A little addition to this. Shout out to @sundaescreamcheese because theyâve guessed right.
Warnings: Banished knight!Ghost x Witch!Reader x Bloodhound knight Soap, Elden Ring AU, Johnny is a bit of a dog, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, smut at the end, biting
âHail, witchâ, gruff low voice would have startled you if your wards didnât tense the moment he stepped onto your territory.
You donât know what heâs doing here, this deep in the woods, this far from his usual duties and this far from Stormveil Castle.
But you arenât going to be rude to the man in full armour, with a sword taller than you.
If whatever he seeks can be found without much hassle and he could get off your territory that would be great.
âHail, knightâ, you muse back, careful distance from him. Your wards wonât let him step much closer to the cottage, not unless you specifically grant him entrance and for nowâŚfor now you arenât sure you should.
The man looks at you â someoneâs skull now adoring the front of his helmet, his horse a menacing thing that huffs out cold air in agitation. Yeah, itâs no easy journey to get here.
Thatâs why you live here.
The man in front of you is tall and absolutely huge, more monster than a knight. Makes you wonder what happened for someone like him to become Banished.
What brought him to your doorstep.
You sigh, a little grateful that Johnny is too busy fussing over chickens in the backyard because gods know he canât stand strangers. Even more than you so.
âYou seek refuge or favour?â, you tilt your head to the side, eager to get rid of him faster. Johnny may not be able to run like he did before but heâs still one very good Bloodhound. You donât have much time until he will stalk outside to see whatâs going on in front of your house.
(The previous visitor that had a gall to grab your hand before leaving was hunted down by Johnny. Hunted down and brought back, the hand that gripped you resting on the first step of your porch)
Banished knight looks at you for a few very long moments but if sensing your agitation, gets off his horse â landing on his feet with grace, that sends shivers down your spine.
Heâs in a very good control of his body and heâs very aware of his size.
Your wards tense up, not letting him through when he steps forward and he freezes as if he forgot about them. Though who knows, maybe he did forget.
Knights did have tendency to feel like they are owed entrance wherever they go, perhaps this one is no different.
âI need to find another knight. Bloodhoundâ, his voice is low, muffled by the helmet he doesnât take off â dark eyes boring into you, staring you down from the high of his height.
Your brows furrow at the strange request, heart thumping faster. Thereâs only one knight who has been around these parts of the woods.
And heâs no longer Bloodhound. You are not giving him back. You are not going to let anyone take him away and rip him off everything you and time out here have been slowly restoring.
âI canât help youâ, you voice sharp, unusually so and Banished knight tilts his whole body forward as if trying to press himself through the wards, his fingers curling and uncurling â leather of his glove creaking.
âI donât need much, witch. Just tell me where he went. And I will leaveâ, Banished presses further, shoulders tense and voice curling around your throat like a grip.
He takes a breathe before stepping back, raising his hands in half-hearted placating gesture.
âI mean no harm. I can pay if you need. Just tell me if you saw himâ, he sounds almost gentle, head tilting down so he can look in your eyes without you having to crane your neck at him. âIâmâŚa friendâ, he adds reluctantly, like he needs to physically tear the words out of himself.
Your brows furrow further and coincidentally Johnny couldnât find a moment to show up better than now, sound of his walking uneven â still a limp to his step.
He rolls out of the house, picture of faux nonchalance, despite the sharp edge to his eyes.
âHen, you alright? I heard-â, words die on his tongue when he sees the Banished knight, eyes widening. There is a strange kind of hunger in his gaze.
Because Banished knight sees Johnny and almost lunges himself in his direction, the only thing stopping him are the tethers of your wards, curling around his throat, forcing him back, forcing him out.
Air smells like ozone, air cracks with pressure, your fingers quickly warming up with a spell because you were right.
This man is dangerous. He saw Johnny.
You canât let him leave now. He will need to disappear.
But Johnny grips your shoulders and shakes his head, eyes mad and desperate, an anguish to his face that you donât quite understand.
âNae, hen. Itâs Simon. Donâtâ, he breathes out, fingers digging into your skin, eyes boring into yours.
You glance back at Banished knight and heâs sitting on his knees now, tethers forcing him down, still tightly wrapped around his throat.
Heâs dangerous. You donât know him.
But Johnnyâs nose presses to your cheek, breathing shuddering and he doesnât let go of you. He doesnât pull away until you give him a slow tentative nod.
Your fingers flick, soft popping of tethers letting go audible in the air and Johnny actually lunges himself at the Banished knight, sending them both tumbling in the snow.
Knight holds onto him with such hunger something in you churns uncomfortably. What if he will take Johnny away?
Your fingers warm up with the subconscious desire to push the strange man (Simon, his name is Simon) out. Out of your territory, out of your woods, out of your life.
But Johnny looks genuinely happy to see him so you let it go, just sitting yourself down nearby. Youâll be damned if he gets injured just because you looked away for a second.
But Simon grips Johnny like heâs the lifeline and answer to his prayers. Simonâs palms slide all over Johnnyâs body, stroking sides, checking for wounds or tethers (your lips practically curl in snarl when you notice. Who the fuck does he think you are?).
He pauses at Johnnyâs bad knee, touch getting more careful, eyes expectant and suddenly on you.
âOld injuryâ, you tell him for some reason. Not like you actually have to. You donât owe this man anything, heâs unwelcome guest in your home. âI did what I could. If I found him later, heâd probably be without leg by now. Infection practically ate him aliveâ
Banished knight holds your eyes for a very long moment and then melts back into Johnny, murmuring something under his breath â too far for you to hear.
Doesnât matter. The man isnât staying in your home. Heâs dangerous.
You tell that yourself and finally go back into the house to put kettle on. Itâs too cold to stay mad out in the open. Heâs not staying here anyway, so thereâs no need to get too riled up.
Heâs not staying but Johnny still shifts his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, Simon looming over his shoulder. They both look like a pair of big, wet from snow dogs.
You look at Johnny unimpressed but he tilts his head to the side, grown out strands of hair falling over his forehead. It should be illegal to be that bloody handsome.
You sigh and gesture for them to get in.
Okay, tea never harmed anyone. Youâll let this man warm up and heâll be on his way before the sundown.
The thought makes bile rise in your throat but you force it down focusing on the task at hand.
You canât keep him if heâd want to go and you wonât humiliate yourself with begging him to stay.
But Johnny, so attuned to your moods by now, so used to having you chat for both of you steps closer â hands wrapping around your waist, part of his weight leaning on you to give a break his healthy leg.
âYer not happyâ, he notes, nose pressing to your ear, huffing out air and you canât help but relax, letting him lean on you. Heâs warm, heat rolling off him in waves, seeping through the sweater you made for him. Your head tilts back on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your neck.
âHeâs dangerousâ, you muse quietly and ignore the chuckle Simon lets out. Banished knight is now sitting in front of your fireplace, cloak taken off and hanged on the chair to dry out.
Johnny just nods, calloused fingers rubbing idle circles on your solar plexus. Itâs a long moment before he speaks again.
âIâm dangerousâ, itâs said almost causally, his breath ghosting over your neck and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.
âItâs differentâ, you snap back immediately.
Simon huffs behind your back and if Johnny wasnât leaning on you, youâd have probably thrown something in the man. Heâs not going to laugh at you in your own bloody house.
âSimonâs not bad, henâ, Johnny breathes out, tone softer, teeth grazing over sweet spot behind your ear, heat dripping down to your abdomen. Bastard. He knows what heâs doing.
âAnd Simon is not staying hereâ, you grumble, pouring herbal blend in three mugs, suppressing the urge to shiver when Johnny bites your neck.
âHenâ, he starts and you already know where it leads, you head shaking quickly.
âNoâ, you cut him off and nudge him with a shoulder to step back so you can move. âMove, I need to give this Banished his bloody teaâ
Johnny grumbles but peels himself off you, less than happy to lose the comfort and warmth your body provides. Less than happy to let you slip out of his grasp.
âHe can stay in the barnâ, Johnny offers and just grins when you send him a glare. His teeth itch to sink into the nape of your neck, press you into the bed, lick the fight and agitation out of you, make you soft and pliant.
Simon watches the way you two bicker, enjoying that none of you even noticed he took the helmet off to drink the tea you placed on the table with more force than necessary, some of it trickling down the rims of the mug.
Simon huffs out a dry chuckle when Johnny tries to pull you back into his hands and you sidestep, smacking his hands away. Leaving Bloodhound almost pouting.
âCruelâ, he complains to Simon, hands crossing over his chest. But despite everythingâŚJohnny looks good. Better than Simon remembers him.
Heâs wider now, there is bulk to him that Bloodhound Knight Johnny didnât have. His eyes are brighter.
Simon didnât even know Johnny could fucking talk, thought all Bloodhounds are mute. Courtesy of the profession.
âI understand you want to sleep with your Banished in the barn today?â, the witch arches their brow at Johnny and groans when his eyes light up.
Like a bloody dog catching the whiff of blood on the hunt. Old habits die hard, evidently.
âYou can stayâ, Johnny announces to Simon like itâs his personal victory, like he brought his master a good game after the hunt and is waiting to get his ear scratched.
His grin so wide itâs a miracle his face doesnât crack. Witch rolls their eyes but Simon sees the way their lips twitch.
Seems not only he has a soft spot for Johnny.
Maybe it shouldâve made him feel uneasy but if anything he feels satisfied, like something finally clicked in place. Puzzle finally unlocking in his hands, showing him the reward.
Simon tilts his head to the side, scar crossing his lips stretching when he smiles down at you.
A day turns into a couple days and then into two whole weeks because of the blizzard, Simon pushing further and further.
Eyes heavy and dark when heâd catch a glimpse of your throat or Johnnyâs bites â purple bruises on your neck, soft creaking of the bed upstairs whenever it happened.
Simon doesnât tell you that he moved from barn to the cot in the kitchen and you pretend that you donât know heâs been sleeping there for the last week.
Simon pretends in return that he doesnât strain his ears, catching the smallest sounds Johnny tears out of you. That he doesnât lean on the cold wall of the kitchen, thighs spread wide, his eyes closed. That his hand doesnât find its way to touch himself, stroking at almost lazy pace.
After all, Johnny is not starving Simon of little love here and there, eyes electric blue, mouth slick on the inner side of Simonâs thighs â your taste still on his lips.
Simon worms himself into your life and starts moving bloody furniture so he can position himself more comfortably, clicking his tongue when you hiss at him â tilting his head at you the same way a heavyweight horse would at the farmâs cat.
His fingers catch your jaw when you grumble that he rearranges your kitchen again, his lips pressing to yours.
You take a step back just to feel Johnnyâs warm chest pressing into you, breathing heavier than usually, hands wrapping around you.
Simon angles your face so he can slip his tongue in your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you let him in. When you tilt your head up, allowing his fingers to curl over your neck.
Simon licks your lower lip, finally pulling away and reaches for Johnny just to give him a kiss just as wet, now grinning like a well-fed creature. Satisfaction dripping out his every pore.
Johnny nuzzles into your hair, breathing out a low âthink Simon can sleep with us now, hen?â and you just nod. Your legs jelly that donât hold you properly, head stuffed with cotton, skin tingling from the heat of their stares.
ThatâsâŚan unexpected turn. You were ready for Simon to leave. You were ready for Johnny to leave with him.
But thisâŚthis is a surprise.
Simon presses a short kiss to your forehead and walks away to feed the livestock. Thereâs a new spring to his step, as if something just depressurised his spine, letting him grow a few inches up.
The issue arises only when itâs time to actually sleep because Johnny is insatiable and he refuses to move anywhere from between your thighs, not reacting to anything.
Especially not to Simon walking in.
You feel hot, Johnnyâs tongue sending white hot sparkles down your spine, your eyes meeting Simonâs whose pupils blow wide and god, heâs more monster than a knight.
Heâs the solide presence when he crawl in bed to pull you into his lap, big palms holding you open for Johnny, fingers sinking in the meat of your thighs.
âEager today, arenât we, sweetâeart?â, Simon sucks his own mark in your skin, teeth grazing your throat, his grip on your thighs getting stronger when you make the prettiest needy sound.
âItâs okay. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna take care of both of youâ, he practically purrs, sliding his fingers down your body to find the fluttering hole, dipping in it just to marvel at your body swallowing his first knuckle.
Johnny whines, his tongue circling lower, curling around Simonâs fingers, making you choke on your own breathing because too much-too hot-too wet.
Simon presses a kiss to your jaw, grin wicked and dark, stubble on his cheek scratching your skin.
âBe good, luvâ, he murmurs, eyes heavy and hungry when Johnny sucks his fingers in, practically gagging on thick digits. âOpen up for usâ
Johnny bites on the fingers in his mouth before pulling away, dropping back down between your legs, sinking his teeth in the meat of your thigh.
Simon smiles wider and adds a second finger, pushing in deeper, cooing in your neck when your hips buckle.
Thereâs no rush, love. They arenât going anywhere.
After all, you already let them in. They might as well make themselves at home.
Johnnyâs tongue traces the bite mark on your thigh, his eyes fixed on another one he left on Simonâs knuckles that are currently sinking inside of you. Wet squelching sound sending a heatwave through Johnnyâs whole body.
So welcoming to them. So sweet, hen. It would be their pleasure.
