#hung like a prize stallion

[athenepromachos]

BTS of Man of Steel with Hen in his Black suit 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

[frogchiro]

I-I just can't stop thinking about Captain MacTavish and his stupidly large, uncut cock and full, low hanging breeder balls :((

He's just,, so much man you get me? He's large, and bulky, well developed muscles moving and flexing beneath a layer of fat, thick, slightly tanned skin and a thick layer of dark hair all over his chest, tummy and happy trail and he's fucking proud of it.

Captain MacTavish isn't afraid to strut and parade himself like a prized stallion, showing off in front of all the soldiers but especially in front of you, like that one time in some backwater safe house.

It was a real shit hole, barely holding together but it was better than nothing and poor little you had almost cried out of relief when you set the heavy backpack with your technical equipment down on the dusty floor, Captain MacTavish, Captain Price and Gaz following shortly after. Except there was one tiny problem; there was a very limited amount of warm water supply so either you shower all together or someone will get an ice cold bath, and with the raging snow storm outside, the rapidly declining temperature and only a shitty old fireplace to keep you 'warm' the answer was obvious.

While you were given the 'courtesy' of having a flimsy old curtain hung to protect your modesty, to be honest you kinda resigned from it since it was basically see-through anyway.

So now you were all naked, your poor soft body sore from all the running and carrying heavy equipment and to top it all off you were surrounded by equally naked, powerful men too :(( While Soap, Price and Gaz made a half-assed promise to not look, they obviously did just that; sneaking glances at your soft tits and broad hips, thick thighs all nice and bitable looking- but the worst of all was Captain MacTavish :((

He wasn't even trying to be subtle, he was shameless in fact. Soap was standing the closest to you and he made use of that position, flexing his burly body and turning you you could see his half-hard cock hanging between his powerful legs, balls hanging full and swollen form all the backed up sperm; fighting always made adrenaline and testosterone run hot through his veins and the close proximity and scent of a pretty young thing like you?? If Soap was a worse man he'd bend you over right there and then and stuff his fat cock inside your poor cunt, tip right against your cervix and all and maybe, just maybe his cock drooled a nice amount of precum while smirking like a wolf at your flustered squeak and the annoyed, jealous groans of the men around him :((

[neotrances]

she hung like a horse i call her my prized stallion, i got a lotta disorders but have trouble countin em

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥𝓐𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓹𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓮: 𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓞𝓷𝓮/ 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸

Pairing: Ares! Seonghwa × Aphrodite! Reader (Female)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fantasy/Greek Mythology AU.

Word Count: 7.7+K

Warnings: Sexual scenes, infidelity/ adultery (which I do not condone nor encourage), mentions of deities and other fantasy like themes.

“𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.” -𝑈𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

Seonghwa's lips wouldn't stop the curses that were spilling out as he fumbled to tie the sash that went around his robe.

"Confound it all Alectryon! I thought you were keeping watch!" He shouted at his companion who ran behind him, looking just as concerned as he was.

"I'm sorry! I must have accidentally dozed off." The young guard explained himself.

"Yeah well, whatever happened to you not needing sleep at night cause you sleep during daylight?" Seonghwa didn't mean to sound so harsh nor accusing, but there would be hell to pay if he and his lover had been discovered. Looking behind him, he gazed at the rays of the sun that were barely poking out through the mountains that were at a distance from them. Sensing what was agitating his friend, Alectryon decided to try and calm him down.

"Relax Hwa. I'm pretty sure Helios is still taking time. He's not fast like Hermes, perhaps he did not see anything."

"Perhaps..." Seonghwa panted as he slowed down his running to a very light jog, his mind running wild at all the possible scenarios that were about to unfold.

"Hey listen to me. Helios would have already come down to confront you if he had indeed seen you and Aphrodite together. You know how he doesn't beat around the bush."

Seonghwa scrunched his eyebrows together. Alectryon did make sense. Helios was known to be a very confrontational god whenever he witnessed any sort of wrongdoing or unethical behavior from his fellow immortals. He never kept anything to himself nor delayed in approaching others.

"Yeah...I guess you're right Alec." But Seonghwa was still on edge due to the adrenaline rush they just went through.

"Trust me, I'm always right." His friend chuckled, slumping an arm over Seonghwa's shoulder.

Upon finding their stallions still tied to the tree branches where they last left them, each of the men got onto their respective horse and bid farewell to each other, one heading west while the other headed east towards his home which was not far away. Every once in a while, he'd glance back, heart lurching when the sun had fully come up from the horizon. Every living creature that wasn't up yet would certainly be up soon now that the Sun God signaled that it was time to awaken. Seonghwa felt as if he was going to pass out, the anxiety still building up in him. He was thankful when he finally reached his house, swiftly coming down from his prized horse. Giving the beast a pat on its side, Seonghwa watched it as it scurried off to go drink water from the river that flowed through the meadow, and would no doubt go run off to find somewhere to rest. The deity wasn't afraid of that, he knew his horse well enough and trusted he'd always come back to him, he always did.

Pushing open the door, he took a long and deep breath, removing his belt and sword and letting them drop against the marble floor with a loud cluttering noise. His head hung low as he slowly made his way into the living area, not paying attention to his surroundings that he failed to notice the goddess that was sitting by the window, using the beams of light pouring in to help her see the words on the scroll she was currently reading on. She shook her head when it was obvious he wasn't going to greet her.

"Good morning to you too." She made her presence known.

Having already been so agitated from the events from before, Seonghwa let out a startled gasp when he heard her voice, hand coming up to clutch at his rising chest.

"What in the world? You act as if I had just thrown a dagger at you or tried shooting you with one of my arrows." Putting down her reading material, she got up from her seat and promptly went to check on her brother. He made no resistance as she pressed a palm against his cheek, feeling his temperature before then placing it against his forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, not feeling anything out of the ordinary.

"You seem fine yet you're pale and on the verge of passing out, which is unusual given the fact the God of War fears absolutely nothing." She giggled softly, smile faltering soon after when her brother still failed to show any reaction.

"Hwa? What's wrong? Did something happen with....Y/N?"

Seonghwa felt bad when he saw how distressed and concerned his beloved sister looked at his expense. Although he wished to pour out what was in his heart, he remembered it would be unjust to talk about such things with her, as he wanted to keep her away from the subject as much as possible. Plastering on a serene smile, he took hold of one of her hands and brought it up to place a tender kiss on each of her fingers.

"Don't burden yourself with my trifles Thena. Remember you saw and heard nothing, it'll be best if we keep it that way."

The goddess opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it when her brother walked away and left her there without another word. Although wanting to go and comfort him, she knew it would irritate him, never having liked to have someone bother him when he was distressed or feeling low in spirits. Pinching the bridge of her nose with a million thoughts running through her mind, Athena slumped herself onto one of the couches surrounding the space, her head already pounding with an incoming ache.

"Seonghwa please tell me you'll be ok..."

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

The sound of hard clanking of the hammer smashing down on the fiery iron placed along the long wooden table stopped immediately. Its wielder looked visibly shaken, head whipping around to look at the deity with arms crossed over his chest.

"What did you say?" Although he had indeed heard what the sun God had reported to him, his mind refused to believe such an incredulous statement, even if Helios was known as a very honest individual who would never deceive anyone.

"Your wife is having an affair Hephaestus, and it's not just a one time thing, I'm talking she's seeing the same lover over and over again behind your back. Nearly every night that you're away, toiling here in this space of yours, she allows him inside your house, on your bed so he can have his way with her."

Hearing all this pour out left a bitter taste in Hephaestus' mouth. His eyes shifted towards the floor, lip quivering as he tried to make out the words he wanted to say.

"Surely....y-you must be mistaken....perhaps you saw wrong and-"

"When am I ever wrong Hephaestus? I am the Sun God for heavens sakes. I see everything that goes on in this place and down in the mortal realm. And I am never wrong."

Knowing that Helios was indeed never mistaken, Hephaestus' shoulders slumped down in agony and shame, back turning towards the sun God who looked at him with pity. He knew how much he adored the beautiful goddess, worshipped the very ground she walked on, even if his feelings were not reciprocated, he had done everything he could to try and gain her affections. Helios shook his head when he discerned what he made out to be light sniffles coming from the heart broken immortal in front of him. Knowing he had done his duty, he let out a deep sigh before turning on his heel.

"I'll leave you alone to think about how you wish to deal with this."

Reaching for the doorknob, he was just about to walk out to resume his duties when the other God stopped him.

"Wait! Before you leave, I need you to answer me one question."

Helios turned around once more, coming face to face with Hephaestus' tear strained countenance. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the stricken god gathered up his courage to speak up:

"Who...who is he?"

Helios stayed silent, pondering whether or not it would be the right moment to tell him or to let him figure it out himself. It was a debate that obviously agitated him, and Hephaestus could see the hesitation in the other's eyes to answer his question.

"Tell me. I need to know."

Knowing that it was his right to know, Helios firmly spoke out.

"Ares."

The change in expression was almost instantly as Hephaestus' hands balled up into fists, the once saddened tears now cascading down from rage, his teeth gnashed against each other as fury started to overtake him.

"Out of all people, it had to be him?!"

Helios closed his eyes, trying hard to ignore the rampage his friend was going through. He could clearly hear the sound of pottery being smashed into the ground, countless artifacts that were in the making process were more than likely being tossed back into the fire, never to be reconstructed again. Perhaps it would have surprised anyone else to see the usually meek and quaint God act so brazen and wrathful, but when one took into account that his mother acted the same way every time her husband went on one of his countless escapades, it wouldn't be too shocking to see him behave in the same manner, especially out of jealousy and envy at being betrayed by his spouse. And the worst part was finding out her lover was someone he had always had a disdain for.

Once he was done, he leaned over the table, agitated and heavy breathing coming out of his mouth, nails scraping against the wood material of the furniture. Knowing his friend had over exerted himself, Helios came up behind him, hands resting on top of his shoulders and gently rubbing them.

"Be careful. Your leg is not well and you know that. Try not to put too much tension on it."

Hephaestus nodded, hand reaching over to pat on one of the hands comforting him.

"Can you do me one last favor?" He inquired.

"Anything." Helios immediately responded.

Pushing off the table, Hephaestus walked towards one of the corners of the room where there laid a simple looking chest that was rather large and wide. A large lock placed upon it made sure that no one would be able to peer into the contents inside. With much effort, Hephaestus managed to crouch down, ignoring the slight sting he felt in his left thigh while doing so, hand fumbling to take out the keys that he kept inside his work apron.

"I need you to get Themis for me. I need to talk to her about this."

Helios nodded, already sensing what Hephaestus was planning.

"What about you?"

Plunging the key into the hole, Hephaestus opened the lock and opened up the chest, hands diving in to search for the material he needed, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of the rare and precious golden thread that was unattainable to anyone but him.

"I'll take care of them."

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

The beautiful goddess paced back and forth in the room, her usually long and perfect fingernails were being chewed off one by one slowly due to the anxious feeling she was going through. It had been a whole week and still no reply from Seonghwa. She was starting to think that perhaps he was never going to come back....

Or that something must have happened to him.

She immediately shook her head and casted that idea out of her mind. Her restless state couldn't even be distracted by the presence of her husband since he had informed her that he was going on a trip, leaving her alone in that large and spacious mansion with no one to keep her company except her despondent thoughts. Looking out the window, she watched as the last sliver of the sun rays started to disappear, the moon beginning to cast down her beaming light from the opposite direction. Just as she was about to give up all hope, she heard a knock at her door. Desperate for any kind of distraction, she sprinted up from her seat and went to go answer whomever was calling. At that point she would have even welcomed her exasperating mother in law, a small banter or quarrel with her would at least give her something to occupy herself with.

Opening the door, a faltered gasp fell out of her mouth when she saw who was standing there.

"Seonghwa..."

He too looked almost as distressed as her, his complexion having a light and dewy sheen that made her aware of the fact he no doubt had been running a great distance just to reach her. He drew out a long and tired breath as he felt somewhat exhausted from the physical activity he just went through.

"I thought I was going to go insane if I didn't see you."

Without anymore words, he pushed his way inside her house, hands coming up to cup her cheeks as he smothered her in a desirous kiss full of pining. She offered no resistance as he backed her into the familiar room they often spent time in, his hands making haste as they unfastened the clasps of her dress. Gently laying her on the bed, he slipped the garment off her body, eyes raking her glorious figure up and down. No matter how many times he'd seen her, Seonghwa would always find his breath taken away by her ethereal allure that she'd been blessed with.

"Oh my heavens." He grunted as he worked quick to strip himself out of his own clothes, letting them fall onto the pile where hers rested in.

Crawling further into the bed, Y/N rested her head against the soft and plush pillow, arms lovingly wrapping themselves around her beloved when he came forward and lowered his body on top of hers. Their tongues danced against one another, his hands wandering across her body as they tenderly brushed against her mounds, fingertips grazing around her hardening peaks. He found delight in her lust filled sounds being muffled by his lips when he cupped a hand down to eagerly stroke on her silky folds, thumb generously drawing circles on that sensitive button of hers that had her toes curling against the bed.

"H-Hwa please.... I need you." She begged for him, unable to resist a minute longer without him near.

Using his knees to pry her legs open, Seonghwa kept his gaze locked with hers as he slowly began to insert himself inside her walls, their mouth falling open as they emitted hushed and blissful moans of satisfaction. His hips began to roll up against hers, member sinking in deep into the depths of her core. He kept one hand locked against one of her hips, bringing up one leg to rest against his waist so that he may be able to reach even deeper and bring her the best pleasure as possible. Having kept a slow and sensual pace, Seonghwa soon grew greedy and began to speed up, wanting to hear her content filled pants turn into full blown sexually consuming cries for him, which she never failed to deny him off.

"Oh- Seonghwa!" She exclaimed, nails raking against his back as she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"Oh my beautiful goddess, give yourself to me." He murmured against her ear, lips pressing fluttering kisses across her temple and cheek, nose occasionally nuzzling against the smoothness of her skin.

Just as soon as they lost themselves in their dazed love, they were awakened from their fantasy and startled when a thin, nearly invisible net made from golden threads came tumbling down upon them, its design deceivingly resistant against any kinds of tears or struggling, which was exactly what the two captured individuals were trying to do at the moment, figuring out a way to escape the contraption. The two of them gasped in horror when the door was opened and in strode in the fearsome titaness that personified justice and order itself.

"Themis.." the God of War stuttered out as the high ranking immortal took in the scene before her, face devoid of any expression.

"Ares you are hereby detained and will be confined in solitary confinement in the Underworld until all the other Olympians are gathered for a trial. Goddess of love, you will be confined with her Majesty, the Queen of Olympus until the trial is over.....

You are not to see each other"

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

One by one, all of the deities who had been called upon strolled inside the hall, taking their respective seat where they had been assigned to, the floor raised a few feet above the ground level, its structure being that of a circle so that the person who was being judged would be watched upon from all angles. Already there were much whisperings amongst the individuals, some fully aware of what was going on while others needed to be filled in on the details. The reactions were all varied depending on the god or goddess, varying from outright shock all the way to disinterest in the matter, but more often than not, crude and distasteful jokes were being made at the expense of the victims in the story. Just as the room was starting to become louder and disoriented, the entire crowd grew silent when the next deity was announced, his dark and looming presence sending a shiver down the spine of most of the crowd.

"Hades, God of the Dead and King of the Underworld."

As he made his way to his seat, those nearby bowed down to him, making sure never to lift their faces to look him straight in the eye. He wore a grim expression, befitting that of someone whose realm was shrouded in abysmal darkness, gaze unwavering and looking determined as he promptly took his seat which was one of the places closest towards the throne that stood in the middle of everything. His seating partner looked pleased to see him, and unlike his contemporaries, he came up and slung an arm around the grim ruler who ,although displeased with the affection, did not outwardly cast him aside.

"Hongjoong! It's such a delight to see you! How long has it been?"

The god of the dead looked unamused as he stared at the god before him, addressing on personal terms when they weren't even close.

"Not long enough if you ask me Poseidon." He answered as he wiggled his way out of the other's embrace. Taking a look around, he let out a bored sigh, pulling out his chair and sitting upon it.

"How long is this going to take? Unlike you and Zeus who can run off from your duties, I can't leave my domain for too long, especially with all the troubles in the mortal realm. Nearly doubled the amount of souls being brought in on the daily and it's not an easy job for one person." He grumbled, already hating the fact that his precious time was being wasted.

His fellow deity took no offense to his words.

"But Hades, you know you don't have to do it alone. That's what you got Persephone for-"

Poseidon was instantly cut off by the sound of the goddess next to him clearing her throat abruptly, her eyes glaring at him to cease talking immediately. Unfortunately, the Sea god was very slow at taking hints and had no control over his tongue, thus looked around in confusion.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Looking down, he stepped back when he was met by the piercing eyes of Hades staring daggers at him, instantly reminding Poseidon.

"Oh right......... you and Persephone are not together anymore right?"

Those nearby outright face palmed or turned their gaze in another direction, shifting awkwardly at the encounter the two patriarchal gods were currently having. Before Hades could get the chance to speak up his mind, he was shaken to the core when he heard who was the next and final deity to take her place in the room.

"Presenting Persephone, Goddess of Spring, Queen of the Underworld."

Audible gasps were heard all around the room, many of the individuals astonished since they had never seen the actual queen of the dead herself and the others had gone years without seeing her after she had returned to the mortal world to preside over her duties as the deity in charge of vegetation and nature. Her head was held high and looked at no one in particular, only followed the attendant that escorted her to her seat, which was conveniently or inconveniently, placed right across from where her husband was. When she saw him, her nonchalant face turned cold and brooding, eyes narrowing into slits as she stared at Hades, who in turned turned pale at the sight of her. He too had gone years without seeing her, the last time he saw her she was a little heavier than what she was, having given birth to her second child. Nevertheless, she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he could feel his heartbeat quickening at the sight of having her near him again. She however immediately looked away from him, refusing to spare him another glance, keeping her eyes lowered on the marble counter her elbows rested on.

"Oof. Talk about a sad reunion." Poseidon, ever the impertinent fool, spoke up, further angering the god next to him.

It seemed like ages until finally, the King of Olympus himself finally entered the hall, taking his place on the throne in the center, while the goddess of Justice stood on his right, looking over ready to get the ordeal over with.

"Bring forth the accused."

All attention was placed on the God being led in by two guards at each other his sides, his wrists bound together as they guided him to stand in the middle of the room. He didn't look frightened nor angry, but rather he was calm, refusing to vent out any rage as he knew many of the people around him were expecting him to lash out with. Raising her hand up to shush the faint whisperings between the immortals, the goddess began reading from the scroll in her hand.

"You have hereby been brought forth into this tribunal, Ares God of War, to be judged and sentenced accordingly by your fellow Olympians and other deities for the following crime.."

She paused briefly before continuing.

"Regularly seeking out and indulging in an adulterous relationship with Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty, wife of Hephaestus, God of Fire and Craftmanship. Thus engaging in formal infidelity which as everyone knows is against the law at Olympus."

Finishing reading the scroll, Themis rolled it up as she peered down at Ares.

"What have you to say against the charges laid before you?"

With lips curling up, Seonghwa couldn't help the light scoff released from within.

"They are all indeed true and I do not deny them."

There were mixed reactions towards his response, some praising him for admitting it so bravely while others criticized him for being so shameless.

"Seeing as you take responsibility for your actions, we shall now hear the opinions from the others and deliberate what the punishment will be."

Themis waved her arm across those sitting around the room, signaling for them to start debating and speaking out their thoughts. Everyone looked around at each other, not daring to be the first person to speak out, most of them scared to be the one to start such an important task. Finally after a few minutes of what was a death like silence, all attention was turned to the goddess that courageously stood up to speak her mind.

"As an Olympian myself who was granted the honor of forming part of the Twelve high ranking gods, I took an oath when I accepted the responsibility and swore to abide by the laws set for me, as they were to all of us. I do not believe that such disrespect and negligence should be tolerated and as it is known, the punishment for this crime is exile.... but if you personally ask me, I also believe Ares should be stripped of his rank as an Olympian and given to someone more worthy of it."

The hunter goddess had no qualms and payed no mind to the shock that ensued at the last condition she had suggested. Almost immediately, her male sibling slammed his palms against the table. Having heard what his twin had said, he of course felt compelled to counteract her as he always did.

"Yes Artemis, as you said, as Olympians we had regulations set before us and although I agree that Ares should be punished accordingly, it is inconceivable to even entertain the thought of giving his position to someone else." Being such a popular and favorite among even the immortals, many of his companions, mostly the male population were nodding their heads at his words, which irritated his sibling.

"He has committed a crime Apollo-"

"Yes, indeed. A grievous mistake." He interrupted her.

"But I know for a fact, as we all do, that Ares has upholded and lived by the standards set before all of us. Furthermore, you fail to take into account he, along with Athena, are indispensable in Olympus and in the mortal world given their position as god and goddess of War. That is a fact none of us can overlook... now tell me, if we ban him from here indefinitely, who's going to take responsibility for any damages or take over the job assigned to him? Are you willing to do that?"

Left with no choice but to accept that her suggestion was ill advised, Artemis pursed her lips tightly and sat back down, arms crossing over her chest.

"Apolllo is right. Ares and Athena are in charge of a rather deep task that not anyone can fulfill as well as they do. And it is too big a job for one God to themselves. If Ares is banished indefinitely, the load will fall on Athena's shoulders and it'll be too much of a burden on her. We must also take her feelings into account." Having heard Hermes' words, all of the stares fell upon Seonghwa's sister, who merely sat there with a darkened expression.

"You know, I'm rather curious about something... Athena, did you know anything prior to these days about your brother's escapades? I find it hard to believe that you didn't notice him leaving at all hours at the night and then return at dawns." It wasn't surprising to hear Hestia question Athena herself, having been the first goddess to swear an oath of chastity for all eternity, and the young war goddess along with Artemis followed in the same path, therefore the bond between all three was strong and united, hence why it put Athena in a difficult position. Her bottom lip began to tremble slightly, she knew there was no way she'd be able to lie to the very goddess whom she had always looked up to. With dread, she looked to where her brother was, his mouth silently mouthing her not to expose herself. Taking a deep breath, she uttered a soft reply:

"I never interfered in my brother's affairs just as he never interfered in mine. We always made it a point to draw a line in our personal lives." She felt satisfied with her response, as it was not a lie in the slightest bit. Hestia obviously wasn't satisfied with the answer.

"But did you not know-"

"My sister knew absolutely nothing about this. She is completely innocent and should be excluded in any wrongdoing pertaining to me." Seonghwa spoke up, refusing to put Athena in a more difficult situation than she already was.

"Ares, watch your tongue. You did not receive permission to speak up in your or anyone's defense." The grim mother of the earth, Demeter spoke up, inciting fear throughout most of the room, except for two people.

"Mother..." Persephone cautioned her with a death like gaze that left her mother stunned as her daughter had never spoken up against her or dared cross her, until very recent years. With a gruff, Demeter narrowed her eyes at the man across from her, the ruler of the dead finally showing emotions as he plastered a smug smile on his sharp features at seeing the goddess' daughter chastise her in such a manner.

Not wanting to be left out of adding one of his many illogical thoughts and wanting to help out his dear friend, Dionysus began prattling out.

"If I may be granted the honor to state my opinion, in all honesty we must ask ourselves, could we really blame Seong- I mean! Ares for wanting to make love to the most beautiful being to bless the universe? Really, let's not pretend that any of us gentlemen didn't think about seducing her at least once." All the men in the room shifted awkwardly in their seats, their gazes a tell tale sign of their guilt in having harbored such machinations at one point since the goddess was brought to Olympus. Meanwhile all the ladies looked at them with utter disgust and disappointment. Knowing he had hit on a crucial point, Dionysus deemed it best to continue.

"Furthermore, let us not forget Aphrodite herself never chose Hephaestus as her husband. Think logically, why would the goddess of beauty herself ever wish to remain with someone who does not match her in appearance and is not someone particularly pleasing to the eye? Meanwhile Ares is by far superior than any of us males in terms of looks and has a handsome figure. Does it not make sense then why she would choose him over her husband?"

At hearing such things, there was an immediate uproar, headed primarily by most of the women gathered in the hall, outraged by what they deemed to be masculine nonsense.

"Answer me this Dionysus, do you believe it was fair to Hephaestus, who has been a most kind, loyal and loving husband to Aphrodite to have been betrayed in such a way?" Hestia challenged the younger god.

"I never said it was fair, I merely stated that I can see why she'd do it." He corrected himself.

"Typical men. Always finding some kind of excuse for your unfaithfulness." Demeter shook her head disapprovingly, releasing a lingering sigh.

"Your kind would never stop to think about the consequences or hurt you'll bestow upon your partner and give way to your momentary urges, satisfying them without a second thought or care about anyone else. You're all selfish that you won't even think about the humiliation, anger, or miserable feelings your wife would feel...." Not missing an opportunity to throw a jab, Demeter masked herself with mock pity and concern as she stared over where her daughter was.

"Don't you agree Persephone? You above anyone else knows what it's like to be betrayed in such a way. What do you think?"

The young queen's visage turned red, hand clasping itself into a fist as her jaw tightened significantly at her mother's exposure of her and her situation. Her husband visibly looked shaken, shoulders slumping down as he slid further down on his seat, looking away from the prying eyes near him.

"Oof. Talk about your mother in law not liking you." Poseidon whispered, not at all discreetly as mostly everyone heard him.

Ever demonstrating her ability as a sovereign, Persephone soon smoothed out her features, a small and cunning smile taking place over her previously provoked state. Deciding to cast her feelings aside and prove her worth, she had everyone captivated with her eloquence speech.

"I do not believe it is fair to switch the topic when it is another pressing matter we must attend to. Although yes, I do believe it was most unkind and utterly disrespectful what Ares and Aphrodite have done, I'll be straightforward in this.... I see absolutely no wrongdoing in their actions except falling in love."

The reaction of having her female deities become flabbergasted did not surprise her the slightest bit. Bringing her hands to clasp together in front of her, she continued her point.

"I think we all seem to forget a core point in this story..... Aphrodite was forced into an unhappy union with someone she barely knew, let alone loved. Unlike those of you who were lucky enough to choose your spouses, or remain chaste in the case of goddesses like Hestia, Artemis and Athena, she had no choice. She had barely appeared in this world, alone, no doubt frightened, and then suddenly thrown into a position she was not prepared for and a husband added whom she knew nothing about whilst still trying to figure out the power and abilities she was capable of having? Can anyone of you even fathom what she must have been going through?" Looking around, she could tell that no one would understand the experience. Looking ahead, she met her husband's eyes which looked saddened as he knew where she was taking her point to. Without breaking eye contact, she resumed.

"Well I do, I understand the pain and loneliness she must have felt. You all forget I myself was taken from my home and made Queen of the Underworld without ever haven stepped foot in there before in my life and tied to someone whom, yes I ended up loving with all my heart-" She paused as she felt herself become emotional. Swallowing back tears, she took soft and steady breaths to calm her nerves, not noticing that her husband already had one foot stretched out, ready to whisk her away should she need him to. Finally composing herself, she finished her statement.

"But what I mean is everyone is different. You cannot expect someone to love a person they were forced to marry. That is not how love works and yet.... obviously some people don't care about it and take advantage of their position to make others lives miserable." Without any fear, Persephone turned her head over to where Zeus was sitting, directing her attention to the one person that was the true cause of her early sufferings and was now the one to blame for the situation that was happening recently. Being the headstrong and prideful king he was, Zeus furrowed his eyebrows at the young queen.

"I recommend that you watch your tone very carefully Kore. You have such a beautiful and gifted tongue, it'd be a shame if you were to lose it in any way."

Outraged by the aggression towards his loved one, Hades got up from his seat and glared at the monarch.

"Never speak to my wife that way Zeus. You may be King in Olympus and Lord of the Skies, but never forget I am older than you and you have no jurisdiction over anything that pertains to the Underworld, and that includes my Queen." Hades reminded him.

Furious at being talked to in such a way, Zeus stood up.

"Your Queen? Can you even call her that when you have been unfaithful to her? She has not resided in the Underworld for years now and it is all your doing. Don't claim to be any better when you are just the same as Ares, running around with whores."

Unable to keep silent anymore, Seonghwa looked up at Zeus and said:

"What right do you have to judge us as that? You're the most infamous God among us for his extramarital affairs, that's not even a secret in the mortal realm. Why do you think Hera isn't here? Do you think she'd be able to show her face here, on a trial for infidelity when her husband is the most adulterous being to ever walk on Olympus?"

Zeus looked around, noticing that none of the other Olympians denied anything Seonghwa said, most of them agreeing with their faces or flat out nodding their heads. Outraged over the public humiliation he faced, Zeus pointed an accusatory finger towards Seonghwa.

"Ares, you are hereby banished indefinitely from Olympus, stripped of your title as one of the 12 Olympian deities and shall never show your face here again."

Immediately, the response was negative, all of the gods and goddesses clamoring against such a premeditated decision. They were so caught up in their arguments they failed to notice that someone had slipped out of her seat until she was standing right next to her brother. Looking over at his sister, Seonghwa smiled softly when she linked arms with him.

"If you're banishing the one family member I have, then you're down to 10 Olympians, because if Seonghwa goes, I relinquish my title as one as well and will not aid in my duties as the Goddess of War." Further proving her point, Athena removed the dagger tied to her waist and let it drop to the floor, the sound echoing through the walls.

The commotion turned even more intense, all the deities frightened over the outcome that would happen should both deities of war leave their duties. Being the god in charge of prophecy and divination among other things, Apollo could see what tragic results that decision would yield not only in Olympus, but down on earth. Knowing someone had to be the voice of reason, he decided to try once more.

"Zeus, without the god and goddess of war, the mortal realm will turn into chaos and it will culminate in more bloodshed than we could ever handle. That in turn will affect Hades' domain as many souls will flood the Underworld, not to mention it will decrease the people's faith in us as their gods and therefore will not sacrifice to any of us. It's already tense down there, Sparta and Troy on the verge of war as we speak."

The faces of the other Olympians turned grim at that information.

"May I suggest something? Send Ares away from here to fulfill his punishment. Since war is inevitable, he would be needed down there in the mortal realm, along with Athena. Let them preside over the matter which will take years to end. That should be enough time for his punishment to be carried out. During this time, he may not see Aphrodite and vice versa. I think.... I believe that is a most agreeable way to settle this matter."

None of the other Gods could deny that his solution was the best one. One by one, they all raised their hands up in agreement to that decision. Knowing it was decided, Themis stood up from her position and carried out the final judgment.

"Ares, you shall go with your sister and take care of your responsibility as God of War in Troy and Sparta, remaining there until the conflict is resolved. You will not be allowed back in Olympus until the matter is settled. You are forbidden from seeing or contacting the goddess Aphrodite during that time and she will not be allowed out of Hera's palace during that time either. This is my decree and I expect it to be carried out to its full terms."

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

Sitting by the windowsill once again, Y/N's eyes wandered and admired the beautiful scenery in front of her, wanting nothing more than to be able to enjoy it herself instead of being caged up inside the palace and treated with utter hostility. Her fingertips traced the outline of the window frame, trying to sink in the warmth that the sun's rays were offering her.

"Stop that melancholic gaze of yours. You know very well you have only yourself to blame for your situation."

Hearing her mother in law's voice pipe up, Y/N curled up further into a ball, head lowered between her knees as she tried to drown out whatever criticism she was thinking of flinging her way. Scoffing, Hera proceeded to attack her more.

"Maybe if you weren't such a whore and actually treated my son as he deserved, you wouldn't be in this mess."

Feeling herself finally snap, Y/N lifted her head up and began laughing loudly, unable to contain the emotions that she had contained for so long. Hera widened her eyes, thinking the girl had finally gone mad or something. Composing herself enough, Y/N turned her body to face the older woman.

"Treat your son right? You of all people tell me to treat your son right? Weren't you the same person who was so horrified and disgusted by his appearance that you literally threw him out of Olympus, casted him down to the mortal realm and left him there for several years? Aren't you the cause of his eternal injury? Weren't you the one that rejected him as your son for so long?"

Hera visibly trembled in her seat, shaken up by her daughter in law's sudden outburst.

"Aphrodite I think you need to go rest-"

"Oh! I'm not done yet my dear lady. You call me a whore, and you know what? I fully accept it, I accept I cheated on my husband and I do not have any shame in it. But tell me, is it any worse than being nothing more than a trophy wife for a self absorbed, conceited god who looks for every and any opportunity to go behind your back and take as many lovers in a day as he can? And then pretend like it's not actually happening when everyone knows what he goes down to earth for? I at least have enough self respect to not shut my eyes to my short comings." Y/N finally got out everything she needed to get out.

Angered by the utter disrespect, Hera stood up to go march over and slap the insolent girl, but got no chance to as the front doors suddenly burst open, the deity letting themselves in without invitation.

"Athena, this isn't a good time-"

"I'll be quick Your Highness, but if you excuse me, I need to borrow Y/N for a moment." Without giving the goddess time to protest, Athena took hold of Y/N's wrist and began escorting her out of the house. Not wanting to let that happen, Hera began to intervene, shouting out protests and cries of indignation.

"She is not allowed to go outside. It was forbidden!" She declared, yet Athena payed no mind.

"Just this once, Themis gave permission, settle matters with her if you wish."

Upon hearing that, Hera's mouth immediately shut, knowing fully well she was no longer in control if Themis had allowed it. She had no choice but to let Y/N be dragged away to who knows where.

Y/N stared incredulously at the goddess leading her, so many questions running through her head.

"Did Themis really give you permission to take me away?"

Athena couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.

"No, I was merely fibbing, but Hera doesn't know that and I know for a fact she won't dare try to find out if it was true or not."

Y/N couldn't help the involuntary smile that came up in her beautiful face.

"So....where are you taking me?"

Athena didn't answer, she merely led Y/N deeper into the woods. Once she came back to the designated spot, she let go of the other's wrist and told her to stay there. Tilting her head to the right, she called out as she scurried off to be on lookout duty:

"You only have a few minutes. Make it count."

Hearing footsteps approach, Y/N turned and gasped when she saw none other than Seonghwa emerge from his hiding spot, immediately running up to hold her in his arms. They held each other tightly for a brief moment, Seonghwa burying his face in her neck.

"You know I love you right?"

Y/N nodded, fighting back tears.

"I do...... you know I love you?"

Pulling back, Seonghwa cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping away some of the drops of tears that were already running down her cheeks.

"With all my heart."

His lips closed over hers in a loving kiss, savoring their last moment together before being forced apart once more, this time for a longer and unidentified period of time. Even after pulling back, they both stayed close to each other, drinking in every detail of the other, recalling their face to memory to help them endure the coming period.

"Please take care." Y/N urged him, heart fearing she might never see him again. Seonghwa calmed her worries with a loving and kind smile.

"Don't worry my beloved goddess, I shall return to you....." Dropping one hand, he gently pressed it against her lower stomach, delicately drawing strokes around the area.

"I shall return to both of you."

Pressing one final kiss to her forehead, Seonghwa reluctantly released her from his hold, gaze never leaving her as he disappeared into the forest, his sibling ushering him to make haste so they wouldn't get caught. Y/N had one hand clutched to her heart, tears unable to stop brimming down her face. As if sensing her distress, the tiny being inside her womb began to lightly kick, that tiny action bringing a light hearted smile to her face.

"Yes indeed...... your father will be back."

•『♡』• ══════ •『♡』• ══════•『♡』•

𝓔𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓾𝓮:

The handsome god couldn't keep his heart still. Finally, after many years of seeing conflict and nothing but death, he was finally back home, in Olympus. Stepping out of the boat, he ran ahead when he spotted the person waiting for him earnestly on the other side. Opening her arms, she welcomed his embrace lovingly, releasing a breath that she felt she was holding for centuries. They couldn't keep themselves from grinning as they were finally reunited.

"You're back." She was the first one to speak.

"Just as I promised." He giggled softly.

Hearing a soft whimper emit from behind her, Seonghwa gave her a puzzled look. Smiling brightly, Y/N moved so that the tiny boy who had thus far been hiding behind her was visible. His father couldn't help but become emotional at seeing him for the first time, his heart lighting up with joy and admiration for the exceedingly beautiful child, his eyes as large and bright as the stars that arrayed the night sky. Crouching down, he gently placed his hands on the boy's arms, leaning in to kiss the top of his golden head.

"Hello my darling Eros....."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In pais

This is dark!prince!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. It include noncon and other dark elements. Curate your consumption accordingly.

Summary: A prince visits your father’s inn.

Note: first of all, let’s make it clear that @lokislastlove​ is always responsible for Loki drivel. Secondly, I am here and there with writing, I’ve pretty much decided to write when I want to and what I want to. I’m going to stop holding myself to ridiculous schedules and deadlines that aren’t real. My anxiety is wild y’all.

Also, unofficially in my head and heart, considering this like a sister fic to  Droit du seigneur.

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

You shouldered your way out of the small barn. You were careful not to slosh the milk over the side of the bucket as you rounded the inn. The top would be skimmed and cream could be served for dessert, although your father’s tavern was not very busy that day. It was never bustling, merely a stop for most on a much longer road. Few stayed the night, usually opting for an ale and a meal before leaving.

Hooves pounded the dust and you stopped to watch the party of men on their galloping horses. You feared they would trample the fence as they neared and you backed up against the front of the inn, just feet away from the front door. Dirt powdered the air and the horse slowed before the fence that closed in the livestock.

A lithe man swung off a dark stallion, his own hair a similar shade of black that hung down his shoulders. His green cape swished around him and the other men dismounted with less grace. One of them approached; noblemen by the velvet of their capes and the silver on their belts.

“Rooms for the night,” He jangled a purse as his wavy orange hair fell forward over his brow. “And as much wine as you have.”

“We’ve more ale than wine,” You returned as you shifted the weight of the pail.

“Either will do,” The taller man with the black hair strode forward and slapped his gloves against his palm. His lip curled as he peered up at the inn. “I suppose we’ll have to take what we can get here.”

You looked between them and the other men traipsed behind as they chattered noisily. The black-haired noble looked down at you sharply.

“Well, little mouse, take your milk and prepare our quarters,” He nodded to the other man who waved the purse in your direction. “Or do you only tend to the animals?”

“My lord,” You cradled the bucket with one arm and snatched the purse. “All will be arranged. I will inform the inkeep of your arrival.”

“I suppose venison would be out of the question,” He ventured.

“Rabbit or hen.” You countered. “My lord.”

“Your highness, actually,” He corrected. “Prince, if you must.”

You squeezed the purse and nodded as your brows twitched. “Your highness.” You repeated and bowed as well as you could with your armful. “If you follow me, might take a left after we enter and seat yourself in the common room.”

You spun on your heel and continued your path to the front door. You pushed through with your hip and called to Celeste. “Party of five. Is there any wine left?”

“We’ve a cask from Mirraine,” She said. “Bitter red.”

“Fetch that and a barrel of ale,” You passed the front counter where she sat and wove thread around a frame. “And show these lords to the tables. I’ll tell Giles to hurry.”

“And your father?” She asked.

“He’s your husband.” You shrugged. “I thought he was still abed.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for hiding there for your nagging,” She stood. “He is in the kitchen.”

You stopped as she neared the end of the counter and lowered your voice. “Save that sharp tongue for me, stepmother. A prince will not be so tolerant.”

“Prince?” Her lashes fluttered and she smoothed her apron. “Perhaps you should bide your own warning.”

She brushed past you and you continued down the hallway between the counter and the stairs that led to the mostly vacant rooms. You swung the door open with your foot and passed through to plop the pail on the table within. Giles yawned as he sat on a stool and stared at the fire stove. Your father swirled a stein and watched the foam thin.

“We’ve customers. Rooms and dinner, expected.” You announced. “Noblemen… and a prince.”

Your father’s stein slammed on the table. He blanched and Giles gave another disinterested yawn.

“What’s on the spit today?” Your father hissed at the cook.

“Rabbit?” Giles frowned. “I think.”

“Aye, you fool,” Your father smacked the back of his head. “A prince you said?”

“Yes. Black hair. I suppose it is the younger.” You answered.

“Loki,” Your father coughed. “Shit.”

“You know a prince, father?” You challenged.

“Know of him,” Your father said. “Don’t be a mare, daughter.”

“There should be enough cream for a dessert.” You offered. “We’ve flour. A pastry could be devised.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Your wife? Why she’s entertaining the prince and his men.” You scoffed. “Think I saw her pinch her cheeks to try to get some colour back in her jowls.”

“Don’t be so crass. Go, send her to bake the dessert then and take some cups for our guests.” Your father spat. “And smile. You look at the prince like that and he might march us all to the scaffold.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” You grabbed a tray and loaded it with empty steins and a few goblets. “If anything, it will be Celeste who has us whipped.”

Your father snorted darkly and you turned with your fare. You pushed through the door once more and made your way to the front room where the men sat around one of the round tables. You neared as your stepmother giggled, a piglike noise, and you stopped beside her.

“Father would have you prepare dessert,” You said to Celeste as you neared. “Did you send for the kegs?”

“The stable boy had run to fetch them,” She sneered. “You might have rolled the dough yourself.”

“I might have,” You tilted your head. “But I do as my father bids me. As you vowed to do, did you not?”

She huffed and left you. Godwin appeared with a dark cask in hand and lugged it to a table. He wiped his forehead, his lanky arms trembling. “I’ll have the ale shortly, miss,” He panted. “And a tap.”

“Thank you, Godwin,” You said and you didn’t miss his lingering gaze. 

He’d been sweet on you for years, even after you’d rebuffed him at the harvest feast last season. You placed your tray behind the cask and waited. Godwin returned, breathless and beet red as he dragged the barrel. You helped him lift it beside the cask and took the tap from him.

“Go see to the horses.” You said. “Find a brush if you can.”

You watched him go and crossed back to the table of nobles. “I’ve enough wine for you each to have at least a cup and more than enough ale to go around. So what shall I fetch you, my lords? And your highness?” You bowed your head at Prince Loki.

“Wine,” The prince spoke first.

Only one other requested wine and you went about your duty. You served Loki first and then his men. They grew louder as you left them to their drinking and you went through to the kitchen to check in on your measly staff.

“Don’t serve them the heels, you dolt,” Your father snarled at Giles. “And trim the mold off the cheese.”

“Ah, I see, only the finest for the royal prince.” You mused.

“Don’t,” Your father rounded the table. “Help your mother.”

“Your wife,” You insisted once more as you watched Celeste beat the dough.

The door swung behind you as your father left and you neared your stepmother. She seemed as angry at the dough as she usually was at you.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” She warned. “You’ll ruin it.”

“I’ll ruin it,” You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“A prince. Imagine it.” She went on as she folded the dough. “Here, of all places. Just hope your father doesn’t join them for a pint.”

“Ha, as if they’d have him.” You shook your head.

“You’re one to talk about being had,” Celeste hissed. “If we don’t find you a husband soon, I don’t even think the convent will take you.”

“You think my father is a prize, do you?”

The door swung and you turned as you father stomped through. “Aye, what they say has to be true. Sly little bugger. Tongue on him.” He adjusted his belt below his stomach. “Daughter.” He waved to the door. “Go keep the drink flowing. That prince did not think the wine so sweet from my hand.”

“The dessert--”

“Don’t be wise with me,” He warned. “The prince wants you serving his meal this evening. He paid me good coin for it, so go out and see if you can’t get more.”

You hid a scowl and sidled past your father. You wiped the irritation from your brow and returned to the common room. You neared the table and folded your hands over your apron.

“Your highness, my lords? Do you require another round?”

“Do you have water without scum?” The prince asked. “If not, I’ll take some of that milk you dragged in.”

“I’ll fetch you some milk, your highness,” You returned. “And you, sirs?”

“We can work a tap,” The one with orange hair said. “Or figure it out. Thank you, lady.”

“She sweeps the hay, Hugh, she’s not a lady.” The prince snickered. “Milkmaid, I await my second round.”

You did your best to smile, not your best skill, but you tried for fear you might growl. You returned to the kitchen and filled a cup with milk. You skimmed the top and swept back out before your stepmother could notice you. You went back to the prince’s table and set down the cup lightly.

“Your highness.” Another man had risen and bent at the barrel to fill his stein. “Your dinner will be out, shortly.”

“Mmm, I’ve not tasted rabbit since before Easter.” He said. “Always rather unappetizing but you peasants are resourceful.”

“Your highness.” 

You dipped your head and backed away. You stood by the wall and stared at the one opposite as the men’s voices garbled in your ears. You waited until you smelled the roasting meat and you marched to the kitchen. Giles divided the meat onto plates with sliced bread, chunks of cheese and slightly singed potatoes.

You took two and went to the front room to serve. You placed one before the prince first, he watched you with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair and you set the other down carefully. You made another two trips until the table was full and the men were chewing between their bawdy words.

Your father appeared shortly after and asked how the men liked the food. All but the prince kept chewing and grunted in delight. Loki however made a comment about the chewiness of the meat. He was likely right but this wasn’t exactly a royal castle. It was a roadside inn where most of the patrons patched their clothing and would settle for a stick of salted meat and moldy bread.

When their plates were empty, you cleared them and dumped them in the basin in the kitchen. Celeste fretted over whipping the cream as her pastries cooled. She dolloped the cream onto them and acknowledged you with a snort.

“That prince is handsome but a right arse.” She muttered. “Your father said he didn’t like the rabbit. I mixed the seasoning myself.”

“Mm,” You took two plates and turned away. “Well you don’t have to tend to him.”

“If I was your age, he might just like that,” She snipped. “If you didn’t look like you were chewing on salt, he might give you a second glance.”

You didn’t respond and carried on. You delivered the six dishes in several trips and refilled a few steins as the men dug in. The barrel was close to empty, the cask too. They’d made quick work of your father’s meagre fare.

The prince beckoned you over, as he had many times, two fingers flicking you over as your father hovered in the next room by the counter. You went to him and lowered your chin as you recited a “your highness.”

“I would hope to retire soon. A bath should be drawn as well.” He bid.

“Certainly, I’ll have Godwin--”

“You,” He pointed at you with a long finger. “You’re a strong girl, you can handle it yourself.”

“With all due respect, your highness, I think it more appropriate--”

“I think I gave you an order,” He stood and reached to his belt and dug around in his purse. “And it would not go unrewarded. Good service never does.” He flipped the coin then held it out to you. You glared at it.

“Your highness,” Your father approached. “Is there an issue?”

“Not at all, I was only requesting that your daughter draw my bath for the evening.” He smirked. “I did offer her compensation for the task.”

“And she will tend to that immediately,” You father took the coin and your hand and pressed them together. “Right, daughter? You might get the water boiling.”

“Yes, father.” You bit down. “Your highness.”

You drew your hand away and bowed your head. You backed away and quickly skirted off to the kitchen. You snapped at Giles to grab the big pot and send Godwin for water. Celeste grinned up at you as she bit into one of the pastries.

“He is demanding, isn’t he? I’m almost ready to see my own bed for the night since my duties are all done.” She taunted.

“You might do better there. Out of the way of those who actually work.” You jibed.

She flinched and blew cream at you angrily. You kept clear of the mess and Godwin returned with the big pot of water. It was hung in the large fireplace and you waited listlessly for it to boil.

You lugged the first pot up and dumped it into the long tub in the chambers set out for the prince. You descended and repeated the process; another pot up the stairs, steaming up your arms. 

The door was closed that time and you knocked with your toe. The prince opened it, his leather vest half unbuttoned.

“Ah, I did think there would be more to it,” He sneered.

“Your highness.” You said.

He backed up to let you through and you poured the pot into the tub, careful not to splash yourself with the water. He let you back out and your third pot was soon shaking over the flames. When you returned to him again, his vest was gone and his tunic hung low on his chest.

The fourth, and his belt was gone, his tunic too, and his undershirt was all that covered his torso. The fifth, his boots gone, socks too. The sixth, leggings slung over the single chair and he stood in only his undershirt. It hung to his thigh and you feared it might shift a little too much.

“Would you like some cold water to ease the heat, your highness?” You asked as you turned back to the door. 

He was quick, his long legs carried him to the door before you could reach it. He caught the wood and blocked you from the hall.

“I like it hot.” He said. “You can set the pot down and tend to my bath.”

“I have, your highness.” You insisted.

“You’ve filled it, yes,” His brow slanted. “But since I’ve traveled without my attendant, I haven’t anyone to scrub me clean and your inn has done little to cleanse me of the filth of the road.”

“You paid me to bring you water--”

“I paid you a pretty coin for that then,” He interjected, “And I paid your father enough that he told me you are free of your other tasks for the night. You will see to me.” He pushed the door closed. “I know you’ve likely never met a prince before, most certainly haven’t. There’s only two of us.” He loomed over you. “But I trust you know a prince’s word is as good as law.”

He pushed himself away and spun away from you. Your eyes flew up as he grabbed his undershirt and ripped it up over his head. The fabric fluttered to the floor and you clutched the handle of the pot. Your father would sell you like some cattle; you were only surprised he’d waited for a prince to do so.

“Well, put that pot down and grab a sponge. I will soak a while first but I expect you to be prepared. Diligent.” He hummed as he leaned back in the hot water. “I know you are only used to common merchants.”

You were silent. You placed the pot on the floor but stayed by the door. You slowly moved along the wall and went to the pail in the corner of the room next to the low table. You bent and took the sponge from within and the spouted wooden cup. You lingered in the corner and dreaded the moment he would call to you.

“I must admit, I know little of your...bearing. I do tend to avoid the unwashed masses.” The water moved as he spoke. “I mean, your ilk don’t bathe very much, do they?”

“Every Sunday after chapel.” You said evenly. “We gather at the river.”

“We? All of you? Like beasts.” He laughed.

“The women. Children, too. The men bathe during the week.” You explained. “But I suppose a prince might wash more often.”

“I do find the hot water as calming as it is cleansing,” He replied. “Why, it is Thursday. You worked hard today. Another few days is long to wait.”

You squeezed the sponge and pressed it to the cup.

“A prince must be generous,” He began slyly. “So for this day my act of royal charity is to share with you, a common girl, my bath.”

“Your highness, I don’t think--”

“I did not ask and it is unseemly to deny a prince his favour.” He rebuked. “So you get over here and you wash yourself.” He looked over his shoulder dangerously. “I would rather you clean.”

You crossed the room and kept your back to the prince as you passed and stood at the other end of the tub. You placed the cup by the tub and tucked the sponge inside. You straightened and untied your apron. You moved to put it on the seat of the chair. Then you unlaced the collar of your dress and paused. You took a breath before you pulled it over your head.

You bent to loosen your boots. Your stockings were as reluctantly shed. You rose, left with only your shift. The water swirled noisily. Your father had never been much of one. He worked you morning to night, he never thanked you for a deed you did, and he barely noticed your presence unless it served his needs. You weren’t surprised, nor disappointed, you were only annoyed at the circumstance.

You drew your shift up your legs and bunched it in your hands. You tore it off in a final swoop of resignation. You stood, your chest rising and falling, as you stared at the far wall. You gritted your teeth and forced down the nerves.

“Well, that was… dramatic,” He remarked. “But really, the water is bound to cool before you touch it.”

You spun around and marched to the tub. You reached to the brim but refused to look at the water or him. You lifted a leg over the edge and he let out a hum. You lowered your other leg into the steaming water as he sat up.

“Go on,” He said. “Clean yourself. I can smell the sty on you.”

You bent over the side and grabbed the sponge from cup. You focused on wetting it and scrubbing at your skin. You stretched out your arms, lifted one leg then the other, and rubbed your chest raw. Your eyes clung to the ceiling. The water shifted and the shadows around you did too.

He stood and grabbed your hand. He guided it to his chest and kept the sponge moving in circles. You looked at his face as he smirked at you. His other hand tickled your side. He let go of you and you kept going; across his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his chest, his stomach. 

He caught your wrist and squeezed until you dropped the sponge. He pushed your palm to his member; it was hard as he slid his hand around yours and bent your fingers. His touch danced up your back and settled behind your neck as he pulled you close.

“I know you’ve never touched a prince like this before,” He said. “But what about another man? Hmm?”

You gulped as you looked him in the eyes. You shook your head defiantly. He moved your hand up then back down. His cheek twitched and he let out a thick breath. He kept your hand moving along his member as his grip tightened on your neck. He leaned in until his lips almost met yours.

“I’ve never had a woman, princesses, duchesses, ladies, queens, even, look at my the way you do,” He snarled. “And it has me mad.”

“I don’t know what you mean--”

“You despise me. You don’t even know me,” His lips brushed yours. “But you know I am a prince, I am your superior, and you curl your lip at me.”

“I don’t--”

He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you hungrily as the steam floated around your bodies. He kept your grasp firm on him as he carried the motion steadily. He groaned into your mouth and suddenly let go. He held your head with both hands as if to devour you. You stumbled in the tub, held up only by his unbreakable grip.

He parted as his long fingers framed your jaw. His green eyes burned into yours as you gaped at him. He kissed you again, this time nibbling your lip as he drew away. He snarled as he did and his hand slipped down your shoulders and lingered on your chest. He pinched one nipple then the other and his fingers crawled lower.

His other hand settled on your throat as his finger poked between your legs. You squeezed your thighs together and he gave a growl. It was a warning. He slid along your folds and teased your sensitive bud. You gasped as he was close to choking you entirely.

He prodded along your entrance and delved inside. You nearly bit your tongue as you closed your mouth and grabbed his arm to keep from slipping. Your eyes rounded as he grinned. He moved his hand slowly as you felt a ripple along your thighs.

“Inexperienced but not innocent,” He purred. “Darling, you feel wonderful.”

You clawed at his bicep as he rocked his hand against you, your body shaking in tandem. You wanted to hate it. You had to hate it and yet it felt so good.

“Turn around,” He commanded as he ripped his hand from between your legs. “Now.”

He released you entirely and you stumbled back and caught yourself on the side of the sub. He stroked himself as he watched you and spun his finger in the air. You turned, slowly. You leaned heavily on the side of the tub as your legs felt likely jelly and your core pulsed hungrily. You wanted more and yet you wanted to run away.

He slapped your ass. Hard. Your knees buckled. He gripped your hips and steadied you. He stepped closer and rubbed his member against your ass. His hand ran along your flesh and he guided his tip down. He reached your entrance and inhaled suddenly. He held himself there, barely touching you as his fingers curled into your hip.

“It’ll hurt. At first.” He rasped. “But that only makes the pleasure…” He slid past your entrance slowly and you stretched around him. You squeaked in shock. “...greater.”

The deeper he got, the harder it was to measure your voice. He was right about the pain. More, more, more; you feared it wouldn’t stop. When he did, when he reached his limit, you were bent over, hands on the side of the tub, bracing yourself as you were afraid your legs would collapse.

He pulled back and slammed into you again. You cried out, loudly, and clapped your hand over your mouth. He chuckled and did it again. His wet flesh reverberated against yours. He did it, again, again, again. Each time he paused and basked in the sound; basked in your murmurs as you struggled not to scream.

“You are tight, darling,” He groaned. 

You quivered and held onto the tub as your body was jolted by his. He rutted into you quicker and quicker. He was insatiable and each time he thrust, his hunger seemed to deepen. His voice turned animalistic and his fingers got firmer around your hips. The water splashed around your legs and added to the medley of lurid sounds.

You arched your back as the waves swelled within you and you felt them cresting, ready to crash. You hissed through gritted teeth and your voice cracked as you exclaimed. The feeling was overwhelming, the sensation stifling as it filled your veins. Your eyes rolled back and you hung your head as your walls pulsed around his member.

“Ah, darling, I feel you,” His hands slipped up to your waist and he pulled you back against you as he rammed into even harder. “That’s it… bend for your prince.”

He grunted as he bent over you and hooked his arm around your stomach. He stood and drew you up with him. You were on your toes as he jerked into you violently, his other hand on your chest as he pressed his cheek to yours. His voice swirled in your head and added to the heat in your core.

“That’s it, that’s it…” He chanted as his flesh slapped against yours.

You clawed at his thigh as he hammered into you and finally he slowed with a surprised cry. His hips spasmed and you felt a sudden swell of warmth inside of you. You trembled as he slowed and stilled your body. You were breathless but buoyant. You’d never felt so light yet heavy at the same time. He was the only strength left to you as he held you up.

“Well, look at you,” He tickled your stomach with his fingers. “Dirty, all over again.”

[cranetreegang]

Witcher Fanfic with OC Characters: Part 1: I Need Your Help

A/N: So... I've never actually played the Witcher, or read any of the books. I've only seen the tv show and movie and random videos on Youtube. But I know enough about it to make me wanna write this.

Lanas and Nisalla are OC and I don't plan on included any actual characters from the original games/books because I'm kinda doing my own thing here and I don't wanna butcher them by accident. I don't know what time period this is set in either. I'm thinking in the future of where Witcher 3 takes place... maybe. I apologize for any wrongness I may make in regards to Witcher lore, and am very open to corrections. I like writing semi-believe/semi-accurate fanfics. Also, any input is greatly appreciated and welcomed. With that being said, I do hope you enjoy!

Summary: Lanas, a lone witcher just finishing a job in Ivalo, is looking to head to the next contract when a strange woman offers him a job. Will he accept, or will he ignore her request?

Warnings: Mild cursing

Word Count: ~1,600 words

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Lanas stared into his pale brown ale with more content than he’s felt all month. The tavern was void of lively patrons, save him. Not that he was a lively patron by any means. In fact, far from it as he sipped his mild drink in comfortable silence. He had been in Ivalo for over a week tracking down a Spriggan that was terrorizing the logging crew. Lanas murmured a curse to the greedy lumberjacks that ventured into the forest for their prized wood, and tore down the Spriggan’s home; causing this whole mess.

Lanas took a hearty swig that barely stung his throat. The tavern's thin walls shook from the lumber yard back in business thanks to Lanas’ swift execution of the Spriggan. With only four loggers dead from the Spriggan’s revenge, Lanas was rewarded with enough crowns to get him down the road. And he was ready to get as far away from this shithole as possible. The smell of putrid waste hung in the air everywhere you went in Ivalo. Which was enough to keep him in a constant bad mood.

He stared at his empty drink with thoughts to get more when the door flew open to the tavern. The draft brought in the fresh scent of mud, a mixture of human and animal feces, and a hint of Damiana.

“There you are!” A female voice called out to the empty room. Lanas didn’t bother to turn towards her and he made a silent prayer that she wasn’t talking to him. He heard the wood creak and groan until she plopped down across from him.

The auburn haired woman was unfamiliar to Lanas. Her dark reddish hair framed around her face and just touched her shoulders. The numerous freckles dotting her pale skin only served to make her look younger than she really was. Her lips, a dull shade of vermilion, formed a bright smile that suited her well, and made her appear warm and easy to talk to. Her cheeks were well-defined, but not overly sharp. Her storm gray eyes were soft, and directed right into Lanas’ dark amber ones without a hint of fear. She wore dark brown, nearly black, leather armor that was made specially for her. A black cloak hung off her back that didn’t conceal the silver-tipped bow poking past her head. Overall, her presence didn't give Lanas much concern or second-thoughts.

“You’re a hard person to find, witcher.” She drummed her covered fingers on the worn table that had several slashes and holes from years of misuse. “But, luckily for you, I’m a very determi-, hey! Where’re you going?”

Lanas had stood up from his seat and was slumbering over to the lone fat bartender by the entrance.

“Another.” Lanas gruffly ordered while setting his mug down on the bar. The barkeep looked between him and the woman running up to him with a knowing smirk.

“Ya’ll need a’least three if ya don’t wanna go deaf ‘fore the day’s done.” The bartender laughed at his joke while pouring more ale into the mug. The woman let out a sharp scoff then crossed her arms.

“I’d say that hurt my feelings, but that would imply that I care what you think.” She spat.

“I’ll take those other two now.” Lanas sighed.

The woman leaned on the bar with her full body turned towards the annoyed witcher. She looked over him with interest. Sizing him up, it seemed. He was at least a head taller than her and far more broad than she. His shaggy raven black hair hung past his pierced ears. The two studs in his ears weren’t of any value, from what she could tell, and he didn’t possess any other forms of jewelry besides his silver amulet laying on his décolleté. His face was well-defined like that of a wolf and he had a fine stubble of dark hair on his lower face. Even though he was broad, he was still lean and agile.

The armor he wore was quite heavy just by looking at it. Scratched metal covered parts of his chests, forearms, and legs while thick quilted earthy brown leather protected everything else. Her eyes strayed on his silver bear amulet for a moment too long. Lanas bared his sharp teeth at her and she smiled sheepishly at him.

“I’m sorry. Very rude to stare, I know. I just couldn’t help but notice your bear thing.” She pointed at his medallion, making him promptly shove the necklace underneath his armor.

The barkeep placed Lanas’ three drinks in front of him then turned his attention to the woman. “If ye gonna be botherin’ folks, ya better orda somethin’. Else, git.”

The woman waved her hand at the barkeep to dismiss him. “As I was saying, before you walked away, I’ve been looking for you.”

Lanas chugged the first ale and let out a satisfied sigh. He turned his head slightly towards her and seemed disappointed that she was still there. He began drinking his second mug as she continued speaking.

“I’ve been tracking, what I believe to be, a cyclops.” She said with her eyes wide in enthusiasm. “I know! Exciting, right?”

Lanas finished his second mug, and was working his third.

“This cyclops has been picking off poor travelers on the road from here to Dorian. It’s been hiding out in the forest then swooping in to smash everyone to bits.” Her fist slammed on the wooden bar to emphasize her point.

Lanas also slammed his empty mug down then wiped off the ale slipping down his stubbled chin. He shoved himself away from the bar and began to leave the tavern. He didn’t make it far down the street before the woman was beside him once more.

“You’re seriously still gonna leave. Even though a cyclops is terrorizing people!” She exclaimed over the roaring noise from the lumber mill that vibrated the muddy ground they slogged through.

Lanas rolled his eyes. “Cyclops keep to themselves.” He tried to speed up his pace, but she easily matched him.

“Yes. Yet, it’s still out there causing havoc.”

“Not my problem.” Lanas dismissed with a grunt.

“Oh, you’re one of those witchers. I see. Not your problem until someone pays for it to be your problem.” She reached into her pack to produce a well-sized sack that made a nice clanking noise. She held it out in front of Lanas, who slowed down his stride to better examine the dangling prize.

She grinned at his interest. “Ah, there we go. Should’ve done this sooner. I’ll pay you to help me kill this cyclops.”

Lanas went to grab the pouch when she yanked it out of his reach. His scowl consumed his already harsh features. “I get paid now, woman.”

“It’s Nisalla. Nis for short. And no.” She shoved the pouch back into her pack. “Not until you agree. Can’t have you running off on me.”

Lanas glared down at Nis, but she just smiled back. Lanas let out a low growl and stomped ahead. “I don’t work with others. Especially not humans.”

“If you’re worried about me dying, don’t. I can handle myself.”

“That’s what they all say.” Lanas grumbled under his breath. “And I don’t care if you die. You might get me killed because you do something stupid.”

She let out a sharp gasp while clutching over her heart. “You wound me, witcher. Truly. Especially since I haven’t done anything stupid so far.”

One of his black brows rose as he side-eyed her. “You’re following me around. Testing my patience. I’d say that’s stupid.”

She hummed to herself in thought. “Reckless, maybe. I don’t think it’s stupid though.”

Lanas stopped walking, causing Nis to stop as well. Lanas got right in her face, forcing her to look up at him, and glared at her.

“Whatever it is,” his jaw was clenched so tightly that the words coming out sounded like hisses, “it won’t matter when I slit your throat and feed your entrails to the wolves if you keep bothering me.”

Nis’ brows rose and her stormy eyes widened. Her heart beat a bit quicker as she stared into his glowing amber eyes with slits like a cat ready to pounce on her. Then she let out a nervous giggle as she patted his shoulder. “You almost got me there. Nearly pissed myself, honestly!” She laughed as he stared at where she touched him in furious disgust.

She motioned with an exaggerated arm movement down the muddy path, “Come now. I think if I stay here a moment longer, I’m gonna cut my nose off. This place smells like shit.” She sauntered towards the stables, with a couple of bystanders flipping her off for her blatant comment. Lanas stared after her with his fists balled tightly at his side.

“She didn’t even flinch.” He grumbled under his breath. He chuckled to himself that maybe she wouldn’t faint at the sight of this supposed cyclops. He caught up to her at the stables to find her preparing a sorry looking red roan. She hopped onto the mare and flashed Lanas a pleased smile.

“So, you are coming then?” She asked.

Lanas went over to his tanned stallion and petted the beast’s muzzle. He saw the burning curiosity brimming in the young horse’s eyes.

“We’re off again, Horse.” He patted the side of the horse’s neck before hopping on Horse's back.

“Horse? You named your horse, Horse?” Nis questioned.

Lanas sent Horse trotting ahead and Nis turned her mare to follow. She giggled to herself at the unoriginality before asking, “What’s your name, witcher? Or is that your actual name?”

She tossed the heavy leather pouch to the witcher. He looked inside the bag, and was pleased to see it filled with golden crowns glittering in the sunlight. He stuffed it into his saddle bags then glanced over at Nis awaiting eagerly for his answer.

“Lanas.”

Nis said the name quietly to herself then grinned. “Alright, that was half. You get the other half after you kill the one-eyed beast. Try to keep up, Lanny.” She took off ahead of Lanas, who watched her with an irritated scowl. If this cyclops doesn’t kill her, Lanas was sure he would.

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Read Part 2 Here

[lihikainanea]

What if Bill and Tiger go to Sweden to visit Bill’s family. One evening, Bill and Tiger are in bed. Tiger is on top, riding him when suddenly the door swings open and in walks Gustaf. Oops! Tiger is so embarrassed but Bill laughs and laughs. What would happen next?

oh godddddddd, poor tiger. Listen, I sincerely hope that NONE of you ever have to experience the utter, horrible embarrassment of having somebody walk in on you. It is mortifying.

And part of me wants to take the easy way out here and say that Bill was on top and he’s huge so he probably covered most of her, but now you’ve gone and made me cringe with second hand embarrassment by telling me that’s not at all what happened and oh godddd.

Maybe it happened because tiger’s been a little shy for sexy times with Bill because they are literally just surrounded by his entire huge family and she thinks that not only will they hear them, but that there’s the potential for somebody to just whip the door open--not that it’s really something anyone would do, without knocking first.

Except maybe it’s some crossed wires. Maybe the entire family is out, but Bill and tiger hung back to just sit on the dock and enjoy each other’s company.  Except then they realize--they’re alone. For the first time in a week. And neither one of them have to say anything, they just exchange a look and then Bill is tripping all over himself trying to catapult out of the Adirondack chair he’s in and tiger is pulling at every part of him she can get a hold of, and these two idiots just trip their way into the house and up the stairs, all over each other.

Except Gustaf--who was off on a hike to write ~poetry~ by a secret lake-- comes back to the cabin, because he wants his headphones. And when they’re not in his room, he thinks for a moment--right, he loaned them to Bill yesterday when they were outside and Bill didn’t want to go and get his.

Gustaf thinks the house is empty, and Bill always keeps his door closed, so he just swings it open--and there’s tiger, booty shakin’, riding Bill like she’s in the fucking Kentucky Derby and he’s a prized stallion.

The poor girl. Poor Gustaf, gentle Gustaf who always just wants people to feel comfortable around him. Tiger launches off of Bill, dives for the covers and Bill quickly wraps them around her. Gustaf is gone so fast he leaves a puff of air in his shape in the doorframe.

And oh god, tiger is mortified. Bill wants to chase after his bro, ask him what the fuck he was thinking, but tiger is already crying and hyperventilating and he needs to make sure she’s okay first.

“Easy kid,” he soothes, “I know that was awful.”

But tiger just curls in more on herself, hugs the sheets tighter around her.

“Oh god,” she wails, “Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.”

“Tiger, stop,” he tries gently, putting a calming hand on her back but she flinches. She’s barely getting any air in, so Bill reaches for his pants on the floor, grabs her inhaler from the pocket. He holds it to her lips, steadying her with his hand on the back of her head.

“Deep breath kid,” he says, and when she tries to inhale he pumps a dose through. He gives it a second, cupping her cheek as he tries to talk her down.

“I know, tiger,” he soothes, but she’s still wheezing.

“Bill he...he saw...I was...he just barged in and I was...”

Bill gently presses his palm over her mouth to stop her rambling--she needs to focus on just trying to breathe.

“Stop,” he says firmly, “Just take a deep breath.”

She tries, and manages a deep enough one. He coaxes her into another one.

“Tiger, look at me,” he says gently. And her eyes are shifty but they flit to his eventually, and she lets out a little sob.

“I’m sorry that happened, kid,” he says. And truth be told, he’s actually....kind of relieved that it was Gustaf. Any other brother and it would have been much worse, but he’s not about to tell tiger that.

She whines again, a fresh set of tears wet her cheeks, and he swipes them away.

“Tiger I’m so sorry,” he says again, “But kid, look, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”

But oh god Bill, you bonehead, that’s not what she wants to hear, and it just makes her cry a little harder.

“Bill I wasn’t just naked,” she wheezes, “We were...I was....oh god.”

Bill sighs--she’s got a point.

I’ll bet it takes a long ass time for him to be able to calm her down--maybe he tells her a few stories of some really embarrassing moments for Gustaf to try and help her feel better. Maybe he tells her that he walked in on Gustaf once, and whether to not that’s true is debatable--maybe he fibs just a tiny bit, because tiger is really freaking out and he needs to help her reel it back in. Either way, she’s by no means calm, but after awhile maybe she stops breathing so heavy.

“I’m gonna go talk to him, kid,” he says softly, “Do you want to come?”

“No.”

“Tiger, you should face him sooner rather than later, before this gets bigger in your head,” he says as he pulls his pants on. But she shakes her head vehemently. He turns to head out the room, and she grabs a hold of his hand so tightly it hurts.

“Bill, don’t mention anything about this to him. Not a fucking word,” she says. Bill looks at her confused--but just nods his head. Sometimes, he has to fib to her a bit for her own good. Being honest at this point would just make her worse.

And look, I’ll bet this is really not a big deal for Bill, or for Gustaf. Sex is so much more of a casual thing in Europe, and especially the Nordic countries where they just have a much healthier (in my opinion) view on sex. It’s something that everyone talks about, it’s something that everyone is open about, it’s just a natural part of life. The only reason Bill might be a little upset is because he’s a bit of a jealous bean, and now his big bro saw tiger naked and that makes Bill’s blood boil. But rationally, protective streak aside--he’s really not at all disturbed by it. So I’ll bet the conversation between him and big bro is pretty casual--just a light-hearted “knock next time, would you?” and Gustaf smiling wistfully, making a small joke that Bill should be thankful it wasn’t Valter who walked in.

But Gustaf, wise as he is, probably knows that tiger is a little less than comfortable with it all.

“Is she okay?” he asks, and Bill looks at him pleadingly.

“Can you talk to her?” he says, “She won’t talk to you first. She’s going to spend the rest of the trip avoiding you, actually--and that’s if she ever comes out of the room.”

Gustaf nods. And Bill’s right--tiger probably doesn’t leave the room for the entire day. Trips to the bathroom are an affair worthy of a spy operation--she scopes out the hallway, pastes herself to the wall, and sleuths to her target.

But look, Gustaf doesn’t ever want to make her more uncomfortable, but these things...they kind of need to be talked about. And tiger has to look him in the eyes again at some point, just for her own sort of...emotional healing process. But she’d also rather just avoid him for the rest of her life, which is precisely what she was doing that night when Bill finally dragged her out of the room for dinner. And when he threw an empty pitcher at her to make more sangria--tiger makes the best sangria, and it is capable of rendering all of the very big Skarsgard men into puddles of crawling, drunken drool--she heads into the kitchen and he juts his head at Gustaf to follow her.

And you know what? Oh god how I love the drama. Gustaf goes into the kitchen, and closes the patio door behind him. Tiger probably assumes it’s Bill. But Bill--Bill knows her, and Bill knows that her first inclination is always to run. So Bill quietly goes in through another door, and stands hidden at the entryway to the kitchen.

And when tiger turns and sees Gustaf, her eyes go wide. And she back pedals.

“Easy,” Gustaf says as he holds up his hands and tiger is struck with how much Bill resembles him in that moment, “We need to talk.”

But tiger is checked out. So she plunks the pitcher down, and goes to run out of the kitchen--but Bill steps out from his hiding place, and she runs smack into his chest.

“No,” he says firmly, and he flicks her nose. Tiger stares up at him pleadingly.

“Turn around,” he commands, and with big hands on her shoulders, he turns her around to face his brother.

“Look at him, kid,” he says, and just to make sure--he cups her face gently in one hand, squeezing her cheeks together as he makes sure her focus stays on Gustaf.

And Gustaf can’t help but laugh a little--because tiger is looking at him, her eyes all big and wide and scared, but her lips and cheeks are squished together like a fish.

“I’m sorry,” Gustaf says earnestly, “I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I can’t even begin to imagine how embarrassed you are, but there’s...there’s no reason for it. This doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

And that’s the great thing about Gustaf. He doesn’t say shit like I barely saw anything because that’s a damn lie and he knows tiger would see right through it. He doesn’t make a joke about how his bro is a lucky guy. He just acknowledges how embarrassing it was for her, and reiterates that it’s not a big deal for him. It puts her at ease immediately.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she squeaks, through squished cheeks. She smacks Bill’s arm and he lets go.

“I know,” Gustaf says, “And I’m sorry. I’ll knock next time. Deal?”

He holds his hand out. Bill shoves her forward and she turns and smacks him. He just winks at her.

“Deal,” she sighs, shaking his hand.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Misty Forester

Name:

Misty Selene Forester (Rodriguez)

Born:

April 10th, 1873 (Aries)

Age: 24 in RDO events, 25 in the main game, 33 in the epilogue

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York City, New York

Notable Characteristics:

Long brown hair

Bright green eyes

Plump red lips

Black, red, and white color scheme

Fashionable, will always make sure she looks good even if she’s wearing a potato sack

Sassy af

Vocally talented

Other Info:

Half Puerto Rican, 1/4 English and 1/4 French.

Bisexual, known to openly flirt with both men and women

Skills:

Sharpshooter

Persuasive speaker

Skilled actor

Weapons:

Duel wielding custom Mauser pistols

Lancaster Repeater

Carcano Rifle

Hunting Knife

Family:

Arella Forester (Mother)

Luis Rodriguez (Father, unknown whereabouts)

Marie Forester (twin sister, deceased)

Background:

Misty is the child of immigrant parents. Her mother, Arella, is from England and is the daughter of a successful French businessman and an English woman whose own family came from their own wealth. Arella was set to be married to a man who too came from a rich family. Arella was unhappy with this, stole some money from her parents and managed to escape to America for better opportunities. Despite her parents search, she managed to avoid them. She settled down in New York City. There she met Luis, a man who escaped his own home, once living in extreme poverty in Puerto Rico. They bonded and quickly formed a relationship, and Arella soon found herself pregnant.

Before Misty and Marie were born, Luis received word that his mother back in Puerto Rico had fallen ill. He didn’t want to leave his love and their soon to be children, but he had no choice. He managed to get back to PR and would often send letters. Arella kept him up to to date with everything, eagerly waiting his return. However after the twins were born, the letters stopped coming.

A couple of years passed and Arella gave up hope that Luis would return, wondering if he perished or just stopped caring. Either way, she had her daughters to take care of and did her best to raise them. The funds she once nicked from her parents’ fortune allowed her to provide her and her daughters a comfortable living situation.

All the money in the world however did not prevent Marie from getting sick. She became infected with Cholera at the age of five and despite the aggressive medical care, she ended up passing away.

Both Misty and Arella were heartbroken. They stayed in NYC for another six years, and decided to move south, relocating to another city known as Saint Denis. Arella, having grown up around French culture, felt right at home. Misty missed NYC, but soon fell in love with the grandeur of Saint Denis and often wandered around, marveling the well-dressed citizens and enjoying the entertainment. She soon realized she wanted to become a singer, seeking out a vocal trainer whom she learned from for a few years. She also hung around the theaters, speaking with performers and learning tips and techniques on not only singing, but acting as well.

Little did she know that it would come in handy one day. At the age of 16, her grandparents ended up in Saint Denis for a vacation when they ran into Arella by accident. The reunion was explosive, and a lot of shouts and curses were exchanged before everything calmed down. Misty did not know that her mother ran away years ago, and she never heard much about her grandparents except for that they lived in the UK. Despite the tension held, her grandparents absolutely loved her and wanted to keep in touch. Sometime after, she was kidnapped by a gang of outlaws. Somehow word had gotten out she was the granddaughter of a wealthy family, and their intention was to hold her for ransom.

She was with them for three weeks, having to endure their vulgarity. They gave her the bare minimum, feeding her bread rolls and making her sleep on the ground, knowing she would do no good if she got sick or injured. Despite how afraid she was, Misty managed to form a plan, carefully learning their mannerisms and how they interacted with others. She managed to escape without inflicting violence, using her charm and learned acting skills to weasel her way out. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where she was.

No longer was she in the state of Lemoyne, instead finding out she was in a completely different state called West Elizabeth. With nothing but the clothes on her back and no money in her pockets, she had no idea how to get home, and she was certain those outlaws would catch up to her sooner or later. She managed to keep herself discreet for a couple of days, laying low and charming shopkeepers into giving her a couple of cans of food. All the while, she was desperately trying to find a ride back to Saint Denis that didn’t cost her money, or being subjected to disgusting favors from men twice her age.

One night she’d found shelter in a barn, sleeping peacefully when the sounds of voices aroused her. She realized immediately it was the gang of outlaws that kidnapped her in the first place, and she had no way to defend herself. Despite her trying to keep quiet, they eventually found her hiding spot. With no way out she was ready to accept her fate, until she heard gunshots and the heavy thudding of bodies. More gunfire sounded and she opened her eyes to see them facing outside the barn as a flurry of bullets both entered and exited the barn. She hid behind a crate, listening to the carnage until the gunfire stopped. Seeing the gang were all dead, she warily left her hiding spot and met the man who saved her, a fellow named Hosea Matthews. She recognized him immediately, having seen his wanted poster plastered all over Saint Denis for years. She thought he had the same intention of holding her ransom, but instead surprised her in saying he was here to help, after hearing talk about the rival gang searching for a young girl.

And so for the next few days, Hosea taught Misty how to defend herself. He gave her a revolver, teaching her how to shoot and basic tracking/hunting skills. He even offered to bring her back to his personal gang.

Main Game AU:

Misty considered Hosea’s offer. How she wanted to return home, but had a fear that upon returning, the same events would transpire and may end up with her, her mother, or others she cared about getting injured or killed in the crossfire. The last thing she wanted to do was bring home dangerous, greedy men, and decided to leave with Hosea.

Thus then started her journey as part of “Dutch’s Boys”, a scared young girl soon taught to be a useful gang member. Dutch and Hosea discovered her acting skills and put her to work for heists and robbery.

More to come soon...

RDO Events AU:

Upon declining Hosea’s offer, he gave her money to take a train back to Saint Denis and wished her luck, and let her know that he’d help her again if she ever needed it. She thanked him and got on the next train back home, glad to finally have a way back but she’ll never forget Hosea.

She returned to an emotional reunion, by not only her mother but her grandparents as well, who refused to return home until she was found. They immediately offered to take her and Arella back to England with them, where they guaranteed her safety. Arella declined for the both of them, while it was tempting, she did not want to subject Misty to the life that she hated.

Life returned back to normal for Misty, and putting the experience behind her, she tried pursuing a life in show business as she intended. Despite having a beautiful voice, she just couldn’t break past performing on the streets. She was constantly in other more successful performers’ shadows.

When she moved out on her own, she found it much harder to live on the meager money she was making. She then remembered her experience while being held hostage. The outlaws spoke about their tales and triumphs with stealing riches. She soon began to succumb to her curiosity, finding herself hanging out with the less desirable folk in Saint Denis.

She soon made herself a posse of her own called the Midnight Regulators, making their way across five states like a storm in robberies and ambushes. Misty often takes the role of damsel in distress to lure rich folk into trying to help her, and then robs them blind. She will also help those who are in greater need than her, sometimes becoming a “Robin Hood” and giving part of her loot to poor families.

Unfortunately, one of her gang members became too greedy and tried to overthrow her by attempting to kill her. The fight ended with Misty putting a bullet in their skull. The gang disbanded after that and she was alone, pulled to perform for funds.

Extra:

Legally her name is Misty Rodriguez. However, her mother introduced them using her own maiden name for her daughters to avoid discrimination.

Misty is actually afraid of horses, except her own, after being kicked in the chest as a child. It took her a long time to get comfortable around them.

She secretly hopes to meet her father one day.

She is considered morally gray.

Despite how her life has changed, she still wants to be on stage one day.

She has a soft spot for children and while it doesn’t seem likely, she hopes to settle down and have her own family.

Horses:

Cressida, an amber champagne Missouri Fox Trotter mare:

Misty’s main mount and her absolute favorite horse. Both fast and resilient, Misty was drawn in by this mare’s prowess and beauty.

Cornelia, a marble sabino Criollo mare:

Misty’s first horse. Cornelia can easily match Cressida in speed and stamina, but she’s very clumsy. Misty doesn’t ride her as often in fear of accidentally injuring her.

Orion, a sorrel overo Criollo stallion:

Misty came across this beautiful stallion tied up at a gang hideout, and took him once she’d done away with them.

Andromeda, a bay frame overo Criollo mare:

Misty’s newest horse. A prized mare she found at Braithwaite Manor when she snuck over to originally steal horses. She made out with the ones needed plus Andromeda for her own collection.

Blanche, a white Kladruber mare:

Not the fastest mount, but gorgeous and sturdy. Blanche, meaning “white” in French, was given to Misty by a man in thanks for saving his daughter.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 40.5: Interlude 5: The Ride

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Ah, yes, this is why I don't like posting too long chapters... Judging by the reactions, the points that were important to me seemed to have drowned in everything else. Ah, well... Splitting the previous chapter and drawing it out longer wouldn't have been a good choice either, so I'll have to live with this now.

This week, the summer holidays started here. That means that I will have even less time to write, but I'll try to stick to the schedule nonetheless. I can't make any promises though, especially with me and my family going on vacation in the week before the next planned update. All I can promise is that I will try.

But! Chapter 41 is one of the most important chapters of this entire story to me and I want to get it right! Meaning, I won't update in two weeks if it's not in a state I'm satisfied with. Sorry.

. o O o .

With a tired sigh, King Osmond of House Hofferson, ruler of the United Kingdom of Volantis, took a moment to rest his head in his hands. Sometimes he wondered just how much time exactly he spent in this room, sitting at his desk and brooding over reports, lists, and requests. But then, did it matter? Someone had to do this and as King it was his duty to make decisions. And if he made the wrong decision, or even let anyone else make these decisions, thousands could and would suffer. No, it was his responsibility to make sure the right decisions were made – or at the very least the ones that offered the minimum amount of harm… 

However, it looked as if his recent decisions were paying off positively. Going through the reports of the last two weeks helped bring a grim smile of satisfaction to his face. He still wasn’t happy with the solution he and his friends had settled upon some months ago, but he couldn’t deny that it was working. Before they’d begun these festivities, he’d compiled a single list of the men they knew were in the conspiracy, and another list of those they reasonably suspected of being in it by association and personal reputations. Those two lists had composed the core of the guest list. And now he was crossing off names from both. Nearly two dozen dead so far, and nearly all of them were on one of the two lists. From what it looked like, the greedy agitators were even murdering each other for their chance at the prize, presumably getting rid of their most dangerous competitors first, and making the upcoming work of the King’s Guard that much easier. Indeed, aside from the incident with the boar, where his huntsman had deliberately set a group of the known traitors after a boar – when they had only been prepared for hunting deer – every other death had come from their fellow men.

The next report listed the injured and the maimed. Here, the divide between the innocent and the guilty wasn’t quite as favourable, but he knew the patients would get the best possible care, which was all he could do for them. Injuries were a common risk, after all. 

Yes, as much as he detested having to use this approach to get rid of the traitors, he had to admit that it was working out splendidly. The highest priority target, Duke Thuggory, might still be alive – and had, annoyingly, been the one to finish off the boar – but there was plenty of time to remedy that fact.

He put the list aside, took a sip of his wine, and reached for the next report. It was the account of the guards that had been sent out to look for the missing tax collector. Neither the man nor his coach had been found by now, so the question remained whether he’d been attacked or had gone into hiding himself. Osmond’s gut told him that it was likely the former, as the man had been loyal for many years now, but that wasn’t why this report made him grimace. This incident wasn’t directly related to the current events at the castle, but... The money and goods this specific man had gathered had been meant to pay for Astrid’s wedding, both for the celebrations and also her dowry. And while the castle’s treasury was filled well enough to compensate the loss, this report only reminded him of what he tried not to think about too often – that this entire charade was being paid at the expense of his beloved daughter. 

Osmond leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face, but then stood up and, almost without thinking, walked over to a large painting that hung in the more comfortable corner of his office. With tired eyes, he looked up into the face of his beloved Brenna; it was so similar to Astrid’s that he sometimes, when she entered a room or they met in the corridors, thought it was her. 

“I wonder what you would have to say if you were here, my love,” he murmured, reaching out to let his fingers glide along the gilded frame. “I assume you’d scold me for using our daughter as bait, especially after the price you paid for her life. But that’s the lot of the royal family, isn’t it? To make sacrifices for the good of the people. And from what it looks like, she’s going to marry Eret’s son; that isn’t too bad, right? Not what you and your best friend had hoped for, not her marrying her son but only her nephew. But given the circumstances, this is the best option for her. I just wish I could already tell her why all this is necessary, but I promise that I will do so eventually. I hope she may forgive me one day, and… and I hope you can, too.”

But, of course, he got no answer. Brenna just kept gazing down at him with those beautiful deep blue eyes and that slightly cheeky smile of hers. Gods, how much he missed her...

For a little while longer, he stayed where he was, gazing up at the painting, before he returned to his desk. He knew that Astrid wasn’t thrilled about any of this, but at least she seemed to be better now that she’d apparently made her choice. All he could do now was hope that, over time, the close friendship she and young Eret shared would turn into more; that was why he’d instructed to grant her more time with him and Oswald’s boy during the weeks before her birthday, after all. 

Although… given how much pain love had brought him, he wasn’t so sure whether that was really something to wish for. Losing Brenna, the love of his life, had nearly killed him too. It had certainly maimed his heart for many years. Only reluctantly, he’d agreed to marry again ten years later, and it had taken three more years to overcome his aversion against the woman his advisors had picked for him. And just when his heart had started to love again, she’d been taken from him, too. Logically, he knew that the bad days were only bearable because he could remember the happy ones… but he also hoped that none of his children would ever have to suffer the pain of burying their loved ones way too early. 

. o O o .

“Ah, there’s nothing quite like a good ride through the countryside, don’t you agree?”

Osmond glanced at his friend Eret II from the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I do. But you do remember that not everyone feels the same way, yes? There’s no need to tease Oswald tonight for not wanting to come along.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Eret pouted.

From the side, Spitelout approached them on his white stallion. Out of the four of them, he was the only one not riding one of the Jag’r horses, as he’d never had the patience to learn how to deal with one of the demanding beasts. “No, really, Eret. You shouldn’t tease Ozzie; he gets enough riding of another sort, after all. Grapevine has it that he and his mistress are expecting again.”

“Oh, is that so?” Eret laughed. “You really do have your spies everywhere, don’t you?”

Spitelout shrugged with a wide grin. “I like to be well-informed.”

Osmond joined in into the laughter that followed, though only half-heartedly. His eyes had fallen on someone dressed in a wide flowing dress of blue and turquoise, and after a murmured excuse to his friends, he led his horse to her side.

“Good morning, Astrid,” he greeted her, smiling warmly, but just as he’d feared and expected, she barely even looked at him in return. 

“Good morning, Sire,” she replied obediently, making a perfect bow on the back of her broad gelding. 

Her formal address pained him, but he didn’t let anything show. He was aware of her current opinion of him, and as much as he’d liked to explain and maybe redeem himself in her eyes – he knew that this wasn’t the time, not yet. Maybe it would come one day – when the traitors were dealt with and secrecy wasn’t as crucial anymore – but for now, it was better she focused all her anger on him. It hopefully meant that her heart was otherwise free to find warmth and comfort in young Eret’s arms. 

“I hope this ride is to your liking,” he tried nonetheless. “I know how fond you are of riding, so I hope this is a welcome diversion to the latest events for you.” The necessary hunts and tournaments might be supposedly to her honour, but Osmond was no fool. He knew his daughter well enough to know that she wasn’t enjoying those, which was why he’d done everything in his power to follow young Eret’s suggestions and squeeze in this ride between the other planned events. 

Astrid, however, merely shrugged. “I’ll try to enjoy it if that is your wish. With this saddle, this company, and the expected pace, I can’t make any promises though.” 

With these words, she directed her gaze to the side to where now the last members of the party, young Eret and his squire, Stoick’s boy, came to join them. Her turning away without a word in public was borderline discourteous – he hadn’t dismissed her, after all – but she hadn’t turned her back on him. So, Osmond didn’t reprimand her. He wanted her to focus on the newcomer, after all. 

Instead, he simply gave the signal for the group to get started. He rode at the front, with Astrid at his side and a few guards loosely around them, but soon the formation shifted and changed and he could only watch her from a bit of a distance as he made way for the young men around them to talk to her. For a short while, young Eret rode next to her and it was obvious how much more relaxed she was around him. But soon, voices got louder that demanded their share of the Princess’s time as well, and so her attention was taken up by the ever-changing and increasingly desperate conversational partners. 

“They haven’t given up just yet, eh?” Eret II muttered as he rode next to Osmund and shook his head. 

Spitelout snorted. “Of course, they haven’t. Many of them came a long way to court her, and so far, nothing is official. I doubt even tonight’s ball will change that.”

They all watched as young Snotlout took his place at Astrid’s side next and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice how she pursed her lips at that. Osmond threw Spitelout an inquisitive look, interested in how his friend would react to the obvious rejection, but either he didn’t care much or he was way better at hiding his opinion than he’d thought. There was no reaction in his friend’s face whatsoever, so Osmond just shrugged and for a while, they rode on without much in terms of conversation. It really was a lovely day, and spending it outside with a leisure activity like peacefully riding along the shore of Lake Vola instead of brooding over even more reports was a great diversion.

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Eret exclaimed after what had to be nearly two hours into their ride. Soon, they would take a break to eat the picnic the servants riding with them had brought along before they would return to the castle. 

Curious about what agitated his friend so much, Osmond followed his eyes to the young man who now approached Astrid – and gritted his teeth. Duke Thuggory of Meathead. If he could, Osmond would have forbidden him to come close to his daughter. But he had no legitimate reason to do so, nothing but assumptions, suspicions, and secret information. No, all he could do was watch and silently apologise to Astrid for making her endure this. 

But apparently, his friend’s agitation had another reason.

“I wonder how that piece of filth got his hands on one of our horses,” Eret hissed. “Because he certainly didn’t get it directly from us. I’d rather take a good stallion back to our farms again before I hand him over to someone who wouldn’t treat him right. But with his influence, it probably wasn’t difficult for him to find a middleman. Odin, I wish I could demand the poor beast back from him. See? He can’t even control him right!”

Osmond’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the hated nobleman. Eret was right, the stallion the duke was riding was barely under his control, prancing left and right and throwing his head around. The sight wasn’t exactly reassuring – although it did come with the hope that the Duke would get thrown from the saddle and break his neck, thereby removing the biggest threat to the realm, as Thuggory’s lands were a knife poised at the heart of the kingdom, only a day’s ride from Lake Vola. But there was the fact that he was so close to Astrid, and riding so haphazardly. It was only his knowledge about Astrid’s exceptional riding skills that kept him from interfering then and there. 

A decision he regretted only seconds later – and probably would for the rest of his life. 

It happened in an instant, too fast for him or anyone else around them to react. When Thuggory rode closer to Astrid, his stallion threw its head up and tried to bite Astrid’s gelding without warning. Astrid’s horse shied away from the aggressive stallion with a distressed whinny. She tried to reign him in, but couldn’t hold him when Thuggory’s stallion attacked again, his jaws snapping with a harsh click! that Osmund could even hear from his place yards away. When Markor bolted away from the attacking stallion, his panic infected many of the horses around him, but Osmund was less concerned about the sudden stampede than he was about the fact that Astrid was at the head of it, barely able to keep her seat as Markor ran for his life.

“After them!” he bellowed, unable to get to his daughter himself with all the jumbled horses around him. But his words drowned in the general uproar, all men around shouting over one another. It was chaos, and he barely managed to keep sight of Astrid and her horse as they set off across a field and toward a nearby copse of aspen. Again, he tried to push through the chaos, but to no avail. Thor, keep her safe! he prayed desperately, helpless to do anything. 

Then he lost sight of her completely and only a few moments later, a bloodcurdling scream thundered over the plain. The chaos grew as even more horses panicked at the noise, running off in all directions. But Osmond froze even as his steed beneath him pranced left and right, his heart stuttering painfully. No… No, he couldn’t lose her too! 

Frantically, he tried to push through the mass of milling horses and riders; most of the mounts weren’t battle-trained and were running wild, resulting in utter chaos. He kept having to halt and turn or risk a collision, but he didn’t dare stop; his eyes were darting to and fro, looking for that patch of blue and turquoise that would tell him where his daughter was. He couldn’t find her, but a moment later he spotted something else that, while still telling him nothing about where Astrid was or whether she was alright, at least somewhat eased his mind. 

There were two riders darting past the general throng, one on a big black stallion and the other one astride a smaller chestnut mare. But unlike most of the others on this ride, they were clearly still in full control of their horses, heading in the direction Astrid’s gelding had disappeared to. 

With knowing that young Eret was already coming to her help, Osmond was able to calm down somewhat, enough to concentrate on his own surroundings again. It took him a few minutes, but eventually, he managed to find a way out of the chaos as many men got their horses under control again. 

When he and a group of other men reached the copse, it took them a minute to find Astrid and Eret, the sounds of her wailing and of soft whispers leading their way. The sight that greeted them was reassuring – but still bad enough. 

From what it looked like, Astrid was unharmed with only her hair and dress ruffled from the fall. He couldn’t be entirely sure though as she was largely hiding from everyone’s view, encased in Eret’s embrace and her face buried against his chest. The same couldn’t be said for her horse though. The gelding lay a few steps away from the couple, unmoving, and with Stoick’s boy kneeling near his head.

“Oh, by Thor’s hammer!” Eret cursed as he reached his side a few moments later. He’d apparently seen the obvious too – the unnatural angle in which the gelding’s left hind leg dangled, a bloody splinter of bone sticking out from the skin, the bloody dagger lying next to his head, and the equally bloody hands of the boy stroking the dead horse’s mane. From the looks of it, the horse had stumbled, possibly in a burrow or on other uneven ground, and thrown Astrid off, who had miraculously landed uninjured... but Markor had broken his leg, and badly. Stoick’s boy had given the only mercy available to the poor beast.

During the next minutes, more men appeared around them, taking in the scene with gasps and hushed whispers. Some offered their sympathy even though nobody dared to get any closer, and Osmond doubted that Astrid heard any of that between Eret murmuring into her ear and her own sobbing and wailing. It was a strange sight and it took Osmond a minute to understand why. 

Astrid was crying. 

He tried to remember when he’d last seen her in such a state but came up empty-handed except for very early memories of her toddler years. No matter how dreadful an occasion, be it her stepmother’s funeral or the assaults on her during the past year, she’d always kept up her facade when in public, had always shown nothing but strength. For her to break down like this now… His eyes wandered back to the dead gelding, and only slowly did it dawn on him how hard this must have hit her. He wanted to go to her, too, to take his daughter into his arms and comfort her. But she wouldn’t appreciate that – even her warder kept his distance, leaving her the space she needed – so he held back.

Instead, he ordered to no-one in particular, “We will return to the castle immediately.” That would give her at least a little privacy. 

Around him, the men hustled about, delivering the message to those standing farther away. Young Eret tried to pull Astrid away from the site of the accident, and Osmond heard him murmur “Come, there’s nothing left we can do for him,” when she weakly fought against him. Eventually, she gave in though, and let him lead her toward his own horse. She was already on the stallion’s back, young Eret about to climb up behind her, when a highly unwelcome voice spoke up near them. 

“Isn’t this an unfair advantage to Sir Eret if the Princess rides with him? It’s not as if her choice is official yet, she could still change her mind.” 

Osmond gritted his teeth but kept his expression neutral as he turned toward Duke Thuggory. There was no hint of remorse on his face, even though he and his lack of control over his stallion were to blame for this accident. If only he’d interfered sooner – or had gotten rid of the traitor already.

He was about to form an answer when he caught sight of his friends’ expressions standing nearby. Eret was grimacing, clearly as enraged as Osmond was about the Duke’s behaviour, but Spitelout looked more cautious, and when he caught his eyes, he shrugged apologetically. “He has a point.”

Osmond pressed his lips into a thin line. Of course, he had a point. Not only about giving an advantage to one of her suitors, but letting her ride on a stallion was also highly inappropriate. Letting out a low sigh, his shoulders slumped down. As much as he wanted to grant her the comfort of riding with her soon-to-be-husband, he couldn’t allow it yet. His eyes wandered around, pondering the alternatives. If it were only about not giving an advantage, she could ride with him or one of the Grand Dukes, but they were all riding stallions, too, and it wasn’t really becoming of their status anyway. Her warder would be a better option, but Osmond doubted the old pony the man was riding could carry two people over such a distance. His eyes wandered on, over the guards who also all rode stallions and the servants with their full picnic baskets. None of them were suitable options either and he wasn’t sure whether to trust them with Astrid in her brittle state right now anyway. He was at a loss as to what to decide – until his eyes fell on the lonely figure still kneeling next to the horse’s corpse.

The boy rode a mare, didn’t he? In addition, he had no further weight to carry, and hadn’t he become something of a friend to Astrid, too? Also… he didn’t know the boy at all, but with what Osmund remembered about his parents, how his upbringing must have been, and how highly Daniel was thinking of him – he couldn’t help but trust in the boy’s character. 

Being satisfied with this decision, he declared in a voice which clearly didn’t tolerate protest, “The Princess will ride with Sir Eret’s squire.”

. o O o .

Here again the reminder that I can't promise there won't be a new chapter in two weeks! We're on family vacation and the next chapter is too important to be released in a half-finished state.

Next chapter

[adreamofspring-archive]

anyways long rant post under the cut

Her brother hung the gown beside the door. “Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount.” He studied her critically. “You still slouch. Straighten yourself” He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.” His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. “You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. “Do you?” he repeated. “No,” Dany said meekly.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, though Dany had never seen one.

All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

“She’s too skinny,” Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, “Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?” “She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,” Illyrio told him, not for the first time. “Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes . . . she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt . . . and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.” When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling.

Daenerys looked at them all in wonder . . . and realized, with a sudden start of fear, that she was the only woman there.

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. 

“I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.” “Home?” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost. Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know . . . ”she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes. “I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.” Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand. “Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand failing to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.” Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight. 

Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls of Pentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky.

The exile had offered her brother his sword the night Dany had been sold to Kbal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been their constant companion ever since.

“He [Drogo] can have her tomorrow, if he likes,” her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she lowered her eyes.

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. There was no one to talk to. So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself.

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

When at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums and the shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him. It was time for her bride gifts. And after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. She hugged herself to try to keep from shaking.

The fear came back to her then, with her brother’s words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.

As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, “Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before.”

Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry. 

The khalasar had broken camp the morning after her wedding, moving east toward Vaes Dothrak, and by the third day Dany thought she was going to die.

Even the nights brought no relief. Khal Drogo ignored her when they rode, even as he had ignored her during their wedding, and spent his evenings drinking with his warriors and bloodriders, racing his prize horses, watching women dance and men die. Dany had no place in these parts of his life. She was left to sup alone, or with Ser Jorah and her brother, and afterward to cry herself to sleep. Yet every night, some time before the dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothraki fashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husband could not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use her pillow to muffle her cries of pain. When he was done, he would close his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie beside him, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep. Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night.

don’t ever come into my house and tell me that 1) daenerys targaryen did not suffer 2) daenerys targaryen wasn’t raped 3) daenerys targaryen had it easy 4) daenerys targaryen had everything handed to her.

she was exiled as a newborn, most of her family slaughtered, orphaned, hunted, had assassins sent to kill her as a child from a grown man, had a psychotic brother who sexually and emotionally abused her, was told by that same brother that he would gladly let a stranger and his 40,000 army (and their horses too if that’s what it took) fuck her if it got him his crown, was sold to a man twice her age who she was fucking terrified of, was brutally and repeatedly raped, wanted to kill herself to end the suffering, got pregnant at the age of 14, saved a witch from being raped (not knowing the woman had already been raped multiple times, and was just trying to save her from being hurt), trusted that same witch when her husband was wounded, lost her husband and child because so, was stranded in the middle of the red waste, had the remaining khalassar who trusted her slaughtered and killed, still had assassins and warlocks trying to murder her, was betrayed by her closest friend and oldest companion, believed herself to be the last of her house and bloodline this whole entire time, and has now recently lost one of what she values as her child to an actual ice demon.

anti’s really out here trying to down play her entire life and sufferings to make their fave look like they’ve had it the worst, and that daenerys really hasn’t had it that bad compared to some others. this is CANON. from the books. do not sit there and defend or excuse the horrific and terrible things that happened to her to fit your stupid anti arguments. goodbye.

[askdaddydutch]

A Harlot Among Thieves - Part III CLOSED~

@wildflower-of-the-west

It had been several days since Dutch had found Annabelle passed out underneath the same tree that they had talked by the night before. He had felt sorry for the girl as he stood there watching her unconscious body. Here he stood, a strong leader in the eyes of his gang, and yet there he stood in front of Annabelle, a liar. He couldn’t tell what had possessed him and caused him to lie to her. He had known that she would catch on. She had picked up on his lie almost immediately. And because of the lie, and also everything else that had happened yesterday, Annabelle had seemed to think that drowning in a bottle of liquor was her only escape. Dutch couldn’t help himself but be reminded once more of the night they met.

Yet again, Dutch found himself helping the girl get cleaned up. Luckily for Dutch, most of the camp was still asleep. So no one was there to watch as he nudged Annabelle awake and carried her effortlessly down the hill to the tent Miss Grimshaw had set up for her. Stripping her swiftly and removing the bottle from her hand, he laid her down on the cot and drew a blanket over. No doubt it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the bed from the hotel, but at least it was better than the ground. He had wanted to talk to her, but she was most definitely hung over, and none of the correct words were forming in his mind. Instead, he left a brief kiss on her forehead and returned to his own tent.

He wasn’t surprised when Annabelle wouldn’t meet his eyes for a few days. He assumed she would need some space and time to process everything. After all, the camp would be a large adjustment to what she was used to. And having Miss Grimshaw around certainly wouldn’t help her feel any more comfortable. Dutch was definitely proud of Annie for putting up with Susan’s shit. He had to admit, the older woman was definitely a handful. Sometimes Dutch himself couldn’t even control her.

Most days Dutch watched lazily from a spot by his tent as Susan taught Annabelle a few of the chores around the camp. As anyone could have guessed it, Susan left Annie with all the chores that everyone else wasn’t too fond of doing. Susan showed her where the wash basin was and ensured that she new that every other day laundry was to be done. After all, the men worked hard, and sweat was in no short supply down in these hot states.

Annabelle was also left to help Pearson with the stew. A few times Dutch wondered if leaving her alone with a knife and Miss Grimshaw was a smart idea. He could often see it on Annie’s face that if no one were around, Susan would definitely end up with a knife in her throat. Dutch had to admit though, he enjoyed watching the power struggle that went on between the two of them.

----

It wasn’t long before Dutch found himself needing to leave camp. He had spent enough time just lounging around camp while everyone else worked. Besides that, in the past few days, only Arthur had been pulling in money and food and supplies. And the camp funds were finally starting to run low. He and Hosea would need to start pulling their weight again.

It was already rather late in the day when Dutch decided that it was time for himself to go back out and do what he did best. He snuffed out the end of a cigar that he had been chewing on and ducked into his tent to get changed. He donned one of his more elegant suits and and packed a few other things into a saddle bag. Before leaving he stopped to tell Susan and Hosea that he would be heading back into Blackwater for some business. Susan had scolded him and told him it was too dangerous; Hosea only warned him to be careful as he wouldn’t be there to save his ass from trouble. Dutch only shrugged and agreed to be extra careful. After two weeks though, he figured the law would’ve given up the chase for him. At least for now anyway, he was still a wanted criminal in general.

Dutch nodded a goodbye to them and made his over to the few hitching posts that they had accumulated and pulled The Count’s saddle from where it hung. Placing it softly on the stallions back, he pulled the straps tight and clasps it shut, “It know ain’t wantin’ to go back there. But we got work to do. This camp ain’t goin’ to supply itself boy,” He said sweetly as he patted the horses neck.

He paused to look back at the camp. Should he tell Annabelle of his travels? Mounting The Count, he decided against it. He hadn’t seen her all day, and she would only want to join him. And that would be a big mistake; the town would certainly recognize her before they recognized him.

----

He rode The Count hard to Blackwater, not bothering to stop and set up a small camp for some rest. Determined to make it there before night fell, he clicked his reigns faster. Much to his surprise, Dutch made it just hours before the sun would set. He quickly brought his horse to the stables in an attempt to hide him. With one of the only white Arabians around, The Count would definitely give him away.

On his way out, he was pulled to a stop by a particularly stunning horse. Beckoning the stable hand over, Dutch inquired about it, “This horse here . . . Well he looks like somethin’ special huh?”

“Yes sir! One of our most prized horses here at the stables. A thoroughbred sir.” the stable boy exclaimed excitedly, “Admittedly, poor things been here quite some time. Ain’t no one with enough pocket change to buy her.”

Dutch nodded and examined the horse more closely. The mare was a beautiful dark and light grey with black spots and white stripe down her nose. Her mane was a medium length which started white and faded into black. Her tail long and grey to match her body. Dutch gave her a hefty pat on the shoulder and turned back to the man,

“I’ll take her. Would ya hold it for the night?”

The stable boy was taken aback, “Sir, I don’...are ya sure?” the man stammered, “I ain’t even told ya the price.”

“Price don’t matter, boy. Now, can ya hold her, or not? I’ll pay in advance.”

The boy nodded eagerly and accepted the cash that Dutch had pulled from his pocket, “She’ll be all cleaned and ready by the mornin’ sir.”

“Saddle her up too,” Dutch called as he exited the stable.

He made his way to the nearby saloon and conned a few men out of their hard earned money. It would be enough to stock the camp with much needed medicines. He even managed to con a woman into letting him rest at her house for the night; there was no way he was going to try and stay at the hotel. He be killed in an instant.

Just at the crack of dawn Dutch rose and robbed the woman and her husband of their belongings before making his way back to the stable. He picked up the two horses and set out to return to the camp. Riding back into the camp he slipped off his horse, calling out for Annabelle, “Annie! Annabelle! Come ‘ere. I got somethin’ to show you!”

[athenepromachos]

Mount up and ride ♥️♥️♥️🥵🥵

[thefinalyeehaw]

Ballad of Dell Jennings (Rdr2 fanfic) Prologue pt. 2

Part 2: Dell Jennings, Horse thief

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Horse thievery became Dell’s main staple. She had a natural talent for horses, the broncos were calmer and trusting in the presence of the young girl. Because of this ability, Dell becomes an expert in luring even the most headstrong horses from the hitching posts of local saloons without alerting the riders or patrons of the crime. Then afterward she sold the fillies to Mr. Larson, the dubious owner of the neighboring town’s stables, who never batted an eye when Dell always rode in on the horse she planned to sell him.

She knew stealing horses was the equivalent to murder, especially out in the West, where equines was a person’s livelihood. Guilt would probably eat at her if her intended targets weren’t well-to-do businessmen whose pockets could afford another pony.

The money Dell stole from her “guide” was dwindling fast, she spent a large amount when visiting the Creedstad general store, prior to the theft of Jolie, for supplies after an appointment with the sneering tailor to fit the clothes stolen from the unguarded suitcase of a male train passenger. She was in dire need for a big score and soon, her tinned ration supply receding at an alerting rate.

“Ya wanna make serious bank?” Mr. Larson asks one foggy morning, leaning against the wooden gate of the stall as Dell brushed the slightly tangled mane of a Dutch Warmblood. Sometimes Dell worked at the stables when she needed to lay low until the law of a neighboring town stop sniffing around for a horse thief to string up.

“What do you mean, sir?” She knew to be wary about any job suggestion the stable owner gave her. Mr. Larson, a hefty Midwestern man with a thinning scalp of caramel hair, steely-eyed, with a bear-like rumble of a voice, is a notorious swindler who uses down-on-their-luck schmucks to do his dirty work and then, is not afraid to finger them for the blame.

“Ya know, a gig, one that could fill up ya pockets handsomely,” Though facing away from the man, she could tell the stable owner was becoming slightly annoyed by Dell’s oblivious attitude, the man had a rigid no-bullshit policy.

“Oh! What is it then?” Dell always enjoys playing the role of a fool, everyone underestimates her cleverness because of her age and impoverished appearance. And never fail to be flabbergasted when realizing they have been hoodwinked, cursing the young thief’s name in the wind as she rides into the next town with a heavier satchel and a sly grin plastered on her face.

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Jennings,” Mr. Larson said in a sing-song voice that made Dell suppress a cringe at the Mr. It became apparent early for Dell, many people believed she was a boy. A belief only made truer by her lanky shapeless figure that swam in dark billowing shirts, often hung off her narrow shoulders, despite it buttoned up to her sternum. The cuffs of her oil-ruined pants rested high above her ankle, the ill-fit hem was cinched tightly to her amorphous hips by a well-worn belt. And her hair, pixie-cut mop of auburn locks, often hidden underneath a tan Stetson hat, Dell stole from a drunken man asleep at the bar of the saloon she was scoping out. To everyone else, Dell looked to be a young orphaned boy, too tall and lithe for his clothes and filthy from the backroads the forgotten must survive on.

A few months earlier, she definitely had been offended by Mr. Larson’s assumption of gender, but now Dell knew it was a blessing, the young thief learn quickly it was better to be a wayward boy in the West, then a wayward girl.

“Ever heard a Hoagy Macintosh?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Dell shook her head “No. Who’s that?”

Mr. Larson let out a heavy sigh behind her, grumbling underneath his smoky breath about clueless brats. Ignoring the miffed owner, Dell finished brushing the horse’s mare, she admires dark silky hair as the strands seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the stable. The glow of the horse’s mane reminded her of a simpler time in her past, she often forced herself to not think upon it, for it was just too painful to recall. As she returns once again to the present, Dell noticed Mr. Larson began explains further “Hoagy Macintosh is a wealthy doctor from New England, comes a long line of well-respected physicians-”

“What does this have to do with the job?” She turned to the man, irritated. He was beating around the bush, she could tell. Usually, Mr. Larson was very straightforward with his demands and bargaining, so this was unknown for Dell, it terrified her.

“If ya didn’t interrupt, brat, I would have gotten to the goddam’ point!” Mr. Larson growled, annoyance flashing on his aged face before returning to the man’s regular scowl “Long story short, he’s in town and owns me some money from a poker game a few years back.”

Now, was that so hard to say? “Okay. How does this involve me?” Dell responds, watching as another stablehand, whose name Dell could never place, slip past her to grab the reigns of Dutch Warmblood. The stable hand guided the snorting bronco around the two and outside to the fenced-in field for grazing.

When Dell glanced back at Mr. Larson, a sense of dread filled her belly as the stable owner grinned wolfly at her, showing off his missing front tooth “I want ya to steal the bastard’s horse.”

* * *

The sense of dread never left her.

Not even after she delivered the silver Turkoman to the grasp of Mr. Larson, grinning crazily like a man who lost his mind. “Thank ya for ya service, Mr. Jennings!” The man celebrated, clapping Dell in the back with a level of force that would send an unbalanced person to the ground. “...All in a day’s work, Mr. Larson” She wheezed out, her lungs heaved from nearly having the air knocked out “So where’s my payment?”.

Mr. Larson simply waved her over, telling the young thief to come back in a week and a half, claiming that once the horse is sold, she will be paid.

Irate, Dell stormed out of the stables. She wasn’t too pleased about waiting for the couple of weeks to get paid, people typically pay her once the horse is in their possession. Money was already tight of her, food was scarce back at her campsite, there was only a three-days worth of canned goods which mean she is going to go hungry before getting paid by Mr. Larson. She groaned aloud, rubbing a hand across her face, disgusted at the filth that appeared on her glove. Wishing deeply that she had the money to take a nice soak at the town’s hotel, guess she could wash up in the river, even though it was running with the melted snow from winter as the season of spring quickly approached. She grimaced at the thought of the frigid water kissing her bare skin, deciding that it was better to wait the week and a half than take her chances with hypothermia.

Dell strolled down the dirt road towards the town of Underwell, a tiny mining town known for its abundance of coal in the surrounding mountainside and its vast criminal underground. Though the town does not seem like a community of thieves, liars, and gunslingers with the freshly-painted houses, clean roads, quiet shops, and kind-looking people. But once the sun slips past the mountains, that when the low-lifes come out.

The sun hangs high in the clear blue sky, signaling noontime. Dell made her way towards the saloon, she has visited the bar to drink after the death of Jolie but got refused by an older barmaid, scolding the youth “Come back when there’s sum hair on ya chest”. Jolie, her late mare got bit by a rattlesnake while the two stroll through some tall grass, Dell tried to get the bronco to Mr. Larson get aid. The Midwestern man directed the distraught thief up to his office, distracting the youth with details of his new gramophone as a nameless stable-hand led the stumbling Turkoman behind the stable. Dell appreciates Mr. Larson turning up the gramophone in his office, muting the gunshot underneath the second-floor window.

Dell snapped out of her thoughts when she noticed a flash of white in the corner of her eye, she grinned as she caught sight of her prize from the theft. At the hitching post stood the white Arabian owned by one Hoagy Macintosh. When she went to steal the horse, she became intrigued by the powerful grace of the snow-colored stallion, deciding at the moment to steal the horse for her personal use. To swindle Mr. Larson, she decided to grab the horse next to the stallion, the silver Turkoman that is residing in his stable.

The young Arabian noticed the young thief’s arrival and announced his annoyance, stomping an impatient hoof upon the ground, stirring up puffs of dust. Dell rolled her eyes at the act, the stallion was barely out of his time of being a foal, so she knew the horse was yet to be trained.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You hate waiting, boy,” Reaching out to stroke the abrasive equine’s colorless mane, the stallion relaxed underneath the girl’s hand, leaning closer into her palm. Dell smiled softly, untangling her hand from the horse’s silky hair, she proceeded to climb onto the stallion, with much difficulty. The equine was unusually tall for an Arabian horse, at least a good hand or two taller than average. And Dell’s atypical height didn’t help her struggle with climbing on top of the horse, luckily the Arabian stay still as the girl managed to swing her leg over the stallion’s wide back, securing her boot in the other stir-up.

“Come on, boy, let’s go,” She said, pulling the stallion into a trot down the main road as they entered the outskirts of Underwell.

“Fucking asshole!” Dell cried out.

Early in the day, she returned to the Underwell stables a week-and-a-half later, to collect her payment. “I haven’t sold the horse yet,” Mr. Larson called out from his second-floor office as the young thief entered the stable. Dell blinked for a moment, then her confusion morph to anger “What? You told me that I would be paid in a week and a half. It’s been a week and a half! Where’s my money?” Her voice bounced off the wood walls of the stable, startling a few of the horses in nearby stalls. Dell knew better than to cause a public scene, but she was too livid by Mr. Larson’s deception to care.

Mr. Larson, unfazed by the youth’s outburst, clambered down the wood stairs that groaned underneath the weight of the burly man “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Jennings,” The man said, tilting his balding head down in mocking guilt, Dell fought the urge to knock out his remaining front tooth as the stable owner approached her. “Ya see, the fella I was intending to sell the Turkoman to, never showed. So I have been scrambling to find a new buyer, unfortunately, I hadn’t got much luck” Dell huffed, scrubbing her face with her hand. She was nearly out of money, despite taking on a couple of horse stealing jobs, to provide some food for herself and her new horse. But it still wasn’t enough, and now the law slowly closing in on her after a botched theft in a few towns over, she needed to leave town soon with cash in her pockets.

“How long you do need?”

“Another week.” Mr. Larson quickly added when Dell shot the owner a dumbfounded expression “An old buddy of mine coming to town, he owns land in Michigan, he’ll take the horse off my hands for the same price I gave the other fella.” Mr. Larson then stuck out a paw-like hand in front of the conflicted horse thief “Do we have a deal, Mr. Jennings?” Dell stared down at the hand as if she had never seen one before. Knowing this was probably of Mr. Larson’s scams to sell her out to the law, in order to keep the cash, and by shaking the man’s hand, she might as well sign her death certificate too. But money was scarce, she desperately needs the profits from the Turkoman sale to keep her afloat, at least until she reaches the next county.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Dell reached out and shook the meaty palm.

“You have a deal, Mr. Larson.”

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Write for 365: Day 337

RDR2 Inspired AU Part Two

He expected a restless night's sleep knowing Jason was only a short horse ride away from where he lived. It took every ounce of self-control to change into his nightwear and crawl into an empty bed. That nagging voice in the back of his head yelled at him to act like the young fool he used to be. There'd been many a night he snuck out his window to rendezvous with Jason in the woods, but he learned his lesson long ago.

Naturally, he didn't anticipate a soft tapping against his window that could've been a tree branch knocked around by the wind. After grabbing the knife under his pillow, he inched toward the window with a tight grip on the handle. As he approached it, a head poked over the bottom of the windowsill that had him rolling his eyes and fighting the urge to yell. The window opened with an ominous creaking, then Jason soundlessly slipped into his room.

“Didn't I tell you not to come around here? I specifically remember warning you against it, but I can't say I'm surprised you didn't listen.”

“It's been months. Can you blame me for wanting to see you?”

“Yes! I wanted to see you too, but I know better than to risk it. We can't be together if you're swinging in the town square by a rope. Excuse me, for putting your safety above my desires.”

“We won't get caught.” When he let out a snort and started to move away, Jason caught him by the wrist. “Timbers, I've thought about you every minute of every day since I left. I can't tell you how many times I considered coming back. The memory of your beautiful voice and endless eyes is what kept me going. Having you in my arms again is what I've dreamed about these long months. For just one night, can we have this?”

“You sound like a romantic lead in one of those dime novels.”

“It wasn't that bad.”

“I didn't say it was a bad thing.”

“So? Can I stay? Just one night. I promise I won't show up at your window again.”

He twirled the string of Jason's necklace as he released a defeated sigh. “Just the once, and you better be gone before sunrise.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on then.” As he turned back to his bed, he grabbed onto a sleeve to tug Jason over to the bed. “You know the rules. Nothing that had blood on it at any point in time and no boots.”

“You got it, darling.”

While he settled back into his mattress, he watched Jason slowly strip out of his clothes. His hat hung on the bedpost, his shoes half under the bed, guns on the bedside table, jacket and pants folded neatly on the chair. When he was finally down to his longjohn, he did a turn to show Tim he took every offending item off. After rolling his eyes at the theatrics, he motioned for Jason to join him.

“What would your parents say if they saw you in bed with someone so intimately? It's so scandalous.”

“Bring up my parents again and you'll be sleeping on the floor like a dog.”

Jason snorted in response as he shuffled around to get comfortable, only settling when he had Tim’s head on his shoulder and an arm curled protectively around his waist. “You know I love you.”

“Of course.” Even though he was comfortable, Tim used a hand on Jason's chest to push him up so he could get a good look at his face. “Why are you saying it that way? Did something happen?”

“No. No, I just… I just want to be sure you know. I'm not stringing you along like a prized stallion. You're it for me. You're everything to me.”

“I know. I do. I love you, too.” He dipped down to press a soft kiss to Jason's lips, then returned to his spot on his shoulder. “Now, go to sleep. You've got an early morning.”

“Alright, darling.”

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[thethrobbingmembers]

Bitter Spirits by Jenn Bennett: A Review by The Throbbing Members

Hello!!! We are three people who are always right, and we are on a quest to find the perfect romance novel. That, unfortunately, does not exist. This is why we drink so much wine, and that is why, for our first romance novel review, we chose Bitter Spirits.

This was a painful book to read. Almost as painful as Winter Magnusson’s monster dick must have been as it entered Aida’s tiny tiny vagina.  - Catherine 

 This book couldn’t convince me to read past page fifty but I still know Winter Magnusson likes to be ridden like a pretty pony. - Margo - 

DREAM CAST

Aida Palmer

Winter Magnusson

This book is deeply deeply bad. This book took away my belief in love. Can two people fall in love? Bitter Spirits asks. No! We answer.

Bitter Spirits tells the story of Aida Palmer, the stupidest spiritual medium in San Francisco, and Winter Magnusson, a bootlegger with a freckle fetish. Winter Magnusson has been cursed because he is an evil white man, and he hires Aida’s services to ward off the ghosts that keep following him around. 

Aida falls in love with Winter immediately because he is hung like a goddamn stallion. (She sees his dick within like, the first 15 pages) Winter falls in love with Aida because of her breasts. Nothing but her breasts. He talks about her breasts constantly. I can’t tell if Jenn Bennett can’t write a man’s POV, or if she writes it too well. 

The plot of this novel is deeply lazy and incredibly racist. Winter and Aida, two brave white people, must protect the bootleggers of San Francisco from some cruel, stereotypically magical Chinese immigrants.

Of course, Winter Magnusson can’t be racist! He has a Chinese sidekick named Bo, who Winter rescued from the cruel streets. Bo caters to Winter’s every whim. 

Aida can’t be racist because she had a hard life too! Her parents died and that is definitely as bad as the systemic violence of racism. 

But don’t worry, dear readers! The plot in this novel is irrelevant. There are ghosts, and curses, and murder, but they only serve as the beautiful bread in the sexual sandwich that is this novel. 

It takes a weirdly long time for Aida and Winter to Do the Do, but it takes about 40 pages for her to find his porn collection. Winter keeps erotic postcards in a scrapbook in his study. Anyone in the world could pick up that scrapbook, including Winter’s two, impressionable younger siblings. 

At least put it under your bed, Winter, you pervert. 

Fortunately for Aida, the prized picture in Winter’s Spank Bank is a Sexy Brunette with ... freckles. This sexy brunette is riding her man into the sunset. 

Does Winter have a freckle fetish? Aida wonders, Will he be the first man who loves me and my hideous speckled body???

After this, Aida and Winter spend half the book desperately trying to have sex, and being interrupted by their terrible personalities. The two of them can’t stop fighting, and the book is riddled with painful misunderstandings. 

A chapter after Winter confesses his love, Aida wonders what his words really meant. Does “I love you” mean “I love you” or does it mean “Get the fuck out of my house, you slut.” There is no way for Aida to know!

Fortunately, Aida and Winter eventually have sex and they are super compatible. Aida is tiny and freckled. Winter is a huge hairy monster. In the end, these stupid, terrible people get married, taking each other off the market permanently.

- Sarah

0/10 stars

Additional Ratings:

Nicknames: -5/10

Winter called Aida “Cheetah.” Get it? She has freckles? Spotted like a cheetah? This particular nickname made me want to be dead.

Aida called Winter “Mr. Bootlegger.” She just called him his job! That’s like calling someone “Mr. Accountant.” “Mr. Truck Driver.” Only it’s worse, because bootlegging is Winter’s ILLEGAL job. There are cops listening all the time, Aida! You might as well call him “Mr. Shot A Guy Once On A Pier.” 

HIstorical Accuracy: 2/10 

I mean, She definitely googled things OCCASIONALLY. Did she understand the thinking of 1920′s people? Their dialogue? Their clothing? The greater context? No. But did it sometimes have the superficial trappings? Yes. Congratulations, I guess.

Sexy Sex: -3/10

At one point, Aida apparently “impaled herself” on Winter’s dick. That must have hurt so much. 

Notes:

Bennett doesn’t know how freckles work. Aida has freckles ON HER TIDDIES. In order to get freckles somewhere, your skin needs to be exposed to the sun. How often does Aida sunbathe nude? How often, Jenn Bennett?? America, explain!

[1800areyouslapping]

A concept about SS!Daughter: when she’s /finally/ ready to let her daddy tear her up she gets so overwhelmed by the feeling of being so aroused that she’s a crying, whimpering mess, and Daddycree’s comforting his baby while he fucks her good and deep, telling her how good she’s being in between (but still unable to help being vulgar as always), not letting her know that her cute little cries are just making him even harder.

I think of SS!Daughter as being so, damn, sensitive. Unlucky (pf!  lucky) for her she’s got a daddy who is hung as a prized stallion. And McCree can’t believe how expressive she is, he thought she’d be quiet, that he’d have to coax her into expressing how she’s feeling. But she’s moaning and shaking, hanging onto him with clawed hands that are painfully tight and he loves it, encourages his shy baby girl to leave her marks on him. He’s talking so damn dirty to her, all the words that usually make her tummy curl are now turning her on so much. She just needed to hear them in the right situation to really appreciate her daddy’s crudeness.

Now that she’s had him first ain’t nobody ever going to be able to satisfy her like he can. And when she’s out and about and McCree is being his usual crude self she has a new found appreciation for it, as it reminds her of their intimate times. So she doesn’t mind the crudeness as much as she used to. Now, for the most part, it just turns her on.