skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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*casually hops in with idea that soul gems can enchant things with a vibrator-y setting and hops out again*

This is 'voice kink'

Thank you! Love is always appreciated. And always returned!

A!A loves you back. A!A would also like to hug every single one of you right now <3

Aaaw, thank you, anon! Technically I was only rolling with what Mercer was saying I should write, (and making me redo bits where he wanted to seem like an even bigger ass,) but I'll see if I can't cook a few things up after I get through what's currently on my plate.

On that note, I have deanoned on the Who Filled It? thread, but I'm not exactly much of a writer. ~~Seriously, the longest things I've ever written have basically been extremely self-indulgent tongue in cheek smutty self inserts, and I'm not sharing those >.>~~

When Kathryn woke, she was in a bed in an unfamiliar room. She could hear voices nearby, loud voices, raised in merriment or anger. She couldn’t tell. Things still had a fuzzy, surreal edge to them, making it hard to discern exactly what was going on. The room was dark, lit only by a single candle on a table on the far end, but she knew from the feel of the bed, the sounds and the smells that she should know where she was. She just needed a moment to think about it.

She tried to sit up, and was surprised to find that she could. It was strange, but she had expected pain from such a simple movement. She raised her hand, looked at it, squinting through the dimness, frowned. It wasn’t wrapped. She had a feeling it should be, and couldn’t explain why it perturbed her that it was alright.

As the dreams started to slip away, and her mind began to focus on what had happened, she scrabbled at the covers. Her side was not unmarked, but it didn’t hurt much. A clean, white linen bandage wrapped around her torso, but it was smaller than she expected from the blood she’d seen on Roliand.

Roliand! Where was he?

For that matter, where was she?

A door opened, allowing more light to spill into the room. The sounds grew louder; merriment, laughter from upstairs. It was then that she recognized it as the Jorrvaskr barracks. So that answered one question. The figure that entered was that of Roliand, which answered her other question.

“Hey,” she croaked, her mouth dry.

“Hey,” he lifted a mug of something, and handed it to her.

Kathryn smelled it first, which was both a blessing and a curse. It smelled herbal and bitter, which told her that it was something a healer or an alchemist had cooked up. She steeled herself for the sip, knowing that these things often smelled better than they tasted. And she was right. It was awful, a cacophony of herbal and other flavors assaulted her tongue. But she made herself swallow it, and ultimately it did serve to moisten her mouth and throat.

“How long?” She managed.

“About a day,” She opened her mouth to ask another question, Roliand held his hand up. “No, I think I know what you’re going to ask. Healers patched you up as best they could. You’ve some stitches in your side, and they had to re-set your hand. I didn’t mention that it had already been broken, but I think they guessed. I’m not quite sure how I got us here. It’s a bit of a panicked blur.

“You gave me a helluva scare out there, princess.

“The Jarl has heard you’re in town, and wants you to come by Dragonsreach as soon as you’re able. Said they sighted a dragon and he’s interested in your assistance as soon as you’re able.”

“Oh,” Kathryn managed, examining her hand and flexing it experimentally. It ached a little, but not as badly as it had. She twisted slowly, felt the pull of stitches in the soft tissue of her skin, but again no pain. She hadn’t realized how much pain she’d been dealing with until it was gone. “This healer did a better job.”

“They ah-“ Roliand hesitated. “They had a bit more incentive this time. Threat of ah... death if they couldn’t fix you.”

Magic!commenting anon from above... Loving the exquisite, chewy, delicious agony and anguish :)

Kathryn quirked a brow, and the big Nord shrugged casually and looked away. It was a bit too casual, and left her wondering what, exactly, he was telling her. Or trying not to tell her, as the case seemed to be. She wanted to poke him and pry for information, but she’d only known him three days at this point, for all that he’d been in her thoughts for months.

“Oh?” She quirked a brow at him, but he was steadfastly refusing to look at her face. His head was turned just far enough that she wasn’t in his direct line of sight. Something was going on here, she just couldn’t decide what.

“I ah,” he stumbled, and she was even more intrigued. Could this mean? “I took another job.”

Her heart sank. Of course he had. He was a mercenary, and gold was important to him. She’d offered him enough septims to get him here with her, but after that, he had to keep going, and she couldn’t afford to keep him on her payroll endlessly. After she’d nearly gotten them both killed, she wasn’t sure she wanted to try. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to try either, considering how good a job she’d done of leading him into a trap.

Sometimes, it was best to know when to let go, and she had a feeling this was one of those times.

The longer they were together, the harder it would be to admit that it was a mistake, and the harder it would be for her to let him go. The thing about mercenaries is that they were hard to pin down. She knew. She’d spent so many months wandering that she knew dozens of landmarks, but she still didn’t have a permanent home, or permanent friends.

Part of her had wished this time would be different. That he could become a fixture in her life, her first friend in this strange land. But it was not to be.

It seemed like she never did a very good job of making or keeping friends. There had been others that might have become friends, if she’d spent time and effort on the endeavor.

When she’d left Roliand all those months ago, she’d been out in the far west of Skyrim. She couldn’t remember precisely where she’d been at the time, and she wasn’t sure it had mattered. She’d been close enough to Riften that she’d gone there. And then she’d found a job that took her across the country to Solitude.

She was on her way there when she’d run into the Stormcloak “High King” Ulfric and his men near Darkwater Crossing. They’d said something to her, had tried to convince her that she wanted to join their cause. Trying to convince her, an Imperial from Cyrodiil that she wanted to join their rebellion. She’d listened politely, prepared to tell them off when the Imperial Legion had sprung their trap. It didn’t matter that she was from Cyrodiil, didn’t matter who her father was. Her presence in the midst of the rebels had been enough to seal her fate.

She’d been up on the headman’s block, prepared for the end of her life when the dragon had interrupted her execution. There had been so much smoke. So much noise. She’d fallen, and the dragon had landed on her, its talons ripping through her clothing like it was nothing. She remembered her shriek of pain, remembered someone pouring a healing potion down her throat and dragging her away.

That someone had turned out to be Hadvar of Riverwood, a friend of sorts. She suspected that he saved her out of guilt, knowing that she had no place in this civil war, understanding that she was a bystander caught in the crossfire. She’d seen how conflicted he was as his captain had told him that she was to be executed.

Hadvar had saved her. Had brought her back to Riverwood and patched her up. Then he had asked something of her, knowing that it was impossible, but that she had the best chances of succeeding, and could travel to Whiterun. He might have gone himself, but he was a soldier, and had his orders.

She’d gotten to Whiterun, and had gotten sidetracked by the Companions who were fighting a giant. She’d helped them fell the creature, and then she’d been caught up in everything and ended up in Jorrvaskr. She had never made it to Dragonsreach, had never asked the Jarl to send troops to Riverwood. Instead, she’d taken a job that had led her to Windhelm. A simple job, sure. Smacking some guy around because he’d angered the wrong client, but it wasn’t helping the citizens of Riverwood.

That was a week ago. Now the Jarl was requesting her presence and she was wondering if she’d ruined any chance at friendship by failing them as she had.

Hadvar had saved her life, and this was how she repaid that. By gallivanting around Skyrim with a reluctant mercenary at her side. She’d joined the Companions, found the closest thing to a “home” she’d had since she left her family in Cyrodiil, and hadn’t said a word to the Jarl about the dragon problem.

As she thought, she stared at Roliand, her gaze not quite focusing on him. He was so handsome, so strong, so good to her. She wanted him to stay with her, wanted him to be her anchor amidst the chaos, but she wanted him to want that, too. She couldn’t force it, and in the end, she didn’t want whatever happened between them to be about the septims. She wanted him to stay because he wanted to.

And if he’d taken another job, he must not have wanted to stay very badly.

Roliand stood, his movements awkward.

“Kat,” he looked down at her. She wished she could see his face, but the light was behind him and all she could see from this angle was his silhouette. “Be careful.”

She nodded mutely. This was where “careful” had gotten her. She wondered if he understood that. He hovered expectantly, and she realized he was waiting for some words of farewell.

“You-“ emotion choked her voice. “You do the same. I still have that contract on you.” Her laugh was bitter. “So no letting anyone else kill you. That’s- that’s my job.”

And then Roliand was gone, and Kathryn was sagging back into the bed and pulling the covers back over her head. Her eyes burned, her stomach twisted, and she was pretty sure her heart was going to shatter. She just needed a few minutes to deal with the pain, and then she would deal with her responsibilities. Just a few minutes, and then she would move on.

The next few days were tumultuous at best. It was an overwhelming whirlwind of news and revelations about herself.

She was the Dovahkiin. The Dragonborn. With it came powers and responsibilities that she didn’t feel prepared for. She wasn’t sure anyone could have prepared for this. She’d read The Trials of St. Alessia, had heard of the blessing of Akatosh.

It had never seemed like anything more than a story.

But here she was, a living, breathing Dovahkiin. From the moment that her body had absorbed the dragon’s soul, she had been unable to deny her heritage. Her calling. She was Ysmir, Dragon of the North. Dovahkiin, hunter of dragons. Consumer of dragon’s souls.

She had been summoned to High Hrothgar, and had been schooled by the Greybeards in the use of Thu’um.

Those that knew what she was were in awe of her, though she had done little to earn their respect. She was surrounded by people who saw her as something other than the simple human she was. They sought to put her on a pedestal, expecting her to become something great before their eyes, to do something wonderful and astounding, and all she wanted to do was hide.

She had never been so alone.

She missed Roliand, knew that if he was here with her he would make irreverent jokes, would tease her and taunt her and tell her that it was all going to her head. He would bring her back to reality, would treat her as a woman, and not as the savior of the world. She needed that more than she cared to admit.

She missed him. Not just the sex—though that had been amazing—but him and his stupid unwanted tenderness. The way he’s watch her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way he’d touched her when she’d been hurt.

Kathryn redoubled her efforts, striving to lose herself in the work. She took all of her frustration and threw it into her assignments, trying to stay just a half-step ahead, to avoid the certain death that hung over her head if she failed. Because it wasn’t an option. If she failed at this, the world ended. Alduin would destroy everything she loved.

The days stretched into weeks, stretched into months. She rose in power, rose in rank until nearly everyone she met knew of her feats. She’d been to the Throat of the World, had destroyed a dragon. Had become Harbinger of the Companions and Arch-mage of the College of Winterhold—though that last was more honorary than due to her magical prowess—as well as a notorious Vampire Hunter, a Bard, and a Thane in six of the nine holds.

Except when she had to have someone with her, Kathryn preferred to travel alone. It was easier when she didn’t have to maintain a facade, when she could let herself hurt openly.

Why had Roliand left?

She still didn’t have the answer. Didn’t know if he was alive or dead. She’d asked after him, but he’d all but disappeared. Even Stenvar didn’t know where he’d gone.

Enough was enough.

As soon as she finished her next job, Kathryn set out to find Roliand.

You know, a while back I noticed there was only one bed in the cornerclub and thought this same thing.

Part III: Partners

Making a decent living is hard work. Roliand spends most days routing bandits or other undesirables from locations that “civilized” folk want for their own purposes. He’s killed more bandits, more forsworn, more monsters than he’s capable of counting. Most nights, he’s tired and dirty.

When he’s very lucky, he gets a warm meal or a soft bed. Sometimes he gets both. He can count the times that has happened on one hand. But he understands that with the country on the brink of civil war, times are hard for everyone, so he does his best to ensure that he pays what he can. He’s not making money like he did when he was a bandit, but he’s getting by, and he’s doing the right thing.

He’s trying hard to lose himself in the work, trying to forget about Kathryn. When he’s busy, and his sword is in his hand and he’s fighting for his life, it’s easy.

But nights like this, when it’s quiet and there is no danger on the horizon, he can’t keep her out of his mind. He’s been keeping track of her ascent to glory. He’s heard stories of her, songs of her. Whenever anyone mentions the “Dragonborn” or the “Dovahkiin” his ears perk up, and he lingers a little longer than is really necessary. At first he hadn’t been sure it was her, but as he heard more about her accomplishments, he became more and more certain.

It’s his Kathryn out there, fighting the bad guys and protecting the world. He’s so proud of her his chest feels ready to burst. He wishes she could be with him, that he could be by her side.

He listens to stories of her doing the dirty work for soft Jarls, of her fighting bandits and forsworn. It’s sad, but he’s pleased to hear that she’s doing the same things he’s doing. Sure, her work has more glory, but his name could be out there too, if he wasn’t so determined to keep a low profile. And since he’s nobody as exciting as the Dragonborn, it mostly works.

Even as he makes a point of sitting in taverns and listening to gossip, he’s always a little afraid of what he’s going to hear. Roliand fears the day that he hears about her getting married, about her having children. He doesn’t think he can bear the thought of her settling down with anyone else. It’s going to take a very special sort of man to deal with a woman as powerful as she is becoming. She’s never quite going to settle down the way another woman might, and she’s going to need a husband who understands that.

One who lets her have her space. One who goes with her when she wants the company. A husband who has her back and doesn’t mind if his wife is more famous than he is. Sometimes it takes focused effort to resist thinking about how he’d be that husband. He misses her. He wants to be by her side again. Wants to kiss her again, to feel her warm and soft in his arms.

Sometimes Roliand thinks back to the day he left her behind, and wonders if he made the right choice. Would she have become as great if he had stayed? Or would he have held her back, and kept her from reaching her full potential? Sometimes he wishes he had stayed, thinking that it would be alright for her to live in obscurity if they were together. But it’s not true, and even in the deepest moments of self-pity he understands that she’s got a greater destiny than he does.

She’s going to save the world, and he’s just an ex-bandit who makes his coin bashing heads together.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could see her again. He wishes more than anything that he could give her one last kiss, and explain that the job he took that day was important. That it wasn’t even really a paid job. But he can’t do even that much, because if he sees her again he won’t have the strength to leave.

There’s this selfish part of him that wants to go rushing to her even now, to tell her that he loves her and it’s been unbearable existing without her. And then he reminds himself that she’s probably moved on. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t heard a word about her finding a husband, a lover. There’s nary a word about her romantic prospects, and he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s discreet or if it’s because there isn’t anyone.

He selfishly hopes she’s as alone as he is, and immediately he feels bad for that. He doesn’t wish her unhappiness, he just wishes that her happiness was with him.

Roliand is lost in his thoughts as his dinner cooks over a small campfire. He’s in one of those wells of self-pity that have become more frequent recently, and he’s not really paying to his surroundings when he feels a dagger press into his back.

He freezes, his mind very abruptly and firmly grounded in the present. He’s contemplating whether he can get to his sword before the blade at his back is stabbing into important organs when he hears a familiar voice.

“Sloppy.” It’s a familiar voice, and instead of that being a relief, he tenses further.

“By the nine, princess, you scared me!” He’s gasping and turning to see her.

She’s as beautiful as he remembers, perhaps a bit sharper around the edges, but not in a bad way. His chest tightens as he watches her step around him and settle on the ground a short distance away from him. She’s watching him warily, not quite smiling, but he can see that she’s not going to shout him to pieces, so that’s something.

They’re silent, contemplating each other for a long time. He’s not sure whether he should apologize, or congratulate her on making something of herself, and she’s not giving him any clues as to what she’s thinking about either. He has nothing to go on, and it’s painfully apparent that he’s lost in this conversation.

He’s gotten less good with people over time, like his self-inflicted solitude has ruined his social skills. He watches her, not quite sure what to say, not sure how to begin a conversation that is long-overdue. And she’s watching him, and waiting for him to say something, anything. He can see it in the way her brows are slowly rising, in the way her lips are pursed in disapproval.

He opens his mouth to say something, rethinks it, realizing he’ll sound like an idiot of the highest caliber, and then closes his mouth.

“So,” she says finally, a small act of mercy. “What have you been up to? I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Uh,” He gestures vaguely in the air. He’s really not good at this. “Dealing with problems for people. Taking care of uh... issues.”

“I hear rumors that you’re an assassin.” He lets out a surprised bark of laughter, and she frowns at him. That was clearly not the response she wanted or expected. “Are they true?”

“No,” He’s still laughing, and with the laughter has come a release of tension. Perhaps that’s why he’s laughing so hard at something that is honestly not very funny. He’s so tense, he just doesn’t know how to deal with it now that it’s been relieved. “I’m not an assassin. I deal with uh... other things. Bandits, forsworn, draugr, pests. I’m still just a simple mercenary, a simple man.”

Kathryn nods, and he can see that she’s piecing things together in her head.

“What about you, Dovahkiin, how’s life in the spotlight treating you?” She flinches, eyes him warily. Clearly she wasn’t expecting him to have kept track of her. Surprise! he thinks. He’s been following her every movement, missing her desperately and trying to convince himself he didn’t. Of course he knows what she’s been doing.

“It’s...” She hesitates, chews on her lower lip, and then continues quickly, the words spilling out rapidly. “Roliand, I miss you. I don’t know why you left, or what’s going on, but I loved our time together, and I want... I want you by my side.”

He blinks rapidly, trying to process what she’s just confessed. It’s not what he expected, he isn’t sure what he expected, actually, but whatever it was, it isn’t this statement.

“Uh,” He fumbles. Kathryn rises, and begins to move away, her skin flushed red in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, wait.” He rises, takes the two steps it requires to catch her, and then he’s got her hand, and he’s gently tugging her back. “Kat, I, it’s just...” He fumbles again, but this time she’s still here. She’s not running away. She won’t run away. “Kat, I’ve missed you. I’ve thought about you so much that it’s hard to believe this is real.”

She smiles then, leans in close, presses one hand against his cheek.

“I’m real. Promise.” And then she’s kissing him. She’s soft and sweet and even better at this than he remembers. All he wants to do is lose himself in her, something that’s not going to be an issue if she keeps kissing him like this.

“Kathryn,” he breathes, and he can’t keep the smile off his face. “I need to apologize for-“

She cuts him off with a finger gently placed upon his lips, stopping him from continuing.

“We can talk later. Right now, I just want you.” And then she’s kissing him again and sighing into his lips, and he’s tugging her clumsily down onto the bedroll and undressing her tenderly, taking his time to explore her as he’s never been able to before.

She’s making these soft breathy noises that he loves hearing. His hands are running along her body, and he’s kissing her face, and then he’s nuzzling against her breasts, teasing her nipples with teeth and lips and tongue, catching the sensitive peaks and nibbling on them, running his tongue along them, and his fingers are sliding between her thighs and parting her folds and rubbing her clit and she’s gasping and arching against him. She’s just so fucking beautiful when she’s like this that he doesn’t have words for it.

She’s whispering to him, begging him to be inside her, asking him to fill her, telling him she’ll do anything for it. But he isn’t going to argue with her, so he fumbles with his own clothing, and frees his erection from his pants, and then he’s hovering over her, and pressing into her and she’s amazing. Hot and wet and she’s clenching around him in just the right way.

He hasn’t been with another woman since her. Nobody else has interested him, so he’s a bit out of practice as he moves. If she notices, she doesn’t tease him about it. Instead, she’s rising and moving her hips so he’s moving in and out of her at a nearly frantic pace, and her gasps have become moans. He’s so close, and then he’s bucking into her and coming and she’s whispering his name and shaking and clenching and oragasming around him. He holds himself in her for a moment before slowly withdrawing.

“Kathryn,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“I know.” She turns her head so she’s looking at him. Her smile is gentle. “I love you, too.”

He grins. He’s allowed himself to think about this conversation before, but it’s never been like this, with her naked in his arms, her smile soft and happy.

He snuggles close to her, and relishes the feeling of her in his arms as he falls asleep.

Morning came too soon. It always did.

Unlike other mornings in recent memory, though, she was warm and comfortable. Roliand was sprawled on his back beside her, half-off the blanket they’d slept on. One arm was flung out, the other curled around her waist, holding her against him. She’d draped herself half across him, so her cheek pressed into his chest and she could hear his heartbeat. She snuggled closer, reaching out and running her finger along his nose. He snorted and swatted at it, waking slightly.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she whispered. He squinted at her for a moment, and for a heartbeat she thought he’d fallen back asleep. That was when his hand began sliding along her body, until he was grabbing her butt and sliding her on top of him. He watched her through squinty eyes as he touched her.

She smiled, and kissed him before disentangling herself from him.

“No, I think it’s time for that talk we postponed from last night.” She informed him. He sighed, but let her go.

“Alright,” He agreed. It was clear that he had hoped she would forget about their conversation. He rose, tugged on some pants, then sat and began poking their fire, preparing it to cook breakfast on. “Where do you want to start?”

“Why did you leave me?” It was hard for her to keep the hurt out of her voice when she asked. She’d thought of so many terrible answers to this question in their months apart. The worst one, the one that made her feel queasy whenever she thought of it was that he had a wife, and she needed him.

“I had to.” He frowned, looking away.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Kat,” He sighed, captured her hand in his own, ran his fingers along the sensitive skin on her inner wrist, the gesture one for comfort, rather than something calculated. “I had to take care of something for my family. I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m not proud of, but I’ve always been there for them.”

“Your family?” Her heart sunk. This was the part where he told her he was married.

“My sister,” He paused, his gaze going distant, his brows knitting low on his forehead. “She married this... fool. He took their money and ran off to “invest” it or some nonsense like that. One of the neighbors paid for a courier so she could send me a letter...” She saw the anger flash in his eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him genuinely angry before. “She works on one of the farms in The Rift,” He was deliberately vague, she expected. Didn’t want the Dragonborn using her clout against some innocent farmer if things went south. It was endearing and insulting, but she loved him for thinking of his sister. “And with her husband gone with their money, she was starving.”

“So you gave her money?”

“Yeah, I gave her every septim I had, and then I went and found that useless mumper and I gave him the beating he deserved for leaving his wife and baby to starve while he chased some fool’s dream.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She was still a little hurt, wanting to know why he hadn’t felt he could trust her with something so simple.

“Because, Kat, I didn’t think you needed to know how terrible my family is.” He looked at her then, so earnest. “I didn’t want to drag you into a family as disastrous as mine.”

She sat there for a moment before his words sank in. He’d thought about her joining his family. He’d thought about marrying her before. And he’d fled?

“I don’t understand.”

“I love you Kat, I’ve loved you, I think, since that first night.” He kissed her hand then, his eyes holding hers. “I wanted to be with you, but you could do so much better than me, and I was trying to do the right thing, and step aside so you could be with someone worthy of you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as emotion overwhelmed her. She was furious at him for trying to make her decisions for her. Flattered that he thought she could do so much better. Indignant that he somehow thought he was unworthy. And happy that she’d come back and forced this conversation.

“Well,” Kathryn reached over into her pack, and pulled out an amulet of Mara. “I think this means something to you Nords, doesn’t it?”

“The... Mara?” His eyes went wide. “I was...” He stammered.

She kissed him gently.

“Try that again, perhaps?”

He cleared his throat.

“Is that an Amulet of Mara around your neck?” He overacted it, his voice dropping down an octave. She laughed, and he continued. “How is a strapping young lady like you unmarried at this point in her life?”

“Interested in me, are you?” She spoke in a falsetto, teasing him the way he was teasing her.

“Indeed, my fine maiden. I would troth myself to you through Sovngarde and beyond.” He laughed then, his face cracking into a grin. All playing aside, he continued. “Truly though, Kathryn, I cannot explain how pleased I would be to become your husband.”

She threw herself into his arms, and covered his face with kisses.

“I’m so glad to hear that. My life was so much less interesting without you by my side.” She looked to the sky, then glanced around the clearing. “I’ll bet we can make Riften by nightfall.”

Roliand’s grin widened as he hastily stuffed things into his bag, breakfast forgotten.

“I’d certainly like to try.”

Their wedding was a simple affair. The two of them, a few witnesses, and the Priest of Mara.

Kathryn wore her dress, and a few flowers woven into a crown. Roliand wore some traditional Nord finery. Nothing too fancy. There was a small party at the Bee & Barb, and the pair of them put away more Mead than anyone had expected of them. And then they had retreated to Honeyside for their wedding night.

In the morning they would face the world. They would find a way to end the Civil War, they would stop the World-Eater. They would complete a hundred menial tasks around Skyrim, trying to do what they could to make the world a better place.

And then they might sit down and talk about a home. A family. A future together.

But for tonight, none of that mattered. For that one night, their wedding night, they were lost in each other.

Everything else could wait.

_______________________
Oh god. That tore by faster than I expected. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you all for all the lovely comments you left. I appreciate them all. I may revisit Kathryn and Roliand at some point, if I see a prompt that catches my eye for them. (If I do, I'll link it here.) But for now, this is their story. And again, thanks for reading, anons.

This anon would like to read about what could happen if there was a frenzy spell that made people fuck instead of fight.

Smut, crack, both, anything and everything.

Ooooh yaaay! This meme needs infinity more Mercer, but I'll happily read anything else you write too!

Rarely used NPCs. Hmm.

...would that happen to include dragons? Because if it would, I have plot bunnies :)

Loved it A!A, what a delightful thing to find it all done this morning! Thank you for sharing it!

Sweet Divines. I love them.

WHERE DO I START?!

First it was fiery and sexy, and dripping with attraction. Then it became slightly sweeter, and then almost bittersweet, AND THEN THE CHARACTER BUILDING, HOLY SHIT.

Then it was quite sad because Roliand was full of all this doubt and THEN BAM HAPPY ENDING!

I am honoured to have such a lovely author fill my prompt!

Glad you liked it, OP. That was fun to write.

I do so enjoy big, strapping, angsty men.

I loved this so much! Beautifully written, adorable lead couple, fantastic sex and there's something about angsty Nord men that just does it for me.

I enjoyed every minute, and am very glad it ended happily. Love it!

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