#i just watched this man walk around a monster butchering his friends in a small room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherrysha · 3 years

Text

Run

Remember when i posted abt lumberjack a/b/o Uvo? well here it is!! shoutout again to ram fr helping me with this piece!! This is my first attempt at a longer story with more plot. Part of me wanted to break it up into more chapters but I like the build up thats there by keeping it in one piece. Its my take on abo (I know some people love it and some absolutely hate it but the lewding potential was too much for me to pass up) Very loosely based off of this song by hozier

Summary: Alphas are rare, Omegas even moreso. The standard for society is being a Beta, but unfortunately you weren’t born as one. Being an Omega is a presentation so detestable that it’s hard to even survive. In an era where it’s completely normal to cast you from the village for simply existing, to keep you blind from what it is to truly be an Omega, will there be any respite for you? (Yes, this is a period piece)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: A/B/O, dubcon (since the readers in heat), predator/prey, a little blood, one slap, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“Do you ever get the feeling that they are lying to you?” you stare at the weathered wooden boards of the porch before you dare to glance at her face. The miller’s daughter was an omega as well, and often you found yourself gravitating to her if only out of comfort. The one of few in the village that could relate to you. She looked so soft in the morning sun, so lighthearted and gentle as she picked at the frayed patchwork of her dress.

“I don’t like to think about it too much or else I scare myself, y/n” she giggles.

So Naïve.

You mull it over before coming to the conclusion that you and her are not the same. “I guess I understand”

Her father always says she’s too kind, but that’s exactly what was so endearing. A world where it was normal to treat people like you and her as lesser, and she was still so kind. Absently, you wondered if you'd ever see her again after her next heat. It had been too long since an omega went missing.

“Will you still be walking with me to the market?”

“Ah, mother seems to have found some extra fabric that had been tucked away somewhere, so I suppose not. However, I’m glad you came to visit y/n!” she giggles as you stick your tongue out at her like a child.

The walk there gives you an opportunity to think of her words. Was denial better than the fear that came along with the truth?

Plenty of omegas had gone missing. When you were younger, the elders would tell you that there was a man who lived on the edge of the forest. He wasn't an alpha, or a beta, or even an omega. He was only a monster.

The path stretches before you and the heat of the summer sun is almost enough to make you turn around. But you persist, the idea of returning home empty handed was enough to make you ignore the sting on the back of your neck.

This man, this beast, would eat omegas. That’s why it was important to return home before dark, the man in the forest used the cover of night to hunt; to take. that’s why omegas always went missing in the village.

You momentarily take refuge in the cool water in the creek on the outskirts of the village, watching idly as water swirled around your bare feet.

When were you old enough to realize the flaws of that story? Was it your first heat? When with shaky hands, your mother had packed you enough provisions for the week and whispered for you to leave? Or was it the anger in your father’s voice when you asked to stay and he bitterly told you that omegas only brought misfortune?

You sigh. No, it was the day you'd found out one of the few remaining omegas hadn’t come back and that truth had only been a hard pill to swallow for you. No one seemed to care, it was as if the man in the forest didn’t scare them, had never scared them.

Not much sooner had you made the connection. Alphas were few and far between, but omegas were even more scarce. The ones who couldn’t find omegas settled down with betas, but what would a married alpha do when an unclaimed omega went into heat? Only the forest knew.

Sometimes you wished the beast was real, and still the lie had persisted. The younger omegas believed it to be the wood smith and while he was a recluse, so much so that you'd never even seen him, he was far too young to be the monster from your youth. He’d only made his appearance in the village every so often, and in truth he hadn’t lived in the area for that long. You let them hold on to their delusion instead, not wanting to be the one to burst their bubble.

Your heat was many moons away, but the fear of living still persisted.

The water feels nice on your neck, gentle and cooling as you scoop handfuls of it over your burning skin. It makes you forget about everything for a second, soothing over you like an expensive balm. Somehow, It reminds you of when you were little, before you presented and the friends you'd made in the village. Small and unassuming, no worries about presentation or etiquette. Just young and carefree. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Now, boys your age would rather die than be seen with an Omega, not that you cared about their indifference. In their minds it was completely warranted, and in yours the Betas had nothing to offer you. You both saw each other as fundamentally useless. No one gave mind to insects, most of the time they were just there. Some were cruel, yes, but most went their way, and you went yours. That was the best you could ask for.

Sighing, you pick the coin purse out of your pocket, taking a moment to count the few coins your mother had given you.

It was barely enough to buy thread, but you weren’t surprised. Her and father were still angry that you'd ripped another hole in your dress again since it was one of the little clothing items they had granted you. If it weren’t for the fact that the hole steadily became bigger, threatening the integrity of the entire garment, you don’t think it would’ve been mended at all.

The wind swirls around you, reminding you of your task and the repercussions of wasting time.

With a grunt, you force yourself back up and onto the road, sidestepping a rather large man carrying probably one of the largest baskets of wood you'd ever seen.

Mother says that its impolite to stare, so you don’t let your gaze linger for too long, but the sight was unusual to say the least. He’s tall, so tall in fact that you have to peer up to even try to see his face, eventually you give up and your gaze ends at the well toned muscles of his chest that are thinly veiled underneath a rather dingy tunic. You couldn’t judge him, right now you were wearing the same dress that desperately needed patching up. Still, he was somewhat of an unbelievable height, it was hard not to wonder of his presentation. Surely, there couldn’t be Betas that tall, but it was even more so unbelievable for him to be an Alpha. The Alphas in your town were well known, their large presence in the village applauded by most and avoided by Omegas. Like the tavern owner with wandering hands under the guise of drunkenness and the butcher who stared a little too long that one might find it indecent.

as you make your way through the village opening you can feel his presence pressing closer behind you with each step. It’d be easier to know for certain if the wind carried his scent, but at the present moment it was blowing yours in his direction, a thought that was a little unnerving to you. Nevertheless, you persisted, pushing past the mounting feeling in your chest that seemed to get worse the louder his footsteps became behind you. Surely, he was just selling the basket on his back at the market. And since he was a stranger to you, It would make sense for him to follow you so closely there if he wasn't from the village.

You let yourself relax, tense shoulders easing up as you finally come to the only conclusion that made sense. You were an Omega; A Beta had no better reason to follow you other than directions.

The sun still beats overhead, making the exposed skin of your face damp with sweat. With little thought, you wipe it away with the handkerchief stashed inside your pocket. It was little more than torn fabric that mother had no use for, but you appreciated when she had given it to you nonetheless.

The market wasn't busy for this time of day, which you were grateful for. Less people to cast you a distasteful glare as you silently perused through the stalls in search for thread. It only takes a few moments to find it at a stand with colorful fabrics, pins and needles and textiles that were definitely worth more than anything you'd ever own.

The smile on your face lights up as you find the cheapest option available, speaking quietly to the stall owner you ask for it.

You're met with silence, its only when you look at them that you realize they aren’t even looking at you. Instead, you follow their gaze behind you, to the burly man who had somehow gotten close enough to block out your view of the sun.

“Gorgeous too, huh?” he smiles down at your shocked face, even daring to lean down, hand gripping your jaw to force your head up, leaving your neck exposed to him. He’s not quick about it either, his nose coming to scent you as he indulges himself in the smell he finds there.

“And where have you been hiding?” he whispers it, a secret between the both of you that your too scared to acknowledge. In stark contrast, you've been rooted to the spot, too scared to do much of anything as the complete stranger ungracefully takes his time mulling you over.

It’s a funny thing, he can smell just how frightened you are, but it doesn’t mask the scent that made him follow you in the first place.

The scene is far too intimate for such a public space, and subconsciously, you're aware of that. You know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be letting yourself get so carried away by the stranger, even if he does smell wonderful. Nothing like any Alpha you’ve met. Although his presence is completely overwhelming, his scent isn’t, and he lets out a breathless laugh when you subtly try to scent him back.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is the stall owner clearing their throat, forcing you to realize how blatantly improper you were being. It’s far too embarrassing to handle, and mortification sets into your bones. The man pays them no mind, instead using one of his large hands to slam a few bills onto the counter.

“Whatever she wants” his voice comes out as a low and guttural thing, hoarse from days of disuse, as his breath fans across your face. He thinks it’s cute, the way your eyebrows shoot up makes his grin even wider.

With shaky hands you point to the cheapest bobbin of thread, hands fumbling for your coin purse before he grabs your wrist. “What did I say, Omega?” its stern, but all you can manage to do is bumble over your words, eyes cast downwards as you try to ignore the embarrassment settling on your face. He was just trying to be nice, maybe he was a tad bit uncivilized about it, but his impropriety shouldn’t make it okay to decline such a kind offer. The thread is taken from the counter, his hand slowly ruffling the folds of your dress as he finds your pocket and drops it in.

At this point you’ve become a spectacle, passersby muttering not so subtly about just how close you are to him, how rude it was to make a scene like that in public. With a cough you back away, surprised to find that he doesn’t follow, only aims a grin at you as he continues to stare. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, you ask

“What’s your name?”

Maybe one day you could repay the favor, although he didn’t look like the type to need to buy thread. He didn’t look like the type to care that much about his appearance at all, if you were being honest.

“its Uvogin. Gimme what’s in your pocket.”

“The thread?” with a wolfish smile he shakes his head no. It takes you a moment but clumsily you pad at the dress before finally finding your pocket and dipping your hand in to pull out the tiny wad of fabric in question. The only other thing in your pocket besides your coin purse. Your handkerchief. You don’t think about it as you hand it over to Uvogin, your head feels fuzzy just by his proximity. Don’t even think about how closely he must’ve been watching you to see that you had one, or how long he’d been doing so as he walked behind you and into the market. Right now, he could ask for a lot of things and you'd gladly hand it all to him with no second thoughts about it.

“You should head home. Maybe get some rest before it happens” he leans closer to sniff at your throat one last time, albeit a lot quicker than he had in the past “Although, I don’t think you’ll have much time.” The end of his sentence comes out in as a laugh, jovial enough to make you forget how sinister his final words were. With little grace, you slowly backpedal, eyes still on his before you turn around and walk out the way you came.

You smell. You reek of him. It’s the only thought in your mind as you clutch at yourself tightly, eyes cast downwards to avoid the shame of looking at others. There wasn't a pair of eyes that didn’t linger on you, most likely smelling exactly what you smelled; The stench of an Alpha. So thick and cloying that you couldn’t pretend it was anything other. Maybe you could rinse it off in the creek before you got home, but you doubted it. The smell permeated through your dress and settled into your bones. Quickly, you head out of the village and towards the sound of running water.

He was handsome, his scent so alluring that it made your mind wander as you tried desperately to rinse it off of your skin. A hint of sweat, pine and something sweet you had no name for. Sitting on your haunches, you let out a whine at the fact that nothing you did could rinse it off, and part of you didn’t want to, anyway. He’d ruined your dress by doing little more than touching it. If your parents smelled it, who knows what they would do. Probably cast you out like they’d planned on doing when you tore your dress. Any little infraction was worth your disappearance. This would give them every reason not to want you around.

It seemed to be getting hotter. So hot in fact you were half tempted to wade into the creek, dress and all, just to get the feeling to go away. The sun had been hidden by an overcast sky, clouds threating to burst at any moment, and you prayed they would. It could drown out any scent lingering on your skin, your clothes, the far recesses of your mind that held onto it like a bloodhound. Why was it so hot?

Wordlessly, you waded into the water, thinking little of the repercussions of coming home with a sopping wet dress as you sat down, letting the stream flow over you and around your shoulders. It felt soothing at first, like a cool bath when you were sick, but all too soon the water felt just as warm as you were. It. Was enough to elicit another strangled whine from your throat.

Slowly you stood, the weight of the fabric hugging tighter against your skin all too noticeable. This wasn't right. The sun was gone, the water cool, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

It took a minute to fully accept it, as part of you didn’t want to. But you couldn’t excuse the need growing in your abdomen as anything else.

You had to leave here, quick. Get as far away from the village as possible. Away from the Omegas and your family, away from everything in order to have a chance at saving yourself.

Wading out of the water, you give no pause to the way your skirts cast dark droplets onto the dry ground.

With little to no hesitation, you make your way back onto the road before veering right, into the underbrush as you picked up the pace. Before, you'd have a day’s head start to get as far away as possible, but this was different. The telltale signs of your heat stirring low in the pit of your belly was a fortnight too early. Your thoughts were already starting to fog around the edges, an in a few hours all you'd be able to do was cry out from the sheer pain of it all.

With every step you find yourself walking faster, legs getting whipped by the low lying brambles. The way they so easily tear into your skin going almost unnoticed by you in your sheer panic. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it’s a type of confusion that adds on to the delirium already buffing away at your subconscious.

After a few minutes of running, only your panicked gasps keeping you company, the clouds burst above you. Fat drops soaking the underbrush and you along with it. In no time the ground beneath your feet becomes even more treacherous, mud and leaves and errant roots making you stumble and fall at every opportunity. After one nasty fall, you can't help but sit for a moment, a manic chuckle ripping through your chest as you examine your skinned palms. Your dress is filthy, the tear even larger than it had been when you set out this morning. Absently you wonder if mother will let you try to mend it before she casts you out for it. Without looking down at your legs, you already know the bruises that will be there from every bump and fall you’ve taken on your little journey. It does little to worry you, once the adrenaline wore off, maybe then you'd feel yourself start to care again.

With a sigh you let yourself rest. Hypervigilance slipping as you gaze up at the canopy in awe. How could rain be so loud?

Mentally, you try to assess your location. There was a place not far from here that served as your hideaway in times like these. A fissure in the face of a sheer cliff, only big enough for you and any other Omega that had the misfortune of being cast out into the woods. It wasn't much, the crack was uncovered, the rain and wet still able to reach you, but that wasn’t what was important.

Standing up gives you a better view of your surroundings. With little thought you start to head in the direction you remembered, down the slope of the hill in hopes of finding your salvation at the bottom.

It doesn’t take long before you hear it. Crackling branches under heavy, heavy footsteps. It’s not a promising sign, to say the very least. Feverishly you pick up the pace, mind racing as you try to figure out who would’ve followed you. It’s not like you did much to hide where you were going, in truth you didn’t think about it at all. Mind glazing over, you don’t notice the thick tree root that’s in your way, stumbling over it as your palms meet the forest floor once again. Ungracefully, your body tumbles easily down the rest of the slope, a cry leaving you as you hit the ground repeatedly.

Uvo’s laugh is audible over the thunderous sound of rain. Its jarring. A wretched reminder that you're actively being hunted down like an animal.

“Sounds like I’m getting close, huh?” he yells, still too far away for you to see him under the darkened canopy. His voice echoes and you can't tell where exactly he is behind you, only knowing that its entirely too close for comfort. Hazily, your mind makes the connection, his voice rattling back in your ears over and over again as you pick yourself up.

You can’t say that you've gotten any faster after realizing who exactly was chasing you. The ache in your body from multiple falls was finally catching up to you, along with the heat that was settling low in the pit of your stomach that seemed to be burning even brighter than a few minutes ago.

After a few minutes of running, you see it and almost sob with relief. Thick with vines, the opening of the rockface, your salvation, is almost within distance.

“I hope you're not thinkin’ of doing what I think you're gunna do.” Its not a yell. Not anything other than an irritated statement thrown so casually and so, so close to you that it causes goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. Quickly, you look behind you, a slight yip leaving your throat as you take in the distance between the both of you.

In a last ditch effort, your body works on autopilot. Fear drives you, pushes you faster and faster until the only thing you can hear is the thrumming of your own heart in your ears. He’s loud behind you, yelling something unintelligible as you try to make your escape. You're within reaching distance of the opening now, but his hands grab at you. The slickness of the rain serves in your favor. Easily you slip from his grasp, body lurching forward and into the opening as he tears at the shoulder of your dress.

The air surrounding him seems to vibrate with raw anger, something akin to a roar tearing through him at just how close he’d come to having you.

Big hands come to slam against either side of the opening as he peers down at your shrunken form. Chest heaving, the rain glints off of his skin and the image alone is enough to make you whimper in submission. He’s so tall, broader than any Alpha you'd seen, and he’s incredibly angry. Uvo’s gaze doesn’t leave you as the seconds tick by. After a few moments of him trying, and failing, to collect himself he finally speaks

“I’m not gunna hurt ya, now come here” he says, and it sounds sincere enough that your fuzzy brain almost believes him. Almost gives in to the temptation of his scent, his open arms goading you to leave the small space.

“I don’t believe you” you whine, shaking your head ‘no’ as if he wouldn’t understand the meaning of your words.

It’s so unbelievably hot. The fat drops of rain hitting your face and soaking you through to your very core did little to relieve the feeling. if anything, it overwhelmed your heightened senses, every little drop on your skin felt like something you needed to pay close attention to.

“Just wanna make you feel better” the statement alone forces a whimper out of your throat, body edging backwards as if to physically deny him

“You can't make me feel better, no one in this damn town can make me feel better.” it’s a lot more hysterical than you meant it, but Uvo’s face contorts in confusion all the same.

It’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you. Big green eyes rake over your shivering form, more anger than pity bubbling to the surface of his features as he realizes how much he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You don’t know anything, huh?” he mumbles to himself, letting one of his large hands swipe away the excess water on his face before settling on his hip “What’s it gunna take for you to come out then?”

You want to tell him to leave, to let you be alone but another part of you wants something. Something you can't explain enough to even know yourself.

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?” no matter how much you try to calm yourself down it still comes out too whiny and nasally for your liking.

Uvo laughs at that, boisterous and loud and it almost seems to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the tree branches around you.

“I just told you I wouldn’t, you forget that already?” you have half a mind to nod in affirmation, “Come on out then” he gestures towards you, wolfish smile marring his face.

As if to try and soothe you, he asks for your name. The question eats away at the open air before you finally find your voice enough to answer him.

In the quiet that precedes your answer you realize numbly that It’s getting darker out. You have no provisions and now you’re drenched. If you didn’t listen and stayed put, the rest of your heat would be torture. There’s a lot to consider, truthfully too much to consider in your current state. The ramifications of your actions, the honesty of the large man in front of you, the means in which he planned to help, how long you could actually survive out here without him. Your brain functions moved with the viscosity of syrup. The more you thought about it all, the less it seemed to make sense.

Quietly, you make your way to the opening, Uvo lets out an excited laugh as you crawl ever closer to him. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before a gasp is being torn from you as he grabs you by the arm, pulling you completely out and into his embrace. It feels nice, albeit a little jarring, but you won’t deny the full feeling in your chest at his proximity. A big and sturdy hand rakes up your side as the other holds you to his chest.

With little thought, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the scent that hasn’t been completely washed away by the rain. Its calming, maybe he’s pumping out pheromones to induce that emotion within you, but at the same time it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach reach incredibly high temperatures. It hurts, oh god, it hurts

“Hurts, huh? I can fix that.” You don’t remember saying it aloud, but the burly man responds quickly by tearing the flimsy fabric of your dress, making sure to rip through your underwear as well. When you whine at the sensation all he does is mutter “Didn’t expect me to let you keep that ratty thing did you?”

It’s a makeshift blanket once he tosses it onto the ground, saving your back from most of the drenched forest floor as Uvo sets you down, his own body hovering over yours. His warmth is so nice, nothing like what’s eating you up inside, and with needy hands you run your fingers through his hair, a high pitched whine leaving your throat at the groan you coax from him.

“Fuck” he growls “M’gunna knot you so good. Bet it’ll only take one time before I get you nice and round”

You nod up at him, delirious and wanting. The only thing on your mind being the feel of him under your fingers.

With little finesse, Uvo thumbs at the opening of your sex before sliding over the bundle of nerves that lies just above it. He smiles at the confusion on your face before slowly, slowly sinking one of his large fingers inside of your heat. Your body writhes with broken sobs at the feeling. Its unlike anything you ever experienced before.

“All this for me, huh? Must really want it.” It comes out in a huff, his smile ever growing as you nod in affirmation. You can hear the slickness he’s referring to as his finger pumps in and out of you.

Right now the wind was bustling, rain beating down harder than it had been all night, but all that you could feel was the comfort Uvo gave you. As if his wandering hands were stroking your very soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Uvo’s already dipped another digit inside of you, marveling at the way your body so easily opens up to his touch. It’ll only take him a few more minutes of his fingers dutifully scissoring you open before he’s able to lay his claim.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” he smiles as you shake your head, mouth open and panting as your lovestruck gaze meets his “Of course it doesn’t.”

He takes his time, languid strokes and teasing bites against your chest. No rush in his movements until you brokenly sob for him. The feeling in your gut was only getting worse with every movement. With weak hands you claw at him, trying desperately to pull his body closer.

His hand moves from your cunt, popping his digits in his mouth with a groan. When he finally sucks them clean, his hands go to his belt, “Impatient little thing” whispered from his lips.

The sight alone makes your mouth water. Too long and jarringly thick, his cock slaps up against his stomach.

“Gunna make you feel a loot better” he mumbles, taking himself in hand. God, you want it, want every bit of him no matter the repercussions. He kneels above you, chest wet and heaving with excitement as his gaze lingers on your exposed pussy. A Grecian God chiseled from marble and sent here just for you.

With steady hands he presses you your legs up, folding you in half until hes achieved the angle he’s looking for. You have no choice but to comply, whimpering as he guides himself into your aching cunt.

The stretch of it burns, it makes your body quake almost as if the size of his cock alone has rendered you weak. It’s an overwhelming sensation that eats away any rational thought until you can only focus on the piercing sharpness of it.

“Stop, please, s’too much.” You can't recognize the sound of your own voice. Its hoarse as if you'd been yelling for hours. Uvogin buries his nose in your neck again, hands coming up to press your legs to even further against your chest.

“Here… got somethin’ to take your mind off it”

With little warning his teeth are in your neck, tearing a wretched scream from your throat as Uvo draws blood. True to his word, he sinks the entirety of his length within you without your notice. Only thing on your mind is the feeling of your flesh being torn open by him, claimed by him.

There’s’ little compassion in the way his hips snap against yours. Its brutal, making you cry out even more as the force of it jostles the teeth still buried snugly in your neck. Your hands claw at the ground before eventually settling on his back. Uvo groans at your nails digging into him, spurring him on to go faster, harder, to give you everything he’s got until you drain him dry.

The noise of Uvo thrusting into your warm cunt is loud, almost deafening compared to the rain around you. It’s all you can hear; All you can feel as he doesn’t waste any time in finding the exact spot within you that makes you scream.

Every shift of his hips is maddening. Every sharp thrust enough to push the air out of your lungs. Eventually Uvo’s mouth pulls away from your throat, lapping at the bloodied mess he’d left there. You can't focus on it too much. Can't focus on much of anything at the present moment, only the slick sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you filling your mind.

“Gunna need you to do somethin’ for me, doll” his words are almost too far away for you to hear. As if he’s underwater, it takes a light slap to your face in order for you to process them.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly. You can't remember if your voice always sounded that small. That meek.

“M’not gunna last long with the way you’re suckin’ me in like this” he growls “Gunna need you to bite down.” One of his hands that was previously holding your thigh up reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you up until your face is flush against the side of his throat. Something is growing inside of you, burning through your very being and he’s the cause of it. It’s mind numbing, this pleasure you’ve never felt before. Lazily you recognize it enough to know that your own orgasm is mere seconds away.

“Right here.” you nod, heat searing through you as his hips stutter. There’s something catching against your cunt now, impeding every kiss of his hips against yours as he struggles to fit the rest of his cock inside.

With an audible groan being your only warning, Uvo cums inside of you. It sears against your insides as something finally stops his movements, his body unable to do anything besides grind against your own. So full, you jerk with the feeling, finally letting the coil inside you snap. The scream that leaves your broken throat is cut off by Uvo shoving your face harder against his neck and, dutifully, you bite down. Its mere instinct driving you, or maybe the need to drown out your warbled cries for him. Either way, the wound makes him laugh, his hand pushing harder against you as if to force your teeth further into his skin. The tang of metal in your mouth does little to stop the ebb and flow of your orgasm as it washes through you. It’s too good, so good in fact you find yourself pulling away only to be met with Uvo’s unshakeable grip. Tears prick at your eyes at the sensitivity of it all, the overwhelming buzz that courses through you with no end in sight.

It takes a minute of blindly thrashing against him before you give up and settle on the wet ground below.

It’s completely pitch dark now and the rain has quieted into a slight drizzle. You can't see him, can only feel as the hand not gripping your neck finally lets your other thigh down to ghost over the plains of your face.

“You're mine now” he whispers. Silently, you nod your head in agreement, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. It didn’t matter. Nothing truly mattered anymore besides the man above you. Uvo presses a lingering kiss to your neck, your jaw, before landing on your spit slicked lips. It’s almost soothing, the gentle touches his attentive hands leave on your body. Soothing enough to make you forget how you got here.

With a gentle tug, he finally pulls out of your sex. The laugh that leaves his throat as his fingers explore the wetness that paints your lower body is euphoric. Soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms and standing up.

“Feel better?” it sounds like more of a statement coming from his mouth, but you nod all the same. As he starts to walk your eyelids droop in exhaustion, mind focused on the way his chest vibrates with every garbled sentence you can't quite hear.

#abo uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin #uvo x reader #uvo

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

Note

And what about a Stardew Valley AU? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

I’m on my phone in a waiting room so this will be very short--it also won’t be a 1:1 AU, I took some liberties!

Blade: the local hunter/woodsman who basically lives alone in the woods and barely interacts with anybody except to slink into town, give the butcher some dead animals and pelts, and then leave again for the season Trouble: the town blacksmith who forges weapons for the local adventurers and mercenaries who go to explore the mines/fight monsters. He dreams of coming up with some kind of invention (think the world’s first revolver or something) and becoming a gunsmith or adventurer in a bigger town/city. He probably also plays football in a strange anachronistic twist. Does this AU take place in the modern world like Stardew or a weird fantasy farm AU? Idk. But wait, does Stardew take place in the modern world?? There’s corporations and cars... but also slimes and wizards? I guess it’s its own thing. I’m going to pretend it doesn’t have guns.

Shery: the town veterinarian who looks after all of the valley’s animals, from the dogs and cats to the farm animals! She also lives above the town grocery store and helps Riel out when it gets busy. She helps organize the town’s flower festivals and other events!

Tallys: she’s an artist living on a cottage on the beach; you can sometimes see her collecting shells and making structures out of deadwood. She’s basically a hippie who wants to commune with nature, and is generally solitary until Shery recruits her to start using her expertise to help with the flower festivals!

Riel: he was once a promising executive in a large corporation, but his health suffered from the stress, so he now chooses to run a small grocery store in this idyllic town. He generally seems innocuous and nerdy--he wears glasses and does his account books with an abacus in his shirtsleeves--but when another corporation (or his old one) tries to muscle in, he starts using connections no one knew he had to defend the town...

Chase: a young man who got into so much trouble in the big city that he was forced to return to his hometown at the behest of his worried mother. He chafes under the boredom of small town life, but in a strange twist of events, somehow finds himself becoming the relied-upon town sheriff. He has an unorthodox way of doing things and an alarming willingness to kill anyone who threatens the town, but he keeps the valley safe from harm!

Red: the local wizard who lives up in his tower, performing experiments and researching the arcane. Many are unnerved to discover that he’s not an old man with a beard; he’s young, tall, and hot! Many farmhands feign illness in the hopes that he’ll drop by with a cure--he’s like the rural Howl!

Ayla: she is the valley’s premiere horsewoman, running a stable at the edge of town. Her horses win prizes for both their looks and their skills, and she’s willing to train anyone to ride if they’re willing to put up with her tough style of teaching. You can always catch her at sunset, watching the sun go down behind the mountains with a piece of straw in her mouth and her hat pulled down low over her eyes!

Halek: the owner of the local saloon who generally keeps to himself, but is always willing to listen with a smile and a dishrag on his shoulder. Everybody is surprised when his twin brother comes to fetch him and it’s revealed he’s some sort of royal in a neighboring country!

Briony: a girl who drifted into town and quickly made fast friends, but who refuses to reveal who she really is or where she came from. She rooms with Shery above Riel’s grocery store and earns money by serving as a cattle herd, riding one of Ayla’s horses and guarding the local cows as they’re transported from place to place or grazing, fending off wolves, slimes, and even bandits! She keeps saying she’ll have to move on someday, but is reluctant to go until her past finally catches up to her... (Secretly, she’s a magic-user too!)

Lavinet: a socialite who retreated to this remote town following a scandal. Then she buys the local ranch (the one that Ayla runs) and decides to convert it into a luxury resort to show people the beauty of Stardew Valley! She first harbors ambitions to return to the big city and return to her career in force, but eventually falls in love and learns to truly love her life in a small town!

Mimir: local cryptid and creature of the night. Rumor has it that you can see a pale woman walking the woods outside of town on nights of the full moon, and that if you see her, she will deliver a prophecy about your life... by day, she appears in a traveling caravan, selling sundry goods and dried herbs as an innocuous wanderer

Caine: just your typical neighborhood boy who dreams of becoming an adventurer and slaying monsters! Instead, he is a farmhand on his family’s successful farm, learning how to grow greenbeans and blueberries and running around town with his dog, Good Boy!

#Shepherds of Haven #Stardew Valley #Stardew Valley AU #AU #all characters #anon

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 4- Four Marks

Summary: Your travels have taken you to a tavern where you meet the most unlikely of individuals. Then as per usual, trouble ensues.

Warnings: getting manhandled by some elves

Masterlist

Laughing into your mug, you catch the annoyed gaze of your silver haired lover who sits quietly to the right of you on this wooden bench, your backs resting against the stone wall. Its been a couple long weeks since either of you have had moment like this to just sit around and drink with each others company. Geralt may not particularly enjoy the surrounding company of the other tavern goers who fill the hall with their loud speaking voices and obnoxious laughter. But he knows just how much you love the easy entertainment of the civilians living their lives as they have a merry go of it.

"Did I not tell you my seductive powers would work wonders with that idiot from Bruna?"

"You did." Mutters Geralt humorously as he side eyes you.

"Ha, exactly. He had not a chance, try and steal Roach again and you will sorely regret it." You boast happily before taking a swig of your drink, "Hmm, this tastes not half bad either. I've had better of course, but this, not a terribly shit drink in all honesty."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it then."

You smile brightly at your stoic Witcher, he appears rather unenthusiastic but you know what emotions lay behind those two golden eyes of his. He's greatly content having you sit next to him and ramble on about your cleverness in the face of mortal men. He'd have no one else in the entire Continent do such a thing but you, and that's why you love him.

"Right? Great mead, anyways I am a force to be reckoned with, and you know he might have even pissed himself once I gave him a fright. It's what I like to do, lure them in with coy beauty and.." You scrunch your nose while making a fist, "...I got them in my clutches. They never even saw it coming."

"Not once." Agrees Geralt as you lean an elbow against the table to lazily look up at his handsome face.

"You know what?" You ask slyly, scarlet irises trailing all around his face.

"Hmm?"

"You actually look very nice in this lighting, the way you just look around at everyone like you hate the world. It's very sexy." He raises a brow as you smile, "Aside from the stench of horse, sweat, and blood that seems to ever linger on your skin..there's just something about your particular scent that I cannot quite put my finger on."

"You tell me this monthly."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Maybe it has to do with my blood?"

"No. Witcher blood tastes like old mule piss." You add before caching yourself, "Which I wouldn't have the slightest idea personally why. However I know a vampire or two who have divulged in that luxury and have lived to tell me....Not that it's a luxury as in a positive sort of mind, more so, an experience of indulgent sumptuousness for my kin." You're really trying to make this sound less horrendous.

"Drinking Witcher blood?"

You shrug half defensively through a sheepish grin, "What? I never said they killed these Witchers. Okay, okay, that also sounds bad. I promise you though, if they would have killed one of your brethren they would have boasted about the bloodshed. It's what vampires do. So no worries, your friends at Kaer Morhen are most certainly still breathing." Geralt simply holds back a grin as he shakes his head at you and your rambling.

He doesn't care if you know what Witcher blood tastes like, he wouldn't even care if you personally have tasted Witcher blood against your own tongue. He just doesn't want you to stop speaking, it distracts him from the sounds of the tavern goers and that bard. Geralt hums, "Y/N that could have happened three hundred years ago for all I know."

You pause a moment to think, eyes glancing from the window to him as you give a casual shrug, "It might have."

Soon the not terribly horrendous sounds of a bards singing fills your ears with the sweet tunes of an old lute giving what it can to the world as other tavern goers throw bread at the singing man. Oh right there's a bard here. You keep your witty comments to yourself as Geralt keeps his tense stare down with the wooden table while he tries not to grab anyone's unwanted attention, when you glance over to the bard again he's notably walking your way, drink in hand. What now?

Bringing your drink to your lips, you eye up the brightly colored bard as he saunters over, a peculiar smile playing at his features while he leans against a wooden pillar, "I love the way you two just...sit in the corner and brood, minus you my dear lady, what an odd place for such an exquisite creature to..."

"We're here to drink alone." Interrupts Geralt gruffly, you set your drink on the table, a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

The bard nods, looking down for a second before his blue eyes scan over you and Geralt once again, "Good. Yeah, good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except.." The curious bard walks around the oaken pillar before sitting down across from you and Geralt, "for you two. Come on. You don't want to keep a man with...bread..in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less." Inquires the cheerful bard, a smile upon his bright visage as he waits patiently for an answer. You pull your legs up onto the bench, leaning your right side into Geralt's strong body as you relax a bit more, amused by this bards bold questioning.

"They don't exist." You finally answer, tucking your hands under your arms as you attempt to get a little bit more comfortable. The bards give you a quizzical look, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"What...doesn't exist?" Ponders the bard as he raises a dark eyebrow at you.

"The creatures in your song." Retorts Geralt bluntly.

"And how would you two know?" Vouches the bard with a smile, excitement upon his face at this little guessing game he's just thrust upon himself, "Oh, fun. White hair...two very scary looking swords.." He quietly proclaims turning his attention now to you, "Hmm marvelous, irises the color of roses...dagger at your hip..." Geralt suddenly begins to get up, done with the bards never ending questions. You stand up yourself, the bard just continues to look at you two like you're the most interesting beings in the whole world, "I know who you two are." He confidently rules out while happily watching you both from his chair.

Geralt walks past him as you follow at his side, the two of you heading for the door as the bard jumps up to trail along, "You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia....and you're the dhampir princess, Y/N of Alkatraz. Called it!" Concludes the bard enthusiastically, much too loudly for your liking. You ignore the turning faces of the other tavern goers before a curly haired young man rises to his feet before you can reach the door to freedom.

"A job I've got for ya's. I beg you." He pleads almost nervously, you halt your movement as Geralt does the same, the two of you abruptly turning to face the man, "A devil...he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred ducat." His eyes nervously shifting from you to Geralt.

"One fifty." Chides Geralt, the man immediately pulls out a small sack of coin previously hidden within his coat, a hopeful smile upon his pimply face.

He flashes you a warm grin as his gaze shifts from you to Geralt once again, "I've no doubt either of you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear." He gives Geralt the sack of coins, the bard watching intently in the foreground, time to kill a devil then.

——

You were able to walk bard free all the way to the gates of the small mountainous tavern and twelve feet into the gravely dirt road before the bard had tracked you two down. Now here you are, a good distance onto the road as you head for the hills where this devil hides, Geralt leading Roach as you walk in front of them, the bard trying to converse with Geralt to his immediate left.

"Ah. You guys need a hand? I've got two. One for each of the, uh, devil's horns." Confirms the bard breathlessly, trying to keep up with yours and Geralt's quick pace up the hill.

"Go away." Grumbles your annoyed Witcher.

You snicker, just imagining what Geralt's face looks like right now as the bard continues to pester him, "I won't be but silent back-up." The bard cheerfully exclaims, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis, you turn to look at him with an amused grin upon your face.

"Yeah I bet you really know how to muzzle that continuous yapper of yours." He smiles back at you, turning his attention back to Geralt.

"I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories..."

"That's if you survive them." You interrupt with a smirk, glancing back around, catching the animated face of the bard.

He smiles to himself as he holds onto the strap of his old lute, "Yes well, you two, smell chock full of them...amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion?" You turn your head to give him a questioning look, he gives you a quick nervous smile before continuing, "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak, not for you two of course it's just a meaning..."

"It's onion." Mutters Geralt.

"Blood." You add.

"Right, Yeah. Yeah. Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia and his dangerous lady Y/N of Alkatraz...the-the Butchers of Blaviken!" Bellows the dreaming bard, throwing his hands into the air, Geralt suddenly stops moving, turning to face the smiling idiot.

In one quick motion he punches the bard in his stomach, sending him staggering back onto the dusty road in a coughing and sputtering mess. Geralt turns back to you with a nod before he and Roach continue on past you, you give the bard a diverted look as he slowly picks himself up.

"You've been punched by a Witcher, how's that for your first taste of adventure?" You muse, raising an eyebrow at him.

Clearing his throat of dust he grins at you, "Better then I had hoped." He replies while letting out a small chuckle as he follows you up the road.

——

"Geralt of Rivia, the-the White Wolf or-or something. Mind if I hop up? I'm not really wearing the right footwear." Suggests the bard as he attempts to reach out for Roach's rider-less backside. You sit upon the mare in front of your man, Geralt kindly letting you lean into his leather armor clad torso as he holds her reigns.

"Don't touch Roach." Warns Geralt, the bard immediately pulling away.

"Yeah, right, yeah." He disappointingly replies as you lightly chuckle at the two of them. Soon you and Geralt reach a small tree, where Geralt jumps down to tie off Roach, you sliding off to take a sharp look at your rocky surroundings. The bard watches intently at what your plans are next, deciding to deliver some historical information about the landscape as he tells you how elves called this place Dol Blathanna before they gave it up to the humans. You let him ramble on, unaware you already are educated on the history of this part of the continent, you are almost five hundred years old after all.

You raise your head to find an opening in the large rock formation where the trail appears to lead. Geralt walks past you, sharing an annoyed look as you both listen to the bard rambling on about something you're not listening to. Geralt lets out a huff before turning around and walking down the dusty trail, you trailing after him as the bard lingers in the background.

Your crimson eyes trail over the nearby clusters of tall grasses as the bards loud voice fills your ears, "Geralt? Y/N? Wh-where are you two going? Guys, don't leave me. Helloooo? What are we lookin for again?" Inquires the bard noisily from behind the two of you while you walk past straggly protruding rocks and tall green grasses on either side.

"Blessed silence." Mutters Geralt.

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that. Have you two ever hunted a devil before?" He wonders as both you and Geralt stalk silently towards wherever this devil lays hiding in the brush.

"They don't exist." You add, pulling out your large silver dagger as you listen intently for any unusual sounds.

The bard continues to ramble on while you catch the sight of something tall hidden in the grass, you can hear the rapid heartbeat of this nervous creature. A second later a tiny stone shoots from out of nowhere, slicing Geralt on the forehead as the bard cheers excitedly about how "act two" of his adventure has begun. You watch as his eyes go wide once they spot the devil rising from out of the greenery, you turn to squint at the creature, unsure of what it truly is from here.

"Oh fuck." You whisper before it launches another stone right at you, with supernatural speed you shift to the side where the stone flies past your head, this time knocking out the chatty bard in the process. You and Geralt share a confused glance as you turn to search for this horned fucker before he ends up bloodying you next time. With the beast lost from your vision, you zero in on his thudding heartbeat, not even fifteen seconds later does the devil burst forth from the tall grass. Launching Geralt a good couple yards back as you watch in bewilderment, to taken aback to help him with his unexpected assault.

Within seconds your Witcher is on the hooved half-man, pinning him to the ground as they exchange clever insults with one another. You catching the creatures name to be Torque the Sylvan as it yells at Geralt before he punches the Sylvan in the face to daze him.

Suddenly you can hear the irritated thumping heartbeat of an unfamiliar being when something cracks you across the side of your head from seemingly out of nowhere, sending you staggering to your knees as a small trail of blood trickles down the side of your temple. Your hands catch yourself on the rough gravely dirt as your knees jab into some rocks while you land. When you look up again a large shadowed person is standing above you before they violently bash you in the face with their boot, then darkness.

——

When you wake up again your hands are chained to the wall and a steel collar has been tightly locked around your neck. Your eyes slowly look up to find an unconscious Geralt tied to an equally unconscious bard. The small stony cave prison smells of recent activity in the tell tale scent only an elf could have, shaking your head in agitation you listen to the quiet clinking of your chains. This is not how you intended for today to go.

When you try to pull at your restraints for the first time, you're welcomed with an intense burning sensation flaming the flesh of your left wrist. It appears whoever has taken you prisoner has coated this specific constraint with silver, so whenever you move it just right the metal makes contact with your exposed wrist, fantastic.

After waiting another ten minutes and listening to the bard complain once he finally awoken, Geralt at long last stirs, his eyes going wide as he desperately tries to look around the small stone room. Clearly in a panic and unsure how he got here in the first place.

Letting out an irked sigh you kick his foot to gather his distracted attention, "Oh good you're finally conscious, I thought I was gonna have to kick you awake." You quip at Geralt as the bard chuckles from behind him.

"Now, this is the part where we escape."

"This is the part where they kill us." Grumbles Geralt.

"Who's they?" Asks the bard before an elven woman races into the room, she smells almost sickly and looks even more furious as she kicks them in the head, quickly shutting them up as they grunt in pain.

"Beast." She fumes in Eldar, kicking Geralt once again as you hiss at her, gaining a satisfied smirk upon her elven features, you'd rather enjoy smacking that off her face. A dark curly haired one walks into the room, immediately his eyes catch the bards old lute laying on the floor next to your dagger and Geralt's sword.

You can't see as the bards eyes go wide in fear, "Oi, that's my lute, give it back!" Whines the bard as Geralt gives the she-elf a furious glare, "Quick Y/N, do your scary vampirey thing!" He quickly urges, you'd love nothing more then to shift into a half bat creature and scare the flesh right off this she-elf's bones, but a little problem called silver is preventing you from doing so.

"Shut up." Grumbles Geralt as the she-elf first kicks you in the legs and then Geralt, you're more pissed off then in actual pain from her brief assault.

"You shut up!" She barks in Eldar.

"My Eldar speech is rough. I only got part of that." Replies the bard as you roll your eyes.

"She said shut up." You implore before getting kicked again, the burn of the single silver handcuff sending fire into your wrist as you bite back the pain. The bard then replying to you in broken Eldar as you tell him to "fuck off" back in the same language, Geralt flashing you a confused grimace, unaware that you're fluent in Eldar.

"Do you wanna die right now?" She sasses, staring them down.

"As opposed to later?" Growls back Geralt as she kicks him harshly in the stomach, doing the same to the bard as he cries out for his now broken lute.

"Leave off!" Barks Geralt as she walks around to fiercely punch him in the face.

Your eyes shimmering blood red as anger flashes through them, "I'll slit your fucking throat you elven cunt!" You hiss as she whips around to thrust a boot into your side, the silver chain sizzling your broken flesh at the jarring impact sending you into a flurry of muffled curses, Geralt's eyes softening as he watches you grimace in pain, wishing he could do something about it.

Weakened with this one silver coated cuff, you're not even strong enough to break out of here. Damn silver.

The she-elf scoffs as she glares at the three of you tied up, "You don't deserve the air you breath!" Smack, directly into your Witcher's cheek, "Everything you touch, you destroy!" Another blow straight onto his face in the same moment that the curly haired elf breaks the bards lute in two. Well there goes that.

"You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!" Screams the bard angrily as you lift your head up higher so your steel collar can't completely suffocate your windpipe, the sting in your wrist keeping you alert and ready to fight.

She sneers at him, "Do you like my palace? Hmm?" She grins maliciously, crouching down to take Geralt's fuming bloody face in her hand, "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" She challenges quietly before you pull on your chains, striking her roughly in the nose with your boot, the burning of the silver worth her pained gasps as she stumbles backwards. Falling onto the sandy floor of the stone cave as she sputters and coughs, spiting out a glob of blood while the bard laughs.

"Yeah, take that, pointy!" He cheers as she coughs and wheezes some more from her pathetic spot on the ground, the bard suddenly looking concerned, "Wait, what's-what's wrong with her?" He wonders, trying to twist his head around to find you and Geralt. Suddenly a blonde haired elf and the Sylvan enter into your small stony prison.

"She's sick." He simply states, reaching down to kindly tend to his fallen companion from the ground.

Giving him a bewildered look you lean against the stony wall, "And who the fuck is this?" You snap, lightly pulling on your chains in frustration.

"He's Filavandrel, King of the Elves." Quickly answers the Sylvan as he rushes to the fallen elleths other side.

"Not a king by choice." Affirms the elven king Filavandrel as he glances over the three of you.

Geralt's brows furrow in thought, "You were stealing for them." He concludes with a sneer, blood still present on his lips, the Sylvan turning to answer him.

"I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."

"Forced out? No, they chose..." Starts Geralt.

The elven king snaps his attention over to Geralt, "Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" Angrily interrupts Filavandrel before turning his attention back to the she-elf, "Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" She sneers, a messy trail of blood dripping down from her nostrils.

"One human. And you can let him go." Protests Geralt with a nod in the bards direction.

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die...on both sides." Insists Filavandrel as he stands, walking over to look down at Geralt and you.

"The lesser evil." Replies Geralt as he raises his head to look at the elf king in the eyes, "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." The elven king crouches down, almost at eye level with your fuming Witcher, he's in a perfect position to crack across the back of his scull, but smartly you think otherwise.

"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary." Implores the elven king.

"I understand. As long as you understand...that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Replies Geralt dramatically.

The elven king scoffs, "Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been." You finally add, he turns to look down at you, "Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, I say destroy." Corrects Filavandrel, anger lacing his every word.

"You are choosing to starve. You're cutting off your ear to spite your face." You vouch back, his face morphing into one of great resentment and irritation.

"You think this is about pride?" He yells, "My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. "The Great Cleansing," humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow...our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else....I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavendrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing down to human sovereignty....They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children." Explains the elven king, sadness and hatred coating his very words, you truly do feel for him and all his kind have endured at the greedy hands of humans.

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be." Argues Geralt, trying to help these elves see the light.

"Like you, Witcher?" Whispers Filavandrel.

"I have learned to live with them." His golden eyes suddenly finding yours before he looks back up at the elven king, "We both have, so that we may live." The she-elf, Toruviel jumps to her feet.

"Please my king. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight! Let's take back what's ours. Starting now." She insists confidently, Filavandrel pulls his dagger from its sheath and your breath catches in your throat at what he may do next.

"Don't fucking touch him!" You growl, pulling at your tightly restrictive chains, the clink and slink of the metal sounding throughout the stony room, right as the Sylvan races to the kings side. "Wait!"

"Torque, stand aside!" Shouts Filavandrel sharply.

"The Witcher could've killed me. But he didn't. He's different. Like us." Swears Torque the Sylvan, Filavandrel simply pushes him aside as you pull on your steel chains, it almost feels like you can't breath with how tight the collar is around your throat, the fiery burning of your wrist oozing red hot blood from beneath the silver cuff and onto the dusty floor.

Your Witcher simply watches Filavendrel's every move, a defiant look his his golden eyes, "If you must kill me...I am ready." Pledges Geralt softly, staring down the elven king the whole time, no this cannot be the end, not now.

Pulling even harder on your iron chains, you growl at the king, "If you end his life I will coat the walls of your golden palace in the blood of every living creature that crosses my path!" You scream furiously, tears welling up in the corners of your scarlet eyes as you violently yank on your chains, more blood seeping out from your silver cuffed wrist.

Geralt sadly glances to you before looking back up at the elven king holding his dagger, "But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human." Continues Geralt as Filavandrel moves to his side for a better angle to slit his throat. To your absolute horror Geralt locks eyes with you before tilting his head up, opening up his neck for a clean shot of his jugular.

Your face falls before turning into a wolf-like snarl, "I cannot promise you a clean death. But by god, I will let you watch your people suffer!" You cry desperately as the elven king raises his silver dagger, wet salty tears unknowingly begin streaming down the sides of your cheeks as your eyes go wide in hopeless dread. Filavandrel gives you one last look before thrusting his dagger upon your lover.

——

You sit silently upon the back of Roach as she's guided by Geralt who keeps one hand on the leather reins and the other hand across your waist. Your fingers hold onto his muscular arm tightly as a white bloodied cloth covers your left wrist where the silver cuff burned and tore at your flesh. It still stings and most definitely wont heal for awhile, but your pain doesn't matter, all that's of your concern is the fact that Geralt's alive and so are you.

"Credit where credit is due." Starts the bard as he walks beside Roach and the two of you, "That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way." Says the bard before comically imitating Geralt's gruff voice, "Kill me. I'm ready." Geralt glares down at him before the bard continues, "Oh and you Y/N, with those incredibly convincing bloody threats, genius, they looked terrified.." He boasts for you, "That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filavendrel's lute not a charming enough gift for you?" You wonder, the bard swaggers with each step, a bright smile upon his dirty face.

"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she? I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again? Be reborn." Suddenly the bard begins to sing, "Will the elf king heed, What the Witcher entreaty? Is history a wheel. Doomed to repeat? No that's...that's shit." Surmises the bard, squinting his eyes as the sun beams down brightly upon the three of you on the dusty dirt path.

"This is where we part ways, bard, for good." Remarks Geralt as you lean into his body, turning your head towards the bard.

"I promised to change the public's tune about you two. At least allow me to try." He politely insists as he whips his lute around to gently strum her cords, "When a humble bard. Graced a ride along. With Geralt of Rivia..." Sings the bard, happily strumming away at his new lute as he makes it up on the go, "And so cried the Witcher. He can't be bleat..."

"That's now how it happened." Grumbles Geralt as he quickly halts Roach, "Where's your newfound respect?" Wonders Geralt as the bard turns to look at him, an unbothered smile creeping onto his face.

Shaking his head he looks up at Geralt, "Respect doesn't make history." He corrects before turning around once again, "Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plenty. O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh. Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plentyyyyy." He sings loudly, continuing to delightfully strum at his prized lute while taking the lead down the dirt path, out of earshot from your whispering.

Hugging Geralt's strong arm that's lazily casted over your abdomen, do you lightly laugh at the bards antics and Geralt's moodiness, "It's a bit catchy isn't it?" You muse while craning your neck to catch his annoyed golden irises, "Why not keep him around...until he gets sick of us or...maybe eaten by a werewolf, who knows."

Geralt raises a single eyebrow to you, "Our nights under the stars are about to get uncomfortable." He simply replies, hugging you pleasantly closer as he clicks his tongue for Roach to walk again. You chuckle at his adorably concerned remark, glad that today didn't end in sorrow and death for once.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #the witcher x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Geralt of Rivia #geralt of rivia #Geralt #falcor the luck dragons stories #of Monsters and Men fic

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joyfulsongbird · 3 years

Text

A Curious Beginning

the pre-canon Campaign 1 Feeblemind!Percy AU I made out of pure self indulgence, inspired by @rainydaydecaf 's Feeblemind!Essek fics that I ADORE and you all should go read!!

here's the AO3 link if that's where you prefer to read!

thank you, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

***

The bar is relatively quiet and subdued after the day, in the aftermath of an attack on a small village people tend to stay inside their homes; spend time with families after the reminder that they could be snatched from this life in an instant. Leaves more drinks and seats for everybody else, so it’s a welcome side effect of the attack. The members of Vox Machina are slightly scattered, some with more energy than others.

Scanlan and Grog are up at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Pike is sitting several feet away, swinging her feet from her stool and watching her friends silently. Keyleth is sitting quietly right by Vex and Vax, who both find themselves in conversation with one of the few townsfolk who is in this bar at this time of night.

“We can’t leave until we find some more supplies,” Vax is saying to the man, a simple butcher who was a good enough conversationalist. Vex is half listening, the other half of her mind nearly falling asleep from the long day. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, spending most of it on watch and the other half tossing and turning for little reason whatsoever. She’s used to spending nights sleeping on the forest floor, but for some reason last night she just couldn’t get her mind to relax. “All our casters are tapped of spells for the time being and the rest of us managed to lose many of our weapons in the battle. We won’t be able to rest if we can’t defend ourselves.”

“The old prison might have a few blades lying around, maybe a crossbow or two.” the butcher says, a finger twisting a curl in his long, brown beard. “I know it was one of the first places to get attacked by those beasts and is still empty, all the guards were forced to leave without taking any of the valuables.” “And what of the prisoners?” Vax asks.

“Let free.” the butcher replies. “Gonna be difficult as hell to round ‘em all back up, but the prisons half collapsed. Roof caved in. You won’t need to worry about dealing with the prisoners, I’m sure there’s something useful in the rubble and in the parts that are still standing upright.” “Let’s do that,” Keyleth pipes up. “You lost your daggers, and Vex still has arrows but her bow got stolen.” “Don’t remind me.” Vex sighs, leaning her chin against the palm of her hand. It was ridiculous, they’re supposed to be the best fighters in all of Tal’dorei and they got caught off guard in the woods. First, by bandits, and then immediately after, a monster attack on the nearest village. It feels like the universe is playing tricks on them, taunting them, giving them victories but at what cost? “But Kiki’s right, we should scavenge what we can before shelling out the money to buy new weapons.”

“Always the frugal one, sister.” Vax says before standing and clapping his hands to get their friends' attention. “We need to have a quick talk, huddle up.”

It’s discussed quickly, many of them are eager to either get back to the bar or to bed. Not everybody needs to go to the prison, afterall, it’s not necessary that all of the crowd into a building that may or may not be unstable and cave in on all of them at any moment. But it’s decided that both the twins will go; Vax for obvious reasons, they wouldn’t be able to open a single locked door or safe without him. Vex will tag along as well.

“I want to make sure you all get the correct things, I don’t want you going without me and finding out you decided to only bring back daggers and whatever whiskey they have stored away.”

And finally, Keyleth volunteers despite not having any spells left, she does have a few cantrips that could be of use. Pike, Scanlan, and Grog all decide to stay behind, the latter two out of desire to remain at the bar, and the first because she has no healing left and would be in more danger than use. And also to make sure the others don’t get too rowdy, just in case. They don’t expect much out of an old prison used just as a holding place for criminals before trial. All of them doubt many of the prisoners from a rinky dink, dusty town like this would carry weapons more than bare minimum in quality. Better to go and come up empty handed rather than not go at all.

They set out into the night, given directions by the butcher to the outskirts of town, away from what little civilization there is out here. If you can even call a town as small as this one a civilization. The streets are quiet and all three half elves blend in with the shadows, though Keyleth stands out with her red hair and green clothing, but there is no imminent danger. The walk is quiet, with few words exchanged in the companionable silence. They reach the edge of the town and start walking through a wide field, the land quite flat and vast until it reaches the edge of a forest. They can see only very little, and the only indication of where they should be headed is the rise of a dark shadow in the vague shape of something that used to be a building.

Keyleth holds out her palm and a small ball of golden white light appears, casting a dim light around 40 feet around them. They can see, now, that the field is covered in old, dying grass and it is nice to know where they are stepping so as not to fall into a pit or step on a snake. They grow closer to the building, and with Keyleth’s light they can now make out the various features of the prison itself. At one point, it would’ve been a one story building, made of gray brick that still looks somewhat like it’s going to crumble. Now, one side of the building has collapsed, leaving a gaping hole that one could easily step through. It looks precarious, as if one flick could send the whole thing tumbling down.

“Well,” Vex says, her voice loud enough that it must travel across this open plain and back into the town. “Looks as if you don’t need to pick any locks.”

Vax chuckles and starts towards the building, Keyleth and Vex following close in his wake. They approach the gaping hole in the wall, inspecting the brick and the foundation for a moment before climbing through. Vax goes first, pulling one leg and then another over what is left of the wall between the inside and outside. One they’re all inside, they stand silent for a few moments. Keyleth’s light seems to grow brighter in this enclosed space, illuminating all of their faces and the rubble leftover from the attack earlier in the day. The place is a mess, but not so much of a mess that they can’t pick their way through this building until they find what appears to be the sheriff’s office. This door is locked, however, but Vax opens it easily enough.

“Rusty ass locks are no match against me.” he says with a grin before swinging the door open and letting them all inside. There isn’t much to find in this room, and in the drawers of the desk they find in the center of the office. Everything is either near bare or not of any use to them. Some writing utensils, papers, a smoking pipe, and other mundane things but that’s about it. Vex is about to throw in the towel when Keyleth lets out a yelp, not one of fear but of excitement. The twins turn their heads in her direction and watch as she drags a crate of some sort from under the floorboards.

“I heard a creaking and thought it sounded sort of hollow under the floor.” She explains as she strains to pull out the crate, Vax rushes towards her and helps place the wood box in the center of the office. It seems like it’s heavier than it looks, judging by how much effort both Vax and Keyleth have to put into carrying it. They pry it open and all three crowd over to get a good look inside, Keyleth holding her light closer to get a better look.

Vex grins. Inside is an array of items, but most importantly, weapons. Maybe not the best weapons around but it’s something. Vax immediately reaches in and pulls out one of the daggers, holding in his palm, feeling the weight. He nods to himself.

“They’ll do for now.” He does the same with another dagger that sits in the box, deeming this one suitable as well. There are no bows, sadly, though Vex had suspected that not many outlaws would be carrying around good quality bows. There is a shortsword and while it’s not her preferred weapon, it’s usable. She’d rather have a weapon she’s somewhat proficient in by her side rather than no weapon at all. She’ll go buy a new bow in the morning, though it will be grudgingly. She’d rather just hunt down those bandits but by now, they’ll be long gone and her bow will be on the black market. The thought makes her fume, even now, but she lets it go with a soft sigh.

There aren’t just weapons inside the box, some clothes are there as well. A few tunics, a couple pairs of boots, a long blue coat, a hat or two, even a pair of glasses. They leave all of it behind, for they have no need for it and perhaps the escaped prisoners will come back for their things one day. Vax is putting away his new daggers and Vex is turning back towards the door when Keyleth’s voice makes them both pause.

“Guys,” her voice comes out soft and confused, with a touch of fear. “What is this thing?”

Vex looks back towards her, her pale face is illuminated by her own light from below, the shadows creating a contrast on her pale skin. She looks almost deathly in this light, like her skeleton is starting to show on her outsides. And with how wide her eyes are, how blown the pupils are in the dim light, it is even more believable. Vex’s eyes are drawn away from Keyleth’s face when she lifts up some mechanism with a few careful fingers. It’s a metal thing, large but small enough to fit in one’s hands. The shape of it is… odd. Not like anything she’s ever seen before. If it was turned upright, it might look a little like a crossbow but even then, that’s pushing it. It’s nothing like anything Vex has ever seen, and judging by her brother’s face and Keyleth’s reaction, neither have they.

Vax reaches forward and gently takes it from her, Keyleth lets it go easily. He gingerly holds it, turning it over in his palm once, twice, and switches it to his other hand. “I- I don’t know. I’ve never…” Vex snatches from him, inspecting it in her own hands. The metal is cool to the touch, heavy but not so heavy that it strains against her wrists as she hands it in one hand. It’s obviously hand crafted, she can see where the metal was shaped, where the leather on the handle (or what she assumes is the handle) was hand sewn, how each embellishment was created with care. She has no idea what it is supposed to be, but no matter what, she’s intrigued and impressed by the craftsmanship.

“We should keep it.” she announces. “Whatever it is, I bet it’ll fetch a pretty penny. Never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t know, Vex.” Keyleth worries her bottom lip, looking apprehensive. “It’s just… I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“It’ll be fine, darling,” she assures her, tucking the thing safely into her belt. “It’ll be out of our hands in no time.”

They leave it at that, though Keyleth looks as if she wants to keep pushing the topic. There’s nothing else of value to bring back in this particular room, and they replace the top of the crate. They don’t put it back under the floor, though, choosing to leave it out in the open. There’s not much of a point of putting it away if somebody’s going to be scavenging through it anyways. They leave the sheriffs office with the door unlocked, the place is already in ruins there really isn’t a point in them trying to cover their tracks.

They walk down the narrow hallway, it’s relatively short too, and they don’t come across a door until the far end of it. It’s a small prison after all, and based on the size of it, probably not able to hold more than a dozen people and even then that might be crowded. The door at the end of the hallway is unlocked, and slightly ajar. Vax pushes it open, the light from Keyleth’s palm revealing a descending stairwell. Vex lets Keyleth pass first behind Vax before following in the back. The stairs are cold stone, damp and muddy and mossy in some patches. It’s disgusting, obviously a very old room, and smells of mildew and piss. Vex had forgotten what untended jails are like, not even a drop of care has gone into the creation of this place. She can see the walls are bare, the same stone as the floor. It’s like a stone box, closed in from every side, stifling and dark. It makes her pity those who end up in here, she knows that many of those who end up in these small town jails are just people whose crimes are petty theft or wrong place, wrong time. It is empty now, the cells separated by grimy metal bars completely bare.

“There’s not going to be anything down here.” Vex calls after her brother who is going to each cell and searching inside. “We might as well leave.”

“C’mon, help me look, Stubby, don’t you want to be thorough?”

“Oh, yes, of course, there’s going to be daggers just sitting around. It smells awful, Vax, let’s just-”

“Guys.”

Keyleth’s voice makes Vex stop her ramble, snapping her mouth shut at the tone she’s taking. A fake calm, gentle but gentle in the way you put on when trying to sooth an animal.

When no other addition comes, Vex moves towards where her friend stands. “What is it?”

All Keyleth does is lift the hand that isn’t alight and point towards the stairs. What they hadn’t noticed when descending them was that they are somewhat hollow, built in a strange way so that there is a hole between the stairs and the wall. Just large enough for a person to fit in, maybe stand if they were short enough or if they bent their neck. Now, when Keyleth is turned towards the hole, the light from her fist shining towards it, they can make out a huddled figure inside. Neither Keyleth nor Vex moves, they are frozen in place. Vex cannot make out who it is, what they are, or even get a good look at their figure, but the one thing she can figure out is that they are afraid. She can see their shaking form from here. The way their whole body moves in tremors. It makes her want to rush forward, to lay a hand on them and comfort in any way she can. But she cannot bring herself to move.

“Vax.” she says, under her breath. “Stay where you are.”

“Vex-”

“Just- stay.” she says, trying to command as much as she can through her tone. Her feet before she can even think about whether this figure could be dangerous, her strides take her almost five feet away from them before she even stops to think. She pauses, grips the handle of her new shortsword for a moment. She thinks about drawing it before deciding, ultimately, that there is something going on here with more nuance than just a monster in disguise or a criminal trying to fool her. She sinks down to sit on her ankles, motioning for Keyleth to come closer. She does, staying a few paces behind Vex but holds out the light to get a better look.

The figure flinches away, turning their face towards the wall. They’re obviously humanoid, if not just human, and curled on themself. She can’t seem to get a good look and scoots just a little closer. She knows that she’s being rash but there’s a pull in her stomach. Something that doesn’t feel right. Something that is making her reach forward and place two careful fingers on the edge of the hole in the wall.

“Hello.” her voice comes out soft, breathy. The person does not answer. If anything, they’ve only shrunken further away since Keyleth and Vex got closer. “Kiki, could you back away a bit?”

“I- alright. Vex… be careful.” she says, as the light fades slightly. Vex keeps her eyes on the subject before her, and the farther that Keyleth backs away, the more relaxed they seem to become. It’s not much, the shoulders are still bunched, the body still shakes, but at least now Vex can make out that it’s a human. A man. His face turns slightly her way and she can see, even now that the shoulders are stronger away from the light, that his eyes are wide, and bright blue.

“Hello.” she repeats. He looks at her, meets her gaze, and in this moment she knows. This man is not a danger. His gaze snaps from her face down to her waist where the shortsword hangs, recognition floods his eyes and he turns away again. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get rid of it.”

She removes it from her belt and tosses it aside, “see? Gone.”

This, also, seems to sooth him. She’s heard of afflictions like this before. This man looks to be younger than her, but not so young as to be acting like a terrified child. The sort of magical affliction that removes all logic, all knowledge, all language even, the cruelest act you can put on a person. The spell that takes away every ounce of their dignity. She cannot recall the name nor the cure but at least she knows what’s wrong with this man. And that a cure exists. The realization on her part comes early enough she knows to remove all weapons and things that could scare him. She hasn’t met somebody afflicted by this before but she knows how easily spooked they are. Treat them like you’d treat a scared child, a healer she knew had once said. She removes the strange metal weapon from her belt as well, tossing it aside with the sword. The man’s eyes follow this closely, eyebrows furrowed close together as his gaze tracks the contraption. His eyes stay locked on it, gaze more focused than she has seen him thus far. She has no other weapons now, and holds her hands towards him, palms up.

“Can you speak?” she asks quietly, already knowing the answer, but hoping anyway.

There is no reply.

He is still shaking, still terrified, and the quiet is starting to get to her. She wants to leave but cannot leave this man behind, not in this state. He reminds her too much of (however ridiculous it is) Trinket, and of herself, afraid and alone.

“Vex, what’s going on?” her brother’s voice breaks through the silence and she shushes him when the poor man flinches.

“It’s alright.” she soothes. His gaze, as soon as he relaxes again, finds the metal contraption on the floor. It’s the only thing that, when he focuses on it, makes his eyes seem alive, bright. It makes him seem present rather than stuck in a reality that does not make sense, one that can’t comprehend words other than the tone that goes along with them. There’s desire in those eyes, but desire that is held back by fear.

“Is that yours?” she asks, even though she knows he cannot answer. He can’t even understand the words she says, let alone formulate an answer. But she goes to the contraption anyway, scooping it up and placing it before him. Close enough that he doesn’t have to move any closer to her in order to pick it up. He grabs it tentatively, as if he, too, isn’t quite sure what it is but recognizes it nonetheless. He holds it carefully, but in a way that clearly says he has done this before. He looks at it with admiration, almost with love. How strange it is to see a grown man cradling some mechanical object like a plaything, like a comfort toy. He relaxes much more, now that he has the weapon in his possession. Which should worry her, but to be honest, she is quite sure she could single handedly take him out in this state, even if he was armed and she was weaponless.

Now that he is facing her, she can get a better look at him. His face and hair and body is covered in dirt and grime, as if he’s been rolled in mud and dust and then was thrown down in this dungeon. But even under the grime she can see that he is young, maybe a couple years above his teen years but still. His eyes are that striking blue. Hair matted and so dirty she can’t make out the color or texture. It’s like he’s been down here forever. His clothes are the same, once they might’ve been of good quality but now are ripped and dirty and in dire need of a wash. Or even better, just being burned and replaced. Something fierce rises in her throat, something instinctual that tells her that he has been wronged. She doesn’t even know his name, but there are very few people in the world who deserve to have every means of communication and reality stripped from them. Very few people deserve to have their mind taken away and then in addition to that, locked in the dark and the cold. Who knows the last time he saw the sun.

That settles it for her.

“Darling,” she keeps her voice soft, knowing that the only way he can judge people is based on the sound of their voice. His head lifts a little, face turning slightly towards her so at least she knows he’s listening. She holds out a hand, gesturing towards her, hoping that he’ll get the idea. “Come here. We can go. We can get you out. Please.” “Vex, what the hell are you doing?”

She ignores her brother's words, pursing her lips as the man in front of her makes a whimpering sound at the harsh sound of Vax’s voice.

“It’s alright.” she coos. She wishes she had Scanlan here to cast Friends or something but all she can do is just try to get him out of here based purely on trust. It’s apparent that in this state, and probably out of it as well, he is not quick to lay his trust out in the open. It takes a long time, a long time in which she has to continually shut up her brother and sometimes even Keyleth, though they both mean well. She coaxes him out of the hole in the wall, spending minutes on minutes getting him more comfortable with her being close. She doesn’t know why she is putting this much effort in, if anything, it should be Keyleth who is pushing so hard to save some random civilian in danger. But she will not let herself leave him behind.

She beams at him when he stands, nearly falling on unsteady feet, but regains his balance after a moment. “Good job, darling. Now, up the stairs.”

She guides him to the front of the stairwell, lightly brushing a hand on his back as a way of getting him there. Barely a touch, barely even a brush, but he still tries to twist away with a whimper in his throat. She hates having to cause distress like that, but it’s the only way she can get him to go the right way. Otherwise, he’d just wander away or sit back down on the floor. She pauses at the first step, wondering how she’s supposed to help him up. But (thank the gods) his muscle memory still seems to be intact and he climbs the stairs easily enough, though stumbling here and there.

From behind her, she hears her brother's voice, now soft. “Stubby-”

“I don’t want to hear it, brother.” she whispers back. They all reach the top of the stairs and Vex grins at the man. “Well done, darling!” Something in his eyes brightens at the delight in her voice and he leans in a little towards her, his lips quirking up slightly in what looks like it could be a smile. He’s still cradling the weapon tightly to his chest, squeezing it like a lifeline. As soon as she turns away from him, though, she’s faced with Vax’s face, serious and stone hard.

“Keyleth, watch… him, please. Make sure he doesn’t run off.” and she grabs Vax’s arm and walks him down the hall, back into the sheriff's office. She closes the door behind her a little harder than necessary, already knowing what’s going to come out of his mouth.

“Vex, you know this is a bad idea-”

“I know what you’re going to say-” They both cut off at the same time, sending each other equally heated glares. Vax takes the initiative and keeps going, she listens as she crosses her arms over her chest. They’re both stubborn as hell, and in this she has already decided that she’s going to win.

“We can’t just go around picking up strays, Stubby.” he says, voice lowered and even despite the obvious frustration showing on his face. “That guy out there could be dangerous. Who knows how he ended up in this place!” “He was left behind, Vax. In a crumbling building. It’s a miracle he didn’t get trapped down there, or we came a day or two later and he was dead from dehydration. How can you want to leave him behind, when he’s- when he’s so vulnerable.” She can’t explain why she’s so passionate about this, but there is not a world in which she can imagine herself leaving behind this man in that prison. She is not known for being the morally strong one of their group but her mind will not let it go. Seeing him curled up like that, so weak, so vulnerable, so open to an attack… it’s not alright.

“I’m just saying maybe there’s a reason he was left behind, alright?” Vax says, running a hand through his hair.

“Somebody hurt him.” She snaps. “Somebody did this to him and I would hope that if the same was done for me, you’d hope a stranger would help me.” “What is up with you?” He asks, his voice strangled and frustrated. “Why are you deciding that now is the time you’ll try to be like Kiki?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” “You know what I mean.” She groans, “I’m not leaving him behind, Vax. Believe it or not, I do have a heart.” “I’m gonna need a little more proof before I believe that.” she punches him in the shoulder (hard enough to hurt a bit, but not too hard. She still loves her brother) before opening the door back to the hallway. She lets Vax through before turning back to look at the crate. She remembers all the clothes that are sitting on the bottom of the crate, and then remembers how dirty their new addition’s clothes are. Probably for the best that he gets a new shirt or maybe more.

She leaves the door open and makes her way back down the hallway, where it is no longer light and Keyleth stands awkwardly. Their new companion shifts from foot to foot, she can see his head twisting around in the dark, as if searching for something or someone. As she approaches, his head turns towards the sound of her footsteps. She can see his eyes even in the dark and sees how they relax just slightly at the sight of her. He starts walking, stopping a few feet in front of her and letting her close the distance until they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder. It’s odd that he’s so much taller than she is. It feels as if it shouldn’t be like that, when he’s so childlike and hunched over. But if he were to stand to his full height with proper posture and all, he’d be a head taller than her, maybe more.

“I think he’s imprinted on you, Vex.” Vax quips from a few feet away. She ignores him pointedly.

“He got scared of the light,” Keyleth explains. “So I put it out. I think now that you’re back I could start it back up though, he feels… safer with you.” “Yeah,” Vex nods to Keyleth and she opens her palm to make Light again. “I think we should get him some clothes, then leave.” She doesn’t turn to look at Vax, she knows her brother well and she knows exactly how much of an apprehensive, disbelieving expression he will have on his face. She leads them down the hallway and back into the sheriff's office where she immediately goes back to the crate, removes the top, and starts pawing through it. The man (should she call him a boy? He’s barely a man) leans over and watches her move things around, looking for clothing that might fit him. He’s thin, leaner than Vax even and most shirts look like they’d be large on him. As she’s doing this, he leans forward farther and grabs a bunch of fabric in his fist, pulling up what looks like a large blue coat. His expression brightens significantly, as he holds the garment out in front of him with one of his hands.

“Is that yours, darling?” Vex asks, and though he cannot possibly understand, he holds out the coat towards her, as if asking her to help him put it on. In his eagerness to pull it on, he even allows her to take the weapon from him, replacing it at her belt for the time being. She takes the coat from him and holds it out in front of her with both hands, it’s navy blue, made of good material if a little dirty, with buttons that are still shiny and pockets that still appear to be laden with small trinkets and the sort. In the last moment before helping him into it, she has the foresight to check the neckline for any indication of where it might have come from, as many garments had stamps from where they were made. But there were no stamps or tags of any kind, just one word, neatly hand stitched into the collar.

Percival.

“Huh.” she says aloud. She looks up into the boy’s blue eyes. “Percival?” Even if he does not know his name, it is obvious that this sparks at least a feeling of some sort. He sways on the spot, his eyes getting that brightness again. He makes a sound, low in his throat, not a whimper like he had before, but one that sounds closer to being content.

“We’ll call you that then.” she decides as she repeats it in her mind. Percival. Percival. Turns it over in her head, remembering how it felt on her tongue. Percival. She tries to seek out any familiarity in it, tries to remember if they’ve met before to give herself a reason for caring for him so much in his vulnerability when she could’ve easily left him to fend for himself. She comes up with nothing. Now, with his coat on, he looks much more regal, more like a grown person rather than a child. It sounds ridiculous to say since she does not know him but he looks more like himself. He looks happier with that coat on, even twists side to side to watch the bottom of the coat flap around.

Before putting on the coat, she chooses a few other garments out of the crate. A white (or what was once white) button up shirt. A pair of pants. And upon realizing he’s barefoot, she grabs boots and socks from the bottom of the crate and tucks them under her arm along with the other clothing. He’s still watching her, staying close. Maybe Vax is right and he has imprinted on her in some way, the same way a duckling imprints on the first animal that it sees after being hatched. She might’ve been the first person to show him kindness after being reduced to this mindspace. She can’t bear the thought of leaving him even more now. Perhaps she’s become a bit irrationally attached the same way he has to her, but she’ll let it go. He’ll be healed and out of this spell in no time, and then she’ll be able to let it go.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time to get the socks and boots onto Percival, but she does it, with not much help from him at all. She’ll wait on the other clothes, on the most likely false hope that Pike will be able to magically fix him as soon as they get back into town.

Before they can head out though, Percival reaches into the crate again. After rifling through it for a few moments, he pulls out the one pair of glasses that had sat at the bottom. It’s a damn miracle they didn’t shatter.

“Yours, too?” she asks, taking them from him and reaching up to place them on his nose. Again, this makes him look that much more right. Judging from the brightness that enters his expression again, this is good. Perhaps he’d been half blind without them.

“Alright, let’s go then.” Keyleth and Vax are suspiciously quiet as they leave the prison building, coming away with a lot more than they had anticipated when heading over here. She knows that Vax is angry with her and Keyleth… well, Keyleth cares about Vax. And about Vex too. Vex does not blame her for feeling conflicted when two of her family disagree like this, even if they are siblings who tend to disagree on the daily. Percival stays close, now trusting her seemingly implicitly. He is allowing her to touch him, gently of course, but she is able to hold the sleeve of his jacket and lead him through the field. He had allowed her to put on his boots, even let her lay a hand on his forearm for a moment. Out of the prison, he is more at ease, Keyleth’s light doesn’t seem to bother him so much. It’s a relief to see that he has stopped shaking so much out of fear, only does he tremble when there’s an unexpected sound or anybody besides Vex gets too close.

They make it back to the town and Percival moves closer to her, choosing between two evils: close contact with Vex or having to be without comfort in the new environment of the town. He flinches at every passerby (even though there are very few at this time of night), jumps at every sound, even sometimes his own footsteps. So he presses himself to her side, holding his weapon with one hand and bunching up the fabric of her jacket with his other. She allows it, trying to soothe as best as she knows how as they make their way back to the tavern.

They reach the front of the tavern, it looks nearly empty now but vex still worries that it’ll be too much for Percival to go in. She can’t exactly leave him outside by himself though, and she doesn’t trust Vax to recount the story of finding him truthfully. So he comes in with them. He takes these steps with relative ease and follows her through the door without hesitation. He shrinks back in on himself, though, when as soon as they enter Grog and Scanlan shoot up from their seats upon recognizing the three half elves. They stop moving towards them, however, when they see the fourth person who arrives with them when they had left the tavern with three.

Surprisingly, Pike is the first to reach them, as if sensing something is off. Percival steps back, looking back towards the door. Vex holds onto his sleeve, keeping him from running when he quite obviously wants to.

“Sorry, dear, you’ve got to stay.” She turns back to Pike. “Long story, but I need you to fix him. I don’t know what it is exactly that’s wrong but I’d hoped you might.” Pike nods, expression resolute. “Let’s go to a back room, come on.”

Vex manages to coax Percival along, following Pike out of the main tavern and into a washroom of some sort. There are candles and things keeping the place bright enough to see, the glow golden and making Pike’s white hair look more yellow. In this enclosed space, Percival seems far more nervous, more like he was when they first found him. Hands shaking, head twisting side to side to try and look at all of his surroundings at once. Vex pats his hand gently, doing her best to help while knowing that the only way to help him, truly, is to heal this spell.

Vex recconts everything wrong with Percival to Pike, who listens in her usual comfortable silence. How he cannot speak, can’t understand a thing they say, his fear, his childlike demeanor. She nods along and after just a few minutes of speaking, she interrupts Vex.

“Feeblemind.” As soon as Pike says it, the connection makes sense. It was just at the back of her mind, an itch she couldn’t understand. She hasn’t interacted with Feeblemind before but from what she has heard, it’s exactly as painful and terrible as she’s heard.

“I don’t have the magic to fix it.” Vex’s shoulders sag at the words, what are they supposed to do? “I’m sure other healers do, we can ask around but I can’t fix him.” “What do we do?” Vex asks, rubbing her face with both of hands. “He can’t exactly take care of himself right now. It’s Feeblemind. The whole point of it is that it takes away all capabilities. I just… gods-” She feels a soft nudge on her shoulder and looks away to see Percival looking at her, blue eyes wide and… there’s concern there, isn’t there? Real, genuine concern. She bites the inside of her cheek, a little perturbed by that fact. That’s the nature of this spell, isn’t it? It makes you less trustworthy but it also has made him put so much trust in her, the person looking out for him, the one who has shown him kindness. He’s making assumptions based on the first thing people do. Vax, and his sharp words. Keyleth, and her magic. Vex, and her gentleness around him. She swallows thickly, the knowledge heavy.

“I’m alright, dear, just tired.” The look on her face must suffice as he leans away and continues watching Pike warily.

“I know,” Pike says. “There’s nothing we can do tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll ask about a healer. But for now, all we can do is watch him and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Maybe give him a bath.” Vex turns to look at Percival, at his grime covered face, at his wide eyes, and the openness on his face when he looks at her. What has she gotten them into?

“Alright.” she sighs. “Let’s go break the news to Vax, hm?”

***

Vax, surprisingly, hadn’t been surprised. He’d simply looked at her knowingly, took a gulp from Scanlan’s drink and audibly sighed. “I’m going to bed.”

When he was gone, Scanlan laughed. “First, Trinket. Now, a full grown man. What’s next? You’re working your way up rather quickly.” She had simply rolled her eyes and not replied, ordered a hot bath in her room, and left before Percival had a panic attack right out in the front room. It hadn’t occurred to her how raucous all of Vox Machina could be when they were in one room, people trying to talk at the same time, laughter as loud as a shout. It was not the correct environment for the Feebleminded, so they left after just a few minutes. Up the stairs, winding through the hallway until they reach her room on the second floor. She opens the door and lets him inside, follows quickly while shutting and locking the door. She drops the clothes she’d brought for him on the floor in a messy pile, and looks back towards Percival. He’s gazing around, taking in the room in its entirety. Quite neat, since she hasn’t yet stayed there for a night. The desk empty except for an empty notebook and a pen. The bed made and the pillows fluffed. There’s a tub in the middle of the room, filled with steaming water.

“You’re covered in dirt.” she says, as a way of explanation even though he couldn’t understand. She feels better giving an explanation, despite it not even counting. She’s torn between two sides of her mind. One side, concerned that he can’t consent to anything in this state, that his mind is that of a toddlers. The other side can’t bear the idea of him sitting and sleeping covered in dirt and mud and what looks like it might be blood. In the end, the latter side wins out and she goes about trying to do this while touching him as little as possible. But she finds that as more time goes on, the more willing he is to let her come near him. His allowances had started as just the occasional brush with fabric between them, and now, not much later in the night, he is letting her slide his jacket off his shoulders, unbutton his shirt. She pushes the thought of “why?” away. This trust isn’t real, and it shouldn’t unnerve her.

She gets it done as soon as possible, stripping him to his bottom layers but leaving on any undergarments. Better to leave some sense of dignity for when he wakes from this state. She does not know the specifics of the spell but she does remember the subject tends to keep most of their memories. He’ll remember exactly how trusting he was, how willing he was, how afraid he was. He’ll remember it all in excruciating detail. She guides him to step into the tub, crouching by the edge as he lowers himself down into the steaming water.

She snatches a rag and a bar of soap from where they were left on the floor beside the tub, holds it in front of herself for a moment. Shs shakes her head, if he couldn’t put on boots by himself, he sure as hell can’t wash himself.

Moving as quick as she can without startling Percival, she removes her coat and rolls her sleeves up past her elbows. He’s looking at her again, and this time, she avoids his eyes. Why? She isn’t quite sure but everything about this feels wrong. She knows that if she were in his position, she would want somebody to clean her but how is she to know if he would want the same. It doesn’t feel right. She pushes away the thought once again, apologizing out loud as she wets the washcloth and lathers the bar of soap against it.

He just watches.

She gathers so many small details about him from this interaction. As she cleans his skin, she finds that under the grime, he is porcelain pale. Paler than her and Vax, the kind of pale that shines under light and seems to glow in the dark. But on that pale skin are a multitude of scars. At first, she writes the scars off as just accidents, maybe from childhood, maybe from the hazard of whatever his occupation is. But the more she finds, the less she is able to write them off. When she reaches his chest, she swallows, averting her eyes. Covered in scars. Same on his back. She washes them clean, trying to ignore their presence but she finds herself tracking them. Keeping track of where they are clustered on his body. Most of the more severe ones reside on his chest and back. But she finds many others scattered around. She tries not to dwell too much.

As she’s finishing with his body, she carefully scoops water in her hands and pours it over his head, trying to avoid his face. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind when water trickles down his face, though Vex makes sure to take his glasses. She continues with that process, finding that his hair is much more coated in mud and dirt than what she had originally thought. It’s coated, matted, definitely intentionally so. Like somebody, perhaps Percival himself, had covered the original color in an attempt to disguise himself. As she works to clean off the dried mud, she finds the strangest thing. The hair underneath isn’t brown as she’d originally thought, nor is it blonde, or even red, it’s white. Shock white. Sea shell white. She frowns as the color starts to appear more clearly, the mud finally coming loose. White.

The more she interacts with Percival, the more strange he seems. The hair. The scars. The odd weapon. The more she’s becoming worried, for him and for herself. But he cannot provide an explanation, so she doesn’t ask. Simply continues cleaning him up until the water is cloudy but his hair is white as a lily and his body is scrubbed clean.

She helps him, dripping, out of the tub and wraps a towel around his shoulders. He’s still looking at her, silent and eager. She guides him over to the fireplace, sits him down in front of the fire to dry off before she helps him dress. She’s tired, and just wants this to be over. Just wants to stop feeling guilty for making this man trust him in his most vulnerable state.

She sits on the bed, watching him quietly. It’s been a long day and she just wants to rest but can’t until he falls asleep. She has to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Then again, the door is locked and he definitely doesn’t know how locks work. If she leaves him be, she’s sure he’ll fall asleep soon enough but she should watch him, right? She’s feeling more and more like a babysitter. That’s really what she is at this point, isn’t it. He trusts no one else. He looks to her like a guardian. She sighs, letting her eyes flutter closed. She should stay awake. She should stay-

When she opens her eyes, the sun is streaming through the window. The early morning sun rays cast a gray-yellow light over her entire room. She shoots to her feet, blinking her eyes rapidly as everything starts to come into focus. Dammit. She knew she shouldn’t have let herself fall asleep, he could have burned himself on the fire, he could’ve figured out the lock, could’ve opened the window, could’ve-

Her eyes come into focus and see the figure lying in front of the dying embers of the fire, exactly where she left him last night. He’s curled up in front of the fireplace, his weapon loosely held in his hand, head tucked against his elbow. She lets out a sigh of relief. What a babysitter she’d be, if she lost the person she’s supposed to be watching on the first night. Hopefully, last night. She goes over to Percival and gently prods his bare shoulder where the towel has slipped away. Guilt pangs in her chest, he’s still undressed. It’s a good thing it isn’t cold at night this time of year or he might’ve gotten sick.

“Percival.” she murmurs. “Come on, it’s time to get you healed.”

His eyes flutter open, confusion first and then are overtaken by relief at the sight of her. She smiles back at him, happy that he’s happy. He looks better today, cleaner for one, and stronger too. Less afraid. But maybe that’s just because he’s alone and it’s quiet.

“Let’s get you dressed.” she says, helping him up. She grabs the clothing off the floor and shakes it to get rid of what dirt and dust settled on it overnight. First, she struggles to help him into the pants, but gets it done as fast as possible. She’s never really done this before and finds it a tad ridiculous to struggle so but moves on from her embarrassment quickly. It’s not his fault he can’t do it himself. Next, the shirt. This is easier. The buttons take awhile to finesse, her fingers are clumsier when trying to do them on somebody else but soon he’s all dressed, coat on his shoulders, glasses on his nose.

“Very refined.” she says with a smile.

He just beams back at her, his hair even whiter in the daylight. She wants more than anything for him to be out of this Feeblemind. She leads him out the door and through the hall, winding her way downstairs until she gets to the main part of the tavern where she’s surprised to find many of her party already there. All they’re missing is Vax. Percival stays close to her side, especially now that there are more than just the other members of Vox Machina in the bar area. But she was right, this morning he has calmed slightly. Whereas last night he would’ve broken down completely from all of the different senses being used, and the amount of people around, he is now just shakily holding onto her arm and staying immeasurably close.

“Your little friend cleans up nice.” Grog says, looking at them both. Percival shrinks back from his huge form, understandably so. Grog is not exactly palatable to those who are especially fearful.

“I talked to the bartender,” Pike pipes up from a stool at the bar. “He says that the healer further in town could take care of him.” “Wonderful.” Vex sighs. “We’ll head there right away. I think it’s better if not all of us go, but I don’t want to go by myself just in case anything goes wrong, familiar faces to him maybe. Keyleth? Pike?”

Both women agree to go, and with a promise of a breakfast for Vex and Percival when they get back, they’re about ready to go.

“Oh, before I leave,” Vex says. “Where’s my brother? He’s usually up by now.” “He’s sulking.” Grog answers. “Something about you, I’m pretty sure. He’s quiet and broody when he’s upset with you.” “Yes, I know.” she grimaces, before walking with Keyleth, Pike, and Percival out of the tavern and out onto the bustling street. Percival huddles against her shoulder, even closer than he was yesterday. Pike has the directions to the healer’s home, she says according to the bartender it’s close enough to walk. Which should be a relief, but Percival significantly slows their pace. He stumbles at the cobblestones, flinches at every passerby, struggles against Vex’s grip when people get too close. She wishes she didn’t have to hold him so close, it feels like a violation of some sort, but if she didn’t, it’s apparent he would break away from them, go hide in the dark the way he was in the prison. He seeks out solace in Vex and Vex alone, everything seems to cause him to flinch, to whimper, to cry out. It pains her to put anyone through this, but finally, they reach the healer’s home. It looks suspiciously like a normal building, made of red brick and with a large oak wood door. Pike saunters up to that door, raising her little hand to knock on the door. There’s a long pause, before the door swings open and they’re faced by an old, elvish woman wearing a nightgown.

“What in hells are you doing here?” The woman's voice is scratchy, her hair gray and frizzy. Knowing how slowly elves age, she must be hundreds of years old in order to appear as if could keel over at any moment. Her nightgown also appears to be old, worn and ripping in places. Vex suddenly has a little less faith that this healer will be able to cure Percival.

“Uh- we’re here for some help.” Pike’s voice is soft, as it usually is. “Our friend is in need of some assistance.”

The woman narrows her eyes at Keyleth, Vex, and Percival, before pointing a long finger at Percival. He shrinks even farther back from them, he’s by far the tallest person in this group, counting the elf woman, but he doesn’t seem like it when he’s bunching up his shoulders, trying to appear as small as possible.

“That one.” she says.

“Yes.” Vex says. “It’s Feeblemind. Can you fix him?”

The woman sniffs, then gestures for them to follow as she turns around and walks on unsteady feet back into the house. For some reason Vex thought a healer, no matter how old, would appear a little less… sickly. But they all follow her inside anyway. The home is small, even more so from the inside, every surface is cluttered and the walls are covered top to bottom in shelves. Some of which are filled with books, but many of which are just laden with trinkets and baubles and other small colorful things. The whole place smells like chamomile, herbs waft from every direction, the combination of smells seems like it should be overwhelming in the sheer quantity of it but it’s actually a quite calming mixture. It seems to put them all at ease; Percival’s shoulders relax slightly, Keyleth clutches her staff a little less tightly. They follow the elf through her home and into the farthest room down the hall, a kitchenette of sorts. It’s very small, containing only a small dining table that could seat two, maybe three people, a stove with a kettle on it, and several shelves, some of which have silverware and dishes in them. The woman is already pouring them tea.

“Uh- what’s your name, miss?” Keyleth asks.

“Lyth.” the woman answers, passing out little teacups and saucers, sloshing some of the tea in the process. The water was obviously not hot enough, so in all of their hands, they’re holding lukewarm cups of weak tea that no one wants to drink. Keyleth takes a few polite sips before placing it back on the table.

“So,” Vex says after a few beats of silence. “You can fix Percival?”

“What? Oh yes.” she waves a hand absently, as if it’s not important at all at this moment.

“Well, then do it.” she puts her little teacup down on the table a little harder than necessary, splashing warm water over her hand and onto the saucer. “That’s why we came here, we don’t need tea.” Lyth grumbles under her breath, Vex only catches a few words but she can piece together to be something about “no manners” and “young people”. She chooses to ignore it. “Yes, yes, stand please.”

Vex begins to stand up before Lyth pushes her back down into her chair roughly by the shoulders, “not you, him!” Mouth agape, Vex twists around to look at Percival, who is shrinking away with the woman, especially after seeing her put hands on Vex and the sound of her voice. “It’s okay, dear, just let her.”

He meets her eyes and she nods, this moment between them where he isn’t paying attention gives Lyth enough time to place her hands on his chest. Percival jerks roughly, trying to pull away as hard as he can, but Lyth is surprisingly strong, managing to keep him in place as the spell starts to work its way through his body. Golden light emits from her hands, spreading through him starting with his chest and then going up to his neck, to his arms, to the very tips of his fingers. For half a second, he is completely aglow before the spell dissipates in a puff of golden mist.

There is silence, silence, silence, before Lyth steps away, and says, “who’s paying me then?”

“Uh, we will. Come on, Kiki.” Pike takes Keyleth's hand and follows Lyth out of the room. The sentiment is clear, Vex had been the one that had been trusted, she had been the one he had clung to, and she is probably the one he would want to speak to first out of his Feebleminded state.

“Hello.” she says, turning her body completely towards him. He’s still got his head ducked, chest rising and falling rather quickly. As she waits, she lets her gaze wander from where his face will appear to the rest of him. His body language has immediately changed. His fist is clenched under the table. His shoulders aren’t bunched but neither are they relaxed, they’re stiff, held tight to give the illusion of relaxation. He keeps his feet flat on the floor, whereas the Feebleminded Percival would often tuck his feet under himself, or hook his feet behind the chair legs. He’s… different. She takes all of this in, gaze searching him and then returning to his face, in just a moment or two. And it only takes that long for him to lift his face and look at her.

He licks his lips, and she waits in anticipation. “Hello.”

She can’t help but let a smile bleed through. His voice is… what is she to say, it’s his voice. It matches everything about him in a way she cannot explain. It just does.

She holds out a hand. “I’m Vex’ahlia.”

He finally meets her eyes. Those blue eyes… they’re different now. They’re colder. Far, far removed from the trusting openness she has experienced for the past twelve hours. Gods, has it only been twelve hours? It felt like days. She couldn’t have expected him to be the same, of course, Feeblemind reduces you to something that is not yourself, you are not under control of yourself nor your emotions. He is not the same. But it still causes her a little pain to immediately see that he no longer trusts her, even if she expected it. She will just have to try to earn it again.

“Percival.” he takes her hand, she notes right away that his palms are rough, calloused. Another strange detail. “You can call me Percy.” “Percy.” she repeats. “It’s nice to meet you, Percy.”

He nods. “It’s good to meet you, too.”

It’s a good thing, she thinks, to act as if this is their first meeting. Because in the end, the Percival she had interacted with was not the real one. Just a watered down, cursed version.

They both open their mouths to speak at the same time, Vex snaps hers shut, gesturing for him to continue.

“I- uh- thank you.” he says, voice quiet and hesitant. As if he doesn’t know how to do this. “For all that you did while I was… you were good to me and I thank you. I don’t think I can properly express my gratitude.”

“You’re very welcome.” she says with a nod. “It was my pleasure.”

He gives a half smile to her, his expression guarded and removed. It’d be a lie if she said that it doesn’t sadden her that he’s suddenly so far away but she lets it go, lets the sadness drift away in a moment. It does not and should not matter what she is feeling, when he was under such a spell.

“Who did that to you?” she asks finally, the question that’s been bouncing around in her mind since finding him in that prison. “How did you find yourself in such a situation?”

Percy hums under his breath, eyes wandering as he seems to be thinking. “It was my own fault, I was careless. And I won’t allow it to happen again. That’s all that really needs to be said.”

Vex would beg to differ but she already suspects this is an argument which she cannot win, that she shouldn’t even try to engage for there would be no point to it. He has already been so exposed to her, physically and emotionally, he deserves this autonomy and dignity. He can close himself off to her, to everyone, she doesn’t care.

“Thank you for keeping my gun.” Percy's voice cuts through her thoughts, she follows his hand to where it’s resting on his waist. Right over the metal contraption. He touches it with the same comfort he had when under the Feeblemind, she had been right, it’s obviously important to him. Something he touches when he’s unsure of where to put his hands. Something he holds for comfort. That all transfers over from Percival to Percy.

“Ah, that’s what it’s called, then.” she says, eyeing it from her seat. “I wondered… what is it exactly?”

He taps the handle of the gun absently. “It’s- difficult to explain. Think of it like a bow and arrow, but more… mechanical. Compact. You’ll get a demonstration someday, I’m sure.”

That doesn’t help her but she nods along, and eventually she rises, “we should head back to the tavern.”

“I-” he hesitates to stand, she can understand why. He was never meant to come into town, he was never meant to meet Vox Machina. Them and him could’ve easily missed each other in every other reality, but now their lives have collided in a way that has entangled them together and Vex is not sure how to disentangle it. Or if she even wants to.

“Come have a drink with us, darling.” she finds herself saying. “Just one. Then you can get us out of your hair.”

This decision of his, this agreement to one (just one!) drink is probably the one that damned him. One drink became many, one night became hundreds. It’s not his fault. The threads of their lives became so tangled and nobody ever seemed to try and untie the knots. They just let it happen. He never really realizes just how much he has let her become a part of him until she’s gone, and then returns. Until he goes, and then returns. Eventually, he comes clean. Eventually, he tells them exactly which evil woman gave him those scars, took away his mind, and locked him in a jail. Eventually, he learns to trust.

He tries to forget about the circumstances of their meeting. It’s difficult, as the other members of their party are often so insistent about teasing him. But he brushes it off, too embarrassed of how he acted, of how he presented himself with so little care. After a while, they have new memories to associate with him, new things to tease him about, that they seem to let go the way he was when they met. He doesn’t speak of it. Neither does Vex. at least not until it is years later. He’s sitting on a bed, on their bed, and it’s almost as if he comes to. As if he is waking up from a very, very long sleep.

“Vex?” “Hm, yes, dear?” she replies from where she is leaning over the desk that’s against the wall of their room in Whitestone. In his home. She’s scribbling at papers, sorting out some last minute numbers before bed. She’s dressed in a nightgown, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. She’s beautiful.

“Do you remember when we met?” she stops writing, freezing in place. They never really speak of it. Only when Ripley is a part of the conversation do they even think of it, and they never talk about Ripley either. It’s an unspoken rule. Percy doesn’t like to hear about it, to think about it, to speak of it.

“Of course.” she says finally, putting down her pen.

“And the way I was?” “Yes. You were Feebleminded.”

“And you helped me.” She doesn’t say anything for a long time, just leans back in her chair and looks at him. “I did.” “Why did you? Help me, I mean.”

This, too, takes a longer than normal amount of time to reply to. Vex is quick, silver tongued, and prides herself on being able to outwit anyone she comes up against. It says more than a lot that she is thinking about her answer with so much care, taking the time to arrange her words in her mind before speaking them aloud.

“It wasn't out of pity.” she finally says, slowly.

“Wonderful start, dear.” he says with a laugh.

“Oh, shush, I’m thinking.

“I was… I don’t know, truly, Percy. I think I was lonely. And something in me couldn’t let you go.” she pulls one of her knees up to her chest, leaning her cheek against it as she stares off into the distance as she speaks. “I thought about it then and I’ve thought about it ever since. My brother bothered me about it and I never came up with a sufficient answer. I saw you, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t turn my back on you.” “It wasn’t love at first sight, then?” “Percival, I’m trying to be sweet and you’re making this very difficult.” she stands and goes to him, places her hand on either side of his face. She smiles down at him, and in this moment, as he thinks about what she had said, he understands. Never, in any life, can he imagine leaving her to the wolves, turning his back on her. Even if his memory was wiped clean, if they did not know each other, he wants to believe he’d do the same. Now, years later, he still remembers what it was like being under the Feeblemind. Fear. Lights everywhere. Voices ten times louder than they’d usually be. It was a sensory assault from every direction, and he was so scared. Everything hurt and all he wanted was to crawl into the dark even though that scared him too. But there, in the center of it all, was Vex. A calm in the storm. The only reason he crawled out of the dark. The only reason he removed his mask.

“You’ve got a strange look.” Vex comments, her thumbs brush under his eyes softly.

“I’m only thinking,” he says. “I love you, Vex.”

She smiles, a warm smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. “I know. And I love you, Percy.”

She leans down to place a kiss on his forehead. And he thinks he has never been more awake before this moment. Maybe he has been half awake for as long as he can remember. Maybe his mind has still been addled by the Feeblemind until right now. He is whole, awake, alive, in love. It’s more than he had ever hoped for.

#I WROTE A FIC??? WHO AM I?????#critical role #critical role campaign 1 #cr c1 #cr campaign 1 #critical role fic #percival de rolo #vex’ahlia de rolo #perc'halia #cr vex #cr percy #percy x vex #vaxildan #fanfic #fanfiction #this is like the fic I've been wanting to write FOREVER and im SO glad I finally did it #im so happy with how it turned out!! I hope yall like it too!!!

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

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Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park.

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said.

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path.

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased.

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #au!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #superhero!dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Demon Angel AU: Bloody sight

Anonymous asked:

99. for Sann

Demon Angel AU!! A continuation to this.

CW// slight gore, captivity, winged whumpee, collars, blood, demon whump, broken bones, whumpee turned whumper. ask to tag!

I´m gonna add the taglist people for this hope you don´t mind!

Taglist: @as-a-matter-of-whump @orchidscript @haro-whumps @giggly-evil-puppy @grizzlie70 @rosesareviolentlyread @whump-tr0pes

He didn´t understand why. He had tried his best to heal quickly and be fit to obey commands. The angel had danced at the impact of a whip on his wings, he had gone when called and knelt on the ground, dreading, but not defying the human when he put a collar around his neck. What he didn´t expect was the men tying up his wings and hands in a messy hurried manner.

“Oh my god, oh my god. We´re so screwed!” the blonde one tightening the rope said. He kept mumbling curses, terror on his voice to be abruptly stopped at a faraway scream of a woman that made the angel jump “Stay still!” the man pulled on his wings, flapping in distress from the sudden rough handling.

“Hurry! H-He´s getting closer!” the other said, mounting guard with a crossbow in his hands.

“I´m trying!” The blonde shouted back, smacking him when the angel whimpered after forcing a gag on him, “Shut it! We don´t have time! Now up! Up, up, up!”

With help from the other human they lifted him from the ground, pushing him towards the door to his cage. The angel was basically carried out, stiff and letting them drag them somewhere.

The angel darted his eyes around to see splatters of blood and teared up tents, there was fire and people screaming and running. The angel´s tied wings ached when he tried to make a protective coccoon that only rubbed on his restraints before the humans rushed to get to a carriage with bars on the back.

It was empty.

The angel´s breathing hitched when one of the humans left them to open the gate. The angel turned back to see the circus getting swallowed on flames and terrified screaming.

Where was Albus?

Maybe he was still inside the Butcher´s tent! Maybe he was injured! They were going to separate them! He jerked back trying to get loose.

“Woah! You´re not going anywhere” the man said as he used his full force, digging his heels on the ground to keep him from running off.

“Al!!!” the angel screamed through the gag. It was dark and even with the fire, the hurried, aggresive shouting of the two men that made his ears ring, he didn´t see the tailed demon´s figure anywhere near. “AL!!!” No response. He would absolutely hate him for screaming it so carelessly, but he didn´t know what else to do. He breathed deep and shouted, “ALBUS!!!”

The angel felt a dry hit on the back of his head that made him see stars. Sann´s head lulled for a moment before he was brought to his knees, the man catching him mid fall.

“You´re not calling your friend on us, stupid bird. You´re going to the lady´s collection” he said dragging him up into the cage. Unable to resist it too much with the blurred vision. Only resuming it when the human dropped him inside and began to chain his ankles.

The angel lifted his tightly tied wrists in pleading, eyes hazy with bright spots blurring everything.

“Please…wait” he tried to convey with just one look. But the man didn´t stop at that. He jumped out of the cage instead.

“Ready? Let´s-” the other man started before he screamed.

Sann couldn´t see it clearly from where he was, but clinging from the other guy´s neck, a white demon had digged his fangs and bit harder into it with a snarl.

“Fricking monster!” the human shouted taking his companion´s crossbow from the ground and pointing, too late at the demon jumping his way. Claws slashing through the man in a shriek before he fell, dropping the crossbow and trying, in a desperate fit to reach an arrow.

The demon stomped his hand hard enough to break. A howl ripped out of him when the demon towered over him. The Butcher´s leather apron the demon was wearing, was completely drenched in red.

“Pl-Please! Please no! Mer- AH” the man screamed at the twist of the demon´s feet on his crushed hand.

“You cut, you plucked out. You took what belonged to us and tossed it into that tiny bucket over and over with a smile on your face. Even when we begged to stop, to give him time to recover…you never listened” the demon growled in a thousand voices when he set a foot over his already wet with tears face, “There´s no mercy to spare for you”

After healing himself, Sann crawled closer to the cage´s gate when he heard another screech followed by a crack and a thump. The small back was covered in red his tail swooshing once in that irritated manner before he turned to face him.

He was bathed in blood. A red halo covered his mouth with just a few spots of black running down his face and arms in rivulets. The marks completely buried under the thick sheet of red. Even his hair was tainted a sinister shade that faded into the last bits of white.

The angel wouldn´t have believed the demon in front of him was Albus if it wasn´t for the gentle ring of his voice.

“Sann?” Albus said walking up to him to take the gag off, staining his cheeks red in the process before slashing the ropes with his claws. Freeing his wrists “I heard you call, are you alright? Are you hurt?” the demon said moving to see behind to his wings searching for injuries, but the angel paddled back into the cage. Breathing harshly as he stared in utter horror at a dumbfounded Albus.

The demon slowly casted his eyes down, wiping out the blood off his face with his forearms, but it did not work at all. His ears went flat against the sides of his skull.

“Please, don´t- Don´t look at me like that” the demon whispered with a peek of shame on his tone, harder attempting to wipe out the blood from cut on his forehead where black poison poured like a fountain. “I´m sorry. This is- I´m sorry, this is just-”

Sann watched him try to wipe himself clean a few more seconds. Even trying to lick it off. His limbs trembled and the chain attached to his ankle crackled when he moved closer. Swallowing as he picked up the gag and pressed it against the demon´s forehead.

Albus flinched and scrunched his eyes, stopping his nonsensical ramble for good, before he widened his eyes. Noticing Sann was trying to delicately, even through the shaking, wipe the grime off.

He couldn´t clean it completely, but at least his face was just washed enough to see the marks over his cheeks again. Somehow seeing his face again was enough to let him breath air he didn´t know he was holding.

Sann had just retreated the cloth to lay his hand against the cut and heal it despite the nauseating stench, when they heard screaming and dogs coming their way.

“We have to get out of here. Now” The demon said.

As quickly as they could, Albus and Sann scrambled out of the cage wagon and cut the ropes to free Sann´s wings. Extending his wings so wide after so long, despite the collar resting on his neck, Sann´s heart couldn´t help but leap at the prospect of flying freely again.

He was scared to see the circus behind them both. Couldn´t believe the small demon next to him had done such destruction. His mind began to run into questions about demon´s nature, about the fear humans had for them, and how Al was just a little low ranked demon that had made all that mess. Sann shook them off and swallowed, feeling his stomach fall like lead. Were those questions something he really wanted to know the answer of now?

Nonetheless he extended his hand to Albus.

“I-I t-told you. We could do it again” he pushed himself to say to the demon. Brows tightly knitted on his face as his eyes fixed on the hand extended at him. Acutely aware of how clean they were.

It took him a moment of hesitation, of shame, of looking deeply into gray eyes for a second that seemed to pass slower than time itself to finally take it. Sann squeezed hard before extending further his wings in preparation. The hounds were almost biting their ankles, them and their owners, got pushed back when Sann´s wings propelled them up into the night sky. Human eyes unable to follow their curse at such speed and effectively, carrying both out of the place that held them captive, once more.

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fatbottombucky · 4 years

Text

A Past Life *Geralt of Rivia x Reader*

Summary: could you write a female reader x Geralt who has PTSD due to past abuse and he accidentally triggers a flashback. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable writing this, thank you for your time

Characters: Geralt & Jaskier

Pairings: Geralt x [F]Reader

Warnings: Nothing, except for Geralt yells at Reader and it triggers past memories of a man who was not so kind to her- she also flinches when he steps forward to help, makes the whole thing very angsty. They aren’t together in this, although I can do another part where they are because I have an idea for a sequel to this

“Look at us,” the sprightly voice interrupts the quiet, “three best friends, out and seeking adventure in this land.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, looking over your shoulder at the bard- who had hired you as an armed bodyguard whilst he sought adventures to sing about. What you didn’t expect was his ‘best friend’ to be a Witcher, especially The Butcher of Blaviken.

“Hmm,” came the grunt of Geralt, on top of his horse, Roach, “you’re not my friend.”

The comment completely aimed at Jaskier. Although, what you’ve seen from these two it’s just their norm if anything. Jaskier annoys Geralt, Geralt, for some reason, puts up with Jaskier and sometimes even humours him.

“Excuse me?” Jaskier exclaims, “you’ve known Y/N, what, a day and she’s your friend over me? The bard who, not only, writes lovely ballads about you BUT,” he strides ahead and starts to walk backwards to look up at Geralt’s face, “but, I may add, spends his free time helping you on the road and aiding you in trying times.”

Geralt looks down at Jaskier for a brief moment, expressionless and releases a deep exhale through his nostrils.

“Yes.” Is the one-word answer he gives Jaskier, casting a downward gaze to Jaskier, “she doesn’t talk… or sing.”

Jaskier looks at you, a scoff leaving past his lips. You raise an eyebrow with a proud smirk, befriending Geralt seemed like an easy task- you wondered if he actually did have a lot of friends, due to the limited demands. Jaskier fell silent and walked beside you, clearly wounded from the encounter and a little pouty.

You cast a glance to Geralt, clearly unphased or doesn’t care. “He’s playing you, Jask,” you elbow the bard, “clearly you both are friends because he could've run off to get away from you but he hasn’t, has he?”

“Ha!” Jaskier grins, “that is true, Y/N, Geralt clearly loves me. He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, I mean, you’re new and he’s clearly uncomfortable around you.” You hide your smile, till you look at Geralt who is looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, disbelief written on his face. “Don’t worry Geralt, you’ll get used to Y/N, just takes time getting used to her ‘tis all.”

You smile at Geralt who only slowly blinks and looks away, ahead and into the forest you’ve been walking through for Geralt’s next contract. You like to think you’d be useful, but you’re not well versed in slaying monsters, especially the ones that Geralt goes after. Sure, you’ve killed a few Ghouls in your time but anything three times your size.

You had never gone up against anything like a Bruxa though. In fact, most of your life has been dealing with the worst kind of monsters: men. They hide their true intentions with cheesy lines and charming smiles, they lurk in the open and gain trust, they make you believe you’re wonderful and special. The worst type of monsters is the ones that hide so plainly in sight.

“Maybe I should write songs about you,” you let a small exhale and shake your head, “the girl who doesn’t fear The Witcher.”

Jaskier looks pleased with himself, almost going to strum on his lute, “There’s a lot of girls who aren’t exactly scared of him.” You smirk with a raised eyebrow, the indication of your words not going unnoticed by either, “plus there’s worse to be afraid of than some monster slayer.”

“Hmm,” comes the grunt of Geralt, his language of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ or ‘continue’, in this case, it’s the latter.

“Men,” it’s a simple word but it makes them both look at you, then one another, “people who hide their intentions and cast shadows on your life. I know a monster slayers beast, but people, well, they hide theirs and that’s… far worse; a surprise attack.”

It goes silent between you three.

The dull thud of Geralt hoping down from Roach, he ties her reigns to a tree and looks Jaskier for a moment and then you. You raise an eyebrow, apparently, you’re meant to understand that look, but you don’t and that makes Geralt of Rivia sigh.

“Stay beside Roach,” is his response, “least I need is to look out for you two.”

You huffed a little, you may not be a “monster killer” but you can look out for yourself. You don’t need some brute man keeping you safe, especially since past ones haven’t been so good at it. But you’re hired to look after Jaskier, to go where he goes and therefore you remained beside the bard.

Geralt disappears through the thick brush, swords on his back and not making a sound; not even with his feet. He can’t have been gone for more than two minutes before Jaskier loudly sighed.

“How am I meant to write songs about him and his fights if I can’t see them?” He crosses his arms, lute on his back and shaking his head, “not like he’s extremely talkative after a fight either, grunts and one-word answers, half the time I have to make up details.”

You felt for Jaskier. He only wanted to write about real adventures, real stories, you’ve heard his old songs and listened to him write his new. He’s improved and Geralt doesn’t seem to realise how important he’s played in that.

“What if…” you trailed off, “I go and watch? I’ll keep out of sight and I’ll tell you what happened?”

Jaskier looks torn, “I’m not sure… Geralt, he can be very, I think it’s best we stay here.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, “I can look out for myself, Jaskier. Besides, he'll be too concerned with the Bruxa than I.”

Keeping a firm hand on your steel sword you walk in the direction Geralt left in. It’s dark and silent, which has you wondering just how far Geralt is, but then you hear it. The slight shriek in the distance, the grunts that distinctive of Geralt. You quicken your steps and crouch down, finally in view of the fight.

Your heartbeat quickens and for a brief moment you think Geralt knows you’re here, he looks around briefly as if sensing you but quickly goes back into defensive mode. The Bruxa is not what you expect, it looks human and naked, long dark hair and fingers that finish into sharp nails. It’s ugly but powerful. It disappears from sight, still attacking Geralt, who looks different than before.

Dark eyes and veins, paler than usual. His whole stance is oozing with intimidation and the focus; it almost makes you wonder why you aren’t scared, it almost makes you understand why people do fear him. You watch in amazement at Geralt fighting, how agile he is despite his size. You revel in just watching him fight, although you feel bad because it feels almost intimate- like you’re catching him at his most vulnerable, despite it being the complete opposite of.

But the moment of revelling is cut short, the Bruxa vanishes again and instead of attacking Geralt it goes silent. He stalks around the woodland floor, sword in hand, dark eyes casting in every direction and listening intently for his moment to pounce.

You frown because nothing is happening. For a moment you think it might’ve runoff, how you wish it would have. A twig snaps behind you, you stand to full height and swiftly turn around, the sword being pulled effortlessly from its sheath. Before you can swing, it hits you and it’s claws scratch your arm causing you to also fly backwards.

“I told you to stay away,” his voice is coarse and deep, cuts through the tension like a silver knife.

You sit up as he stands before you, back towards you. A purple circle encompasses him and he fights the Bruxa with efficiency, the cloaking of the Bruxa gone and he’s able to see it’s every movement. He picks up your forgotten sword when rolling out of the way, it’s sights set on you once again but before you can even begin to stand two swords pierce its stomach; slicing in opposite directions and cutting it in half.

A long-awaited breath of relief leaves you, you sit up and hold your sliced arm.

“Igni,” Geralt holds a hand over the body and it sets alight before you. He whistles twice and a moment later you hear the galloping of Roach approaching, also a very confuddled Jaskier trying to keep up with her. “I told you to stay away,” Geralt directs at you, although not facing you.

“It’s my fault, Geralt, I should’ve-” Jaskier tries to defend but is cut off.

“You could’ve gotten killed,” you shakily stand up, brush yourself off and trying not to look like you’re in pain because it’ll only make the situation worse.

You shrug one shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m also sorry, I didn’t think it knew I was there.”

Geralt huffed, his face almost back to normal but it only makes him look angrier somehow, “Fuck you are. You’re bleeding and Bruxa scratches are painful, especially when not treated properly. No wonder you’re afraid of men, you haven’t seen any part of real life to know you should’ve been too afraid to even be around here.”

The mocking words slice through you, you narrow your eyes at The Witcher. But instead of retaliating you compose yourself, knowing already that getting into any sort of conflict with a man, especially this man, could result in much worse circumstances.

“It’s done now. You’ve killed it, I got in the way. I’ll patch myself up when we go back to the village to collect your reward.” You think it’s over, well you hope it is. You begin to walk in the direction Roach came from.

“No!” Geralt’s stern voice stops you, you turn on your heel and look at him wide-eyed, he’s angry. “It isn’t done. You put yourself and me in danger, you can’t just-” he steps forward but you step back, breathing heavily and you fall to the floor, trying to capture your breath.

Past memories of your life before this one. A life filled with loud yelling, stern stares and even crueller hands. Of a man, not even Geralt’s build, more like Jaskier if anything. Sparking fear into you, instead of the love he once promised to forever give you. A life of threat and pain.

A life you longed to forget.

You shut your eyes tightly, praying to the gods that you don’t look like an idiot. You feel someone settle beside you, snapping your eyes open and met with amber ones, he lifts a hand but instinct takes over and you shrink away from him. Almost cowering before him, you thought you’d gotten over this. The evidence clearly states you haven’t.

A gentle touch is placed upon your shoulder, no words spoken as he keeps a small distance but a hand still comforting you. You eventually return to normal, finally looking at Geralt with teary eyes and a watery smile to accompany it.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can mutter and Geralt shakes his head, a little ‘hmm’ leaving him.

Geralt is silent, kneeling beside where you’re huddled, conversation not exactly his strong suit. You watch as he thinks over his words, a more refined ‘hmm’ leaves his body like he’s thinking of how to word something.

“Please tell me the one who caused this is dead,” you exhale through your nose in amusement, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “otherwise I’ll have to make another stop.”

You shrug a little, “It was a long time ago, I’ve been running from that life. I do not need a Witcher to kill for my revenge,” Geralt tilts his head at your words. “I’m a fucking idiot. A guy yells and I cower before him, how am I expected to protect anyone?”

“Because you know, more than anyone, what it’s like to be put into a position you cannot break out of.”

The words hang in the air for a second before he stands up, taking your hand and pulling you up gently. He looks over your wound, grunting at the look of it, the adrenaline is fading and it’s starting to prickle in pain. Jaskier, for once, is quiet but concerned about you. Geralt even helps you onto Roach, leading the horse through the woods.

Sat in the Inn with a couple of ales and Geralt patching you up in the candlelight. You recount the ordeal to Jaskier, who is smiling now with a belly full of bread. After being told countless times by Geralt that you’ll be fine, it was nice to see he actually cared about you.

“You know, I might just write a song about you,” Jaskier informs you, sitting back with a smug smile, Geralt raises an eyebrow. “We make a great team, don’t we. Where shall we go next?”

You frown a little, “I think, I’ve gotta chase up an old life.” Geralt snaps his eyes to you, though doesn’t say anything. “I left a book open, it needs to be closed. We all have to face our monsters at some point,” you sigh and sip your ale.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got a Witcher as a friend,” Jaskier states and nods at Geralt.

You don’t miss the gentle ‘Hmm’ from Geralt.

Part Two

(Lmao this is over 2K words, wtf! Hopefully, this is okay. I didn’t make this romantic, but if you want a second part I will make it romantic, I already have an idea for it. Just let me know- Rosalie)

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia one shot #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt one shot #geralt imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher one shot #jaskier x reader

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witcherythings21 · 3 years

Text

Here’s @the-book-reaper secret santa gift!

You asked for hurt/comfort + some fluff with a side of immortal Jaskier and some extra mutual pining so I tried to cram it all in here! Hope you like it!

-----

Jaskier sighed loudly in the open clearing and thumped his head against the tree behind him. He was so utterly bored. Roach shuffled next to him, seemingly agreeing with his sentiments. Of course, his wonderful witcher was off somewhere in the woods catching the creature of the week. Jaskier honestly didn’t remember what the creature was called, just “it’s too dangerous for a bard. Stay here. Watch Roach, blah blah blah”.

He could be out there with his friend seeing the monster with his own eyes, but no here Jaskier was being a good little bard and staying put. He was a glorified horse-sitter. He side-eyed Roach. Though Geralt claimed Roach was the one doing the babysitting most of the time. Jerk. He closed his eyes and leaned back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face.

This forest almost reminded him of the one he lived in as a boy, the one he ran away from years ago. He tensed thinking about it but forced his body to relax as he exhaled a breath. It wasn’t the same forest he was sure of it, and it had been years since then. There was no danger here.

“Hello, Buttercup.”

The chilling voice made Jaskier’s head snap up, seeing three figures now in the clearing with him. His blood ran cold with the nickname.

“We’ve been looking for you.” The man, or more accurately a man-like creature, who spoke, smirked down at the bard. The three men were obviously not human, with sharp teeth and pointed ears paired with their fancy dress made Jaskier jump to a terrifying conclusion. If you focused on the air behind them, you could see a faint outline of their wings. They were fae. Not just any fae, but Fae who knew him and who he was.

Jaskier had a secret, he wasn’t quite as human as he appeared. He could thank the golden ring on his index finger for that, with strong yet undetectable cloaking magic that had hidden his true nature for years. The truth was Jaskier was fae and not any Fae. He was Fae royalty, distinguished by his bright blue eyes and gold markings.

He had abandoned that life, fled the fae realm years ago and no one had known about his past. So why were these fae soldiers staring at him and addressing him by his fae name?

He swallowed nervously, hoping it was all a coincidence, and the men had no clue who they were speaking to. He smiled at them and spoke in a confident voice, “hello my fellow travelers, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” He laughed.

The three faes did not, they sneered at the bard as he clambered to his feet. The middle man spoke again, “We’ve been sent here to fetch you of course buttercup. By decree of your intended.” The man stalked forward hand full of a distinct blue powder.

Well, cock. ----- When Geralt returned to the camp he was greeted by his horse and a missing bard. In Jaskier’s place was a note stuck to the tree crudely by Jaskier’s ornate dagger. Geralt was on high alert suddenly. His mind jumped to the worst conclusion, flashing with an image of Jaskier bloody and beaten somewhere in the woods. Even possibly dead. He inhaled deeply, scenting for blood. Instead, he smelt something sharp, flowery, and otherworldly. Fae.

What the fuck did the Fae want with Jaskier?

He stalked forward and grabbed the note. It was written in a messy scrawl, unfamiliar compared to Jaskier’s neat and legible script. It read:

To The Butcher, I cannot bear your company any longer. I tried to make you human but I simply cannot. You will always be a monster and no words I can write will change that. I can no longer pretend to be your friend, I cringe at the very sight of you. Death would be better than continuing on as your traveling companion.I was a fool thinking you could ever love me. I never wish to see you again.

Jaskier

Geralt's heart clenched at the cruel words but his eyebrows rose at the bit mentioning love. It wasn’t Jaskier’s writing, but perhaps…

Geralt shook his head, his bard had obviously been kidnapped and the fae who took him had tried to make it seem like he had simply left with this piss poor intimation of a goodbye letter. It wasn’t time to get distracted by words like love.

He crumpled the paper in his hand and turned to the woods he had just come from. He needed to find his bard before anything happened to him. Who knows what the Fae wanted with Jaskier, but they were not known to be kind creatures. Okay, the first matter of business would be to find a fairy circle out there so he could enter the fae realm, get his bard, and get out. Hopefully.

He groaned as he trudged back into the woods, why is Jaskier always getting into trouble? ---- Jaskier groaned as he opened his eyes, the world was spinning around him and caused him to reach up to rub his temples. His hands came up together and he stared down at them. Why were his hands bound? Scratch that… Why was he moving?? He woke up fast sitting up and looking around. He was in a wooden cage that was hovering on the forest floors. In front of him were the three guards for earlier. They were pulling his makeshift jail by some vines.

“Uh, I don’t suppose we can talk about this?” He said hands scrambling on the bars.

“Safe your breath. We’re almost there”

“Yes um, almost where?”Jaskier’s eyes took in his surroundings which were lush and beautiful. He was in the fae realm already. His eyes went wide as he realized the implications.

“To your finance of course. You have delayed your wedding for long enough. You will be married by the time the sun sets today.”

Jaskier gulped. His fiance… was not a kind man. That is why he ran in the first place, this cursed arranged marriage. The night before his wedding, he had fled with nothing but his lute and the clothes on his back. He ran into the human realm where the fae would not look for him, and soon after he ran into Geralt. That was after of course he bargained some of his blood for the spell on his ring, which was missing now. His glamour was gone, his nails were sharp and he could feel the weight of his wings behind him.

If Geralt could see him now. Oh, SHIT Geralt! The witcher could help! Or well he could free Jaskier, and if he decided to kill him after all for his heritage it would still be better than marrying. He dug his nails into his palms, causing himself to bleed. He felt the blood drip down and saw it hit the soil. There. If Geralt figured it out and came into the fae realm, he would smell that. And he could follow the trail of blood and free Jaskier. Hopefully. Honestly, it was a long shot, how would he even know he was taken.

Still, he’d seen Geralt solve a mystery on less. ---

Geralt knelt down next to the circle of mushrooms he had stumbled across, in the center was the gold ring Jaskier always wore. This was definitely a fae circle, probably the same one they had taken Jaskier through. He riffled through his bag for the ingredients to open the portal, it was a simple spell one Geralt had performed countless times for contracts on the path.

He held his breath as he stepped into the fairy circle and the world around him blurred until it righted itself into the bright realm of the fae. He inhaled the crisp air and immediately smelt blood. No, not just blood, Jaskier’s blood. His heart raced at the implications of that.

It wasn’t a lot of blood, which eased his worry a small bit. He bent down and examined the splattering of blood on the green path. It was almost like a trail. Did Jaskier intentionally hurt himself to give Geralt some tracks to follow? Geralt’s chest burned with pride at his bard’s cleverness.

He stood up. Jaskier was depending on Geralt to rescue him, and he could not let him down. The idea of the bard being alone and hurt waiting for the witcher caused him to pick up the pace. Jaskier would not spill any more blood today. --- The Jaskier’s cage had stopped outside a large clearing of tall pine trees. He gulped and pulled his tied hands closer into himself, making himself seem smaller.

A tall man walked slowly from the tree line and Jaskiers heart hammered in his chest. He was floating above the ground, his dark green wings fluttering behind him, the man had shorn black hair and his face was handsome, yet there was a darkness in his eyes that made the bard shudder. That was his fiance, Pinus. He was known for his cruelty amongst fae, and had tormented Jaskier in the few days he knew him.

His first wife had been found with her wings plucked floating dead in the north river. His second wife had been found hanging from the trees and the third and fourth were similarly beheaded for high crimes against the man himself. He was one of the seven princes of this realm, and no one had the power to stop him. His family was no exception and had offered up Jaskier’s hand with no second thoughts. He wasn’t the firstborn and was therefore expendable.

He took great pleasure in pinning Jaskier to the wall by his wings and saying cruel things. He knew that he would not last long as his bride, like the others before him. He dreaded his wedding night and his future with such a monster, so Jaskier ran. He figured that Pinus would eventually give up the chase and find another bride.

“Hello, little buttercup. How I’ve missed you.”

Pinus smiled and grabbed Jaskier’s face through the gaps in the wood. His claws dug into his skin and Jaskier felt blood well underneath. He didn’t flinch or cry out, not wanting to give Pinus the satisfaction. Pinus smile widened,

“You're just as beautiful as I remember.” He pulled away and gestured to the guards. “Get my bride ready. The wedding will begin soon.”

The guards nodded and the cell’s door opened. They grabbed Jaskier by his tied hands and pulled him free. He glared and Pinus as he was dragged to his knees on the grass. He spat at Pinus’ face. “I will never marry you. You’ll have to kill me.”

Pinus snarled and his hand snapped out lightning fast to slap Jaskier hard. He pulled the bard by his doublet so they were nose to nose. Jaskier’s head spun from the harsh blow.

“You won’t have a choice” Pinus was smiling again, this time like he had a secret. He dropped Jaskier back to the floor, he landed slumped over on his bound hands which twinged in protest. Pinus waved his hand and pulled a collar out of thin air. It was a delicate gold, that matched Jaskier’s markings that twirled delicately across his cheeks and arms. His eyes went wide at the sight of the collar.

“See this buttercup? It’s been spelled just for you. It will make you… more obedient. Like the perfect little wife.”

Pinus turned towards Jaskier with the collar in hand, he looked to the guards. “Hold him still.”

The two faes grabbed his shoulder and Jaskier struggled in their grip but didn’t achieve his freedom. Pinus laughed at his feeble struggle and stepped close again. With a click, the collar slipped in place. Within seconds Jaskier felt its effect. His world became hazy and white on the edges.

“Now will you be a good boy?” A voice said. Jaskier felt himself nod and smile. His wrists were untied and they dropped to hang loosely at his side.

A hand touched his cheek and he nuzzled into the touch. He heard laughter but it didn’t affect him. His eyes were glassy and his body was limp. There was no fight left in this fae. Pinus smirked at Jaskier’s clouded gaze. He snapped at the guards, “Get him dressed. I want him at the altar by sunset.” The men pulled Jaskier to his feet and dragged him to the tent. The bard was limp in their grip, his feet uncooperative to holding his feet.

Jaskier felt himself be lifted, where was he going...what was happening to him...

---- Geralt was still tracking the blood, when he came upon a clearing of pine trees, the trees seemed almost sinister in the orange glow of the sunset. He could smell Jaskier now, could almost make out his heartbeat. There seemed to be a gathering of fae within the pines, that must be where they took his bard. What were they doing to him? Geralt felt a growl escape his lips, his overprotectiveness of the fragile bard escaping.

He crouched down and stayed within the shadows to see this group of people. He could make out a large audience and a stage. No, not a stage...It was an altar. Was this a wedding? Did they spirit his bard away for something as simple as entertainment?

No that didn’t make sense. Why leave the note? The ring? Why would Jaskier leave a trail of his blood if it was just another gig?

His eyes slowly slid to the center where he saw a beautiful fae standing at the altar next to a dark-haired man. He was obviously male, with his broad shoulders that were dappled in gold freckles. That must be the bride, his wings were small yet multicolored like glass in the light. His dress was a beautiful white and it's sparkles seemed to glow. The train was long and at the end faded to light green. The veil covered the man’s face, but something was weird. They seemed to be swaying on their feet.

The figure was familiar, and as the other tall man at the altar slid the veil away Geralt understood why. It was Jaskier.

Geralt’s brain short-circuited. Jaskier was human. He knew that for sure. Yet here was Jaskier standing in front of him with beautiful wings. He shook his head, it didn’t matter what Jaskier was right now. It mattered that Jaskier had been stolen from him and he wanted his bard back. He drew his silver sword and stepped in from the tree line. That would work well rough on the fae. They were not an easy opponent, but any trained witcher could easily dispatch a group this size. The only problem was keeping Jaskier safe while he did so. He stood at the end of the aisle with his sword drawn.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” His voice bombed over the ceremony and everyone’s head turned towards him. The tall man at the altar hissed and bared his sharp teeth. Jaskier smiled dazed and said a relieved, “Geralt.”

“Buttercup is mine you mutant.”

“Buttercup?” Geralt’s brow raised in question.

The man grabbed at Jaskier, holding his arm too tightly. Jaskier didn’t even flinch. Now from his closer point of view Geralt could see the bard’s eyes were hazy and there was a collar around his neck that screamed of magic. His medallion hummed.

“I’m his finance, Pinus. He was promised to me years ago and now I will have him”

At Geralt’s confused expression Pinus laughed. “He never spoke of me? Of course, he didn’t.” He sneered at Geralt. “Did you think he was your friend, you monster? No. You were only protection for him. And you failed. He’s mine now.”

Geralt pushed aside Pinus’ words. “Fight me for him.”

Pinus sputtered incredulously, “What?”

Geralt's eyes lit up dangerously, “You heard me. I formally challenge you for Jaskier’s hand. If you lose,” He turned to the crowd of the fae, “I will take Jaskier back with me.”

The crowd gasped, Geralt knew the fae custom well. They could not turn down a challenge, or they would lose their position in society. And they could not break their word when entering a deal like this one. He smirked at Pinus, “Well? Unless you're too much a coward.”

Pinus seemed to snap back to reality with that insult and snarled at Geralt. He tossed Jaskier aside to his guards and pulled out his sword. “You will regret this witcher.”

He stepped forward past the aisle to meet Geralt in the open clearing. Their audience created a circle around him. Pinus smiled across from Geralt, “Maybe when I kill you I’ll take off his little collar and let him see your lifeless corpse. Let him know what his rebellion has caused.”

With that taunt, it confirmed that Jaskier was under a spell from the metal collar. Geralt snarled and swung his sword.

It was over quickly, as powerful as Pinus was amongst the fae, there was little he could do against an angry witcher. Geralt cut him down with a quick blow to his abdomen than once he had collapsed he brought his sword down on his neck. Geralt stood up and sheathed his sword. He turned to the crowd and addressed them, “I will take my prize now and leave.” Jaskier was shoved unceremoniously forward while the crowd backed up, fear written on all their faces. Jaskier stumbled into his arms, giggling. He smiled and his words were slurred, “I knew you would come.”

Geralt pulled Jaskier close and unclasped the collar from around his neck. This action caused Jaskier to crumple like a puppet with his strings cut. The release of the magic had made the fae pass out.

Geralt grunted and pulled Jaskier into his arms. They needed to get out of the fae realm before the others decided they wanted to fight too. He scooped Jaskier into his arms and held the fae tight. Jaskier was limp in his arms and his head lolled into Geralt’s shoulder.

He inhaled deeply, Jaskiers scent comforting him and the feeling of him whole and unharmed in his arms relaxed the worry that he been growing all-day --- By the time they had arrived back to where this story began, the sun had fallen. He placed Jaskier gently on the ground, propping him against the tree. At the movement, Jaskier began to stir. He cracked open his eyes and his bright blue orbs met Geralt’s yellow ones. Both eyes glowed in the dark of the campsite. Jaskier shivered in the cold and looked down on his thin outfit. He cursed at the sight of the white dress and long claws still exposed. Geralt turned and set to making a fire. It was a tense few minutes before the flames caught.

Then both men spoke at the same time,

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There was another moment of silence. Jaskier shivered again, feeling chilled despite the fire. Geralt silently dropped his cloak on Jaskier’s shoulders who quickly wrapped the fabric around himself tightly with a quiet thanks.

Jaskier let out a loud exhale, “At first...It was because you were a witcher. You must understand...We were raised to fear your kind. Then after I got to know you, and I knew you would not harm me simply for my nature, It had been too long. And I was afraid you would be mad at me. For lying.”

There was a beat, “ and it was nice. To be human Bard Jaskier. I don’t know if you’ve guessed but I do not have kind memories of the fae realm. It was nice to forget that.”

Geralt sat down next to Jaskier, close enough he could feel the witcher’s body heat.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I don’t care that you are Fae.”

“Oh, you..meant him.” Jaskier pulled into himself, his fingers tightening on the cloak around him.

Geralt's warm hands settled over Jaskier’s clenched fists and gently pulled until he relaxed. He held the bard hands within his large ones. “I just..” His voice was quiet, “I want to protect you Jaskier...If I’d known I could have…”

Jaskier shook his head, “It’s not your fault, dear heart. And besides, you still saved me. Or did I dream the brutal decapitation of my fiance?”

Geralt winced, “You saw that?”

Jaskier nodded, “It was hazy...Like I wasn’t really me. But I remember what was happening. Thank you...for you know saving me like a damsel in distress.”

“But really… It doesn’t bother you that I’m not human?”

Geralt looked away for a minute before turning back, “I’m relieved” He said quietly.

Jaskier eyebrows drew together, “why?”

Geralt hmmed before moving so he was now holding Jaskier close and Jaskier let out a happy sigh and snuggled close.

“If you were human, I wasn’t going to say anything. Because one day...you would die and I would lose you. And if I told you and only could have you for a few years- I wouldn’t survive.”

“Tell me what?”

Geralt’s grip on Jaskier tightened, “I...I love you Jaskier.”

Jaskier gasped and turned to face the witcher, finding nothing but affection on his face. His mouth was open in surprise and he flushed. “I-I love you too! I just- I can’t believe you- Me? Really?” Geralt smiled slightly and Jaskier felt his insides melt. He was so beautiful. “Really.” He leaned forward and finally their lips met.

Jaskier couldn’t imagine a better end to the day, sitting on Geralt’s lap, his fingers tangled in his white hair, Geralt’s warm hand on his lower back while the fingers of his other hand gently touched Jaskiers wings while their lips melded together. He was warm and happy, and finally himself.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #immortal jaskier #the-book-reaper #i hope you enjoy #happy holidays!

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brexrif · 4 years

Text

The White Wolf: My Hero (Part 1)

REQUEST: “Can I ask you a romantic scenario with Geralt and a shy girl who starts to follow him and Jaskier after Geralt saved her life? Can I ask you to add some smut too? If you are comfortable with that. Can I ask you to make the girl a virgin too?”

Honey, I ONLY write smut, so never worry about my comfort level with requests-but this request demanded a slow burn so here you have it. Part 1 is truly mostly fluff! Warnings: masturbation? Fluff I don’t want to give too much away, but Part 2 will be harboring the smut.

Find PART TWO HERE!

Check out my MASTER LIST if you want to read any of my other Geralt smut! It’s all filthy so be warned.

The air was crisp and the wind blew gently through the trees around you. The boughs bent pleasantly to and fro and the leaves rustled melodically above you. The sun shown bright still, but the afternoon began to fade. You made your way quickly to the edge of the creek to collect more herbs for your favorite, special tea. You promised your father you would return before sundown to help keep after the pub. You made your way through the foliage in search of the signature, beautiful pattern of the kelly green leaves. You hummed a familiar tune aloud, making your work more pleasant as you gathered the herbs into your small basket. You think the melody was about a Witcher-or something.

You felt the ground rumble below your knees, which dug your dress into the dirt below you. Your breath stilled and you drew your chin slowly over your shoulder to the forest behind you. You saw nothing until a huge and terrifying Necrophage came barreling through the trees and straight for you. You jumped up, your basket tumbled to the ground and you let out the loudest scream you could manage. The monster charged at you and growled, crawling on all fours and devastating everything in it’s path to you. It sunk its claws into your arms and lifted you into the air, the pain seared through you and your scream curdled in your throat. The monster screamed back in your face, its fangs long and terrifying readying to take a bite out of your supple flesh. You were screaming so loud you thought you might pass out from that alone, regardless of the fear and pain. You shut your eyes tight and braced yourself for death.

Just then you heard the vile creature cry out in agony and you dropped to the forest floor roughly. You opened your eyes to see a very large man wielding a long sword, dripping with blood and standing over the twitching, freshly dead body of the Necrophage. The man towered over the body, kicking it slightly to assure it was good and dead. You felt yourself being cradled lightly, but you didn’t notice who by. You were mesmerized by the hero that stood tall before you: he had long, white hair that was messy and poorly tied back, his eyes shown like amber honey and his pupils were hardly detectable.

A pendant hung from his neck, a wolf…

and you suddenly realized this was the famous Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf.

“Geralt, I think she’s hurt” the voice behind you said, his hands nervously cradling your shoulders.

“I’m quite alright” you protested, your voice meek and quiet as you struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

“Woah there, take it easy” The Witcher rushed over as you tried to sit up and you became very aware of the gashes in your arms from the monster’s claws. You winced and fell back into the stranger’s arms embarrassed by your own attempt.

“Jaskier, hold her steady” The Witcher said urgently to the man behind you. He bent down next to you and examined your wounds. You were so overcome by the sight of him, the reality of your pain seemed to fade. You were well distracted by his impeccably chiseled features, the thick stubble spreading over his prominent jawline, the scars on his face and the intensity of his furrowed brow.

“You’ll be alright. Do you live around here?” his deep voice was low and gravely.

“Uh, j-just in the town, through the forest here and down the lane” you struggled to reply, your eyes latched to his.

“Oh, I could use some rest Geralt lets go to the town”

“This isn’t about you, Jaskier” he said impatiently. “We need to bring her back.” And with that, you were lifted off the ground and into the Witcher’s strong arms.

You gathered the courage to speak again, “I’m Y/N. Thank you for saving me, Witcher.”

“Geralt” he corrected you shortly. He stood with you effortlessly in his arms and pressed forward. Jaskier, who you now saw was a colorfully dressed bard, followed behind you two.

“You don’t have to carry me, Geralt” you said, blushing at saying his name, feeling familiar.

“Hmmmm.” He thought for a moment, you could feel the deep hum in his chest as your head rested on it tentatively. He looked down at you and locked with your eyes for a short moment that felt like an hour-time slowed in the heat of your eye contact. His head snapped back up suddenly and he continued forward.

“I won’t have you walking back like this. It’s nothing.” You blushed and enjoyed the ride, surrendering to his hold and resting your cheek on his impressively solid chest.

Your arms hurt, but you were honestly so well distracted, you hardly noticed. You felt the strength of Geralt’s arms cradled around you, the pounding of his heavy footsteps as he made his way forward. You could hear his impossibly slow and deep breaths and were overwhelmed by his scent. He smelled like SUCH a man to you, a combination of the deep forest, fresh earth and a manly musk no doubt generated by traveling on the road for some time. You inhaled deeply, taking in as much of him as you could. You had taken notice of other boys around town, locked a few lips, but had never been taken aback by someone so powerful, so manly as Geralt. You were smitten with him and melted into his arms helplessly.

Jaskier followed behind playing his lute and searching for a melody to match the heroism of Geralt’s rescue.

“Then Geralt of Rivia appeaaaared!” Jaskier sang to you both.

...............................................................................................................................

You reached the entrance of the small town and directed Geralt to your home.

“The pub?” Geralt asked.

“We live above the pub, my father owns it” you cooed at him, trying desperately to break your gaze from studying the sharp line of his jaw, you wanted to remember every detail.

Geralt kicked open the door to the pub, you were still in his arms, and Jaskier followed behind.

“Y/N!!” the familiar voice of your father yelled to you. Then quickly his tone changed when he saw Geralt holding you, “Hey Witcher! What the ell’ did you do to my daughter!” your father crossed the room, grabbing an axe resting on a nearby post.

“Father! Geralt saved me”

“An Alghoul had your daughter. I killed it.” He responded curtly while very gently and slowly lowering you to the ground. He took special care releasing you and seemed to linger on your delicate elbows, savoring your touch- but you could have been imagining it. You were certainly trying to savor the feel of his touch.

“You’re hurt!” your father was distraught, he finally lowered his axe keeping a stern eye on Geralt.

“A few scratches from the Necrophage’s grasp. Y/N will be fine. I have a medicine to apply, but the wounds need to be properly cleaned first.” A shiver went up your spine when he said your name, you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“Well have at it then Witcher, I know nothing of medicines and my pub’s fillin’ up for the evenin’. I’ll pay you for your trouble.” Your father directed Felix, his apprentice, to fetch some fresh water and cloth for you. You saw him hand Felix the axe and whisper something to him shifting his eyes slightly to Geralt.

You followed Felix up the steps and Geralt tread apprehensively behind you. Jaskier had made his way to a table of local women and was strumming his lute already. You were uncomfortable, to say the least. Felix had been one of the local boys that you sometimes would kiss in the pub after cleaning up after close. Occasionally he would sneak a grab at your chest, but nothing major had happened with him. But still, he scarcely took his eyes off of you while you both worked and you suspected he only apprenticed for your father to get in his good graces and ask for your hand someday.

In truth, Felix was a good friend to you, nothing more. He felt like a boyish companion. He was silly and only took his work seriously, too seriously. You watched his slender body moving up the stairs before you, his slim arms held the bucket and you thought of Geralt’s arms, which were thicker than Felix’s legs…both legs together. You were suddenly aware of the fact that Geralt could be surveying your body similarly behind you, sizing you up. Without thinking too much about it, you added an extra sway to your hips. You heard Geralt cough suddenly behind you and scoff a bit.

Felix opened the door to your small room and worked to start a fire in the empty hearth. After he set the logs down and reached for the flint, Geralt lifted three fingers towards the fire and it lit effortlessly. Witcher magic, you were mesmerized. You watched a smirk come across his face, though he tried to hide it. Felix scowled at him.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this mutant working on your wounds? I’m sure I could clean them up for ya” Felix offered, he glared at Geralt and palmed the hilt of the axe from his belt.

“Felix, I’m quite sure. Don’t be so mean to Geralt, he saved me after all.” You protested. Geralt made a ‘hmmmf’ noise under his breath with a closed mouth as he started soaking some cloth in the water. He turned to you sitting on the bed and sighed, looking away towards the ground.

“You’ll need to..um” You stared at him wide eyed, distracted again by his good looks. He grew more uncomfortable by the second.

“Oh! My dress..” you blushed. You pulled your arms out of the sleeves and pushed the overlay down to your waist, exposing your corset and heaving breasts underneath.

“Okay, Witcher! I see your game!” Felix rose quickly pulling the axe from his belt and raising it quickly.

“Felix no!” You yelled. Geralt hardly even turned to him, extended one of his large arms and caught the hilt of the axe easily. Felix struggled to pull it from his grip embarrassingly, heaving and tugging grunting all the while.

“Felix, it’s really alright. Geralt is here to help” you encouraged, but you were still blushing watching Geralt’s eyes struggle to keep off of your now exposed chest.

“Gods, Y/N. Would you look at the brute? He’s got you half dressed now.”

“He’s got to reach the wounds, doesn’t he?” Geralt chuckled deeply, almost amused by the boy’s concern for you and the petty argument between the two of you. Felix sat down with a huff, but refused to leave and did not keep his eyes from you for one second. Geralt returned his axe with another smirk, but no words.

Geralt worked quickly and skillfully. He gently took your arms and washed the wounds carefully. He laid a paste over them once they were cleaned, it smelled of peppermint and lilac and tingled a bit on your sore skin. He then wrapped them in fresh dry cloth to keep the medicine intact.

“There.” He spoke finally, having completed the task at hand. He tore his eyes from your wounds for the first time since he started so diligently caring for them and met your eyes slowly. He held your gaze again and you felt a shiver go down your spine and an unexpected twinge pang between your legs. As if he could sense the embarrassing bodily reaction from you, he tore himself away quickly and stood.

“Keep those wrapped up for two or three hours. Your skin will have scabbed over by then and the medicine will relieve any pain you feel.” He spoke quickly, trying to distract himself, but you watched his eyes wonder back to your heaving chest. He shook his head as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. Your eyes traveled to his leather trousers and you could have sworn you saw a bulge forming beneath the laces.

“Thanks, I guess, Witcher” Felix said rising to see him out.

“Geralt. Thank you-thank you for everything” you suddenly felt a desperation creep into your voice. Would this be the last time you saw him? He nodded at you, his eyes lingering on yours again.

“You can gather your coin downstairs” Felix interrupted his gaze.

“I don’t want it” Geralt said abruptly, turned and left. Felix took the axe and followed him out. You listened to them both make their way down the wooden steps.

You lay in your bed and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Geralt’s powerful arms, his hard chest, the depth of his low voice and the piercing heat of his yellow eyes. A heat grew now, between your legs thinking of him. Careful to keep your wrappings intact, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and slid your fingers to the warmth you felt. You had only felt so moved as to touch yourself here a few times, but you remembered how good it felt when this heat grew. You sunk a finger into your core and bit your lip thinking of Geralt.

................................................................................................................................

You woke a few hours later. You could hear the commotion of the usual busy night crowd growing below. Your father would be missing your help. You rose slowly and started to unwrap the cloth Geralt had so carefully laid for you. You blushed remembering his touch. You wiped away the paste as you went and just as he promised, your skin had already scabbed over, most all of the pain subsided. You changed into a fresh dress and made your way down the steps. Jaskier was sitting on the edge of a busy table, playing his lute and singing tales of ‘Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.’ You surveyed the busy pub, looking desperately for any sign of him.

“Y/N! You look well. I was worried” Felix stopped, arms full of empty mugs and admired you.

“Ey! Felix!” Your father waved to him from behind the bar frantically.

“Ah, Y/N. You do look well, my daughter.” Your father said to you, smiling warmly once you made your way over to him.

“Thank you father, I am feeling much better”

“Aye, Aye” he seemed genuinely relieved to see you.

“Um. I wonder” you hesitated “where is Geralt-uh the Witcher, now?” you asked of him stumbling on your words.

“Aye, I think he was making his way over to Rosemary and Thyme last I sawr him. Dippin his wick” your father laughed heartily and you blushed wildly. You don’t know why, but you felt tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Of course he would want to be with a whore, a real experienced woman, someone that could handle him. What would he want with you? You weren’t so young anymore, truly a young woman, but you still had yet to lay with someone. You lowered your face.

“Y/N? Do you need to go lie down some more?” Felix asked, concerned and spilling ale over the counter. Your father clapped him in the back of the head.

“Y/N, go upstairs now if you aren’t going to work tonight. You’re distracting me help” your father scolded.

You bee-lined for the staircase, keeping your head down so no one would see the tears starting to stream down your face. You felt foolish. Why would Geralt be interested in you, why would you let yourself develop feelings, develop desires so quickly. He could likely have any woman he wanted, his world weary life no doubt afforded him ample experience sexually. Why would he waste it on you? You were so embarrassed, your thoughts were absolutely racing. Those arms! All that stubble you wanted to graze your lips over! How foolish of you!

Suddenly,

you ran RIGHT into someone. Someone very solid and very large. You apprehensively brought your face up and wiped your eyes quickly to apologize frantically and move out of the way. It was Geralt. He held your elbows instinctively, his fingers cradling the back of your arms. His eyes were wild with worry when he met your face.

“Y/N” he said softly. Your heart LEAPT at hearing your name resonate in that deep chest and pass those perfect lips.

................................................................................................................................OMG WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!?! PART TWO IS HERE!

Enjoy my MASTER LIST in the meantime where you can find my other works, featuring lots of Geralt smut.

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 19) (With visuals included 😉)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8) (Posted earlier today, thank you very much for my thirst! Heehee!)

CHAPTER 18

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Evil is evil. People and abomination may be the reason why the world can't be a better place especially in the continent.

Warnings: Blood. The 'Kikker' mentioned here ain't a real monster in the witcher. I just made it up. A bloody, thrashed reader. A maddened, feral, tired witcher. Degrading names. People being assholes. With Geralt’s visuals included but I don’t know how this is a warning?

Words: 5.6k

A/N: A story cannot consist of only glitters and rainbows. Sometimes, it's better to add darkness in it and a ton shit of angst. Heh. I’m cackling with the Geralt GIF’s I’ve included. It’s like he’s so bored and done af while talking to anyone. 😭😂😂😂 GERALT, OH GERALT. I DESERVE A KISS GERALT FROM HOW DEDICATED I AM TO YOU! Please appreciate my effort, people! LMAO 😭😂💗 ENJOY AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It was at around nightfall when Geralt of Rivia has arrived at the foot of the castle's barbican, his swords lunched on his back with bags in his hand and a sour expression written on his picturesque face that screams he wasn't there for a peaceful negotiation.

He'd calmly walked along the aqueduct, his footsteps heavy and impatient as he dropped his bags on the ground, familiarizing over the enormous castle that stood before him and he couldn't help but sigh, atopic of the whole vibe that every castle has given the white wolf. He really didn't want to cross paths with the royals ever again after that show he had by helping Jaskier and he hoped that his help for you didn't include another child of surprise that can happen.

Group of cavaliers shielded the gates with their swords on their hands. Geralt kept silent with a stern purse of his lips and a tightened jaw, he heavily sighed another one and continued to be uncommunicative when one equestrian audibly nagged for what the butcher of Blaviken needed.

Geralt deliberately rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giving them a scowl in which they've didn't took it very nicely as they began to draw their swords.

The witcher has heard footfalls echoing from the castle, hasty and restive and it didn't take a second for Geralt to see the king's close friend and an advisor for the royal family emerge from the gates.

Eanraig came forth out of the port; one of Caed Myrkvid's druids and someone whom Geralt has been talking to since decades ago where he has visited Caed Dhu and having their first meeting in the black forest.

The scholar wore a brown long, surcoat as he step foot out of the gates, his white long beard and wild, unwashed gray wavy hair stopping on the tips of his shoulders. Thin lines of wrinkles crafted his face which has given him the look that he was nearly old. His grey colored eyes wholly jiggered to see the white wolf in the foot of their fortress and with an expression that simply tells him that he was pissed.

He always does look like it but the druid knew that Geralt was truly feeling that way and it wasn't just his normal face that you see everyday.

"Yield your swords this instance!"

Geralt gave him a nonchalant flicker of his eyes, opening his mouth to gruffly speak, "Eanraig." his face remained stoic, his timbre sounding utterly lackadaisical when he addressed the scholar.

Eanraig trudged his way to where he was. The soldiers immediately surrendering their weapons down as they firmly stood from side to side, watching the two acquaintances converse in a quiet and calm talk. The druid was cordial as he gave a smile, "Geralt of Rivia. They have been expecting you,"

"Hmm." the latter hummed out of nowhere, narrowing his golden amber eyes at the Elder Druid in acrimony, "---they've taken what's mine. I've been told to never step foot within the berm of eminent citadels,"

Sardonically speaking, Earnraig tilted his head to the side. The flicker in his eyes humorous and mocking, "Yet, here you are, witcher." he throatily chuckled and croaked, his voice sounding drier than usual due to being long in the tooth, "---I shall guess, you are here to save a lover?"

Geralt kept his mouth in a tight thin line, shifting his eyes away from the druid with his question unanswered by the witcher.

"What unlucky fate you have, Geralt. Your lovers always bring out the worst in you---because you don't appear to be in the greatest and friendliest condition,"

"When did I ever?" the white wolf hoarsely mumbled beneath his breath, sighing in the process of it all as he frowned, taking heed of the feeble man before him. His tone was derisive and saturnine for what caustic comment he curtly claimed, "---How are you keeping up with their scoundrel works of art?"

Eanraig smiled; though, Geralt read that it wasn't meant to say he was jovial over the regime and changes he has noticed when the world began to change. His smile was brittle and unconvincing, "I never did. Since Tybalt arrived and has been taken as the crown for our army of gallants, destitution has taken its place. Heedless for the Kaedwenians because of how the vampire is capturing women for safe keeping, greasing his own palms by selling them to anyone who will want them,"

The witcher expected that answer before even asking. He nodded back at the druid, completely austere and phlegmatic as he kept silent; not letting the scholar know what he was thinking. Eanraig lifted a hand to give Geralt a pat on his burly, armored shoulder.

"King Veduka and Queen Makeda will speak to you once we get there," pause. "---And I doubt they'll be happy to see a witcher who has rejected their favor after two years. Come,"

As that has been said, the gatekeepers unbolted the entryway; given the approval from the king's advisor as Geralt grabbed his belongings, stringing along with him as they walked the route towards where the gatehouse is. The earth toned portcullis at its full defense as he sees it from far north.

"I wouldn't be helping their beloved cursed prince when they haven't coerced me into complying, Eanraig."

The druid strolled objectively alongside Geralt, continuously discoursing in the subject about who made him adhere to the king's favors---taking one person for abduction and he was already showing himself to them with no begging included unlike staying thoroughly surreptitious in the deepest parts of Kaedwen's forest. Only one woman was needed for him to accept such.

"If only you would've seen how they saw this as an opportunity to benefit them. I know your woman doesn't belong to this world. They knew your weakness, Witcher."

Eanraig has heard him hum, lower than his usual habit of susurration and it sounded like a sound of disapproval, "The sorceress has plans for her. Tybalt has hunted down a woman who exactly looks and sounds like her. But, exactly the opposite from her characteristics. She was one of Kaedwenians sly thieves."

Savia. He suddenly remembered out of the blue as he kept tacit. She was the woman who looked exactly like you despite of having the contrary of her traits over yours. Geralt pondered over the thought, finding it difficult to decipher how there was another person like you in his universe, a doppleganger of some sort that was entirety a clone of your genetics. Maybe Savia was a doppler or his midget? No. You were teleported to their dimension with no magic nor strength to do so.

What was seriously happening in the continent?

Eanraig saw how Geralt was in deep thought for what was shared; never one to beat around the bush; he enunciated straight to the point, "The king has been convinced that she's her twin. Howbeit, I never believed it nor did Ingrith or Tybalt. It was the queen's manipulation because her double has taken one of her favorite Cobalt necklaces that was given by the king,"

"---and now, they are starving her to death. Even walloped with a stick on her back till she was bleeding and wounded,"

The sentence has given Geralt a whiplash. He ceased from walking alongside Eanraig, his stature turning rigid and immobile with his jaw clenching for what was heard. Did he heard him right?

You are being aggressed in the hands of another when he does not lay a single hand on you; being battered by humans who didn't know exactly who you are nor do they have proof that you are the person who has stolen items from the queen.

"What?"

Eanraig's fair share of talk explains why his chest felt suffocating and utterly uneasy. They were hurting you till the heart of the sorceress was content enough.

The druid continued his blabbers, heedful of Geralt's stiff stance and his sudden reclusive mood, "---Ingrith told the queen that she was somehow cursed with a fate just like you,"

It wasn't a second of waiting till Geralt hoarsely mumbled his feelings out in the open and only for the scholar to hear, "Fuck." he raved, the witcher's thick eyebrows in a tight twist. His forehead creasing with deep wrinkles for his blood to boil even faster. He turned his head to the side, his teeth tightly gritted together as he went livid.

"That doesn't sound quite nice," Eanraig shifted his attention towards the raging white wolf who was glaring at the tall castlewalls in front of them, shooting daggers after daggers with his fists tightly clenched on his sides. A predatory glaze in his glowing eyes that stood under the pale moonlight, the ferocity bouncing back as he tried to calm him down. He reached out a hand to palm Geralt's tense shoulder, giving him a pat.

"Now, now, now, Weccan. Do not let your anger control you."

"How can I?!" Geralt spat in his utmost feral tone; fierce and aggressive for thinking how you were drowning in your own blood right at this moment.

The witcher was growling beneath Eanraig's touch; his anger felt through his body as Geralt was breathing in deep slow breaths, trying to control how his mind instantly went straight into knowing who has given orders to hurt you. There was an ample amount of the fact that you could be cut off a limb over stealing something you surely have been accused of. The Druid stepped in front of him, clasping both his fingers on his shoulders to break whatever thoughts he was thinking as he stared straight into his wrath-filled eyes.

"I've already treated her wounds---But, I think it isn't enough for how she's raining on their blows. You should have just accepted the first time they've asked a favor before it even ended up this way,"

Geralt's upper lip twitched from how he was silently basking in his displeasure and rue; never wanting to open his mouth at the moment for fire might escape his mouth with how maddened he was feeling. The tight stones topping off his chest and making him more uneasy than he can ever get.

"Vesemir has taught you to never uphold the law," Eanraig added as a matter of fact, pursing his lip as he continued, the look in his eyes utterly amused for how Geralt's destiny was falling in the wrong places, but emotionally feeling as if it was right because you came along, "---but, you are here to save such love that will never overcome the law that people have been following,"

The Druid has heard him huff from the choices of his words, looking away to stare at the castlewalls, digging up holes that he had been gathering since the moment he arrived, "You are saving the love of your life,---" he paused, a smile forming on Eanraig's decrepit face; his deep wrinkles forming as his face contorted in sheer entertainment.

"---and the woman who shall make miracles come true,"

Geralt was immediately taken to the abandoned round tower; where Prince Althalos has been staying since he has been cursed---bullish that they could keep him there and away from people. The prince has not been damned as a beast just like Nivellen. The prince has been cursed as a Kikker. A harmless monster in their world that only kills his own kind as well. They were found in the caves, masking in their solidarity until the full moon comes out and their hunger will be very much triggered to find something to munch on.

When they could not find their own kind to devour, they somehow manage to eat others instead.

Geralt couldn't help but snicker to his own at that, maybe the prince was kind of harmful instead of harmless that Sorceress Ingrith might have described him, peppering her words with pleasant lines that the witcher was highly disappointed of because she sounded as if she was in favor for what was happening.

He walked along the doors in an unfettered march of his feet, humming in displeasure with a scowl twisting his features that turned into tiny smirk; noting the buffet of abundant food that was left unfinished due to reasons he didn't know about as it happened before he arrived.

The tight grimace written on his face was enough for the king to know that he has not seen you yet since the moment you've arrived. Ingrith has probably prohibited him to as she has lead him to the prince.

King Viduka sat on his chair; proud and virtuous in the middle of a long table where he was left alone. The witcher has never seen the king up until today and one thing's for sure as he noticed the pale, horrid color of his skin. Just as much as how his have been, tinted in the lightest color that can be considered as if the king has no blood to function properly like how a king should have been.

His eyes were almond shaped, but with a nebulous glow swimming in the hazel color---appearing to be like he was being cast in a deathless spell or such poison that had a long term effect.

But, Geralt mindlessly shook his worries away from the people who have given you pain. The queen has probably been giving King Viduka such concoctions that could make him submit to her on whatever she wanted---with the help of the sorceress of course.

"He needs help," he bluntly started before he was even asked to speak, raising both brows for wanting to tell the king that he also needed help for whatever Queen Makeda has been giving him. Howbeit, Geralt has shut his mouth tight and hardly tried to become forth with respect amongst the king.

The king audibly sipped on his wine, casting him a glance under the antique glass he has chugged on. His expressions incomprehensible for the white wolf because of how horrid and disheveled his beard and mustache is. Though, his response made Geralt know he was giving him a lour, "This is why you've been dragged here to serve your purpose,---" pause. "---The only thing that can get your mutations quite useful for our world besides butchering my people. I've heard you've slaughtered my men,"

Geralt's mouth formed a tight thin line from the king's bald comment, his jaw set to create a grouch that the king has expected from his kind---the lack of emotion thereof and also the bluntness that the witcher may cannot control no matter if the person in front of was highly or not.

"Because your beloved army leader has been forcing women held captive," the white wolf stated as a matter of fact, cocking his head to the side as if it was a cocky comment.

King Viduka scoffed from his sheer honesty; skipping the dillydally that most men have been giving him due to being royal, "---and what has saving people benefit to you, witcher? must I say, you have not receive coins from it, correct? or was it because of the little woman? you are killing off my kind to save yours,"

Between them both was an understanding of protection from Geralt. He stood before him with a will that he had back in the marketplace. The white haired witcher was standing inside his castle with a purpose that he surely deciphered from using you as a bait to comply.

You were too important for him that the king could feel that Geralt will be begging for more than just your safeguard.

"Your way of asking favors can be quite disappointing for a king,"

Out of the blue, he's heard metal slice through its own accord; both knights who stood beside King Viduka unraveled their weapons, pointing them at Geralt who stood with a nonchalant expression on his face, thoroughly not moved nor impressed by their reactions---perhaps, also in a shitty mood for ruining his week by kidnapping you in the comfort of his home.

"Sheathe your swords," the king commanded to the hostile cavaliers; not taking a second to drop their weapons as they were told.

Geralt continued to educate the king in his perspective and comprehension over his cursed son; remembering how his school has taught him countless of monsters he could never forget.

"Call your son 'the frog prince' or some hideous sort," his eyebrows jutted closer as he sternly explained, "---but, this work is not made by a monster for me to hunt,"

King Viduka couldn't help but lean away from the back of his throne, his eyes adamant that he was not serious over telling him that his son may not be assisted by the Witcher

"---He is cursed by a witch. I do not butcher people for the sake of someone else's life,"

The words that left Geralt's mouth felt like a rejection or an offense that King Viduka has never experienced from anyone else. He couldn't believe what he was hearing---he couldn't accept such abnegation over a mutant who was crude and utterly unaccepted by humanity. His highness has quickly stood from his seat, throwing his glass on the floor which has shattered but has not surprised Geralt nor have receive a jerk of his body from his sudden anger---the antagonism coming was a result of a witcher that they have tried contacting or following around for two years; begging help for the future of Kaedwen.

Yet, he came to the palace with his foot up his mouth. Straightaway, sounding like he was declining the proposal.

The king was entirely disappointed by how useless he was being.

"---you are good-for-nothing! A hypocrite who says he does not kill another to save someone else's!" King Viduka has spat completely enraged, "---Yet, you have saved your tiny whore by killing mine!"

The white wolf couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, clenching his teeth behind his closed mouth; his golden peepers glaring before the dependable king who kisses whatever Queen Makeda has been walking upon---a king who does not care for the people as long as he saves his.

Irritation was written all over Geralt's face, hearing what King Viduka has described you for what purpose you have in his life. Being nothing but a woman who could cater to his lechery when you had not been at all.

His midget was more than that. Definitely not his whore that people has been accusing you of.

Geralt's selfishness for rejecting the king's offers right on his face was like asking to be beheaded. He does not want to be involved by such ever again when he has no idea who this witch may have been. If being frank over the king was like asking to be beheaded, then a search for a witch that does not want to be found was waiting for a monster to put him into demise.

"I do not regret what the queen has done for punishing. Your tiny harlot has taken something valuable from her and corporal punishment was the answer that we all see fit---seeing that she might have sold the necklace for the sake of you wanting more coins,"

He subtly shook his head from the king's indefinite accusation, verbally fighting for your safety and for the truth that may set you free, "She is not the thief you have been accusing her about."

Yet, the king was determined of his opinions---the queen's opinions over you; seeming to be brainwashed by both women who was a shadow of his reign. One greedy sorceress and the other was his cunning beloved that no matter what other people say, he shall not believe because only his trusted people were right.

Geralt heavily sighed, seeing King Viduka shooting daggers towards him. His eyes wild and disappointed, utterly vexed for what he has heard.

"The world may say that you own two swords. One for killing humans and the other for slaughtering beasts," he deadpanned, bane spitting out of his mouth as he sharply stared at Geralt who sighed for his resoluted perception.

"---but, I doubt you do not know the differences of each as of now,"

After minutes of his silence, Geralt may have not realized that from the moment he opened his mouth, his teeth was barred, fangs overlooked by the king because of his unspoken thoughts; by not being heard by a person who had his mind closed for whatever he has to say and so, the butcher of Blaviken breathed a few heavy sighs, promptly shutting his eyes closed before he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Let me see her. I need...to see her, your highness."

He was stunned to hear himself plead before a disagreeable human. A selfish entitled man who knew nothing how to raise a kingdom. The rebellious son of the previous king has been forced into this madness and manipulation from everyone that he does not see.

The latter waited for any oracular answer. They've shared stares and huffs of breath before Geralt shook his head, turning on his heel to leave immediately because he knew that his request for seeing you will never be given. Might search for you instead, he silently thought to himself with a tight scowl on his face.

"Bring her in,"

He stopped short from hearing the king's words. Ceasing himself in the midst of marching off, his back towards the king when it has not taken the horsemen a minute to drag you to where he was.

Dragging was the correct term for your feeble, shaky demurrals out of the door. Your voice echoing from a far distance and Geralt couldn't help but shot a glance over the locked wooden doors, his amber eyes turning wider as your voice became clearer when each second passed by, hinting your status that you were not feeling well by the breathless, hoarse begging you've managed to beseech.

The doors opened to release two vulnerable knights wearing their commoner clothing and a small, fragile woman who was mistreated from her limbs; dragging you by your battered arms. Patches of blue and mauve painted your skin as if they were trying to beat you to death, a law back in the historical era where it was used for criminals or sinners to speak the truth or punished for their faults.

Your other cheek was swollen, vermillion owning a cut as if somebody has slapped you---also dehydrated from starving you for a day and a half, receiving no liquid to drink or anything besides their endless wallops.

The witcher was beyond shocked to even comprehend what he was seeing, his breath stopping from the moment he has seen you enter the room; utterly downtrodden, helpless and wounded.

"S-Stop...I-I don't...I don't need any more beating. I told you, I don't have your necklace. This amulet I have is mine. I didn't steal anything. Please---please tell me Geralt's here," King Viduka has gestured towards the horsemen; bringing up a finger to tell that they should show the witcher what you looked like to be hit in endless battering and how they've treated you before he even came around.

The knights tightened their hold against a mahogany, wooden stick. Hard enough to fracture your bones if it was given more power; but, Geralt knew what they were ordered to do before they can even move and he was quick enough to march towards where they were; graving and in distraught for what he felt. His chest suffocating and tight---anguished to see and desperate to keep you close in his arms.

He rushed to where you were hunched down and bleeding to death, shielding you from their assaults as the witcher draw out his metal sword from his back, angling the newly sharpened blade on one of the knight's jugular; golden eyes burning with betrayal and desolation for what they have done, for what power do people with royal blood have to hurt his person this way. They've treated you like a rag doll or a monster for making you bleed and even plan to starve you to death.

Their actions has made Geralt's blood boil in extremity.

"Do not dare---," he breathed fire, fuming as he warned. His words said with a fiery emphasis, "---touch or lay your hands on her,"

The smaller knight whom Geralt has pointed his sword upon growled in the back of his throat, a signal which has made him aim the tip of his sword against the vulnerable part---unbending and purposive for what he wanted them to apprehend that he was not flippant for unsheathing his steel sword.

"---people who knew better of my kind are heedful that I will not bat an eye to slit down your throats with my weapon,"

Geralt has heard you call out for him in a sapless shake of your voice and the simple acknowledgement has taken his attention away from the royal guards as he slightly turned his head behind---seeing you lay on the cold hard ground that made his mouth twitch, teeth barred and gritted and he couldn't help but emit a rough huff of his breath; sounding like a growl of his frustrations for letting this happen to his family.

King Viduka spoke in command, hiding the smile beneath his unkempt beard.

"Lay down your sword, Witcher. I do not plan to create bloodshed over the mutant who will help my son,"

Geralt avoided looking into their eyes and set his focus on the battered woman behind him who was coughing out her pain. You've used all your strength to pull yourself from the floors, your vision blurry and unclear for the tears you've shed all night, finding it hard to register that your witcher was finally within your reach. You thought it was all in the sense of hallucination until he'd hastily whispered the endearment that he had for you---the nickname you've hated prior of meeting him the first time, yet ending up missing the word when he doesn't use it for you.

His appearance was making your heart cry and eventually, you did after realizing a bunch of sobs escaping your lips when he has hauled you up in his arms; crouching before you and pulling your beaten body to his, aware from the pained whimper that followed suit and he was suddenly aware of using such strength with you---immediately turning gentle from your response.

"Midget?"

"G...Geralt? you're here..." you hiccuped from the cries, feeling the sting from the salt of your tears. Lately discovering the numb, sore feeling on your left eye and Geralt has eyed it with such animosity because it was a swollen wound.

Your vision turned clear after a languid blink of your eyes, welcoming his warmth that you've missed after being hurt by people who surrounded you who'd done it by physically doing so. The information you have gathered from the four corners of the cell you were in repeatedly replaying inside your mind; not bothering to forget to tell it to him besides your other secret that you ought not to tell yet.

"Don't...Don't find the witch..I-I've heard from the person with me---he's an elf. He said that this witch can never be found---it may be just a trap or an endless hunt for you,"

The latter was stone-deaf from your wounded image; his golden eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Geralt didn't acknowledged your message and continued to state his own instead.

"They've hurt you."

He uttered in disbelief, intently examining your face near his. Your fingers were shaky as you reached up to touch his face. But, Geralt has beat you to it and grabbed yours instead, subtly shaking his head to silently tell you not to move for the pain it can cost. His rough hand was warm and comforting, giving solace in the midst of how being cold you were treated by their world. The only thing that was warm is Geralt and his family.

They were the only thing benevolent compared to their outskirts.

"They don't believe me. I--I never stole the queen's necklace. I--I have never left your home,"

"I know you didn't." Geralt gruffly muttered with a cordial, soft tone that made you sob more than ever---how nice it felt to have someone who actually believed you was like hopping in the shower after a summery day; refreshing to be hearing another person to fight for your truth rather than being forced to tell lies.

"You'll never get to find the witch, Geralt. Y-You'll never get to lift the curse because...because---"

The stammers you've emitted, how crucial it was to feel you in pain---finding ache in his chest from the moment he'd seen you in that status; painted like a rainbow shown after a heavy rain but drafted to show the suffering you've experienced in the castles of Kaedwen. His glowing golden eyes turned a shade darker, filling with sudden torment and affliction as you laid in his arms.

You've slightly turned your head, nuzzling to be shielded by Geralt's armored, hirsute chest that made you sigh after hours of trying to sleep on stones, finding home just by staying close to the white wolf.

"Your highness," Geralt abruptly spoke, making you shut your eyes open to hear what he needed to say. Based on how he set his mouth in a tight, straight line. Your witcher was setting down his bargains and favors that he certainly does not do for people of royal.

"I will seek for your witch," he stated with determination, his back towards the king; not taking the risk to let him see the ire pooling in his eyes as he continued.

"---in exchange for your people not to touch mine and if your sorceress, precious vampire or horsemen lay a single hand on her again, I will never hesitate to kill the witch and let your son die with his curse forever,"

Perturbed by his sudden declaration; stubborn to even listen for what he was about to expect by searching apparitions of a witch out in the woods. You've desperately called out his name in endless croaks, hopelessly pulling at his armor yet Geralt was having rigid opinions especially having you wounded in his arms.

"Cease her punishment. I will not save yours if I know that you are punishing my..."

Golden eyes keenly landed on yours, thoroughly protecting you in his sinewy limbs before he seriously and firmly declared another that has made your breath hitch for what he has said.

"---my betrothed,"

King Viduka briskly nodded for his request; badly in need of his aid for his son to live. There was an understanding that he will still keep you within the castle unless Geralt brings him the witch and reverse the curse. He'd kept his eyes on the witcher's back, sitting back on his throne with a smile on his face.

"You have my word, Geralt of Rivia."

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calmcilstoybox · 3 years

Photo

Title: Veraque

Word count: 1998 Rating: SFW Part 1 of a vampire fic slow burn/ child hood friends to lovers.

There is a dog that gets pets

There was one thing that Perdita wasn’t expecting, and that was a call from Owen Shepard. Yet, there was his number flashing across her phone’s screen with the option to pick up.

Perdita hesitated for a second before mumbling something akin to I’ll be right back to her coworker. Then she accepted the call and walked away from the meeting room.

“Hello?” Perdita asked cautiously not sure of who was on the other end of the line.

“Hey Perri -” Owen replied, it was hard for her to hear him because of noise in the background. It sounded like he was next to a freeway.

“What the fuck Owen where are you? What happened? You’ve been missing for like a week.” Perdita interrupted cutting Owen off. She was vaguely aware of her voice becoming shriller in pitch as she spoke.

“Listen I can explain...Just when do you get off work?” Owen asked over the car horn going off in the background.

“Around five, have you called your Mom yet to let her know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere yet?” Perdita inquired; though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“She didn’t pick up when I called her, I think she’s at work-wait, are you on break?” Owen said, it was easier to hear him over the phone now. But Perdita wasn’t sure if he was lying about trying to call his mom or not.

“Yeah I took a break to take your call. But where are you?” Perdita asked again, checking the time. It was a little after one in the afternoon.

“Right now I’m in a Starbucks waiting on my uber to take me home. Can you come over once you get off work so I can explain everything?” Owen’s voice had a begging tone in it now. Perdita had never heard him like this before and wasn’t comfortable saying no to him.

Not when he was like this.

“Yeah, I’ll be over…See you in a few.” Perdita said, quieting down.

“Thanks see you then.” Owen replied, hanging up before Perdita had a chance to question him further. Of which Perdita did have many questions, and not nearly enough answers.

The rest of her day went by in a blur. Perdita couldn’t even recall what she’d had to eat during her lunch break. The last week had been hard. First, Owen vanished while out walking his dog. The dog; a female golden retriever named Maverick. Had been found dragging her leash behind her by a Good Samaritan. They coaxed the dog close enough to grab the leash with a tennis ball.

That had actually been the first clue something happened to Owen. He never would have abandoned Maverick.

After Perdita clocked out she went straight to her car in the parking lot. She climbed in, locked the doors, and turned it on letting it idle. While her car was warming up, Perdiate decided to check her phone.

Have you picked up Maverick from your Mom’s yet? She took her in after you disappeared. Perdita texted Owen, she stared at the screen after she noticed the triple dot.

I brought her home.

You coming over soon?

Door’s unlocked.

After reading Owen’s texts back Perdita let him know she was on her way. She shifted gears and looked over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t hit anything as she pulled out of the parking lot. The trip to Owen’s house was uneventful. It was a quiet drive through the snow. Since, Perdita took a back road to get there to avoid traffic.

Owen’s home was a pale green two story Queen Anne. At one point it belonged to his paternal grandmother. Perdita remembered going to her funeral with him. It had white lattice trim, and a hunter green roof. To the left of the house was the driveway with a detached garage painted to match. There was a small sidewalk between the porch and the garage that wasn’t covered by the overhanging roof.

There were footprints in the snow leading up to the front porch. Perdita decided to park her car in the driveway and called Owen. She figured she should let him know she was here. Though, after four rings when he didn’t pick up she stopped the call.

The cold evening air made her lungs hurt. Perdita hurriedly went up to the door and tried it once. True to Owen’s word, it was unlocked. Perdita stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She took her shoes off and left them by the door.

It seemed the polite thing to do. Instead of dragging melting snow and whatever else was on her boots on Owen’s hardwood floors.

“Owen?” Perdita asked looking around inside. There wasn’t any sign of him from where she was standing in the foyar. After a quick glance around, Perdita decided to try the kitchen. The room was directly to her left.

Once Perdita was in the kitchen -the floors here were an ornate blue and white tile instead of hardwood. She noticed Owen standing in front of one of the counters. Perdita also noticed that the knife block was close to where she was next to the cutting board by the sink.

This was the first time she’d seen Owen since his disappearance. Something about him made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Perdita knocked on the wall closest to her to get Owen’s attention. She thought that, perhaps he hadn’t heard her before.

When Owen turned around however he had a crooked smirk on his face and his eyes were completely black.

“Perri! So glad you could make it.” Owen's voice had a harshness to it that had not been there earlier during their phone call.

Perdita backed up, she could feel the counter behind her and gripped at it with both hands.

“I-I was worried about you, I wanted to know what happened, why you left Maverick…” Her voice trailed off as Owen took a few powerful strides toward her. Despite being roughly the same height, Perdita felt like she was much smaller than him at that moment.

“I’ll tell you all about it later Perri, right now I’m famished.” Owen stared directly at Perdita as he spoke. One of his hands reached out and tilted her chin up. Perdita released her grip on the counter and one hand reached back pulling a knife from the butcher block.

Then, Perdita heard Maverick barking.

Apparently so did Owen, as he froze up. Perdita watched his eyes change back to his normal shade of hazel. The man had a confused look on his face- then fearful as he noticed the knife in Perdita’s hand.

Maverick continued barking and snarling until Owen took a full step back away from Perdita. He held his hands up almost like he was surrendering.

“Owen..?” Perdita leered at him as she whispered his name. She kept the knife- which Perdita now realized was a bread knife- in her hand. Maverick’s barking quieted down to whimpers.

Owen seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He ended up tugging at his collar showing a bite wound.

“Last thing I remember is taking Maverick for her morning walk. Next thing I know, I wake up with this on me feeling like my throat’s drier than Death Valley. I had this urge to just...bite.” Owen explained letting go of his shirt. He fumbled his hands together in front of him before kneeling down to Marverick’s level. Then Owen held one out to let her sniff.

Maverick continued to whine, but licked Owen’s hand. Perdita watched the dog’s tail wag twice.

“Bite? Do you remember what you said to me when I got here?” Perdita asked, recalling how Owen had said he was famished.

“Not...that I remember no. My throat is so dry again.” Owen replied quietly thinking to himself.

Perdita finally relaxed and put the knife back in the block.

“Have you told anyone else this? Or just me?” Perdita asked, she was trying to piece together what was going on.

“I can’t tell my Mom any of this...how would that even work?” Owen groaned and ran his hands over his face.

“There was so much blood on me when I don’t think it was all mine. ...I have my clothes in the sink in the bathroom soaking to try to get the blood out. If the hydrogen peroxide doesn’t work I’m just tossing it all out.” Owen said standing back up after scratching behind Maverick’s ears. “So I’m the only one that knows..” Perdita mumbled leaning against the counter again.

“It’s stupid, but it’s like when we were kids in Mrs. Shalhoub’s class. I asked you for help all the time with schoolwork there. I thought you could help me now.” Owen looked flustered and kept his eyes on everything else in the kitchen but Perdita.

“Owen..” Perdita stood up and walked over to him putting her hand on his shoulder.

“ I don’t want this, I didn’t ask to be a monster Perri.” Owen still refused to look at her and there was a sad defeated tone to his voice.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Perdita gave Owen’s shoulder a squeeze. She recalled that Lucas worked at the hospital and wondered if he’d be able to help if she told him about the situation.

At the very least it was worth a shot.

Perdita let go of Owen’s shoulder and went over to the kitchen table. It was one of the circular ones, with a lace table cloth thrown over it. She noticed that the curtains by it were shut tight. She sat down, and got her phone back out and called Lucas.

“Hello?” Lucas answered on the other end of the line.

“Hey Lucas, what do they do with the blood they don’t use at the hospital?” Perdita asked, glancing at Owen. Who was sitting down across from her at the kitchen table. “It goes in the incinerator with other medical waste, why?” Lucas answered her quickly without too much thought.

“Can you bring some to me please?” Perdita begged, she could feel Owen’s eyes on her and he looked so hopeful.

“Perri…” Lucas sounded skeptical on the phone. “Lucas I will do literally anything you want me to do if you can just do this one favor for me.” Perdita pleaded with him. She couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Anything?” Lucas inquired, Perdita could hear the smile in his voice.

“Anything.” She repeated back doing her best not to groan as Perdita thought of what Lucas would ask her to do after this.

She held her phone away from her face for a moment and mouthed, “Do you want me to tell him” to Owen. Who, to Perdita’s surprise nodded in agreement.

“It’s not just a favor for me, you’re helping Owen too.” Perdita admitted bracing herself for Lucas’ reaction.

“Owen’s alive?!” The humor was gone from Lucas’ voice. He sounded as startled as Perdita had felt when she first heard Owen’s voice on her phone earlier in the day.

“He...can explain everything. But, bring the blood with you.” Perdita said nervously, she could hear Lucas sigh.

“Give me a minute….Maybe an hour tops. Wait, where am I meeting you?” Lucas asked, Perdita could hear him getting up and she swore she heard the jingle of his keys.

“I’m at Owen’s right now.” She replied back.

“I’ll be over soon as I can.” Lucas said before hanging up. Perdita slipped her phone back into her pocket and reached her hand across the table for one of Owen’s.

“We’ll figure this out, you’re not a monster Owen.” Perdita said smiling encouragingly at him. Owen smiled back slightly and flipped his hand over so he could grasp Perdita’s fingers.

“I know it’s not fourth grade math anymore, but I’m glad you’re still there for me.” Owen confessed, seeming more relaxed now.

#exophilia #exophilia fic #vampire x human #monster love #vampire

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years

Text

What We Have (2)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Reader is Adonis’ adopted sister, she and Viktor falls for one another.

A/N: There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember this is fiction, so in real life, make them wrap that before you let them tap that, babe. Please keep in mind, as to not completely butcher the Russian language, everything in bold italics is Russian. Hope you guys enjoy!!

Word Count: 2,362

********

You got dressed and headed to the arena. You hadn't heard from Adonis yet, but you knew as a part of his ritual that he didn't watch any TV or get on social media before a match.

The stares and the whispers were upsetting, but Dennis stood by your side like the good friend that he is. You went to Viktor first to get a few words before the fight.

When you entered the locker room, Ivan stood and was on his way over to you. He looked menacing and every muscle in your body tried to force you to run, but you wouldn't let him see you waver. Viktor stopped his father and came to you instead.

"Here to make me look like a monster again?" His face looked like stone, but you heard the small quiver in his voice.

"I did not edit or approve that final cut. I would have never done that. No matter what, I'm serious about my job and true to who I am." You tried to explain.

He looked you up and down. The hurt in his eyes was ever present.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because why wouldn't I want to show the world that behind this tough guy exterior, you’re just a giant softy?" You shrugged.

He softened for just a split second, but as always he quickly regained his composure.

"Ask your questions and leave," Ivan said from behind him.

You rolled your eyes at him and asked Dennis to start rolling. You did your introduction first and then asked Viktor one question.

"What's your goal tonight, Viktor? Let the world know what it is that you hope to accomplish since that part of the interview never made the cut." You pushed the mic towards him.

"The only thing that I wish to accomplish tonight.... Is breaking your brother," he said and walked away.

Ivan smirked at his son and clapped him on the back.

Dennis stopped the camera.

"Why did you do that?" You asked him.

"Because this guy and his father are assholes and we need to see the champ before the match," he said loud enough for the men to hear.

Dennis was no fighter and wouldn't stand a chance against either of the Dragos, but he was your friend and he would always stand up for you when needed.

The two of you left to go see Adonis before his introduction. When you got to his locker room Duke stopped you and stared you down.

"I don't wanna hear it Duke. I did something stupid and it was caught on camera. There's nothing I can do about it now." You said to him.

"We ain't tell him nothing, because we want him to be at his best for this fight, but when it's over you got a lot of explaining to do," he moved out of your way and let you in.

You went inside and spoke with your brother, wished him luck and gave him a big hug.

"Yo, you good?" He looked at you concerned. He'd always been able to tell when something was wrong with you.

"Yeah, you know I'm always a little nervous before you fight." It wasn't a total lie.

"Don't worry, sis, I got this." He shadow boxed the air a bit and even smiled a little.

You bumped fists with his gloves before leaving and going to your seats.

You watched as Viktor hopped around in the ring. You took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. You averted your gaze when Adonis’ entrance music started playing.

You joined the crowed in cheering for the champ. Bianca stood by you a nervous wreck. You gave her hand a tight squeeze and smiled before resuming your cheering.

You watched as Adonis threw the first few punches after the starting bell. Victor wasn't even trying to hit back the first few seconds.

"Careful Dee, he's baiting you!" You yelled.

The moment you said that, Viktor started in on him. He had him backed into the ropes when the first bell rang.

When the second round started Viktor came in hot. You don't know what Ivan had said to him, but he wasted no time throwing hammers.

Your breath caught in your throat when your brother fell through the ropes. The entire crowd jumped to their feet.

"Come on, Dee, you got this!" You shouted when he stood.

Viktor landed one big punch to his ribs and Adonis dropped. He stood back up and kept taking hits, but was once again saved by the bell.

"He's not gonna let you call it, Duke," you said aloud when he climbed in to talk to him.

You looked over at the other corner and Ivan was yelling at Viktor.

The bell rang for round three and both men went in swinging. You knew it was over when Victor hit him in the ribs again. Adonis dropped to the mat and Viktor hit him with an uppercut.

You jumped over the divider and ran into the ring. You dropped to your knees by your brother's side as the doctors checked him. You turned to see Duke trying to keep Bianca back.

You stood and ran over to Viktor who watched from the other side.

"He was already down!" You screamed and smacked him across the face.

You were about to hit him again when you were pulled back by the ref and restrained. Duke grabbed you.

"I know you're upset. I know, but you gotta chill. I need you to get B outta here." He tried to talk some sense into you.

You looked over at your sister-in-law and calmed immediately. You took her outside, so you could follow the ambulance to the hospital.

You were in your office waiting for Viktor to arrive. You tapped your foot and looked at your watch again. He was 40 minutes late.

You were already upset that your boss was making you still do a post fight interview with him. He didn't care that the man literally tried to kill your brother just a few days earlier. He also didn't care about the constant gossip surrounding you. You wanted this and you got it.

"I don't think he's coming," Dennis said.

"Neither do I. You can go home," you informed him.

"Are you sure? I have no problem waiting for you to finish whatever needs to get done."

"I'm sure. A few minutes alone will do me some good, besides, I'll only be about a half hour, so I'm right behind you."

"Okay, well, good night," he waved and shut the door.

You flopped down in your chair and closed your eyes. Moments later you heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, did you forget... something..." Your words trailed off when you opened the door and saw Victor staring back at you.

"Sorry I'm late, I —"

"Your excuses aren't needed," you turned to walk away. "Your time window has expired and there is no longer a reason for you to be here. Goodbye."

His hand reached out for your wrist. You stopped in your tracks and looked down at him.

"Can we talk, please?" He asked, softly. He didn't wait for you to answer. He stepped in and closed the door.

"Let me go," you tugged.

"Please?"

"If you wanted to talk, Mr. Drago, you would have shown up on time for your session. I would like for you to let go of me, now!" You snatched away.

"I wish you would just listen to me!" He raised his voice slightly.

"Oh, so what, are you gonna hit me now?!"

"I would never, you know that's not who I am!"

"You almost murdered my brother. I don't know who you are." You walked away to your desk and sat in your chair.

He put his hand on the knob and stopped himself from opening the door. You heard him inhale and exhale loudly.

"I am sorry. I never should have done that and I never meant to hurt you." He walked over and kneeled in front of you. He laid his head in your lap. "My father... he said some things to me in the corner and I just lost it."

"Tell me," you said.

He was quiet at first, but then he started speaking again.

"He said, 'That's why she left us.'"

"Your mother?"

"Yes..."

"I heard him tell Rocky."

"She left and never looked back. When he said that, I just lost my mind."

You lifted his head so he would look at you. His eyes were so sad.

"It doesn't excuse what you did, but you being vulnerable like this is making it very difficult for me to not just hate you." You told him.

"I'm so sorry," he said as he stood to his feet. "I just wanted to let you know. I couldn't leave tomorrow without telling you."

He pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you for a hug. You let go of him and put your hand in his to walk him to the door. He pulled you back and kissed you.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth and you could feel his big hands gripping your ass. You tore yourself away.

"No, Viktor, I can't do this."

He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up, so you'd wrap your legs around his waist.

"I don't care what people say. I want you."

He laid you back on your desk and went in for another kiss. You could feel his length pressing against his jeans.

He pushed your skirt up and ran his fingers over your lace covered clit.

"Mmm," you moaned as you sucked his tongue into your mouth.

He pulled you to the edge of the desk and lifted your legs. He kneeled in front of you and pulled your panties to the side exposing your pussy and used two fingers to rub in between your folds and spread your wetness around.

"Look at that pretty pussy," he said, just before standing and sliding your underwear off and stuffing them into his pocket.

He got back down on his knees and put a hand on each thigh to ensure you won't close them.

You were feeling exposed. You were on your desk and wide open to this man.

Viktor bit your thigh lightly and pulled you from your thoughts. You then felt his warm tongue press against your clit. Every worry you had disappeared in that moment.

He licked and sucked your pussy like the sweet treat that it is. He used his tongue to fuck your cunt and his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

"Viktor, baby, I'm gonna cum." You warned.

He never slowed his pace. You moved his hand and rubbed your clit fiercely.

"Oh my go—" you screamed as your pussy squirted all over him.

Viktor stopped and watched in amazement. He hadn't been with many women, but he definitely thought squirting only happened in porn.

Once you'd stopped, he stood, wiped off his face and kissed you.

"That was so fucking sexy," he growled.

You pulled his shirt over his head while he worked his jeans and pushed them down. You wrapped your hand around his thickness and circled your awaiting tunnel with the head before he pushed in.

"Mm, fuck!" You dug your nails into his neck.

"You're so tight, printsessa," he sighed.

He hit you with hard strokes. You could feel the desk shifting and surely by the time you were finished, it would be on the other side of the room.

"Yes, baby fuck me!"

He buried his face in your neck. You could hear him moaning as he gripped your thighs and drilled your pussy. The office was filled with the sound of your love making.

You pushed him off of you. He looked confused until you told him to sit down in your chair. You put your feet on the sides of his legs and held on to the arms of the chair. He guided his throbbing cock back inside of you. His eyes rolled as you sank down onto him.

You bounced on his dick. He undid the buttons on your shirt and watched as your tits bounced up and down before leaning in to place soft kisses on each. You grabbed his jaw and brought his lips to yours.

He rubbed your clit as your tongues darted in and out of one another's mouths.

"Yes, rub that pussy," you chanted. "Oooh, yes!"

Your legs were starting to give out as you neared your orgasm.

"Come on, printsessa keep going," he encouraged.

You hissed as the damn of pleasure swept over you. He kept rubbing your clit as you surfed the waves of your bliss.

When he stopped he grabbed your hips and drove himself into you. You kissed him as his grip tightened and he coated your pussy with his seed.

You dropped to your knees on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel his heart beating with yours.

The room was quiet as you both thought about what this meant. You finally got up once you regained feeling in your legs and went to the bathroom in your office to clean up. Viktor redressed himself and was waiting for you to return.

"I feel like we probably broke so many unwritten laws just now," you joked.

"Yeah..." He shrugged.

"What's wrong?" You asked when he didn't say anything else.

"The next fight... Will you be in my corner?"

The smile that was on your face dropped.

"Excuse me?"

He walked closer to you and held your hands in his. He looked into your eyes sincerely.

"I want you to be in my corner," he said.

"No," you snatched away from him. "It's bad enough that I just fucked you on my desk after what you did and now you want me to throw it in my brother's face?"

"But what we have, it's —"

"It's wrong, Viktor. It's wrong and we both know it."

"Okay," he said, sounding defeated.

He kissed your forehead and left without looking back.

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@marvelmaree

@literaturefeen

@fandomfavesss

@savageiz

@scoop93535

#viktor drago x reader #Viktor Drago #creed 2 #viktor x reader #Smut #Lotusss Writes

185 notes · View notes

tloujm · 4 years

Text

Part VII: I’m Right Here

Author’s Notes: WARNING! Rated V for violence and gore. Timeline wise, this takes place roughly a month after the last part, so it is still Winter.

Genre: Angst followed by fluff

Summary: Tommy plays matchmaker and convinces you and Joel to go out scavenging together. The two of you run into danger that leaves you traumatized. It also leaves you questioning life and how Joel fits in it.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Despite having had your big girl chat with Joel, the two of you had yet to set a day to begin guitar lessons. One day, the two of you run into each other at The Watering Hole. Before he visited you that night, you would have slipped back out the front door, but this time you let him approach you.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Have you, um, gotten around to changing the strings?” He asked. You found the topic random.

“On the guitar?” You asked.

“No, the ukulele. The guitar should be good until next year.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” You said obliviously.

“Yeah...you, um...I’ll get you some new ones one day.” Joel said. It was at this point, Tommy had spotted you two talking in the corner. He walked up to you guys.

“Big brother. (Y/N)” He nodded to the both of you. This was the first time that he’d seen you two talking in a year. Joel had confided in Tommy about the talk you two had on the porch. He wanted to see for himself how things were going between you two. He strongly believed that you were good for him and he wanted to see the two of you together again. “So, what are we talking about?”

“Apparently, I have to change the strings on my instruments every so often.” You shrugged.

“Oh yeah. Maintenance and all that. Joel can show you how to do that.” Awkward glances were exchanged. “Hey, there’s this music store, Riley and ‘em found it last week, on one of the northeast routes. It probably has supplies you’re interested in. There should be strings and...other guitar stuff.” Tommy lightly hit Joel’s shoulder to pull him into the conversation. “What’s some other guitar stuff she might need?”

Joel glared at Tommy before scratching the back of his head. “Um, you may want a clip or maybe a strap. They might have a case for your ukulele.”

“That sounds nice.” You commented flatly. You knew what Tommy was trying to do.

It fell silent, so Tommy had to pick up the conversation again. “That area is long overdue for a sweep anyway.” He bounced a pointed glare between the two of you.

Joel looked up at you. “What do you say, (Y/N)? It’d be like old times.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not.” Tommy plastered a huge smile on his face.

“Tommy! You’re next.” The barman yelled.

“And that’s my cue. Nice talkin’ to y’all.” Tommy tipped the imaginary hat on his head before walking off. You watched as Tommy set up to sing karaoke at the front of the room.

*******

The ride to the area was mostly done in silence. Joel didn’t know what to say in fear of saying the wrong thing. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to even say anything at all. The two of you found a fairly large sinkhole in the ground in front of the music store, so Joel suggested cutting through a hotel across the street from it. As you approached it, you noticed that one of entrances was barricaded by debris from the outside. The two of you stood there to assess the damage. Joel walked up to a pile of fallen roofing and lifted it up as far as he could. You took it as your cue to crawl through. It was a tight squeeze, causing you to practically slither in on your belly.

You quickly scanned the room to make sure there were no infected before dusting yourself off. You found yourself in what used to be the dining area. The wood furniture was rotted and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. You shouted out to Joel, letting him know that you’d made it through ok. He replied by saying that he would meet you at the main entrance. By the time you made it to the double grand doors, he was already waiting outside. This time, the entrance was barricaded from the inside. You hopped up several times to unlatch the locks at the top of the doors. Finally, they were released from the metal bolts and you opened them to find Joel leaning his arm up against the frame of the door. His ankles were crossed. His whole posture suggested that he was trying to be cool and relaxed, contrary to how he usually was outside of Jackson’s safe walls. You expected to find him standing there, body tense and face rigid, something you grew familiar with when he was in survival mode.

“Well, hello there.” You greeted. Joel recognized a trace of flirtation in your voice. You heard it too. It just came out like that, so you decided to roll with it. You opened the door wider and welcomed him into the hotel as if it wasn’t a dilapidated mess.

“Howdy.” He replied simply. As if he was the coolest man in the world, he strode. right past you with a half smile donning his face.

You breathed a chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you walked on for a while. Despite never having been in the hotel before, Joel knowing of its existence was enough for you to let him lead the way. While he was navigating, you were taking your time. Old buildings always interested you. Your flashlight shined on framed pictures and flyers posted on the wall.

“I think I see a way through,” Joel began. You turned to find him all the way down the hall. “But there’s spores.” You jogged to catch up. He was standing in front of a large hole in the wall blocked by a filing cabinet. He put on his mask, then waited for you to do the same. “Put your mask on, (Y/N).

“It’s just us, Joel.”

“What if we run into someone.” He stated firmly. The irony of living through the bite of an infected is that it can prove life threatening if a human found out.

“Fine.” He watched as you slid the mask in place over your head.

“You haven’t told anybody new, have you? You’re friends?” He asked.

“No, of course not.” You answered.

Joel was protective of your secret but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous as well. He knew that his relationship with you would be less special if others knew as much as he did. He discreetly cherished being the only one who knew certain things about you. You were kind of offended when he asked, though. You agreed a long time ago that it should be kept a secret, so why would he think that you would slip up like that?

The two of you made it through a room of Clickers, slaying them with ease as a team. Joel walked ahead of you into the next section of the hotel. You followed as he squeezed through a narrow space between the walls. Suddenly, you heard a deep roar before Joel completely disappeared. You screamed out his name. It happened so fast. You flashed your light through the newly made hole in the wall. Through it, you saw that Joel was snatched by a Bloater. For a moment, you were frozen. It was the first time you’d seen a Bloater up close. You’d heard stories about them and you’d even seen one roaming around with the scope that Tommy gifted you. It was the most disgusting thing you’d ever seen.

With a rush of adrenaline through your veins, you pulled out your gun. All the shots did was distract it from Joel. It was faster and stronger than you thought. The confidence that you usually had from being immune quickly faded. You soon realized how small the enclosed room was as you were running away from the thing. Joel did the same and shot at the 7 foot fungal mass as it began to throw spore bombs at you. They did nothing but blind you for a moment. It soon stopped attacking you and switched back it's attention to Joel. He was too slow and the Bloater grabbed a hold of his neck. It looked like it wanted to tear his head off of his body. You screamed his name again before unsheathing your katana. You got a running head start and tried to slice the monstrosity down. You tried your best to imitate the master swordsmen you’d seen in samurai movies, but the flesh was too thick. You glanced toward Joel as he struggled. Veins were popping up around his neck and temples. He was trying his hardest to loosen the Bloater’s grip, but nothing he did helped. You threw the graceful swings to the wind and started hacking at the Bloater like a butcher. It wasn’t the best knife to do so with, but it was better than the dagger on your right hip. The arm holding Joel’s neck fell to the ground after your blade sliced through it. The Bloater began to falter which exposed it's other arm for you to chop off. Joel was finally released from it's grasp. He fell to his knees as you maintained focus on the monster. You continued to frantically slice and chop at any angle you could get at until it fell down on its back. You took the handle of your katana in both hands and drove it straight down into the heart of the beast. Blood and spores splattered all around you. It exuded a low roar. Still, you continued.

Joel had finally regained his strength and cautiously approached you. At this point, you had moved on to it's head and tried to cut through it's thick neck. Joel placed a hand on your shoulder as if to tell you to stop, but you carried on. He called out your name in a raspy voice. Finally, you stopped and dropped your arm to your side. You let out a shaky breath as he turned you around to face him. Through his mask, Joel glanced you up and down to make sure you were alright. Your eyes were crazed and blood was painted across your whole body like a Jackson Pollock painting.

“C’mon.” Was all he said. The two of you walked out of the room and didn’t stop until you made it to a room where the spores were clear. You pushed Joel down onto a couch and ripped his mask off to look him over. “I’m fine, darlin’.”

You disregarded his comment and continued to look for signs of injury. “Joel, you almost died.” You made sure he was looking into your eyes when you said that. Your crouched down in front of him and held steady onto his knees. “I could have lost you.” You thought back to the lyrics of that song he sang that night in your living room.

You thought about how living in the comfort of a fortified settlement led you to take the time you had with him for granted. You knew that life was still dangerous. Joel risked his life everyday to go out and patrol. What if he was alone or with someone less experienced in melee combat. He could have died before you had a chance to forgive him. He could have died and you would have never been able to express all of the feelings that were lingering in the back of your mind while you were avoiding him. He could have gone out to patrol and never come back. Then where would that have left you? A sense of dread washed through your body as you imagined a life without him. It was a pain you had never sensed before and it was too much to bear. Hot tears began to fall down your face, one after another.

He reached out a calloused hand and rested it gently against your cheek. “I’m here, (Y/N), I’m right here”. You leaned into his hand, a mix of blood and tears rubbing off onto it. “Ain’t nothing a solid night of sleep won’t fix.” He tried to convince you. “How about we call it a day and go get them supplies another time?” You could only nod in response.

The ride back home felt extra long. The two of you rode up to the stable and left the horses. Joel watched with tired eyes as you walked off in another direction. For a moment, he forgot that the two of you weren’t living together. All he wanted to do was relax and comfort you.

The house was dark when you entered. You didn’t bother turning on any lights as you made your way to the bathroom. You let the hot water steam up the room before getting into the shower. You watched as the blood and dirt slid down your body and circled the drain. You lifted your face and placed it directly under the shower head, wondering if Joel was doing the same.

Later that night, you fell asleep. A white glow was cast in your room from the moon. Tears began to stream down your face as little whimpers escaped your lips. The memories of earlier that day played in your head but this time you weren’t there to save him. It was frustrating. You could see him getting attacked but something was keeping you from moving. The Bloater clawed at Joel’s face, trying to rip it apart. First, it got past the mask and Joel had no choice but to breathe in spores. You could see the struggle and fear in his face as clear as day. His eyes were bloodshot and veins traveled from his arms, past his neck and up to his forehead. You could feel yourself screaming his name, but the sound did not come out. He couldn’t hear you begging him to fight back. The Bloater got its hands in Joel’s mouth and pulled. You didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t shut your eyes. The tearing of flesh and cracking of bones mingled with the Bloater’s roar. The disgusting sounds filled your ears as Joel’s head was torn from his body. The monstrous thing carelessly flung it to the side but held on tight to his body with it's other hand. It, then, let out this deep bellow that sent shivers across your body. You felt those shivers as you shot up from your bed. You were beginning to break out in a cold sweat. It was hard for you to breathe. There was this lump in your throat that you couldn’t get past. You threw your legs over the edge of the bed so the cool air could touch your skin. You rocked back and forth while gripping the corner of your mattress. The roar was real. You could still feel the vibrations that it caused in the room. Dread once again washed over you like a veil and your heart ached like never before. The tears spilled out of you as you cried. You wanted to let it all out because it hurt to keep it all in, but crying caused your hyperventilation to worsen. You were stuck and didn’t know what to do about it. The tears kept coming regardless. The only thought that crossed your mind was that you couldn’t save him. The whole thing felt so real that you found yourself confused. Was riding home with Joel the dream? Was the nightmare true? You threw on your shoes and a sweater before leaving your house. It proved not enough as flurries of snow began to fall from the sky. You wrapped the sweater closer to your body and walked down the street.

Joel never fell asleep. His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake. He drank a couple glasses of cheap whiskey that he traded for a while back in hopes that the buzz would make him dreary. All it did was make his head pound. He preferred coffee to that bottle of whiskey, but the caffeine wouldn’t have helped. He glanced out the window and saw the snow falling down from the night sky. He left the kitchen and decided to light a fire. After letting the wood burn for a moment, Joel made his way to the couch and sank into the cushions. Just as he elevated his feet on the coffee table, he heard a knock on his front door. He let out a weary sigh. He expected it to be Tommy, as he was the only one who would visit so late. He contemplated whether he should feign sleep and ignore it. It can wait ‘til the mornin’, he thought to himself.

You stood on the other side of his door, waiting for an answer. The shades were drawn, so you couldn’t tell if anyone was in. Waiting out on his dark, cold porch did not help ease your suspicions. You looked at the wooden rocking chair that Joel sat in the night he told you that he would have done it all over again. You remembered that look on his face when he told you. After another moment passed, you brought your hand up to knock again. Just as you did, the door opened. You were face to face with Joel. It was a welcome surprise for the both of you. Without words, Joel moved to the side, allowing you space to come in. You walked all the way in and he followed until you stopped in front of the fireplace. He gazed down at you, waiting for you to say something, do something. You played with your sleeves as you slowly took in his body. It was real. The ride back was real. He was real.

He could tell that you’d been crying. He was about to ask if you were ok when you closed the space between you two and hugged him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his middle. You laid your ear against his chest to feel his heartbeat. Joel returned the embrace. “I’m here,” He said. Many moments passed before you lifted your head to finally look at his face. He looked directly into your eyes and it was as if he bore into your soul. You gently took his face in your hands before kissing him. At first, it was chaste; a quick and cautious touch. With Joel’s hands still on your waist, he pulled you closer. You took that as an invitation to go deeper. You thrived in the way his lips responded to yours as each successive kiss grew longer.

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noladyme · 4 years

Text

The Frog Princess. Chapter 7

She had no wish to be bound down to anyone, but Y/N none the less found herself being dragged across the continent; to marry King Foltest of Temeria. Instead of pomp and spectacle; she was accompanied by the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Their travels would bring both monsters, lust, love; and heartache. All sound tracked by an endearing buffoon of a bard, named Jaskier.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes. Rated M.

“You’re going to need some new clothes”, Geralt said, as we were packing up, a little after noon. “O’Dimm will have his men looking for a young woman in a blue dress”. I sighed. “I shouldn’t have told them my name was Zaba. They’ll know to be looking for someone with that name”. “I think it’ll be fine”, he said. “But the clothes have to go”. I put my hands on my hips and smirked at him. “If you wanted me naked, you could just say so”, I laughed.

He dropped the satchel he’d been carrying; and walked up to me – sliding his arms around me, and cupping my bottom. “I’ve already had you once today, but I could go again”, he said; and kissed the tender skin under my ear.

“Hello!”, a voice called from a distance.

“If that’s Jaskier, I’m going to kill him”, Geralt growled. “If I don’t get to him first”, I mumbled. He smiled; and kissed me softly.

“Hello?”, the voice called; closer this time. “Are you the witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”. A short fat man was running in our direction; wearing a white tunic covered in red stains. Geralt drew his sword, and pushed me to stand behind him.

The man – clearly not used to running – stopped for a second, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He waddled up to us; and Geralt put away his sword, clearly not sensing any danger from him. “I’m Harken Danis”, the man coughed. “I come from Birxen. I need your help”. Geralt grunted. “I already have a contract”, he answered. I put a hand on his back, signaling for him to hear the man out. “Please, master witcher, I’m desperate”, Danis said. “It’s my son. He’s in grave danger!”.

I stepped towards the man. “Please, come sit by the fire. Have some water”.

Danis followed me back to the fire, and sat down; accepting the waterskin I offered him. “Thank you, young lady. You are very kind”. Geralt sat down opposite him. “Say your peace”, he demanded. I chided him with my eyes.

Danis sighed. “My son, Ajvin, he’s been hexed by a succubus”. I bit my cheek to avoid laughing – making Geralt lift his brows at me. The man continued. “He’s lost his mind! He won’t listen to us; and my wife is terribly distraught”, Danis said, tears welling up in his eyes. “She’s cast him under some spell!”.

Geralt stood up and began kicking dirt into the fire. “Succubi don’t do spells. She didn’t make him lose his mind; his cock did that all on its own”. Danis scoffed. “I beg your pardon?”. Geralt sighed. “They have sex with their victims. It’s good sex; but the…”, he was looking for the word, “… prey, can leave at any time. They won’t force themselves on someone; only take advantage of the ones that accept their offer of a good time. Your son can walk away any time he wants”.

Danis began bawling; tears running down his fat cheeks. “Please sir! I have coin. I’ll pay you handsomely!”. Geralt let out a long groan. “How far away is Birxen?”, he asked. “It’s not far. An hour on horseback; due south”, Danis sobbed.

Geralt turned towards me. “We’ll be going out of our way”, he muttered. “We still have a long way to Vizima. One hour south isn’t going to make much of a difference”, I smiled. “And I get to see you in action again”. He grunted. “Turn on?”, he asked. “A little”, I admitted with a smirk. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“25 crowns”, Geralt said to Danis over his shoulder. “I-i can pay 20”, Danis answered. Geralt turned around. “You’re a butcher, yes?”, he said, looking at the mans stained clothes. “Y-yes”, he answered. “20, and 4 pounds of good meat”. “Mutton?”, Danis asked. “Anything but”, Geralt answered; looking at me over his shoulder. I smiled at him.

“Go back to your wife. We’ll be there as soon as we can”, he said. Danis dried his eyes. “Thank you, good sir!”, he said; and waddled back in the direction he’d been coming from.

---

After having packed up, we got on our horses, and began moving south. The fall air was still chilly, but the sun and lack of wind made the trek bearable. I was still smiling to myself at our strange encounter.

“You had sex with a succubus?”, I asked Geralt. “It was a long winter”, he answered. I laughed out loud. “Come on, witcher”, I said. “There has to be more to the story”. “Not really”, he answered. “It’s like I told the butcher. They choose a victim, offer themselves up; and in my case, I said yes”. I considered his words for a moment. “But they… drain their lovers, don’t they?”, I asked. “Yes”, he answered. “Like I said, it was a long winter”. I chuckled. “But… it was good?”, I smirked. He looked out the corner of his eyes at me. “I’ve had better”, he grunted. I smirked in response.

We made it to Birxen not long after. Danis was there to great us outside his shop – which seemed to double as his home, I realized, when his wife invited us inside for a meal.

The dimly lit room had a rank smell of fresh and old blood, coming from a table in the corner – seemingly the butchers’ workstation. On the floor lay a dog, almost as fat as its master. I went to scratch it behind its ear; but felt Geralt tug at my dress. “Not the time to make new friends”, he said. “Let’s just get this over with”.

“It seems all I do on this journey is eat, sleep and watch you fight”, I said below my breath, as the woman was tending to her pots. “That, and have sex”, Geralt muttered with a smirk. “Well that part is new. And much more fun than being attacked by monsters”, I answered. He grunted in response.

“It’s so kind of you to come help us, master. I am very worried about my Ajvin”, the butchers wife said. In contrast to her husband, she was quite skinny – but must have been very good cook, as her husbands’ girth was evidence of. She’d prepared a small feast of fried potatoes, vegetables, and a roast of pork. The butcher dug right in, gobbling down immeasurable amounts of potatoes, and a chunk of meat as large as Geralts upper arm. The sight of it made my stomach churn.

“How did you know where to find me?”, Geralt asked. “Well…”, Danis said, sucking his fingers, “… a man came through town a few days back. Said he was on his way to meet with a witcher, named Geralt of Rivia. He wondered if you’d been through here already. Said you’d be coming from the western shore; Attre. I told him you might have passed Tigg on your way, that he should search there”. “His name?”, Geralt asked impatiently. I kicked his leg under the table. “He called himself Ermion”.

Mousesack!, I thought. Geralt noticed my face lighting up, and squeezed my knee in recognition.

“Did he say anything else?”, I asked. “Only that he’d be travelling with a woman; and that he had information she needed to hear”, the wife answered. “Was that you?”. “No”, Geralt answered brusquely. I clenched my jaw.

“Your boy”, Geralt said. “Tell me about him”. Danis’ wife began crying. “There, there, Mirtha”, Danis said, patting her head with his large hand. “The witcher is here to help us now”. “Yes”, she bawled. “Yes, good sir. Please save my boy”. “I need information”; Geralt grumbled.

I tried to eat some of the food on my plate, but quickly lost my appetite; when I saw Danis move his attention from his crying wife, and back to devouring another serving of meat. “He’s a good boy, my Ajvin”, Mirtha cried. “Always brought me flowers, and sang such lovely songs”. “He should be doing less singing, and more butchering”, Danis grumbled. Mirtha dabbed at a blot of stray meat-juice from his chin. “Now, Harkin; don’t you go speaking ill of our boys singing”, she said. “It’s lovely”. The butcher scoffed. “It’s useless is what it is”, he said.

Geralt was growing impatient. “So he sings. What else?”. I kicked his leg again.

Mirtha poured another serving of ale into her husbands’ mug. “A few months ago, Ajvin went to gather flowers and plants for pressing”, she said. “He makes lovely little frames to hang on the wall”. She gestured to a collection of pretty little frames with pictures made of pressed rose hip flowers and daisies. “He was gone such a long time, and when he came home, his cheeks were flush, and he wouldn’t speak to us”, the woman continued.

“And then?”, I asked; earning a look from Geralt. “Well”, she continued. “This kept happening, you see. He’d go out in the morning, and not come back ‘til late at night; looking tired and spent”. Danis nodded. “Sat him down, I did!”, he said, mouth full of green beans. “Told him that he wasn’t pulling his weight around here. That he was scaring his mother. I insisted he tell us what he was doing, when he left the house”.

Mirtha began bawling again. “Said he’d been meeting a girl”, she sobbed. “But no normal girl would make a good boy leave his mother so distraught!”. Danis slammed his fist into the table, making the plates and mugs jump. “She’s a succubus, I tell you”, he roared. “Draining Ajvin of his seed, to create young’uns. Little devils! I’ve heard the stories…”. Mirtha blew her nose in her apron. “Save my boy, witcher!”, she begged.

Geralt sighed. “Give us a place to sleep tonight, and I’ll follow your boy to the… succubus, tomorrow morning”, he said. Mirtha smiled widely. “You can have the hayloft in the barn”, she said.

“Thank you for doing this, master witcher”, Danis said. “Mirtha’s been so upset, I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks”. “That why you were crying, back at our camp?”, I asked. “Well, I’ve lost at least 5 pounds from it. It’s unbearable!”.

---

My stomach was growling from not having been able to eat in front of Danis.

“You should never waste an opportunity to eat”, Geralt chided, and pulled out a serving of vegetables he’d smuggled from the table. “The sight of the butcher made me feel sick to the stomach”, I mumbled. “Why?”, Geralt asked. “Because he’s fat?” “Fat has nothing to do with it. You can enjoy food without being a slop about it”, I answered, before chowing down on the meal in front of me. “Look who’s talking”, he chuckled. “Fuck off”, I retorted, mouth full. “So, we’re following the boy tomorrow?”.

“I’m following him”, Geralt said, while unstrapping his sword from his back. “You’re staying here”. “Geralt!”, I whined. “No”, he said. “Even if this isn’t a succubus, it might get dangerous”.

I put down the carrot I had been chewing on, and wiped my hands. Geralt had sat down next to me, leaning against a beam holding up the roof. “I’ve spent the last week traipsing through the country with you; meeting ghosts, wild animals and necrophages. Yesterday, I stabbed a man in the lung. Now you won’t let me see you follow a butcher’s son through the woods?”. “No”, he repeated. I sighed; and looked at him. He chuckled. “It’s not going to work”, he said.

I hitched up my skirts; and went to sit on his lap – straddling him. “Y/N…”, he began. “Geralt…”, I interrupted him. “You expect me to let you track down a succubus on you own? You might never come back. We know what happened last time…”. He grunted. “You could try to remind me what I have to come back to”, he breathed, and leant in to kiss me.

I pulled back. “No”, I said, shaking my head. “No?”, he asked, confused. “You have a contract”, I said. “You’re supposed to protect me, keep me close”. He let out a long groan, frowning at me. “Y/N…”, he said. “Besides; if I’m not with you, how do you know I won’t run away?”, I smirked.

“I could tie you down”, he growled, putting one hand on my back, and the other on my bottom; pulling me hard towards him. Our groins met, and my breath hitched. “Is that a promise?”, I breathed, and raised a brow at him, biting my lip. He groaned, and kissed me. I tried to pull away, but this time he moved his hand from my back, and held it to the back of my head, to keep it there.

I giggled against his lips. “This is fun to you?”, he growled. “Very”, I answered. “I think the only real succubus here is you”, he said. “Well…”, I said, nipping lightly at his lower lip, “… maybe you should take what’s offered”.

He let out a long groan; and pressed my hips closer to his, letting me feel his hardness. He leant in to kiss me again; but I put a finger to his lips. “Oh…”, I said, “… but I’m still coming with you”.

---

At dawn I woke from the sound of moving in the stable bellow the hayloft. Geralt was fully dressed, and sitting still as a statue; looking out the small glassless window at the gable. He turned his head to look at me, and put a finger to his lips. I nodded. The rustling downstairs ended with the closing of the stable doors. “Get dressed”, Geralt whispered, keeping his eyes on something moving outside.

Moments later we were walking through the woods behind the butcher’s house. Geralt wasn’t making a sound as he moved – I on the other hand was finding it difficult to avoid stepping on twigs and rustling leaves. Geralt looked back at me. “Try to step where I do”, he whispered.

I followed his moves; and soon we left the woods, moving into a meadow. About 100 yards away, I saw a scrawny young man, picking flowers. “Ajvin”, I whispered. Geralt nodded.

We crouched behind a large boulder. Suddenly, a pretty young woman came running into the meadow. Ajvin stood up, opened his arms, and she ran into his embrace, kissing him passionately. They sat down and began talking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Geralt smirking.

“What’s happening?”, I whispered. He chuckled. “Her name is Lysa”, he said. “He’s singing her a song he wrote about her”. “Aaww”, I smiled. “That’s sweet”. “It’s a terrible song”, he smiled. “Sing it to me”, I said. “I don’t sing”, he grunted. “Well, tell me the words, then”, I demanded. He sighed. “Lysa my dear. Your skin is so fine. Won’t you, oh won’t you, oh won’t you be mine”. I laughed. “You’re right. It’s a terrible song”.

Lysa leant against Ajvin, and he put his arm around her. I put my chin on Geralts shoulder. “They’re sweet”, I said. “They’re young and stupid”, he answered. “Maybe. But they’re happy. They chose each other”. Geralt looked at me, his eyes suddenly sad. “I’m sorry I can’t give you that”, he said. “I can’t give you flowers and songs in a meadow”.

I kissed his shoulder. “I don’t want flowers and meadows”, I said. “I just want a choice”. He let out a long breath; and then kissed my forehead.

Ajvin and Lysa began kissing and then quickly undressing each other. “Oh…”, I said. “Yes”, Geralt agreed. “We should probably…”. “Absolutely”, I said. He stood up, and took my hand to help me on my feet. Standing in front of him; he put his hand on my cheek, and softly kissed me.

We left the meadow as quickly as we had arrived.

---

Deciding Ajvide wasn’t in any danger, we had time to waste before returning to the butcher. Much to Geralts dismay, I decided to spend that time fully clothed; and working on the herbs and plants I’d gathered. I was standing over a makeshift worktable – an old tree that had fallen over – carefully making thin slices of the mandrake. “Thank you for this sacrifice”, I whispered to the almost humanoid-like root laying in front of me.

“You talking to the plants now?”, Geralt grumbled. He was standing leaning against a tree. “Mandrake. If it doesn’t kill you with its scream when you pull it from the ground; it might drive you to suicide when you ingest it”, I said. “I have to be respectful in the preparations of it. It didn’t choose its final purpose in this world; and it might take revenge on me”.

Geralt went to stand behind me; leaning over my shoulder to look. “Too thick”, he grunted. “I’m slicing it perfectly fine”, I said. He slid his arms around my waist, and pressed his hips towards my bottom; making clear his intention. “Not what I meant, little frog”, he breathed into my ear; and moved his hand towards the apex of my thighs. I gasped slightly. “Not in front of the mandrake”, I chuckled. “I’m sure it wouldn’t mind having it’s dying sight be of your perfect breasts bouncing”, he moaned; and let his other hand grab a hold of aforementioned part of my body.

Desperately trying to keep my head; I shrugged him off. Geralt looked at me with a frown. “I need to finish this”, I smiled. He groaned. “Besides, master witcher”, I smirked. “Don’t you have a contract to finish? The case of the non-existing succubus?”. He smiled wickedly. “I though we established last night, that you were the succubus”. I scoffed. “Oh, so now I’m draining the life out of you”. “Fuck”, he groaned. “Bad choice of words”. I smiled at him forgivingly. “Once I’m done here, we can go back to Danis and collect your pay”, I said. “Then, we can find a nice spot where you can fuck the living daylights out of me as much as you want”.

He looked at me with dark eyes. “Hurry”, he growled.

---

In the late afternoon we were back at the butcher’s house. He was waiting inside. “Well?”, he demanded. “Is it done? Is the demon dead?”.

Geralt sat down at the table, looking at him with hard eyes. “The demon is a young woman, who’s fallen in love with your son”, he said. “And he loves her”. My heart jumped a little at his words. “Love?”, Danis spattered; throwing what appeared to be a pigs-snout to the oversized dog on the floor. “Love has nothing to do with it. What love would have a boy ignore his parents plans for him?”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked. “He’s supposed to take over the shop here. Find him a good wife that’ll fatten him up and bear him some children. Not run around in the fields with some… harlot!”. I was about to scream some choice words at him; when I felt Geralts hand on my knee under the table.

“Danis”, he said pointedly. “You brought me here to kill a succubus; even though I told you that such creatures carry no real danger. Now, you want me to… what, slit the throat of a girl; for no other reason than the fact that she makes your son happy?”. The butcher looked at Geralt with enraged eyes. “I’m not paying you anything until you get rid of that… that succubus!”, he snarled. “She must be a demon! Why else would Ajvin…”.

He was interrupted by Mirtha opening the door. “Harken, our boy is back!”, she beamed. We all went outside. “Witcher, you did it! Our son has come home!”, Mirtha sobbed through happy tears.

Ajvin was standing in front of us; his hair tussled, and it seemed he’d put on his shirt inside out. “It’s alright ma’. I’m here now”, he said; and hugged his crying mother. “Yes you are, son”, Danis smiled. “And now no more of that rubbish with that wench. You can get back to butchering with me”. Ajvin looked angrily at his father. “Don’t call her that!”, he said. “I love Lysa. We’re getting married!”. Danis gasped. “You, what?”, he snarled. “You’re mad, boy!”.

I felt Geralt tense up next to me. I grasped his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, which he returned after having relaxed his shoulders.

“She’s bewitched you, Ajvin”, Mirtha sobbed. “You have lost your mind; you must have!”. Ajvin smiled gently at her. “I haven’t, ma’”, he said. “I love Lysa, and she loves me. She makes me happy. She makes me dream up the most beautiful songs and poems; just from the way she looks at me”. I stifled a smile, remembering the beautiful song Geralt had recited to me in the meadow. They embraced; and Mirtha’s tears once again seemed to become happy ones.

“Rubbish!”, Danis cried out. “Get your head out of the clouds, Ajvin. You are meant to be a butcher – like me and your granda’ – not a singer”.

“But da’. I don’t want to be a butcher”, Ajvin said. “I want to be a poet. I don’t like killing animals”. “Rubbish”, Danis repeated. Ajvin shook his head. “It’s not rubbish. I’m going to Oxenfurt to train. Just like the great Jaskier. And Lysa’s coming with me”. Geralt raised an eyebrow.

Mirtha looked at her son with pleading eyes. “Is this what you want, son? Will this make you truly happy?”, she asked. He nodded. “It is, ma’”.

The butcher stormed towards Geralt; with a speed I didn’t know he had in him. “You!”, he yelled; pointing an angry finger at the witcher. “I’m not paying you as much as a rotten parsnip!”. Geralt looked ready to throttle the man, but before he could, Mirtha walked up behind him; and smacked him across the back of his head. “Shut up, Harkin!”, she growled. “You brought him here; you’ll pay him!”. “But…”, Danis tried. “No buts!”, Mirtha said. “Our boy has made up his mind. And you’ll support him”.

Danis muttered a curse; and then handed Geralt a small purse. “You’re not getting the meat!”, he snarled; and waddled back into his house.

Nodding at both Mirtha and Ajvin, we went to get the horses. The young man caught up to us at the stable doors.

“Are you Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf?”, he asked. Geralt grunted. “That is…”, Ajvin looked flabbergasted. “You sir… you are so lucky to have been graced with the friendship of the great bard, Jaskier. Please tell me; what’s he like?”. Geralt seemed as if he was just about to say something rather unpleasant. “Very focused on his craft”, I said quickly. “His craft being women, drinking and laziness”, Geralt muttered below his breath. I bumped his arm with my shoulder, and smiled widely at Ajvin. “Good luck in Oxenfurt”, I said. “And good health on your marriage”. Ajvin beamed at me. “Thanks, my lady”.

He went to walk back to the house. “Oh!”, he said. “I nearly forgot”. He handed over some folded fabric and leather. “Ma’ said she’d noticed a patch on your dress; and seeing as you’re travelling what seems to be quite a way; it would be better for you to have something appropriate to wear”. I looked at the clothes I was holding. A mix of greys and browns; and what looked like a bright purple shirt. Ajvin half smiled at me. “I dyed it myself”, he said. I thanked him. “Safe journeys to you both”, he said, and left us.

I chuckled, and shook my head. “Are your contracts always like this?”, I asked Geralt. He grunted. “Not exactly”, he said. “But it’s not the first time someone mistook a pretty girl for a demon”. We got on our horses, and left Birxen behind.

---

At nightfall we came upon the ruins of an old cottage. “I wonder who lived here”, I said. “Tonight, we do”, Geralt grumbled; and began to tie the horses to a tree outside the ramshackle building. My stallion began making neighing sounds. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll make you a gelding”, Geralt growled at it; and led Roach to another tree, a few yards away. “Bayrd”, I said. “His name is Bayrd. The one who sings”. Geralt chuckled. “You’re mad, little frog”. I grinned at him.

That night; Geralt fucked the living daylights out of me; as I looked at the stars through the holes in the roof of the old cottage. Once he was finished – having made sure we both met a more than satisfying end – I fell asleep with my ear to his chest; lulled by the sound of his slow heartbeat.

---

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