faerybones3

[faerybones3]

I just really appreciated this and wanted to share

[faerybones3]

sometimes i’m reminded they made rolan and thought we’d all be normal about it

[faerybones3]

zevlor is absolutely the best fighter in the whole game act 2 when he fights the mindflayers with you does something for me when he smites them

[faerybones3]

[faerybones3]

constantly feeling like a fish out of water everywhere you go unless you're intoxicated is actually a sign of being god's favorite

[faerybones3]

You can’t sit there and tell me this wasn’t exactly how the planning meetings for BG3 went.

[faerybones3]

me and who me and who

[faerybones3]

He’s awful… but, God, do I need him.

[faerybones3]

Savior Complex

part 1 | read on ao3

Raphael x fem!Tav

cw: piv sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay/denial, biting, haarlep's questionable attemps at seduction

Tav woke to the sound of gently running water. She lifted her head from the lavish bed she found herself in and looked about the room. As her body shifted beneath crimson bedding, she realized with a start that she was naked. Only then did awareness come crashing down on her. 

The prison

The frozen chains

Raphael

She swung her feet off the side of the bed and made a second assessment of the room. She spotted a pile of her clothes laying on top of an ornate table, dry and folded neatly. Cautiously, she peered around the tall pillars and corners of the room, but it was eerily empty, silent but for the ceaseless running water from the faucet in the bath. She was alone. 

Though she had been in this very room once before, it did not soothe her unease at finding herself here again. Last time, she had come of her own volition. But she had the upper hand no longer. He had brought her here this time. 

She crossed the room to the arched door that would lead her out of this place. Her bare feet were cold against the marble floors. The cloudy barrier that separated her from the rest of the house was in place when she approached. Her fingers tentatively reached out to touch it, but were met with resistance. Her palm lay flat against the barrier, then curled it into a fist as she pounded on it, grunting in frustration when it didn’t budge. 

As she turned back to face the boudoir, she resigned herself to a bath. If she couldn’t leave the room, she might as well make use of it. She’d give Raphael an earful when he inevitably returned though, hopefully sooner rather than later. 

The water enveloped her body like a soft caress when she stepped in. She ducked her head under to fully submerge herself and basked in the warmth, running her fingers through her hair. When she surfaced, she immediately had the sneaking suspicion that she was being watched. 

When she turned around, she saw Raphael standing by the door, yellow eyes ablaze, shamelessly admiring her exposed body. He wore his usual blue and red doublet, but she noticed curiously that several buttons were undone at the top, revealing much of his chest. His wings flexed as he sauntered over to where she stood in the bath, his beautiful face sporting a fiendish smile. As he got closer, though, she noticed something . . . off about him. His hips swayed a little too much, and his face looked noticeably younger. 

This was not the devil she knew.

She rolled her eyes. “Hello Haarlep.”

Haarlep did not slow their approach. Their clothes, Raphael’s clothes, were gone from their body in a blaze of sulfurous smoke as they stepped down into the bath to join her. 

“Did I fool you, little thief?” 

“No,” she responded. “It’s quite a poor copy, really.”

Haarlep’s lips turned down into a pout. When she blinked, she was suddenly looking at her own naked self, staring back at her from the other side of the bath. Haarlep, wearing Tav’s form, slowly lifted their hands to cup their breasts, letting out an exaggerated pitchy moan as they did so. 

“What about this one?” They asked. When she did not respond, Haarlep continued. “He quite likes this glamour, you know.” 

They began to saunter slowly over to her once again, and she backed away. She could only go so far though, until the backs of her knees hit the steps and she stumbled, her arms flying behind her to the edge of the bath to keep herself steady. 

“You knew that, though,” Haarlep purred. “I told you you would feel it.”

She narrowed her eyes but did not answer.

Haarlep had donned Raphael’s skin once again. They were so close now that they practically hovered over her. As they brought their face closer to hers, there was a palpable shift in the air around them both, a pleasant fog wrapping itself around her mind. Haarlep brought a single claw up to her face and dragged it lightly down her cheek. 

“I must thank you, my sweet thing. My master has been so much livelier ever since I took on your form. I’ve never seen him so . . . dominant before.”

Every unpleasant thought was slowly leaving her mind in the lust-filled haze that Haarlep had put her under. She giggled, leaning into them, welcoming the arousal that tingled her skin and sent warmth pooling between her legs. 

They shifted away from her face for just a moment, but it was enough for her head to clear just the smallest bit. She shook her head and gathered herself, glaring at Haarlep as they smirked down at her. She grew suddenly self conscious, and adjusted her arms slightly in the water to cover her breasts.

“Stop that,” she said.

“But we had so much fun last time, little thief. Do play with me again.”

She scowled. Haarlep once again brought their face to hover inches away from hers. Their arms came to rest on either side of her, caging her in. Their noses brushed. Haarlep stuck out a forked tongue and licked a stripe from her chin to her eye, only pausing when the sound of footsteps could be heard just outside the door. 

With impeccable timing, the real Raphael entered the boudoir. He looked as handsome as he ever did, wearing his human disguise. She could see him out of the corner of her eye as he stepped up to the edge of the pool. His weight shifted to one hip and he crossed his arms as he stared at her and Haarlep’s compromising position in the bath. 

Tav lifted one hand, pressed her palm against Haarlep’s face and shoved them away. 

When she met Raphael’s gaze, he had the gall to look mildly amused. 

“Begone, Haarlep,” he said evenly, keeping his eyes on Tav. 

Haarlep pouted again but, not one to refuse their master, slowly stepped out of the bath. They threw a wink behind them as they walked out the door.

Once Haarlep was gone from the room, she met Raphael’s gaze for a moment before stepping out of the bath to dry herself. He said nothing as she toweled her hair dry, then walked over to perch herself on the edge of his bed.

“You know, you didn’t have to lock me in here. I never would have left without saying goodbye,” she said to him with a saccharine smile.

He gave her an incredulous look and took a step towards her. “And what about a proper thank you for saving your delicate little life?”

She raised her eyebrows but found that his face held a serious expression. She stood from the bed and gave an over dramatic bow for him, bending at the waist and lifting her arms up to be perpendicular to her body. “Thank you most enormously for your unending graciousness, your most esteemed excellency,” she performed. 

He seemed to approve, his lips twitching slightly at the corners. She sat back down on the bed, arms coming to rest behind her so she sat at an angle. She didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled greedily down her exposed body, sending a shock of lightning through her core. 

Though the effects of Haarlep’s charm were wearing off, Tav could still feel it in the prickling of her skin and the heat that still lingered between her thighs. With Raphael now before her, practically fucking her already with his eyes, she had to fight tooth and nail to resist reaching out to touch him.

“So what’s it like,” she dared. “Having the real me naked in your bed instead of the copy?”

She knew she had hit a nerve when he lunged for her. Flames engulfed his body, and his human guise melted into massive wings, blood red skin, and sharp teeth. In a blink, he was hovering over her. He had yet to touch her, but his face was dangerously close to hers. 

“You contemptuous creature,” Raphael said softly, his breath ghosting over her cheek where Haarlep’s claw had grazed. The intensity of his gaze heated her from the inside out. She had almost forgotten just how beautiful and lethal he was like this, wearing his true skin. She knew she should be afraid of him, and on some level she was, but the look in his eyes gave away his true intention. She decided to try her luck again. 

“I felt it, you know. Every time,” she breathed. “And I knew it was you.”

The lines were so blurred between them, neither knew which one of them wanted the other more at this point. They were constantly circling each other, dancing to the tune of their lust for the other but never actually doing anything about it.

She didn’t know who initiated first, just that in the next moment, his lips were on her neck, fangs grazing along the column of her throat. His mouth moved to the spot between her neck and shoulder and he bit her, hard. She cried out, a jarring mix of pain and pleasure as he lapped at the blood that spilled from her. When he had his fill, he pulled away and met her gaze, his eyes blown wide with desire. 

He pushed her shoulders down until they touched the bedsheets and came to hover over her on the bed. 

“Open,” he demanded, and she obeyed, parting her lips for him. He lifted two fingers and they entered her mouth, pushing past her teeth. Her tongue swirled around his digits and she felt the unmistakable growing hardness of him as he pressed against her hips, no doubt thinking of all the other creative ways he could put her tongue to good use. 

After several thrusts of his fingers in her mouth, he removed them and used one knee to part her legs. With a wicked smile, his hand then snaked down between them to find the part of her body she wished for him to touch the most. 

She gasped as two of his fingers entered her. 

“So desperate,” he crooned smugly.

She writhed underneath him as he continued to work his fingers inside her, her mind quickly emptying of every thought that wasn’t him. His hand fucked her roughly, fingers curling inside her to reach the spot that would send her over the edge. His thumb began rubbing little circles into her clit. She arched her back and moaned his name into the space between them. 

“Fuck,” her eyes fluttered shut as she neared her climax, pins and needles pricking at her skin. “I’m-”

All too soon, Raphael stilled his thrusts and removed his fingers from between her folds. Her eyes flew open and she whined pathetically. For a moment, she thought he would leave her like this, a needy mess on his bed, as he stood. But then his hands moved to untie his breeches and she leaned back on her elbows to watch him, still breathing heavily from her denied orgasm. Her eyes widened and she licked her lips when he pulled his cock free. A drop of precum glistened at the tip. 

Tav scooted herself back so she was fully on the bed, backed up against the pillows, and he quickly followed, crawling over her once again. She reached between them to grasp his length in her hands and slowly pumped him once, twice, three times, earning a low growl from him in return. When she released him, his own hand took over and he positioned himself at her entrance, guiding his tip agonizingly slowly across her folds to coat himself in her arousal. 

“Please, Raphael,” she moaned impatiently. A deep groan reverberated through his chest and without warning, he slammed himself into her wet and waiting cunt all the way to the hilt. She let out a choked sound and arched her back into him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her hands reached up to grip his horns and she sobbed as he set a brutal pace, both of them overcome with their need for the other. 

She reached a hand down between them to her clit, desperate for release. Before she could touch herself, Raphael grabbed both of her arms and pinned her hands to the mattress above her head. She growled at him in frustration as he fucked her in earnest. 

“Please,” she cried again. She would have been embarrassed of her whining, but he was fucking her so deliciously that she didn’t even have room in her brain to care. 

“Is this how you prayed to me, Little Mouse?” He drawled in between harsh thrusts. “All alone in that prison, begging me to come save you?” His lips ghosted over hers and his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping over her teeth. Her tongue tangled with his and she tasted iron. 

After one particularly punishing thrust, she screamed. 

“Yes!”

Satisfied with her answer, Raphael released her hands and brought his own to her aching core, rubbing tight circles against her clit. She mewled underneath him, her climax fast approaching once more. The smell of him enveloped her, cherries and musk. 

“Fuck!” she gasped. Electricity coursed through her body and her cunt fluttered with white-hot pleasure as she came around his cock. He worked her through her orgasm, his pace growing languid. She could tell he was nearing his own climax. 

She drew her fingers through the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down to her. Their lips met once more and she kissed him with fervor, their teeth knocking together clumsily. She swallowed his deep groan as she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked. 

With a final drive of his hips, he released inside of her, hot ropes of his spend coating her walls. When she had milked him of every last drop, he pulled himself out of her and collapsed on the bed beside her.

They both laid in silence, relishing in their lingering ecstasy. When Raphael rose from the bed a moment later, he tucked himself back into his trousers and looked down to where she lay, still catching her breath. She caught his eye and lifted herself up onto her elbows.

“How was that for a thank you?” she said with a sultry smile, batting her lashes at him. Her knees buckled just slightly as she stood, but she quickly recovered. 

His eyes devoured her, lingering on the wetness between her thighs and the bloody mark on her neck, but his only response was a devilish smirk.

She scoffed. “What a gentleman you are.”

She made to brush past him but he caught her arm and pulled her to his broad chest. Cherries and musk assaulted her nose as he leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. A shiver ran down her spine, out of fear or arousal, she didn’t know.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy the taste of punishment, Little Mouse,” he muttered. 

She furrowed her brows at him playfully. 

“That was hardly a punishment, Raphael,” she breathed. 

His arms snaked down her sides and in one fluid movement, he lifted her and threw her down onto the bed again. She yelped in surprise.

“My dear, I never said I was finished with you.”

[faerybones3]

Savior Complex

The devil comes to your rescue

Raphael x fem!Tav | read on ao3

1.5k wc

cw: injury, hurt/comfort if you squint, raphael is a bastard, soft raphael, brief appearance from haarlep, suggestive themes

Raphael had always hated the cold. 

Having grown up in the depths of the bitterly cold Cania, he had learned all too quickly how unforgiving it could be, worming its way into his young bones and eventually, as he grew older, his heart. The bite of it would forever haunt him.

Though he found himself now on the mortal plane, and the hot cambion blood that ran through his veins prevented him from ever feeling so much as a shiver, he still found himself grinding his teeth in annoyance at the sight of the snow that covered the ground here. There were few indeed that he would stoop so low as to venture into the cold for. But of course, she wasn’t just anyone.

His footsteps echoed on pristine marble as he descended down, down, down into the very depths of the prison he found himself in now. It should have been impossible to navigate through this maze of a dungeon. But his feet knew exactly where to take him. They always did when it came to her. He was a moth drawn to her flame. 

Eventually he came to a large round door carved into the wall, almost indiscernible from the wall itself. 

The tip of his thumb kissed his middle finger.

Snap!

He pushed open the door and was met with a grisly sight. There she knelt on the icy floor, hands shackled and suspended above her head in thick, frozen chains ascending straight up to the giant, vaulted ceiling of her prison. Her head hung forward, cheek pressed against bicep, hair shielding half her face from view. Her eyes were closed but Raphael could see how her eyes moved rapidly beneath her eyelids. She did not stir as he approached. 

“Little Mouse.”

His voice was its usual silky timbre. His tone was even, betraying nothing. 

After a beat, her head twitched slightly and a small noise sounded in her throat, almost a whimper. Her head rose agonizingly slowly to meet his piercing gaze. 

“You’ve been naughty.”

She blinked half-lidded eyes and her eyebrows furrowed slightly, disbelieving, or not quite comprehending. 

“Raph–ael?” Her voice was barely a wheeze. He almost didn’t hear it as he closed the distance between them and set to work on her chains. His hands lightly brushed her freezing fingertips as he did so. 

With a click, they opened and her hands fell limp at her sides. With nothing to support her body anymore, she fell forward, her forehead resting on Raphael’s thigh. With cat-like reflexes, he caught her shoulders and bent down so they were at eye level. Her eyes opened again as he rested a warm palm against her back to steady her. 

“You cannot be him,” she whispered. 

His lips twitched. He snaked one arm underneath her shoulder blades, the other reaching under her knees to lift her into his arms, tucking her into his chest. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. 

“I prayed he would come.” Her breathing was ragged as she flitted in and out of consciousness in his arms. “He never did.”

Raphael paused, looking down at his little mouse curiously for a moment, before resuming his steps toward the door. 

She was deathly still in his arms as he ascended the stairs leading up to the surface. Once at the top, a flurry of flames engulfed them both and they disappeared, leaving nothing but ashes and the faint smell of cherries in their wake. 

The familiar echoing screams of tortured souls greeted them both as Raphael stepped into the entrance hall of his House of Hope. The abrupt change of temperature caused his little mouse to violently shake as he carried her through the dining room, past cowering debtors, and up into his lavish boudoir. Once over the threshold, he brought her to the edge of his restoration pool and stepped in. 

When her skin made contact with the scalding water, she whimpered, trying to pull away from him, but his grip around her body only tightened, fingertips digging into the flesh of her thigh. He only released her when the water reached his hips, and laid her gently on the steps leading into the pool. She still trembled as the water engulfed her body, but a small sigh of relief escaped her lips.

A different voice reached his ears from the other end of the boudoir. Haarlep slinked off the large bed and waltzed over, wearing nothing but a salacious smirk. Their hips swayed like a panther tracking its prey. They craned their neck, trying to get a glimpse of who it was that Raphael had brought home.

“Have you brought me a new pet to play with, master?” they purred. 

With a wave of Raphael’s hand, Haarlep disappeared. 

He watched her as she laid in the bath. Her breathing slowly but surely became more even as the water healed her battered body and eventually, her eyes opened to look back at him. She blinked slowly, still weak from exhaustion. One of her hands raised out of the water and reached out to him. He blinked when the tips of her fingers, not as cold now as they had been before, caressed his cheek; tenderly, almost lovingly. She was clearly still dazed, not thinking right.

His own hand shot out to circle her forearm, careful to grip just below the still-angry red marks on her wrist from where the shackles had dug into her flesh. How weak and fragile his little mouse was. How easily breakable. He peered at the skin of her wrist curiously before slowly lowering it back into the water. 

“What took you so long?” She muttered. 

Raphael arched a perfectly manicured brow. “Careful, dear. As ever, you toe the delicate line between brazenness and impertinence.”

He turned around to step out of the bath and dry himself with a snap of his fingers. He waited until he had sat down at his finely polished writing desk to speak again, gazing back at her with barely concealed disdain. “Few have such patience or tolerance as I do for trespassers or thieves.” He said the last word with a snarl, sharp teeth bared. 

“I stole nothing. I was just curious,” she replied evenly, though her gaze was challenging. They both knew her words held double meaning.

I stole nothing from you either

“Clumsy snooping is hardly better than thievery, little mouse.” 

Her only response was to dip her head beneath the water, fully submerging herself. Raphael turned back to his desk.

Time passed in relative silence as she bathed. The only sounds to be heard were the scratching of a quill on parchment and the faucets pouring their never ending stream of perfumed water. When she finally stepped out of the pool, all he heard was the small splash of disturbed water. He turned around to watch indulgently as she peeled off the layers of her tattered clothes and discarded them in a heap at the edge of the pool. Her back was to him, but she knew he was watching. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen before, after all. They both knew she had left something behind for him after her clumsy snooping in his home. Even so, his eyes devoured her, raking over the pert swell of her ass and dip of her waist. She picked up a neatly folded towel and wrapped it snugly around herself before turning back to him, meeting his intense stare. Her hair dripped a steady stream of water onto the tiled floor. 

A moment passed, and then she pivoted to walk over to where the giant bed stood. She discarded her towel on the floor before climbing up and into the bed, trading towel for blanket. He watched her all the way, finding himself pleasantly surprised at her boldness. Maybe that’s why he gave her the free reign that she had, perceived though it was. He had told her himself when they first met that he liked his clients with a little backbone. Or perhaps she was just a foolish little mouse who couldn't seem to realize when she had been caught in a trap laid by his expert hand. He found that he liked that theory better. 

She watched him with tired eyes as he placed his quill on his desk and stood from his ornate chair to stalk over to where she lay. 

“Never took you for the knight in shining armor type,” she said quietly as he approached. “Thought that was Korilla’s job.”

“My dear, you wound me,” he replied, raising a hand to his heart in mock offense. “You know all too well that I protect my assets.”

She huffed and closed her eyes, exhaustion winning her over. Soon enough, her breathing became slow and even. Raphael watched for only a few moments before returning to his desk.

Oh, he intended to punish her thoroughly for her snooping. But he would let her rest, for now. 

[faerybones3]

Me and the Devil

Simon interrupts your prayers. You mistake him for someone else.

simon x fem!reader | read on ao3

2.4k wc

cw: canon typical violence, blood and gore, a bit of religious psychosis for funsies, simon is a dick, religious imagery, simon manhandles you

The only sound you could hear was the hammering of your heart as you sprinted across the street, keeping yourself as low to the ground as you could in order to stay out of sight.

You just had to make it to the church. You knew you’d be safe there.

Rain sloshed around your ankles, soaking your shoes.

You turned a corner and halted, ducking behind a car, when you saw a group of men dressed in all black tactical gear and helmets. One of the men, their leader if you were to guess, was speaking in halting spanish to another man kneeling on the ground before them. You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle your cry as the leader kicked the kneeling man in the head. 

You didn’t stick around to see what happened next. You knew all too well what happened to helpless women on these streets in the dead of night, and you had no interest in becoming their next meal. If they found you, they would not spare you an ounce of their wrath. 

When at last you came to the large church at the center of the city, you quickly checked the area for threats, and quietly slipped in through the front door.

For the first time in what felt like hours, you felt your body relax. Those men, the ones in all black, had invaded Las Almas, had invaded your home, overnight. In a matter of hours, they had turned the city into a feast of violence, gorging themselves on the blood of your friends, your people. 

But you had made it to the church. You were safe now. You were protected. 

Deft hands gripped the rosary tucked securely into your shirt as you pulled it out and over your head. You wrapped it around your hands as you approached the altar at the front of the church. A large stained glass window loomed over you as you kneeled. You quickly glanced up at it. The image of Jesus, bleeding and dying on a cross, looked down at you. The rain from outside warped the depiction, and he seemed to regard you with a kind of commiseration as you stared into the blue glass of his eyes. 

You bowed your head again and started to pray. 

You were so engrossed in your prayer that you didn’t hear the door creak open several minutes later. 

It was the heavy footsteps that echoed along the walls that finally made your head turn. A hulking figure, shrouded in shadow, stood in the far corner of the room. He blended so well into the darkness behind him that you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the tiny glint of white coming from the area where his face should be. 

You stood from your position on the floor, fearing the worst. 

He mumbled something you couldn’t hear and then began to walk forward. When he stepped into the light, you screamed. 

What looked back at you was something, someone, from your nightmares. Your childhood boogeyman. The one lurking in darkness, who would “get you” if you disobeyed your parents. Hulking and dressed in all black; his face, a mask of ivory bone. The priest would speak of him with wariness, warning you not to believe his false tongue, for his gift of temptation was a siren song. 

And he stood before you now. The devil had come for you. 

He held up his hands as his footsteps toward you quickened. You quickly unwrapped the rosary from around your fingers and launched it at him. It had no effect as it bounced off of his chest, landing with a dull clack onto the floor. Unfazed, he continued his march towards you. You frantically backed away from him, tripping on the steps up to the altar and landing on the heels of your hands. It was all in vain, he was too quick. He caught up to you in two strides and yanked you to your feet. It wasn’t until he covered your mouth with a large, gloved hand that you realized you had still been screaming.

“You need to shut the fuck up,” he said in a low, rough voice.

What had you done to deserve this? Had you offended God in some way? You had always tried your hardest to be good and faithful. Why was he punishing you now? 

Under his hand, you sobbed. Too paralyzed with fear, you couldn’t fight against his harsh grip. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and seeped into the fabric of his glove. The two of you stood like that for another minute, him looking at you with cold, dead eyes, until he spoke again. 

“Not gonna hurt you, but you’ve gotta be quiet. Can you do that?”

He wasn’t going to hurt you? It had to be a trick. But his grip around your face was near suffocating, so with wide eyes, you slowly nodded. 

His eyes squinted from behind his bone-white mask, clearly not believing that you wouldn’t try to scream again, but eventually he dropped his hand. 

You stood stock-still as he stepped away to mumble something into what appeared to be a radio in his vest.

Radio?

A man on the other side answered almost immediately, voice gruff, and you heard snippets of their conversation. Words like “shadows” and “graves” touched your ears in between the grinding radio static. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked when you found your voice. 

He mumbled something else into his radio before looking back to where you stood, still frozen, in the aisle. 

“Not really in the business of killin’ helpless women.”

You kept your eyes trained on him as you took a few steps and retrieved your rosary from where it had landed on the ground when you threw it at him. Bunching it in your hands, you glared at him. 

“You don’t fool me, diablo.”

His eyes narrowed at you from underneath his mask. 

“The fuck are you on about—“

Your heart dropped to your stomach as suddenly, a loud boom sounded from the front door of the church. The devil’s head whipped around at the noise. In a single moment, he closed the distance between you, grabbed your arm and threw you down like a rag doll between the nearest pews.

“Stay down,” he growled. 

Having no choice but to obey, you shoved your head between your knees and scrunched down, willing yourself to become as small as possible. 

In the next moment, you heard the sound of the church doors crashing open with a resounding bang. Heavy footsteps followed. 

A booming voice sounded from the other end of the room. 

“Found you, asshole.”

And then, gunshots. 

Bodies thudded to the floor, someone screamed, and the sound of a blade cutting through flesh rang in the air. You clapped your hands over your ears, praying for all the world that this was all just a nightmare that you would soon wake from.

As the noise died down, you craned your neck to look up. Half a dozen bodies littered the floor, looking more like pincushions than people. There, in the center of the room, the devil stood in the middle of it all. With the strength of ten men, he had savagely cut them down as if they were nothing but insects. Bile rose in your throat at the sight, but you quickly forced it back down with a groan.

Assuming the worst was over, you attempted to rise to your feet, only for something large and heavy to crash into you, bowling you over. Your back ached as it hit the cold wooden floor. You cried out in pain and shock. Something, no, someone had pushed you back down. 

Before your brain could process what was happening, a man came into view above you and used one giant arm to pin you to the floor. His other arm was raised above your head, and you noticed the glint of a knife clutched in his hand. 

You screamed. Your arms shot out and you desperately clawed at the man, using all the strength in your body to fight him off. But he was twice your size. You were nothing to him, useless in defending yourself.

His body suddenly went slack as a bullet lodged itself in his throat. Hot, sticky blood poured out of him, leaking onto your face, your nose, your mouth, suffocating you. The knife fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor. His heavy head dropped to your chest and you desperately scrambled to shove him away. You rose on unsteady feet for the second time, gripping the back of the pew for balance. You wiped frantically at your face and your hands came away covered in scarlet gore.

When you looked up, you saw your infernal savior staring back at you, gun in hand. He regarded you for a moment; he seemed to be thinking hard about something. His eyes then raked over your ragged and bloodstained figure, and you felt small and weak under his intense gaze. 

You broke eye contact to retch onto the floor. 

While you spilled the contents of your stomach, he barked something into his radio again and then set to work removing a plate carrier vest from one of the many bodies strewn about the place. As soon as you sat back up, he thrust it into your arms. 

“Put it on, we’re leaving.”

You stared at him for a beat, vest in hand, your breath coming in croaking gasps. Surely he didn’t mean for you to go with him? Was he kidnapping you? 

“Now!”

You flinched. Once again, he left you with little room for argument. You couldn’t stay here; surely there would be more of those men coming now. You could already hear the faint sound of gunshots in the distance. 

The one place you thought you would be safe, now ripped out from under you. 

With shaking hands, you slipped the vest over your head and attempted to tighten the straps, but it didn’t do much good. The vest was huge, and you looked and felt ridiculous in it.

You followed your devil protector out the front door, walking quickly to keep pace with him. He held his gun to his chest, eyes searching constantly for hidden threats. More gunshots sounded in the distance, getting closer with every step you took. 

As you reached the gate surrounding the church, you spotted a man on the outside.

“Ghost!” He yelled when he spotted you both. 

“Soap!” 

Ghost? Soap? What kind of names were these?

Your devil, Ghost, grabbed your arm and mercilessly pulled you along. Once through the gate, he shoved you in front of him and, ever the bodyguard, caged his body around your own as the three of you ran down the steps. 

“We need a vehicle, on me-!” He was so close, you could feel the sound of his shout reverberate through his chest. 

You ran across the street, ducking behind abandoned cars for cover as the boom of gunshots surrounded you on all sides. You had never been more terrified. The only thing keeping your body moving was the adrenaline pumping through your blood and the unrelenting hand gripping your shoulder. 

Up ahead, you saw a truck with the lights still on. The other man had seen it too, and yelled. The three of you sprinted to it. Approaching the truck, the pressure on your shoulder subsided as you were released. He threw open the backseat door, grabbed you again by the vest, and unceremoniously threw you into the back of the truck. 

You landed on the backseat, but quickly rolled over to the floor. You kept your head down as you felt the truck back up, hit something, or probably someone, and then stop. One of the men shouted again and you heard another gunshot. You didn’t dare lift your head to see what had happened. You learned your lesson from last time. 

The truck started moving again and the men remained quiet up front, catching their breath. You didn’t rise from the floor for another few minutes. 

At the sound of you climbing up to sit in the backseat, the second man looked back at you. His eyebrows scrunched up and a brief look of shock passed over his face, as if just now processing your presence. 

“Who the fuck is this?”

Ghost’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror briefly before he turned his attention back to the road. 

“Civ,” he said quietly.

The man looked aghast.

“We babysittin’ now?”

There was a tense moment between the men. The air in the truck felt stiflingly hot. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you remembered the drying blood that still coated your face and body. You wished they wouldn’t talk about you as if you weren’t there, but you bite your tongue. 

“She’d be dead if I left her.”

“She’s no safer with us, L.T.”

Ghost didn’t respond.

You opened your mouth to speak, but an uncontainable giggle burst from your lips as sudden realization dawned on you. 

“Lieutenant,” you said as another, louder laugh escaped you. 

You doubled over, fully cackling now at your own stupidity. Of course he was no devil. He was just a man. How foolish and afraid you had been. 

Of course your God had not forsaken you. He had sent you a savior. Albeit a very strange and terrifying savior, but a savior nonetheless. The devil had not come for you. At least not yet. 

The two men silently watched you as you laughed. Tight concern pinched the face of the man riding shotgun. When your laughter died down, he twisted fully in his seat to face you. There was an almost cautious smile on his face, as if you were a wild animal that would bite him if he made a wrong move. 

“Name’s Johnny, miss.”

You wiped the heel of your hand across your cheek and told him your own name. He nodded politely and turned to the other man. 

“And, eh— Ghost,” said Johnny, gesturing awkwardly with his hand. 

You scoffed under your breath. “Weird fucking name,” you said quietly. 

Ghost’s eyes darted up to yours in the mirror again, and Johnny barked a laugh of his own.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, L.T.”

[faerybones3]

i love raphael so much actually. he's the son of one of the rulers of hell. he hates his dad. he's a bard. he practices his fancy speeches out in public. he plays chess with children. he can transform into a three-headed fire creature. he likes cats. he's tortured people to madness. he only ever wants to have sex with someone in his own image. he does body shots. he's a devil from hell with 666 hit points. he's a pillow prince. he eats souls. he's canonically coming to our universe if he ever gets the crown of karsus. he's the hardest boss in the game. he shits in a bucket that's sat out in public and has an entire guy dedicated to sniffing it.

[faerybones3]

Just third degree yearns for all my fictional husbands.

[faerybones3]

leave him alone that's my emotional support grumpy middle aged white man with a layered past and zero bitches who's also really good at his job

[faerybones3]

not now kitten. daddy’s writing a post for the three people who always give him notes on tumblr

[faerybones3]

i don’t want a job i want to read good books and drink good coffee and get kissed on the neck

[faerybones3]

Which Witch

Fìli x witch!reader

tags: flirty banter, witchcraft, stab wound, palm reading, fili is a flirt, the dwarves get very drunk lol, thorin is an asshole

word count: 2.8k

previous part | series masterlist

Chapter Two

The man facing you was beautiful and ethereal. You had never seen beauty like his before. You could have looked upon his face forever. 

You called to him, “Who are you?”

He did not answer. He turned from you and began walking away. 

“Wait, stop!”

You tried to follow him, but you felt as though you were walking underwater. He was getting further and further away, but you knew you must reach him. You ran with all your might, trying desperately to catch up to him. He finally stopped, and when you reached him, you grabbed his arm, turning him around to face you again. You needed to look upon his face, just once more. 

But as he turned, you saw that his face was gone. In its place was a gaping, black void. 

You screamed and released him. Was that laughter? He was laughing at you. The noise seeped into you and you could feel it under your skin, crawling like thousands of spiders. You continued to scream as the laughter grew louder, threatening to consume you. 

You woke with a jolt, head pounding. Your surroundings were unfamiliar at first. You saw a straw floor, and great wooden beams. It appeared that you were in a building meant for a giant, making you feel very small. 

It wasn’t until you saw the huge honey bees and goats on the other side of the great room you were in that you realized where you were. You were in Beorn’s great hall. You had met him many times, and he was a good friend to your people. 

You stood on wobbly feet and wondered to yourself how long you had been asleep. The events leading up to you passing out were a blur of swords and goblins. Your throat burned and it was tremendously hard to swallow; you knew you must have horrible bruising there. Raising your shirt, you saw that the wound in your abdomen had been cleaned and well-bandaged, though you noticed that it would need new wrappings soon. You quickly gave the rest of your body a once-over, noting the various scratches and bruises. 

Suddenly, you heard laughter coming from the end of the hall, and your head shot up, remembering your dream. The dwarves were all sitting at a large table, talking boisterously amongst each other. When they noticed you slowly walking over, they all stopped speaking and looked at you. One of them, with two large twisting braids in his gray beard and holding an ear trumpet, rose and walked to you. 

“Right, I’ll be needin’ to see to that then,” he said, gesturing to your soiled bandages. 

You let him lead you to a bench next to their table. He introduced himself to you as ‘Òin’ and you gave him your name as well. You winced as you raised your shirt and he started to re-do your wound dressings, but you were grateful that he had a gentle hand. As he was working, the rest of the dwarves went around and gave you their names. You learned that the blond dwarf you had stolen the sword from was named Fìli. The last of them, and the leader if you had to guess, did not introduce himself. He instead walked to you and eyed you skeptically. You eyed him right back, holding your ground. When he spoke, he was stern. 

“How did you come to be in the company of goblins?”

“I was traveling solo through the Misty Mountains when I was ambushed and taken. They kept me prisoner for three days.” Your voice came out as a rasp. 

“Why did you help us?”

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” You asked with a wry smile. Some of the dwarves exchanged looks, but the leader simply narrowed his eyes. 

You sighed. “It’s just what any decent person would do.”

The leader seemed unfazed, “What are you, some elf half-breed?”

You raised an eyebrow. “If you would use your eyes, master dwarf, you would see that I am no elf.”

“A witch, then?”

Òin had completed his work by this point, and you gently pushed his hands away and thanked him. All of them watched you with expectant looks, some curious and a bit wary. You had heard of the skepticism of Dwarves, and you knew that it most likely extended to the magical arts. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you nodded. A few of them broke into whispers. 

“I’m not going to try and curse any of you, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” you said quickly. They didn’t seem convinced, especially the leader. 

“I would not expect any of you to understand, closed minded as all you lot are,” you said. You were getting annoyed at their prodding questions and the pain in your side was making you irritable. 

They became quite offended at this. 

“We saved you, did we not?” said the one who had introduced himself as Kìli. 

You locked eyes with him. You saw an endearing kind of innocence that comes with youth in his eyes. A certain desperation to prove himself. The dwarf sitting beside him, Fìli, had to be his brother, not just because their names were so similar, but they had the same tilted mouth, the same mischievous glint in their eyes. Fìli was definitely older, more hardened and learned in the ways of the world, his beard longer and braided, unlike his younger brothers. With the slightest flush, you realized that this was the face you had reached for in your semi-conscious state before you had passed out. His face had been haloed with the rising light of the sun and he had looked almost angelic, like one of the Valar sent from Valinor itself to heal you. 

“I do believe Gandalf is to thank for our saving,” piped up the halfling, Bilbo, breaking you from your thoughts. You had never met a hobbit before. He had a kind nature about him and you immediately liked him the best out of the bunch. It also helped that he seemed to think your criticism of the dwarves was quite amusing. 

“Speaking of,” you said, standing from the bench. “Where is he?”

“The garden I believe,” said Bilbo. 

You made your way over to the large oak front doors of Beorn’s hall, the dwarves watching you silently, their expressions poorly concealing their obvious mistrust. 

Wrenching open the doors, you breathed in the fresh outside air and turned back around to face the dwarves, who were still watching you intently. 

“Thank you,” you said to them, before turning and marching out to look for the wizard, not bothering to shut the doors behind you.

—

The warm summer sun had just set over the tops of the mountains, leaving the sky an inky blue color and making you shiver a bit in your spot on the ground, where you sat comfortably watching the dwarves dance and sing around the fire, in their usual merry mood. The hot mug of tea in your hands did much, however, to fend off the chill of the evening as it was three times the size of your head and gave off the same amount of warmth that a small campfire might. 

It had been four days since your arrival at Beorn’s hall, and you were surprised at how much the dwarves had warmed up to you in so little time. Once they knew for sure that you were not going to put a spell on them or kill them in their sleep, they decided it was alright to look you in the eyes and once they learned that Gandalf had decided to more or less trust you, they became downright friendly and had all but welcomed you into their little troop. Even the leader, whose name you found out to be Thorin, had stopped glowering whenever you came near him. 

A baby goat had made its way over to where you were sitting, looking up at you with big curious eyes, his ears covered in fuzz. You couldn’t help the smile that touched your lips. Reaching out your hand, you patted him gently between his eyes. Looking quite timid, he seemed to come to a decision about something, and then plopped down right next to you, laying his head on one of your legs that was stretched out on the straw-covered floor. Your smile grew as you looked down at him, this innocent little creature. 

You heard a chuckle nearby and whipped your head around at the sound. 

“Hello, there,” said Fìli, coming to sit with you, a large mug in his hand as well, but you knew that his was filled with something much stronger than tea.

You nodded at him politely. He shifted to sit with his legs crossed and one of his knees brushed your thigh, but he didn’t seem to notice. You both sat in silence, watching the other dwarves and listening to their drunken singing and shouting. Dwalin was sitting at the massive table in the middle of the hall, arm wrestling Glóin who had his face scrunched up in concentration. Thorin and Balin stood a little to the side of the group, laughing loudly at all the others as they danced around Bofur, who was currently very drunk and singing at the top of his lungs in what was probably meant to be the common tongue but sounded more like animated babbling. 

You laughed heartily at the scene and turned to Fìli. “Are they always like this?”

“You’ve no idea,” he replied with a smile. 

Ori had just pulled Nori to him and was attempting a two-man jig, which made you and Fíli laugh even harder. 

Several minutes went by like that, with you and him laughing together at the ridiculous things the dwarves were currently doing. You found that you didn’t need to fill the space between you with pointless chatter, as he had an easy air about him and the small silences between your laughter were not awkward. 

But it was then that you remembered something. 

“I’m sorry for taking your sword,” you said, a bit of your composure lost. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Hm? Oh, it’s alright,” he said. “Just don’t do it again.”

You turned your head to look at him, but he had a smirk on his face. Relieved, you smiled back. 

He continued, “What did you do to it? Those words you were speaking?”

“It was just a spell,” you said, shaking your head a little. “For my aim to be true and for protection.”

He gave you a skeptical look and raised one thick eyebrow. 

“Cynical, are you? I thought you were traveling with a wizard.”

“Yes, well . . . “ he trailed off. 

“Well, what?”

He met your eyes reluctantly, looking you up and down in the process. “You just don’t really look the part, is all.”

You scoffed. “Just because I’m not old and wizened doesn’t mean I can’t possess magic.”

He nodded, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ as he turned back to watch the dwarves again, but you could tell he didn’t really believe you. You reached your hand out to him. He looked at it, confused for a moment, before you made a beckoning motion with your fingers. He still didn’t understand.

“Hand,” you said simply.

Reluctantly, he put his rough and calloused hand into yours. You took a moment to gently trace the lines in his palm with your fingertips, almost caressing his hand. 

“You’re the eldest of two.”

“Anyone here could have told you that,” he said matter-of-factly. 

You shot him a look and he shut his mouth with a smirk. 

“You worry for your mother at home. You have since your father died. You also worry for your brother. He’s reckless and easily gets into trouble.”

You paused to look up at him, and this time, you had his full attention.

“You’re on a journey to a home that you have never seen before,” you said, tracing the line that wrapped around his thumb. “It looks like you’ve had quite the adventure already, more than you bargained for. And this one here-” your fingertips brushed his hand right below the base of his fingers. “-is called your heart line. See how yours is kind of coarse and splits there? That means you are passionate and very intuitive when it comes to those you love. You also always put others before yourself, but you suppress a lot of your true feelings, especially when it comes to romantic relationships.”

His face had flushed pink when you looked up at him again. You looked back down and continued. 

“You have much anxiety; more than you let on. On the surface, you are very well put together, you were raised to be of course, but much like a river you are raging underneath it all. You put on a facade to appease everyone around you, but you are constantly sick with worry. You are always trying to prove yourself, most of all to your uncle, because one day, everything will fall upon your shoulders and no one can know that you are scared to death.”

You looked up at him. He was watching you with rapt attention, a look of complete shock on his face. You cleared your throat. 

“Should I-”

He didn’t answer; it didn’t look like he could quite form words at the moment, but he shook his head. You nodded and dropped his hand. 

“Sorry,” you said awkwardly, your hands fisted in your lap. 

He seemed to have found his voice again. “No, no, it’s alright. Just a bit jarring, that’s all.”

“Well, at least now you know that I’m not a fraud,” you said with a smirk, attempting to put him at ease a bit. He smiled and nodded his head in agreement. 

After several minutes of slightly uneasy silence, he spoke again. 

“So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, you know all my secrets now. Only fair if I know some of yours,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled at him as you said, “There’s not much to tell. My life is not half as interesting as yours. I grew up just south of here actually, in a village bordering the Anduin. Mother and father were merchants who traded frequently with the elves of Mirkwood.”

“How did you become a witch then? The elves?”

“I actually don’t know. Just woke up one day with everything in my head.”

He definitely did not believe this, but thankfully didn’t press the matter. Instead, he asked, “What’s your family like?”

“They’re wonderful. My younger sister and I used to beg our parents to let us go with them on their travels to the Woodland Realm. We were never allowed to, though, until we were older. I know that dwarves don’t really get on with the elves, but my people were quite close with them.”

You paused for a moment, and your voice became heavy with emotion, almost regretful, at your next words. “My family was everything to me.”

“Was?” asked Fìli.

“I left my village almost three years ago.”

Again, he didn’t press you for more answers, sensing that it was not something you were keen on talking about. Instead, he stretched his arms and sprawled out on the floor, leaning his weight on his elbows. 

“You’re right,” he said playfully. “My life is much more interesting than yours.”

You laughed and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. 

The baby goat, who had been snoozing on your leg all this time, woke up just then and gave you a contemptuous look, as if you had woken him up on purpose. He got up and sauntered off, probably to go and find his mother. 

“So tell me about this adventure you’re on,” you said, turning to him again, yawning, and then cupping your chin in your hand. 

Fìli laughed. “Ah, well, where do I start?”

He then launched into the tale of his and the dwarves’ journey, talking animatedly and sparing no details. You heard about their arrival in Bag End and the recruitment of their fourteenth member, Bilbo. He told you all about how they had been captured by trolls and would have been eaten if not for Bilbo’s quick thinking. Then they had found themselves in Rivendell at the behest of Gandalf and stayed there for two weeks. After their stay in Rivendell, they were traveling through the Misty Mountains when they had been captured by goblins, and you knew the rest. Towards the end of his story, you had grown very sleepy, and by the time he was finished, you had laid down and were half asleep, trying desperately to stay awake. When he had finished and noticed that you were falling asleep, he chuckled to himself. You heard him say ‘goodnight’ to you and you just barely felt a blanket being pulled over your body before you fell into a peaceful sleep.