur's touch felt on your naked clit and how it set you aflame, but even despite the layer of fabric separating your sensitive spot from his warm fingertips, his practiced strokes sent jolts of pleasure straight to your abdomen.

The friction was delicious and you loved it, but you definitely wanted more. And so did Arthur, apparently. Eventually, his hand found its way into your pants and, to your absolute delight, one of his fingers slipped in your cunt.

"So wet for me, again? I'm flattered." He pumped it in you, slowly and steadily at first, enjoying your soft breathy moans. Then, he added another finger and picked up the pace, every thrust of his hand made a slapping wet sound in your dripping hole. "Shit, you'll feel amazing on my cock"

"Then put it in already." You reached for his member, throbbing gently against his thigh, but he swatted your hand away.

"Patience, girl."

You felt you heart pound in your chest when you watched Arthur slide your panties down your legs and throw them behind his back. A sly smile tugged at his lips when he spread your thighs apart to give himself full access to your entrance and you were sure he would slip his fingers back in, but he had other plans. Instead, he dipped his head towards your crotch and dragged his tongue along your slit, lingering a bit longer on your sweet spot, where he put a little more pressure. A loud moan escaped your throat when he focused his ministrations on your bud, it felt way better than his fingers. Every flick of his tongue sent sparks through your entire body and you had to put a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs of pleasure. Arthur didn't like that, he wanted the entire saloon - entire Rhodes! - to hear how much you enjoyed his touch. But simply telling you to keep your hands off your face would be too easy and too boring. He was a man who didn't fear challenge, so he was absolutely ready to make you scream his name so loud that even the residents of Saint Denis would know who was the one fucking up into you.

He lapped at your clit in a steady rhythm, with quick firm licks, but slowed his pace every time you seemed to start enjoying it too much, and tormented you with light swipes of his tongue against your sensitive bud until your muffled whimpers subsided into shaky sighs. Then he repeated the whole cycle again. You tried to get some control, but he was relentless; every time you threaded your fingers through his hair and pressed his head to your crotch, he stopped his doings and waited patiently until you started behaving again. The only thing you could do was give up and submit to his will – and at some point you did. It paid off, Arthur not only abandoned his torturous pattern, but also reached to your breasts and cupped one of them, adding new sensations to already intense stimulation.

Your entire body was on fire and you could barely control yourself. Arthur seemed to have even more fun watching your reactions, and when you loudly mewled his name, apparently not giving a damn about who might hear you anymore, he knew he had you in his power completely.

"You're such a good girl, [Y/N]." He praised you, giving your clit a short break. "And good girls deserve a reward. You want me to reward you?"

A shaky "yes" was enough to have his tongue lap at your sweet spot again. This time Arthur didn't play any games with you, didn't protest when you grabbed his hair, nor reprimanded you for trying to spur him on. He was determined to bring you pleasure and it took only seconds to have you exactly how he wanted you, squirming and wailing his name as your climax hit you hard and took over you completely, pouring bliss through your entire body. You pressed his head to your crotch and grinded against his face, using his mouth to prolong your ecstasy. It was glorious and absolutely breathtaking, way better than the orgasm he gave you on his horse. But definitely not how you wanted it today.

When your wits came back to you and you realized what just happened, you felt slightly confused. Was this your "reward"? One look at your man, watching you come down from your peak with an overtly contented expression, made it clear that it wasn't an accident. He made you come on purpose. But... why? Why he let you finish like that before... doing what you had expected him to do? Was this all he had planned for tonight? You thought you'd be making love, properly and fully, like you've dreamed since the day you met him. What Arthur did to you was truly wonderful, but you wanted something more. You wanted to feel one with him and thought he desired the same.

"You can do this again." He explained, having noticed the question in your eyes. "You can have another orgasm soon, and you should last longer before you reach it. Which means that we can have more fun."

"How do you know that?"

"A working lady I used to sleep with in Nevada taught me this, and a couple of other useful things, too."

"Oh. So, I'm in good and experienced hands."

Arthur let out a quiet chuckle, but when he spoke again, you heard a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"I know what you may be thinking about me, but the truth is, I'm not very... good with women. And I laid with very few. But they taught me a lot about their bodies, and mine too, and I'm going to use all this knowledge today. If you let me. Just trust me, [Y/N], and I promise you will never forget this night."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you." You pointed him, propping yourself up on your elbows. "And for your information, I don't think any negative things about you. Actually, my only thought now is: when will he continue?"

Another chuckle, this time distinctly more cheerful.

"So impatient.” His fingers brushed against your skin on their unhurried way up your inner thigh. "Don’t worry, we’re almost there. I just need to make sure you're properly prepared for what's about to come."

You definitely felt prepared and ready to have something more in your cunt than a finger he slipped in you, but he was the experienced one here and you indeed trusted his knowledge. One digit felt like nothing inside your already overstimulated pussy and you let Arthur know about that by grabbing his wrist and trying to force his hand to thrust into you deeper and harder. He didn't intend to torture you this time, so he listened to your subtle suggestion and put another finger in your wanting hole, giving you the fullness you so needed. This man sure could do miracles, every push of his hand made the pleasant heat pool in your abdomen again. It was perfect, at least until he slid in yet another finger, which felt slightly uncomfortable, a bit too full. You didn't say anything though, knowing too well that it was still nothing compared to his deliciously thick member and you wanted to be fully ready for it. Arthur knew what he was doing, you saw it in his eyes. So you relaxed your body and after a moment of vigorous thrusting, you got used to the stretching and fullness his fingers provided.

"I think you're ready." He decided, withdrawing his hand and aligning his pelvis with your entrance.

He entered you with one firm push, slipping smoothly in your slick cunt. You moaned softly; being filled like that felt both wonderful and like too much at the same time, but it wasn't as special as you had imagined it to be. Or maybe you had just expected a lot from having a penis in your vagina. There was no metaphorical fireworks, no instant pleasure; only the feeling of fullness and Arthur's loving expression when he looked in your eyes, totally lost in the sensation of finally being inside you.

"Shit, I knew you would feel great on my cock since the moment I put my fingers in your cunt for the first time." He gasped out when he moved his hips for the first time, withdrawing from you almost completely, only to slam back into you with full force, making you exhale sharply. He did it again, and again, eventually setting a steady, but pretty vigorous rhythm.

Your tight pussy felt absolutely divine and Arthur could barely restrain himself from pounding wildly into you, taking you hard and marking you as his. He didn't want to accidentally scare or hurt you though, it was your first time after all, so despite his urges and pleasure his every thrust provided, he did his best not to go too rough on you. Maybe next time, he thought, or any other, when you get better accustomed to having him in your cunt. Or when you beg him to get wild yourself.

It was really hard to control himself in this position though, with you under him, lying on your back, completely in his mercy - so he decided to change it before he lost himself completely. Now you were on top of him, straddling his hips, being in control of the pace and the angle he penetrated you at.

"Feeling good up there?"

"Yeah."

"Now, be a good girl and ride me like the finest horse." He commanded, rubbing the insides of your thighs with his thumbs.

You did as you were told, rolled your hips like the motion of your horse made you do, pulling a low, guttural moan from the man below you. You did it again, and again, trying to find a perfect angle and rhythm that satisfied both of you. You wanted it slow, with deep and unhurried thrusts that hit the right spot inside you, making your body shiver with ecstasy. Arthur seemed more impatient, you could tell he'd prefer it hard and fast, instead of relishing the pleasure, enjoying the moment and memorizing every second of it. You weren't selfish, you wanted to cater to his needs too, so you set your pace quite fast, taking him as deep as possible, but slowed down every time the fire in your belly grew too strong.

You tried your best to focus on your movements, but the feeling of fullness and the friction of his cock rubbing the insides of your cunt were so good that it was getting hard to control yourself and stop riding your man like a crazy when you felt your orgasm build up. You didn't want to come again though, not yet, not so fast. Arthur told you that you could climax many times today, but leaving him behind like that seemed a bit unfair.

You had no idea that he wasn't really that much behind. Arthur had his sexual needs, and kinks, but he was still a simple man and a good tight pussy bouncing on his dick was almost enough to make him come. He was absolutely delighted by how much effort you were putting into giving him pleasure and how beautiful you looked riding his already throbbing cock. The image of your blissful face and these pretty tits he couldn't resist cupping, bouncing right in front of him, has been etched into his mind forever and he knew he would be coming back to that memory often, being alone in his tent. No woman in his life mesmerized him as much as you did, and yet, he couldn't reach the peak because of your uneven rhythm and stopping when he was at the cusp of his release. He loved how dedicated and bold in your doings you were, but he needed to come, now, so despite his previous resolve to let you take the lead, he decided to get back in control.

Not wasting any time, he grabbed you by the waist waist for better hold and started bucking his hips rhythmically, ramming into your cunt with full force. He still tried not to go too hard, but you were apparently so turned on that not only you seemed completely fine with his fierce pounding, but also started begging him for more. And Arthur was there to give you what you wanted.

"Is this how you want to be fucked? Like that?" The only answer you were able to give him was a moany whimper resembling "yes!". This was exactly what you expected from sex with Arthur: him unleashing his urges and screwing you in earnest, making you cry with ecstasy with every push of his hips. You wanted him to ravage you, make you his, and leave you a complete mess. Luckily for you, he seemed to have similar plans.

He sat up and pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arm tightly around your shivering body to keep you as close as possible. You clung to him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your wails his furious pounding was causing, but a firm slap on your rear quickly reminded you that being silent was not what Arthur approved.

"I want to hear you, [Y/N]. Every single moan that comes out of your mouth." He purred encouragingly in your ear as his hand snuck between your entwined bodies, his finger began to rub your clit with quick and uneven strokes. It quickly got him what he wanted. "That's a good girl. You like it when I do this to your pussy, don't you?"

"Yes!"

"I can tell. I know you're close. Come on my cock, I want to feel it."

This was too much. His dirty words, his already throbbing dick in your cunt, and his fingers working their magic on your bud, this all set every nerve in your body aflame. You cried out his name and scratched his back so hard it probably left marks when your orgasm jolted through your body, making you throw your head back and buck your hips furiously to get as much pleasure as possible.

"Oh shit, oh shit!" Seeing your climax rush through you and feeling your muscles clench rhythmically around his length, Arthur lost any remains of control he'd had over himself and succumbed to his urges completely. He sped up the pace of his thrusting, ramming into you with fierce passion, and embraced you even tighter to feel you with his entire body. He heard your moans, felt your nails on his skin, and knew he couldn't last any longer. "Shit, I'm gonna come!"

"Come inside me, please." You pleaded, mind still fogged with your prolonging bliss. Arthur's wild pounding, along with his animalistic groans, were doing miracles to your still sensitive core, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body over and over again. "Please, Arthur."

And he did, spilling his warm seed deep inside your cunt with a long guttural moan.

He had never felt like this before. He had many orgasms in his life, but no woman he laid with gave him what you did. Real closeness, the feeling of being trusted and understood. Wanted, and not only for what he had to offer in bed, but for, or maybe rather despite, what he really was. He felt safe in your embrace, and happy to have you in his arms. Maybe it was just the effect of post-coital euphoria, or maybe he was slowly opening his eyes, but at this moment it felt like being... loved.

He buried his face in your soft messy locks, abashed by that thought. You two became really close to each other. You trusted him, and he trusted you too, like no one else. And you made it pretty clear that you were interested in him. But... love? Could you love him? Like, really love? That thought still seemed too preposterous to him.

But he realized he would love nothing more that this to be true.

"Arthur?" You were slightly worried that he went silent for so long, and even more that he was clinging to you desperately as if he was afraid you could suddenly disappear if he loosened his embrace even a little bit. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry." He finally raised his head and smiled tenderly. "That was pretty intense."

"It... was." You couldn't think straight under his soft gaze. His beautiful blue eyes, looking deep into yours, and his warm palms, gently massaging your back, made you feel absolutely intoxicated. You couldn't speak. You couldn't take your eyes off his beautiful face. He smiled at you again, sincerely and with pure affection, and that was the moment you melted completely.

You didn't even know when you pressed your lips against his, tentatively at first, but all these emotions you've been bottling up for so long finally surged to the surface, taking over you and turning your initially innocent kiss into heated and passionate one. To your delight, Arthur didn't remain passive for too long, taking the lead pretty quickly. There was something in the way he was kissing you though, something that shouldn't really be there. You tried to identify that thing, but didn't have much time to dwell on it because Arthur deepened the kiss, making what's left of your coherent thoughts escape your mind in seconds.

"Stay." He broke the kiss unexpectedly and rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.

"What?"

"Stay, [Y/N]."

"I'm not going anywhere?" Light-headed with the kiss, you had no idea what he was talking about.

"I mean if the ransom comes, and you can go. Stay with me."

Desperation, you realized. His kiss was full of desperation, and fear of losing you.

"I'm not going anywhere." You repeated, accentuating every word. "I thought we both knew my father is not interested in getting me back. There won’t be any ransom, you won't get anything for me."

"And what if we will?"

"All of a sudden you have faith?" You snorted, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand. He looked so calm and vulnerable under your touch. "Even if you release me one day, I have nowhere to go. I don't want to go. I won't go. I'm yours now, Arthur. I won't leave you."

And, in fact, you never did.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #duck pecks her keyboard

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 5 years ago

Text

Ace of Spades

This gorgeous cover art was drawn by @corpsecro !

AN: I literally have no self-control so here’s another Kanej fluff chapter. I promise we’ll get to the real stuff soon. My bbs just needed/deserved some love (and tbh, so did we). 🖤💫

Chapter 3- The Iron Debt

Inej blinked.

“Erm— Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. Right. Business.

She’d thought a lot about what she was going to say. She’d even gone so far as to prepare a speech for this moment. But she now fumbled for its beginning like a tangle of yarn buried deep in a drawer.

She squared her shoulders and took a long breath. Focus. It’s just Kaz. This is just business.

“There are a great many things to learn from the sea, Kaz,” she began. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it does not cost nothing to simply exist--and it costs a monstrous deal more to live and live fully.”

There was that face again. The opposite of scheming.

Kaz’s eyes glinted over the tops of his steepled fingers as he waited. Inej found she was rather enjoying this.

“I have lived fully for the past seventeen months,” she continued. “And though it’s been a worthwhile existence, it has cost me greatly. The Wraith has blessed my crew with many months of home on the waves. But she has suffered countless blows and battles on our hunt for slavers. Try as my crew might to fix her up, I believe she is beyond our unprofessional care. She needs proper refurbishment—new sails, new tackle, new masts.”

Kaz furrowed his brows. “You need a new ship.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but it asked enough.

Inej shook her head. “I like The Wraith. She’s sturdy and reliable and damned near the fastest thing on the True Sea. If possible, I’d like to keep her.”

It was Kaz’s turn to blink, but his look of shock was shortly replaced by a smirk of approval.

“A year and a bit on the ocean and you’re already cursing like a sailor,” he said.

Inej sighed and bit back a smile of her own. She forgot how unused to hearing her swear he must be. “Focus, Kaz.”

“When am I not focused?” His eyes bore into hers, and Inej found herself holding her breath.

Fair point.

Kaz leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on her. “Well, if it’s just a bit of work you need done on the ship,” he said, “I know a guy. But if it were just a bit of refurbishing you needed, I don’t think you would have bothered coming all the way here.”

The ache tugged in her chest, a desolate siren call.

“It’s not just refurbishing,” Inej said with a small, sad smile. “I want—I need to refurbish The Wraith. But I’d also like to pay my crew a livable wage for the services they provide. To feed them something other than beans for a change.”

“Anything else?”

“Some new boots would be nice.”

“Well, now you’re asking too much.”

She gave Kaz a long look, even as the corners of her mouth tugged up. He returned the grin in kind.

“But I can’t do all that,” Inej pressed on. “Not all at once. Not with the money that’s left.”

It was strange. She’d always thought she’d be able to live forever off her share of the money they’d glommed from the Merchant Council. At the time, it had seemed like so much.

Especially after everything Kaz had done, everything he’d taken care of. For her.

He’d paid off her indenture, reunited her with her family, and bought her a boat so she could chase her dreams to the most distant shores. Her heart still gave a smarting twist sometimes, thinking of everything he’d given.

The gift she was sure he didn’t realise he was to her.

For the first time in her life, she had been truly free—limitless. So of course, she’d set up a bank account in her parents’ names and deposited a large sum of her share so they would never need worry.

The rest went toward maintaining her ship and paying her crew. She’d tried to make the money last as long as possible. They’d eaten nothing but potatoes in every conceivable form for months. And when the fresh supplies had run out, they’d started on the dried beans and fermented cabbage.

As it turned out, hunting slavers did not pay well. It didn’t pay at all, actually.

Inej had quickly learned that the money slavers did make was either too quickly spent to be looted by her crew after they’d ambushed a ship of them on the open waters, or was dealt with and kept securely on land.

And now, Inej was left with a much thinner cushion of kruge than she cared to think on for too long.

“If it’s money you need, Inej,” Kaz said. “You need only ask.”

“It’s not money I need,” she said, then gave him an apologetic look. “Not your money, at least.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong with my money?”

“You’ve given me more than enough already, Kaz,” she said quietly, eyes lowering to her calloused hands. “I already owe you a great deal as is.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Inej.” His tone was sharp as a honed blade and so wholly sober that it made her peer up at his face again. He watched her with cold determination and eyes of glittering obsidian.

Her smile was rueful and small as she said, “My gratitude, then. By way of friendship.”

At this, Kaz’s eyes softened.

Kaz had never been good at friends. Inej was fairly sure their heisting days with the Crows a lifetime ago was the first time Kaz had allowed himself to think of anyone as his friend in earnest.

“I’d like that,” he said. There was a soft vulnerability in his voice that took her by surprise.

Kaz Brekker never did anything softly.

She didn’t let that thought show on her face, however. “Me too,” she told him. Then, she huffed a sigh. “Even so, I can’t take your money.”

Kaz frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” she said, lips quirking up. “I’ve made a name for myself.”

“So I’ve heard,” he mused. “Inej Ghafa, Slaughterer of Slavers.”

There was a hint of pride in his voice as her newly minted title rolled off his tongue.

“Then you’ll understand that as generous as your offer is, I can’t rely on anyone financially. I cannot be beholden to anyone but myself. Ever again.”

Kaz nodded once in understanding. “Of course,” he said. “You have a reputation to uphold, it seems.”

“Exactly.”

“So if it’s not money you need,” he mused. “What is it you want, Inej?”

“I want you,” she said, and her heart stumbled, her head spinning and scrambling with the weight of her slipped words. “Your help, that is.”

She very nearly cringed. If she was not a tomato before, she was surely one now.

Grinning, Kaz leaned back in his chair and waved a hand through the air with a dramatic flourish. “I’m at your service.”

This made Inej pause. She lifted her brows pointedly at him. “You don’t even know what it is I need your help for.”

“Yes,” he said simply, holding her gaze. Then, after a beat, “I thought we were friends. Is this not what friends do?”

“We are. It is,” she blurted. Too hurriedly.

“So, I’ll help.”

“What— no careful consideration of every possible outcome? No overbearing Kaz Brekker scheming?”

He gasped in a dramatic fashion worthy of the stage. “I am not overbearing!”

Inej just fixed him with a long look. He was either taking lessons from Jesper or he was indeed still half-seas over.

“Inej, darling,” Kaz drawled. “I don’t spend most of my nights getting drunk in the bath because it is fun or particularly important. Helping you would be by far the most diverting thing to happen in weeks.”

Now, she eyed him incredulously. “So you’re helping me for your own amusement.”

“Mostly. Besides,” he said, looking at her from under hooded lids, “This is your scheme. Far be it from me to interfere with whatever it is you have planned. I trust you.”

“Because we’re friends.”

“The best,” he said, and gave her a winning smile.

It was so unlike Kaz to relinquish control like this. Even if they were friends, even if he did want to help her, even if he was bored out of his mind--she would have at least expected Kaz to relish in the opportunity of helping her puzzle together a plan.

Instead, he was letting her take the reins.

Unconvinced, Inej narrowed her eyes at him. “What if I said I needed your help fishing my hat out of the Kraken's stomach?” she asked, leaning forward on the dresser.

A challenge.

“Then I’d say,” Kaz said, mimicking her movement, his elbows coming to rest on his knees, “Tie a rope to my belt and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Inej considered him for a moment, appraising the man before her. His eyes, all fixed on her and black as the night between stars, swam with something like death or hope.

It made her heart flutter.

But she merely leaned back, placated for now at least, and said, “My, my, Kaz. You must be very bored to be so desperate for something to do.”

“Are you saying I can’t help a friend in her time of need? Out of the goodness of my own heart?” Kaz asked in feigned offence.

“Are you saying you have goodness in your heart?”

His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Let’s not be hasty now, Inej.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “So you’ll help?”

“Of course.” Kaz shrugged. “Though, knowing a bit about what I’m helping with might ease my mind. And my back.”

Inej frowned. “What happened to your back?”

“It gets tense when people scheme without me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Poor King of the Barrel.”

He barked a laugh. “I may be King of the Barrel, but I can assure you I am not poor.”

“Alright, smart ass,” Inej grumbled. “No need to boast. There are those of us who are presently in times of great need.”

For a moment Kaz’s face beheld genuine bewilderment. Then, he looked ready to burst into fits of laughter. But he staved it down for a smug mask instead.

“Why, Inej, my darling treasure,” he hummed, “I do believe that was a joke, an insult, and a curse in one fell swoop.”

Inej, having let her well-practised tactics slip away from her with every passing minute in Kaz’s bedroom, blushed. Profusely.

She hated him for it.

“I won’t tell the saints,” he whispered conspiratorially with a wink. “Promise.”

She was sure her cheeks had been set ablaze.

Stupid. How very stupid it was for her to be the one embarrassed when it was he who was drunk and flirtatious and talking business in silk pyjamas.

“Alright,” Inej griped, scowling at the self-satisfied grin on his face. “Enough of your brazen raillery.” Then, leaning forward again to fix Kaz with a glare, she said, “Do you want me to tell you the plan or do you intend on flirting yourself into oblivion instead?”

Kaz wisely covered his ensuing laugh with a cough and made a half-hearted attempt at arranging his face into seriousness. He crossed one leg over the other. “I’m listening.”

“Good,” she said, steeling her spine. “Now, lucky for you I have a solution to both of our predicaments. My lack of funds and your lack of… stimulation.” She gave him a smile that suggested she knew exactly what she was saying. Kaz’s mouth popped open, but before he could say anything in his own defence, she barreled on, “Have you heard of something called the Iron Debt?”

He frowned. “The name rings a bell, but I can’t say I recall—”

“It’s a lost treasure,” Inej cut in. “Long ago, in a time out of mind, the founding fathers of a secret organisation buried a treasure deep within the world. This organisation was a guild of merchants who made and sold impossible artefacts of great power and fortune. They called themselves The Founders.”

Kaz nodded. “Them, I’ve heard of.”

“Then you’ll know they still exist today,” Inej said. “Hidden in the unsearched cracks of society—unknown to those who haven’t a care to look, and lost to those who don’t look hard enough. Rumour has it, their treasure, the treasure left behind by the founding fathers, remains lost as well.”

Another frown puckered his face. “So you want to... put yourself up for the job? Find it for them?”

“Come now, Kaz,” Inej said, levelling him a look. “What happened to that genius criminal mind of yours?”

“It’s currently intoxicated,” he deadpanned. “Give me a minute.”

“No, Kaz,” she said with a sigh. “We’re not going to find it for them. We’re going to find it first.”

A slow smile slipped across his face. “I like the way you think.”

“Oh? And what way is that?”

“Like a pirate.”

When Inej beamed at him then, Kaz looked for all the world like he’d been blinded by the sun.

“Well, then,” she said, smoothing her hands down her leggings, “A pirate and a veritable King of the Barrel. Undoubtedly the most ferocious team the world has ever seen.”

“Indeed,” he said, and rising from the desk chair, he wended his way back into the bathroom.

Inej’s face wrinkled in confusion as she peered after him—a hard thing to accomplish from atop a dresser. A fact she found truth in when she nearly toppled to the floor.

There was shuffling and clinking behind the bathroom door.

Just when Inej thought she might need to check on him, Kaz emerged again with two teacups and the bottle of very old whiskey he’d been busy making a sizable dent in when she’d arrived. The price of said whiskey, she was sure, could ostensibly pay her way for a good week or two.

“So how exactly do you plan on finding this long lost treasure first?” Kaz asked, setting the teacups down on the desk.

Only then did she notice the cups were lime green and pink and dotted with teddy bears. Inej wondered how in the Saint’s holy realm these teacups had ended up in the filthy hands of Kaz Brekker, self-proclaimed Bastard of the Barrel.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Inej said flatly.

In truth, she did have a vague idea. She was just too much of a coward to admit what exactly that idea was until she was sure she had the facts right. If this was her job, she was going to execute it professionally.

Kaz seemed to read her thoughts because he gave her a knowing look as he poured a finger of amber liquid into each cup. A look which suggested he was waiting for her real answer.

“Fine,” she breathed, “I do have some leads. Leads which I’ll tell you about as soon as we’ve assembled a team.”

“Ah,” he said, extending a cup towards her. “There will be others.”

Inej took the cup from his hand and tried not to leap from her own skin when his fingers grazed her wrist. Gooseflesh rose in his wake. Then, Inej smiled.

“As formidable a team as we two doubtless make,” she said, “I’m thinking we might need more help on our side.”

“I think,” he said, taking up a place leaning casually against the desk, “That would be very wise. What about your crew?”

“Oh they’ll be keen, I’m sure,” she said. “But I was thinking more specifically. We’ll need people with certain talents. People we can trust.”

Kaz caught on quickly. “You want to get the Crows back together.”

“Do you think it wise?” she asked, attempting to hide her hopefulness by looking down at the whiskey she now swirled in the bottom of her cup.

She wanted this. Badly.

Of course, she hadn’t fooled herself into believing it would be just like old times. Inej knew everything was different now. So much had changed. But the fact of the matter was, Inej didn’t miss this place so much as she missed the people she’d come to care for here. And she wanted to think they missed her, too.

So she waited with bated breath for Kaz’s response.

“I think you are very wise, Inej,” was all he said.

Her eyes snapped up. “Don’t butter me up, Kaz,” she said, setting her teacup down on the dresser. “And don’t sugar coat it, either.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “I think it might prove… difficult, roping them into a grand scheme like this.”

“How come?”

“Well, for starters,” Kaz said, placing his cup on the desk and folding his arms across his chest, “Matthias is dead.”

Inej’s jaw dropped.

He’d said it as if it were an innocuous comment. As inconsequential as mentioning the weather outside. If she was honest with herself, she almost laughed from the sheer shock of it.

“I thought you said not to sugar coat it,” Kaz said when Inej, still staring at him dumbfounded, floundered hopelessly for words.

“I meant in terms of straight answers, you incredible arse.” Inej glared, ignoring the way his lips quirked up at the corners when she cursed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m well aware of Matthias’s whereabouts, Saints rest his soul.”

There was a pause in which Inej refused to look at him.

She stared at the soot stain in the carpet again and thought she might be better friends with it at that moment than she was with the man who thought making quips at their deceased friend’s expense was a smart thing to do.

“I’m sorry,” Kaz said, and when she looked at him she thought he looked genuine. Though it could have been a trick of the light. “Look, Matthias is gone, Nina left, Kuweii is… gods only know where. Which leaves Jesper and Wylan, and they’re… well, they’re—”

Her heart sank to her stomach. “Saints, Kaz,” Inej breathed, trying not to panic. “What happened to Jesper and Wylan?”

Kaz gave her a bemused look. “They’re happy, Inej,” he said quietly.

Silence settled, heavy in the air between them.

Inej didn’t know why. Part of her was awash with relief that nothing truly devastating had happened to her two dear friends. The exact opposite, in fact. And she should be happy for them. She was happy for them. They deserved the love they’d found in each other.

But there was a second part to Kaz’s statement, an unspoken part, that tinged the silence with something like sadness.

They don’t need us anymore, the silence said.

And a thought occurred to her—that Kaz had been living with this fact for much longer than he would probably ever admit.

That thought alone broke Inej’s heart a little.

“Oh,” was all she could muster. “Thank the Saints for that.”

“We can ask,” Kaz murmured. “But I doubt they’ll agree to join us. Wylan has the business and Jesper won’t want to leave Wylan alone for so long.”

Inej nodded. “I understand,” she said. “We’ll ask. And if they say no, we’ll assemble a new team.”

“I have a few people in mind,” he offered.

“Yeah?” She inclined her head. “Like who?”

“Jensen.”

“Jensen?”

“Mhmm.”

Inej narrowed her eyes, going to no great lengths to hide her suspicion. “I’ve never heard you mention a Jensen before.”

“Really? Must’ve met him while you were off being noble.”

“Huh,” she said, ignoring his jab. “And who is this Jensen, pray tell?”

“Ferocious thief,” he said. “Quick with his hands. Not bad with a knife, either. Might even give you a run for your money.”

“Doubtful.” Inej smirked.

Kaz’s eyes glinted in the low light of the room. He was baiting her. She knew it. She supposed that made her a willing fish.

“Why would I hire him when I have you?” she asked. “You’re a ferocious thief. You’re quick with your hands. And I’m devastating with a knife.” Kaz hummed at that, his face full of amusement, which only fed her suspicions. “To be honest, Kaz, this Jensen seems like a redundancy I can’t afford.”

“Oh, you can afford him. He’ll do it for free.”

“No one works for free, Kaz,” she reminded him. “You know that. Not in our line of work. And especially not when the job involves life-threatening situations.”

“Jensen will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” Kaz said, face splitting into—dare she even think it—a shit-eating grin, “Jensen is a monkey.”

“A monkey?” Inej scoffed. “I thought you said he was a person.”

Kaz shrugged. “Semantics.”

“So you’re telling me a monkey is our best candidate for a new crew?”

Kaz nodded. “He’ll work for butter biscuits.”

Inej groaned and slid a hand down her face as Kaz’s terrible laughter rumbled through the room.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, trying to tamper down her own chuckles. A few escaped her lips despite herself.

She knew it was a distraction. By some miracle, Kaz must’ve been able to read the tension in her shoulders like lines from a book. And for a moment, as Inej laughed at the absurdity of Jensen the pirating monkey, she’d felt that tension ease.

It was probably the best kind of disappointment she could ask for at this point.

“We’ll find a team, Inej,” Kaz assured her, more serious now that he’d collected his dignity off the floor where he’d dropped it. “It might not be with Jesper or Wylan. And it might not be with Jensen.”

“I think that would be wise,” she interceded, a smile ghosting at her lips.

“We’ll find people.”

“People,” Inej clarified. “Not monkeys.”

“Fine,” Kaz sighed in mock regret. “I know of a parrot—”

She gave an incredulous laugh. “No animals, Kaz!”

“Right,” he said, drumming his fingers against the side of the desk. “Can we at least pay Jes and Wylan a visit, and kick their sorry butts at cards before we leave them to their domesticities?”

“That, I might agree to,” she said.

And suddenly, she was remembering vividly all those nights between shoot-outs and scheming and heisting, when the Crows had gathered around a rickety old table to play cards.

They’d bet on ridiculous things - like dares or a feathery hat the loser had to wear for a day - because all of them were skint and those things were better than money anyway.

Usually, it was Poker or Bullshit, but many-a-game of Slap Jack had nearly snapped the table’s legs. There had even been a game of surprisingly competitive Go Fish or two when they’d exhausted all other options.

Inej delighted at the echo of unmitigated ruthlessness of those games that danced across her mind.

The mischievous gleam in Kaz’s eyes told her he remembered, too.

And as that gilded memory shimmered in the air between them, Inej felt warmer than she had in months.

For all of his insufferable jokes and needling sarcasm, she found herself incredibly grateful for her friend, who had subtly reminded her that just because things had changed, it didn’t mean there were not still good times to be had.

“Then it’s agreed,” he said. “We’ll assemble a crew, get some leads, then take Jesper and Wylan for all they’re worth at the tables.”

Inej laughed and lifted her makeshift glass in a toast.

“What shall we toast to, pirate?” he said, lifting his teacup to match her own.

She thought for a moment. There were so many things to be grateful for.

“To very lost treasure,” she decided in the end. “And swindling the swindlers.”

“Pirate, indeed,” Kaz replied.

Their glasses clinked, and Inej slid slowly into the warm refuge of her glass and the revelry of being home at last.

♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎♠︎

AN: Hope you enjoyed this fluff chapter because I am Kanej trash and I enjoyed writing it very much. Thank you so much for reading! More (serious) chapters to come soon- if you’d like to be tagged in future updates, just shoot me a message/ask 🖤💫

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fiveup · 3 years ago

Text

I made this post as a joke and then I sat down and wrote 3400 words for it

Fwhip truly was trying to mind his business when it happened, truly. He was tinkering away in his sanctuary, trying to implement defenses to keep interlopers out of his precious salmon pond—honestly, more for his own damn peace and quiet than that of the fish.

So it came as a complete shock when a certain slimy fish crashlanded ungracefully into his tranquil pond.

“JIMMY!” Fwhip yelled indignantly as the Codfather laboriously pulled himself out of the newly-troubled waters, preparing himself to lay into the oblivious emperor about not disturbing his literal worst enemy’s safe space—

Then, he actually stopped and looked at Jimmy, and every single furious retort on the tip of his tongue withered and died in his throat. For Fwhip—Fwhip could bully the gentle fish-boy sometimes, maybe wiggle a toe or five too far over the line of friendly teasing, but he never truly wanted to utterly harm the other, and right now—he was looking pretty fucking harmed. Jimmy’s face was a myriad of emotions, anxiety, worry, confusion, and true, raw fear warring across his scaled features, and Count Fwhip of the Grimlands, feared across the lands, was NOT on board with it.

“I—you okay, man?” he frowned awkwardly, unsure how to react to this open emotion being displayed by someone he knew far too well despised showing vulnerability to anyone sans his closest allies.

Jimmy looked up at him with a wild, hunted look in his normally-sparkling eyes, sopping green-tinted hair splayed across his forehead. His skin was flushed a vague green with exertion, and his scaled elytra lay soaked and crumpled across the shifting muscles of his back bared to the world by his ripped-up top.

“Fwhip, I think the demon is trying to propose to me,” he said breathlessly, and the alchemist's world screeched to a halt.

"YOU THINK THE DEMON IS TRYING TO DO WHAT?!" he shouted suddenly, stumbling backwards in shock and collapsing onto a nearby sun-warmed rock, staring at Jimmy like he'd just informed him he was now a PVP god, and challenged him to a barehanded duel.

Actually, that would probably surprise him less. Codfish, carnivorous, predatory, and even cannibalistic, were not exactly known for their meek natures; Fwhip was genuinely worried about the day that someone pushed the peaceful Jimmy a little too far, and genuinely worried that it might be the Count himself.

The Codfather cleared his throat nervously, eyes darting all around as if making sure he hadn't been followed. Carefully, he settled into a criss-cross seat, legs tensed as if to dive back into the lake at the nearest opportunity or sign of danger. His flared cod-mask is notably missing, and Fwhip barely holds back a smug smile at his victory, deeming it insensitive in the current situation.

"I was working on my wall across the ravine," the emperor pants, hands wringing in his lap, "and I felt eyes on my back, so I turned around and--well, y'know how they stare at people, right? Yeah, they were doing that, and I got freaked out, so I jumped off the tower and flew into my house, and then--"

"Breathe, Jimmy," Fwhip cuts in, stopping the younger's frantic rambling in its tracks . "I promise that you're safe now, no matter our current quarrels. If Xornoth somehow finds you here, I'll fend them off if you can't, but breathe. You're going to become intelligible, and neither of us have time for that, apparently."

Jimmy took a deep breath, visibly calming himself as he shifted in his anxiously seated position, and then nodded, preparing to continue.

"When I entered my house, there was…" he swallowed, evidently not very comfortable with what he was about to say, and Fwhip rolled his eyes.

"Spit it out, Codfather," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his own flushed forehead and accidentally smearing some redstone over his already-ruddy skin.

"Myhousewasfilledwithhandmadegoldenjewelryincludingacarvedringonapedestal," Jimmy rushed, and as soon as Fwhip registered what he'd said, he couldn't help himself.

He burst out into raucous giggles, leaning over himself and hugging at his knees for stability as he wheezed over Jimmy's plight. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he laughed and laughed and laughed until his ribs hurt and Jimmy was wearing the most unimpressed look he'd ever seen the Codfather don. It took him four separate attempts to finally control his glee, but he finally managed to cut off the enthused giggles.

"You've got to be friggin' kidding me," he coughed out, still regaining his breath. "That's the most dramatic elven courtship opening I've ever seen or heard of. Man, they must really--what did you of all people do to get Xornoth's attention?"

Jimmy jerked upright from where he'd been leaning over and staring into the lake, eyeing the salmon like a cat preparing to pounce. Quickly, he replaced his guilty, caught-in-the-cookie-jar expression with an indignant one.

"Hey, what d'ya mean 'you of all people'?'" he cried, offended. "I'll have you know that I am a freaking catch, thank you very much!"

"Yeah, no shit you're a catch, you're literally a fish," Fwhip deadpanned back, lazily dodging the halfhearted rock the emperor tossed at him. "Dude, the demon was planting serious corruption in your land before it ever got past tiny specks for the rest of us...do you think they've been planning this?"

Jimmy blanched a worrying shade of grey, and Fwhip carefully positioned himself to grab the other if he passed out and fell into the pond--the alchemist had extensively examined the cod mask he'd stolen from the young emperor, and it evidently carried some sort of gill feature to allow him to breathe underwater for periods of time if necessary, something his fishy biology had evidently neglected.

"Is it...my fault they're doing this to everyone?" he whispered, just barely audible to the Count.

Fwhip sighed yet again, running his hand over features dusted in redstone, sweat, and grease. Honestly, he wanted to say yes, to finally have a scapegoat for the inexplicable corruption causing him such grievance...but Jimmy looked so tired, and worry lines creased his face in a way they hadn't even when Fwhip was taunting him with the cod-head.

"No, Jimmy," he said finally, exhaling heavily for the second time in as many minutes. "It's not your fault. You didn't make Xornoth do anything. Besides, you're certainly not as bad as Joey or, loath as I am to admit it, Sausage--they're both actively encouraging the demon to do whatever they want to do to the Empires--oh, Grimm above, Joey!"

Instantly, both of the emperors' eyes locked and widened in horrified acknowledgement at the exact same time.

"Joey's gonna fucking kill me," Jimmy breathed, and Fwhip nods silently, agreeing without saying a word.

(Distantly, he thinks, Scott's gonna fucking kill Xornoth, and refuses to reflect on how he just knows his ally is going to be FURIOUS at the idea of the demon attempting to marry Jimmy).

"We should probably…" Fwhip paused, carefully considering their next course of action, because honestly, this was probably something that involved everyone--well, then. "We should probably call a meeting with the other Empires, because this, as strange as it is, is a development with the demon that everyone needs to know about."

Jimmy honest-to-god whimpered, face unnaturally silvery as he considered having to stand up and inform the ten emperors of this new development, and Fwhip just barely managed to hold back another bout of helpless laughter. The man looked so genuinely horrified, even worse than when he'd arrived at the Sanctuary or remembered that Joey was currently enamoured with the demon currently enamoured with himself.

"Yes, Jimmy, you have to tell them," Fwhip answered, sensing the question on the tip of the other's tongue and quelling it with a single raised eyebrow before it could be asked. "It could help us to stop them, which is slowly becoming more and more necessary."

The Codfather rolled his eyes like a spoiled child who’d been told they weren't allowed to have sweets before dinner. Fwhip met his petulant gaze with a steely one of his own, and pulled a stack of spare rockets out of his inventory, dividing them in half and shuffling 32 of them over to Jimmy with his booted foot. The blond let his eyes roll for the second time in quick succession, but begrudgingly accepted them into his own hotbar, pulling out his comm to inform people to come meet the duo for a serverwide Empires discussion. This let Fwhip catch sight of a golden glimmer around Jimmy's wrist, and he laughed outright, leaning forward to get a better look at it. It was an intricately carved golden armband, curling up Jimmy's bare forearm and complementing his skin almost perfectly, but not quite.

"Please, Hell's wings, please don't tell me you're wearing one of the things the demon terrorising everyone you care about made for you, Codfather," Fwhip said, still grinning as he shook his head in mock disapproval. "No, but seriously, Jimmy, aren't you worried about corruption? That can't be safe, don't trust anything from them."

The younger ruler shrugged, hand leaving his comm-pocket to rub over the beautiful piece.

"I think it's okay, you can't really hide the colour of corruption magic," he pointed out, reaching back to pull out his comm. "Plus, Shelby gave me some of the potion stuff she was working on with my slime, and I washed it in that, just to make sure. It should be fine, I promise! I'm not that big of an idiot, c'mon, have a little faith," the Codfather teased, a hesitant smile lifting the edge of his mouth.

The alchemist rolled his own eyes for a change and said no more on the matter, nodding silently at Jimmy to show acknowledgement of the reasoning, but not letting his features change to portray approval or disapproval of the donning of the gorgeously-crafted piece.

"It's awfully impersonal," he noted, examining it with a practiced eye. "Colours aren't really special, the carvings seem to just be about fish, which is fair, but that's definitely a salmon on the bottom left, so they should really pick up their slack on the whole craftsmanship piece. Absolutely beautiful, though, I'll give them that."

"Hey, Fwhip, is it good if we go meet them at Lizzie's Empire?" Jimmy asked instead of dignifying that with a response, quickly punching in his passcode and letting the scuffed thing scan his thumb, having far more defense on his comm than most due to residual paranoia from something Fwhip didn't know the nature of. "My Empire is kinda overrun by, like, corruption and also an apparently amorous demonic presence, and I know her Empire has been pretty clear so far, so... She's my ally, so she'll definitely let us hold it there, but I know you and her have been strained at certain points, um--"

Fwhip hummed in apathetic affirmation, feeling his own stained comm buzz against his hip where it was bound and pulling it out of its sheath to read what Jimmy had sent and send a reinforcing message of his own.

<SolidarityGaming: Hey, guys, I need to call a serverwide meeting ASAP--Lizzie, are we good to host at your place? It can be at my embassy if it needs to, but it's about the corruption and I don't want Xornoth following us>

<LDShadowLady: Yeah, 'course! My tower is open, just land on the rotunda, guys>

<SolidarityGaming: Okay, everyone really needs to be there, it's, uh, a bit of a shocking development>

<fWhip: I don't normally agree with Jimmy, but this time he's right>

<Smajor1995: Right then everyone to Lizzie's in ten Overworld minutes. That includes you, Sausage, Joey, joel!>

<SolidarityGaming: Oh that reminds me, joey?>

<JoeyGraceffa: What?>

<SolidarityGaming: please don't kill me it's not my fault i don't want this any more than you do>

<JoeyGraceffa: WHAT??>

<Smajor1995: Do I even want to know…>

<fWhip: Trust me, Scotty, you really, really DON'T.>

Jimmy looked up from his comm to frown at Fwhip, confusion evidently bleeding into his sharp, dripping facial features. He cocked his head, looking not unlike a golden retriever as Fwhip also looked up irritatedly, sensing Jimmy's eyes on him. Their gazes met, emerald perplexion locking onto crimson exasperation.

"Why would Scott of all people specifically not want to know?" Jimmy inquired puzzledly. "He's got the whole thing with his deer god or whatever the fuck going on, wouldn't he be thrilled to know the demon might have a weakness?"

Fwhip once again held back a round of laughter, snickering slightly at the other's oblivious confusion.

"It's not about the weakness," he replied knowingly, "it's about the fact that the demon is evidently trying to romantically pursue yo--someone. He probably won't be pleased with them."

Grimm above, if only Jimmy knew…

Distantly, Fwhip thought back to a conversation he'd had with the Wither Rose Alliance and varied associates--Gem, Sausage, Scott, Joey, and himself being present--just a few days ago. It hadn't made much sense at the time, but he'd overheard a conversation Gem was having with Sausage afterwards that had cleared a bit of it up.

↫✵↬

"Absolutely not," an unexpected voice cut in with a tone like molten lava, the previously-silent Emperor of Rivendell wearing a thunderous expression that had Sausage, seated to his left, and Gem, to his right, physically leaning away from him, both wearing nervous expressions at the man’s anger.

Fwhip held up his hands in a surprised gesture, placating and shocked in equal measure.

"C'mon, Scotty, what gives? You've been saying you don't care what we do to Jimmy as long as we don't straight up destroy his Empire cause you're staunch allies and partners with one of his staunchest allies. This is just...a bit of light combustion! Maybe a couple arrow dispenser traps! Don’t be such a killjoy.”

The elven ruler met him eye to eye, gaze aflame with barely-suppressed fury, and Fwhip barely managed to keep his instinctive flinch backwards in check. His golden-blue-white wings were quivering, and Fwhip knew it was not with fear; rather, in fearmongering. The Count actually sat down in his seat for the first time since the meeting had begun, not wanting to pose a threatening figure instead of an imposing one. If Scott felt that the Grimmlands emperor was acting as a threat, he would not hesitate to shed his blood for the perceived indignity, tentative allies or otherwise.

"If you," Scott began, cadence measured and lethal, and then he paused, cyan orbs shining with gold sweeping the entire room. "If any of you, for that matter, trap the Cod Empire with TNT, lava, or arrows, specifically those three, then," he stopped again, and locked eyes with Fwhip, boring scalding holes into the Count from where he sat, emitting an emotion that could only be described as utter ferocity.

The Elven Emperor of Aeor's Blessed Kingdom Rivendell let a dangerous smile curl at the corners of his lips, teasing glimpses of pearly, razor-sharp fangs shining through, and Fwhip was distinctly reminded of his pressure plates prank on the gentle swamp king, hoping that Scott never caught wind of it.

"Then, I will kill you and raze your very foundations to the ground with my own hands, consequences bedamned. And rest assured, little Emperors, I will enjoy it."

None of them mentioned the offhand plan to prankingly trap the Codfather again.

(None of them dared).

↫✵↬

"What the hell was up with that?" Sausage hissed, and Fwhip had frozen from where he was inadvertently hidden in the bushes.

Gem sighed audibly, and looked away, refusing to meet Sausage's eyes, and Fwhip tensed ever so slightly when her eyes swept over his hiding spot, but she either didn’t notice him or didn’t care that he was there.

“I don’t quite know, but I’ve heard some stories from Scar back on Hermitcraft,” she begins, keeping her voice low but still audible to the alchemist. “Apparently, Grian started something called Third Life, and it spiraled into this crazy gladiator-style deathmatch thing. Supposedly Ren and Grian were both completely off their rockers.”

Sausage rolled his eyes so harshly Fwhip could almost hear them.

“That’s cool and all, but what does that have to do with Scott being a very violent stick in the mud about teasing the hapless cod boy?” he retorted annoyedly, arms crossed against his armored chest.

Gem shushed him, equally irritated at the interruption.

“Sshhh, I’m getting there! So basically, on this server, apparently, Scott and Jimmy were married, and—“

“THEY WERE WHAT?”

“Shut up! And keep your voice down, we don’t want anyone to hear us! This is private. So like the server name suggests, everyone gets three lives, and then you’re permadead. According to Scar, Jimmy died first, which is why he doesn’t remember—the first few people to permadie don’t. And also, apparently Jimmy’s three deaths were to a TNT minecraft set by Grian, a lava game set by Tango, and an arrow to the throat by someone Scar doesn’t remember,” Gem rattled off, panting afterwards from a continued refusal to pause for breath.

"So...why aren't they married anymore?" Sausage asked, and Gem smacked him--which was fortunate, because Fwhip was about to jump out and do the same, and he really wanted to keep eavesdro—accidentally listening in.

“MythicalSausage! You can’t just ask that!”

“Well, neither of them are here, are they?”

“Still, it’s insensitive!”

As Gem and Sausage devolved into meaningless back-and-forth bickering, Fwhip decided it was high time he took his leave, and slipped away through whence he came, padding back into the room he’d held the meeting in and from there, pushing the quasi-hidden door open and walking back into his base.

Decidedly not his problem.

↫✵↬

The ruler of the Grimmlands shook himself out of his unintentional daze, clapping his hands together as he carefully stood up from his temporary seat. He brushed the dust off of his clothes and gestured vaguely at Jimmy.

“C’mon, Codfather, we’ve got places to be and Lizzie is not exactly kitty-corner to my base. Chop chop!”

Jimmy rolled his eyes at him, still looking visibly confused by what Fwhip had said about Scott being less-than-pleased with Xornoth seeking a romantic partner in Jimmy himself, but he begrudgingly followed the other’s bidding. Fwhip raised an eyebrow as he carefully adjusted his elytra for the third time, flexing his own strangely responsive elytra, but ultimately pushing Jimmy’s strange paranoia out of his mind in favor of turning to a rocky outcropping to his left.

Without another word to the skittish fish-king, Fwhip jogged up to that cliff, rolled his shoulders, and leapt off the boulders, spreading his wings as he fell to deftly catch the handy updraft. He looked up to be met with the scaly underside of Jimmy’s own wings, the other evidently having angled his elytra to sacrifice speed for height in order to not drop straight down onto Fwhip.

And so, Fwhip flew alongside the only person (sans the literal demon) he might consider an enemy into the midday sun.

demon decides theyre not into joey actually they want the other j-y guy and starts flirting with a very confused jimmy

scott unlocks the full extent of his birthright within SECONDS. hell hath no fury like a scorned homosexual

#canon divergent #empires #empires smp #fwhip #empires Fwhip #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #scott Smajor #smajor1995 #ldshadowlady #empires lizzie #geminitay #empires gem #mythicalsausage #empires sausage #xornoth #joey graceffa #empires joey

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scrap-bin · 7 years ago

Text

Holy cow, what a week! My feet hurt so. SO. BAD.

I have been trying to sit down and write every day for the last three days, and I have clearly failed to do so. Between being busy all day, then too tired to function at night, and the added delight of a phone that REFUSES to let me access my pictures on my computer, finding a minute to sit down and think straight has been damn near impossible.

Wednesday, we walked down to the Aquarium of the Pacific and basically spent all day there. Its a two mile walk up the strand from my grandmother's apartment, and they have this lovely walking path right down on the beach. I like this path. It has these beautiful markers paved into it, stating the distance from the two ends of the route. We have mile markers on the Mineral Belt trail in Colorado, but they're more like...street mile markers. Just a T post with a plastic marker on it, set to be above the level average snow accumulation. They're not very attractive, just functional. But these ones are really neat and very clever.

We must have picked the worst day for our trips to both the aquarium and the zoo later, cause we managed to get to both on the day literally every elementary school in the county must have been there. While going in, it reminded us both of free days at the Denver Zoo. Those are just a nightmare. You can't move an inch forward or backwards without tripping over someone's kid, and the parents are either completely checked out, letting them just run amok with no care, or they're just as pushy as their kids and more willing to slam a stroller into your ankle to get a front space on the glass. We don't go to Denver Zoo on free days anymore.

BUT! I digress....this wasn't NEARLY as bad as we first thought it might be! It was definitely loud, and ridiculously crowded, and a few of the older school groups were doing scavenger hunts and school papers on what they saw. So really, it was just like a normal aquarium day.

And I LOVE this aquarium. It's one of my favorites. We spent hours staring at exhibits. We hit every touch pool and stood mesmerized by jelly fish tanks for extended periods. We practiced a liiiiittle deep breathing when seven seperate GROUPS of people called a sturgeon 'shark', rather than read the signs on the pool, but it is unfortunately to be expected in such places. I took over 400 pictures of things I already have pictures of, and Thorin took several hundred herself. Thorin was ecstatic to find the shark lagoon, and then the rainbow lories. Like, on her belly over a wall, up to her elbows in water, surrounded by screeching kids but who freaking cares, I"M PETTING A SHARK, MAN.

Afterwards, we were in so much pain that we ALMOST took the bus home, but we changed our minds and ended up limping barefoot back UP the beach home. Only, this time, we waded along the surf the entire time and picked up trash along the wave line. Of course, with me being the bonehead I am, I said, Nooooo, don't bring a trash bag, we'll take the bus home and grab a bag before we go back to the beach. So we ended up juggling large bits of garbage and shuffeling back and forth from the beach trash cans we passed along our way. Until Thorin dove into a wave for a bit of trash that ended up being, what do you know...a trash bag! Ask and ye shall receive, I guess! That increased our trash pick up abilities.

Thursday we had lunch with my uncle and his family at some amazing all you can eat asian buffet, I think it was the Asian Star Buffet? I was too busy burying myself into a meat-loaded plate of broccoli beef and amazing terriyaki pork kebabs to pay attention to the sign over the door. Really, my family and Thorin were all "meat, veggies, rice, some fruit, a little sushi" and then there was my plate that was just "Meat, meat, different kind of meat, other meat, might be meat? Also meat, and don't forget the meat."

I am a subject of my raising. Our family likes meat.

Still, it was delicious! And afterwards, I took Thorin up to Huntington Beach where we hounded for some shells, and waded into waves until we both got flipped head over heels and came out with water up our noses and sand in our hair, and we kept this up until Thorin landed on some hard shells and ripped her leg up a little. Enough to bleed, so we got out and went for a walk instead. We grabbed some malts at the Ruby's on the pier and fooled around for a bit longer and finally went home.

Friday was zoo day! We overslept, mostly because I was up late trying to clean off my phone (I am digging my android, but it just will not function when attached to a computer, and google drive is a hateful beast that will not cooperate with me.) but my uncle lent us his car and we made it to the San Diego Zoo around lunchtime. Again, we ran into every school group imaginable, but as luck would have it they all seemed to be leaving as we showed up. Thorin flipped out upon seeing the Galapogos tortoises, and spent several minutes educating me on the different tortoises from the different islands. Everything was super active, except for maybe the tiger. And for a pair of mountain locals who live and hike above 10,000 feet, we made it about half the day before we were huffing and puffing like winded race horses.

The entire day was awesome, but I think the best part was on our way back towards the entrance. We walked past a vulture cage that a magpie had gotten into. Thorin, being the cheeky arse she is, says "Oh, look, its the rare and elusive magpie!"

I"M laughing, cause I'm a dork, until, as we walk past, the magpie looks up and says..."HI!"

This, of course, lead to us both sitting and staring at this magpie for another ten minutes. We succeeded in getting one more "Hi!" out of it before he lost interest in us and went back to raiding the larger bird's cage for crumbs.

By the time we got out of there, neither of us could walk properly. We got off the interstate as soon as possible and road Pacific Coast Highway from Dana Point back to Long Beach. It was too dark to really see the shore anymore, but it was still a nice cool drive.

We have walked a total of 27 and a quarter miles since we got here! That is freaking awesome! And I am totally about to cut my own feet off to stop the pain! I did NOT pack the right shoes for this. Barefeet for the win.

OH! And my bag got a few more pins! I really wish I’d thought of doing this sooner, but even so, LOOK HOW PRETTY!

Cheers, guys!

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tastesoftamriel · 7 years ago

Text

The Bee and Barb (a long tale by Talviel)

It was Loredas, 23rd of Rain’s Hand, 4E 203, and I was 19 years old. I was the saviour of Skyrim, having defeated Alduin and ending the Dragon Crisis, a Nightingale, and the head of the Thieves Guild. Between my adventures and work for the Guild, I had more coin than I ever hoped to see in my lifetime. I finally had enough septims to pay the face shaper by the Ragged Flagon to change my natural dark brown hair that I’d inherited from my Imperial mother to a spooky ashen grey I’d wanted all my life. I’d bought my parents a house called Honeyside near the marketplace, removing them from the squalor of the Beggar’s Row hut we’d lived in since I was born, and found them both profitable jobs in the Jarl’s Palace. People still cheered when they saw me on the streets, despite my Guild armour and reputation for being probably the best fighter and most notorious thief in Skyrim. My newfound fame irked me despite it being over six months since I’d slain Alduin, but I smiled and chatted to anyone who approached me.

I was in the Ragged Flagon chatting with Vekel the Man when Vex walked up to me with her usual expression of annoyance. “What’s up, Vex?” I asked. “Can I interest you in the easiest heist job of your life?” She grumbled, motioning to Vekel to pour her some wine. “Vex, I’m the head of the Guild now and I’ve got shit to do. Why not get Rune or someone to do it? Or do it yourself for a change.” “Ha-hardy-ha.” She said sarcastically. “Literally everyone is on a job. Since you helped revive the Guild, everyone in Skyrim wants a piece of us. And I don’t leave the Flagon unless it’s to sleep, you know it. Every now and again, we like to remind the shopkeepers that we’re in charge. If that means breaking into their strongboxes and stealing something valuable from them, then so be it. Feel like doing a bit of shopping…the Guild way?” I sighed, taking a sip of mead. “Fine, lay it on me then.” “Keerava at the B and B apparently carries flawless diamond on her. I want it.”

I felt a twang of guilt, as Keerava, the Argonian owner of the Bee and Barb, had never been anything but kind to me since I first set foot in her establishment at the age of 16. Of course, these days I paid for my meals, but as an impoverished young girl running with the Guild, she would always let me sit by the fire with a mug of cider and a basket of bread when I was temporarily kicked out of home and felt too weary to go back to the cistern’s hard hay mattresses. But it was a simple job and she wouldn’t notice a thing, so I drained my tankard and stood up. “Be back in 30 minutes.” I grumbled, heading off. I stopped in the cistern to change into civilian clothing to mask my intentions, then made my way up through the trap door.

It was a rainy day, colder than expected. I pulled up the hood of my cloak while nodding to some guards I passed who complained about patrolling in that weather. I crossed the marketplace and made it into the B and B. It was early morning, and the establishment wasn’t open yet. Talen-jei, the co-owner, was busy stoking the hearth. “What do you want?” He hissed, his obvious dislike for me showing. “I’m just looking for Keerava.” “Upstairs.” He grunted, turning back to the fire. I made my way up the wooden stairs that the Argonians kept proudly polished, and looked for Keerava. She was busy making the bed in one of the rooms. I coughed, and she turned around.

“Odd to see you this morning Talviel, we haven’t even opened yet.” She grinned, her harsh voice more of a croak than anything else. “Kitchen’s not ready yet, but we do have some apples in a barrel in the cellar. Help yourself, but try drop us a few septims on the way out, will ya?” “Oh, I just came to chat.” I smiled innocently, and made some small talk while leaning close to the wall so I could see her belt pouch. Luckily, it was just within finger’s reach and I snapped the clasp open. All of a sudden, a loud whooping sound rang through the room, and Keerava’s hand went to her pouch. “And just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked me angrily. “I had this pouch enchanted by a mage with a security spell, and you’re the first one to try break into it? Shame on you! You’d better have a good reason for this before I kick you out onto the street for the guards to handle.” She snapped angrily. “I…” I stuttered, never having encountered anything with a security spell in my life. The Riften locals were getting smart, it seemed. “Keerava, I’m sorry, I was sent here on a job and got told to lift your diamond and I didn’t want to do it because you’ve been so nice to me since I was a kid and-” “By the Hist child, slow down! I can barely hear a word you’re saying!” I buried my face in my hands in shame, both for mucking up a simple job and for betraying the trust of someone who cared for me. Her voice softened and she patted the partially made bed, indicating for me to sit down. She sat by by side, looking concerned.

“Talviel, child, everyone in Skyrim knows you’re with the Guild. Even if you’re not in armour, the way you walk gives it away. But you’re better than this. I remember our first encounter: you were poor but so honest, and I know that honesty is still there in your heart.” I said nothing, as tears of shame dripped onto the floorboards. She continued, “I know one of the real reasons you’re with the Guild. The way you look at that Brynjolf fellow…I’ve seen you in here, walking through the alleys and market. He’s no good for you, child. He’s going to break your heart. Thieves are selfish, and I know you’re not. Remember the time you came in after the Dragon Crisis? What did you give me?” “A…a dragonbone knife and a copy of Uncommon Taste.” I whispered. “That’s right. And you said you carved the knife yourself, specially for the kitchen. Look at yourself, child. You’re not selfish like those people in the cistern.”

“Keerava, I’m nothing without them. I would still be living by the Ratways, helping my father catch fish or scooping horse shit in the stables if it weren’t for them. You don’t understand. While I was gone…I killed. I plundered and looted and stole at any given chance. I’m not an innocent child anymore. And I’m the leader of the Guild, I can’t just leave them. They’re my family.” Keerava smiled, wiping a tear from my cheek.“ But you have a real family to go back to, and I know they’ll take you after all you’ve done for them. And…I can be your family too.” I looked at her without comprehension. “Talviel, when you were nothing more than a hatchling, I once saw you bringing a tray of cookies to the orphanage. You won’t remember this, but I asked you who made them, and you said you did, all by yourself. As you grew older I saw you selling bread and cauldrons of stew in the marketplace, from animals you’d hunted with your own bow. To be honest, our sales in stew dropped during that time, because everyone raved about how good yours was! What I’m proposing is simple: start a new life, come work in the kitchens here for me. You’re a natural, and this is a safe space for you with honest work.”

I sat in silence, pondering. “I don’t know, Keerava, the Guild isn’t going to take this well. I’m in charge, for them it’ll be like the death of the High King. I do love cooking, I’m always doing that when I’m free in the cisterns…but I can’t give you an honest answer just yet. Can you give me some time to think this over?” “Of course, child. Do what you need to do, and when you’re ready -if you’re ready- come back and talk to me. Don’t worry, I won’t report you to the guards.” I stood up, thanking her profusely, saying I’d get back within a week. As I left the room, she called out. “And one more thing, Talviel. I wouldn’t pick any pouches in Riften again if I were you. Practically the whole town has invested in security enchantments.” I swore under my breath and made my way back to the cistern.

“Back from a job, huh? Hope it went well!” Sapphire smiled as I climbed down through the trapdoor, blissfully unaware of what was going through my head. I just patted her on the shoulder and slouched my way to the Flagon. “Pull up a seat…have a drink.” Delvin said, seeing my knitted brows as I came in. I sighed and sat down heavily on the seat opposite his, groaning and thunking my head onto my arms. “I think I’ll need more than just one drink, Delvin.” I said, muffled and not moving. “Oh dear, boss is having a bad day. Vekel, have you got any more of that sujamma stuff?” Delvin called over. Vekel soon brought over a pot of sujamma and a shot glass. I raised my head to pour myself a shot, and was just about to down it when Vex walked in. She glanced at me, Delvin, and the sujamma. “So…I’ll take it that things somehow didn’t go well.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh Vex, you have no idea.”

After I’d finished telling Vex and Delvin about the new security enchantments, they swore and Delvin left to find a contact who could get a more disreputable mage to come up with a counter-spell we could enchant our armour with. “Somehow I have a feeling you haven’t told me everything yet.” Vex said, staring at me from the corner of her eye as she sipped her sujamma. “Vex, did I ever tell you that you’re annoyingly perceptive?” “Thanks, I don’t get compliments like that very often.” “Just…lay off for a bit. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and since Brynjolf is my second in command I need to discuss things with him first. Where is that damn guy, anyway?” I said, realising I hadn’t seen him in over two days. “That’s not a very nice way to talk about your one true love.” Vex said sarcastically, and I threw a screwed up ball of parchment at her face. “Last I heard he was on a job in Falkreath or something. Check your spreadsheet, he’d definitely have signed off.”

I made my way to my desk in the cisterns. Our formerly blank ledger was full of names. My finger scanned down the page for Brynjolf’s name. “Brynjolf…Falkreath…signed out 18th of Rain’s Hand, expected return date 25th of Rain’s Hand. Great.” I grumbled, partially out of annoyance of waiting and partially because I missed seeing his red head walking around the cistern while calling everyone “lass” or “lad”. I sighed and left a note on my desk that I was feeling unwell and was going to stay with my parents at Honeyside and was only to be contacted upon urgent business. With that, I made my way back out again, letting the unrelenting drizzle splash on my face. I walked slowly to my parents’ house, trying not to think about anything at all. They were both at work, so I unlocked the door, lit the fireplace, kicked off my boots, and sat on the little bunk my father had made for me in the living quarters.

I must have fallen asleep as I heard the key turning in the lock and heard my mother and father come in. They spotted me on the bed and looked confused, as it wasn’t time for my weekly visit. “Talviel, what are you doing here?” My father cleared his throat, startling me to full consciousness. “Oh, hello folks.” I yawned. “Just…not feeling too well, and need a softer bed than those excuses for mattresses down in the cistern.” My mother undid her cloak and hung it up to dry by the fire. “You always have been the worst liar, Talviel. Something’s happened, out with it.” I moved to the dining table and poured myself a tankard of mead, taking a big gulp before starting. “Well parents, I have officially had the weirdest day since I discovered I was the Dragonborn…”

We all sat in silence once I finished speaking. My mother was the first to break the silence. “Talviel, I know it was rough of us to kick you out when we discovered you were with the Thieves Guild, but we realise that was unfair and we’re grateful for our new home and jobs and the coin that comes with it. But I agree with Keerava entirely. You’ve been running with that unsavoury crowd for too long, and you deserve a better chance at life. You would make an excellent chef, and who knows, you might be working in the Jarl’s kitchen next.” My father was silent for a moment, before muttering, “Aye, got to agree with your mother. You know I don’t have the cleanest past, child, but I don’t want you to repeat my mistakes. Get yourself an honest job. Your sweetcakes and rabbit stew are the best I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve travelled all the way to Cyrodiil. I think this would be the perfect job for you.” I groaned. “I knew you both would say that. Didn’t say I’d made up my mind yet though, and I’ve still got to talk to Brynjolf when he gets back. “That man again? Talviel, forget it. It’s not going to happen. As for Guild things, we don’t want to know.”

Finally the 25th rolled around and I went back to the cistern, chewing my nails. Everyone asked if I felt better and I put on a pantomime of being healthy as a horse even though I felt rotten inside. I kept to my desk, reading a novel instead of doing whatever a Guild ringleader was meant to do. At last, in the early evening while I was making dinner, I heard the trapdoor creak open and the cheery call of “Daddy’s home, lads and lasses!” I sighed with relief. “Brynjolf, thank goodness you’re back. I need to speak with you, urgently. Well, after I finish making this quiche anyway.” I said, dusting the flour off my hands and slapping him on the back in greeting. “Not a problem, lass. But only if you let me have some, it smells good.” He winked, and my heart skipped a beat. “Agreed. I’m not very hungry anyway.”

After we ate, we went up the trapdoor, where the blissfully cool night air washed over us. “Where should we go, lass?” Brynjolf asked, as pleased as I was to breathe in the smell of nightshade and grass as opposed to the dank air down in the cistern. “I don’t know, somewhere quiet where nobody can hear us. Can we go sit by the lake maybe? I just need to get out of Riften’s walls.” He nodded, and we were let out the back gate by the guards and made our way to the lake. We sat next to each other in silence for a while, throwing pebbles at the water while torchbugs flittered overhead and I breathed in his scent of cinnamon and cloves. It was a lovely spring night, and it would have been romantic if so much wasn’t weighing on my mind. “How was Falkreath?” I asked, breaking the ice. “About as expected. Had to have a chat with Astrid over at the Dark Brotherhood, though I don’t see why Delvin couldn’t have done it since they’re pals.” He looked over at me, the moon lighting up his beautiful face that I wanted to kiss so badly. “But that’s not why you called me here, is it lass?” “No, Brynjolf. I have…some news. You probably won’t like it, but I’ve kind of made up my mind.”

I told him everything, except for the part about him probably breaking my heart. He listened in silence. “I see. Lass, I’ve never been cut out to be a leader, but if this is what you want, I’m happy for you and by all means you should do it. And I’ll see you often anyway, since I usually duck in the B and B for lunch and look out for recruits. Just like you, a couple of years ago in your rags with that bottle of mead. How you’ve grown.” I smiled wanly, relief and sadness washing over me. “Thank you, Brynjolf. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but maybe the criminal life just isn’t for me.” “Aye, it’s not for everyone, lass. I understand you completely and while I’m reluctant, I’ll take over as Guild Leader.” His hand brushed mine, and lingered there. “So what happens now?” “I’ll break the news to everyone. I don’t want to put you through any more trouble, lass. Spend one last night with us, and go to your new home in the morning. I’ll see you there in the afternoon, so you’d better have something good for the lunch special.” I laughed, and nodded in reply as tears started to well up in my eyes. “Talviel, one chapter ends and another begins. You’re the saviour of Skyrim. The Dovahkiin, a Nightingale, and forever a member of the Thieves Guild. You can do whatever you set your mind to.” Brynjolf said softly, and wiped the tears from my cheeks, brushing back my hair. I felt like I was going to crumble to dust when he touched me, and my heart broke. Keerava was right.

Early next morning while everyone was sleeping, I packed my rucksack and dressed in civilian clothing. I folded my Guild armour neatly and left it on the bed along with my Nightingale blade. Turning around to see my family fast asleep, I wished them farewell silently and climbed through the trapdoor for the last time.

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