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elegantduelliste · 3 months

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Things heat up in Astarion's tent after Tav offers to let him drink her blood.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 6: Ribbon*

Ao3

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Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Smut, CPTSD, Vaginal Fingering, Breast Play, Act 1 Spoilers

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For she is slowly being pulled by strands of the spinneret. A spider that sews his web with such intricacies, they are mistaken for complex pieces of his soul. The predator lures a victim into silken promises, and when finally ensnared, there will be no mercy for the fangs that drain them alive.

— Gale of Waterdeep, poetry from The Wilderness

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“I agreed to let him continue journeying with us at your convincing behest, after we found out he was a vampire and AFTER we learned he had already bitten you. I will not retract my decision on the matter, but you cannot expect me to fall back and watch as he takes advantage of our—your—good tidings. Tav you are one step away from being spun into his web, if you’re not there already,” Gale argued loudly.

Astarion sat on the edge of the ratty stool outside of his tent, polishing his daggers. He would, at times, tilt the point of his ear in the direction of the bitter heart-to-heart between the wizard and their humble bard, attempting to decipher each sentence his victim held firm to in her rebuttal. But, her pitch was that usual quiet sultry measure, like honey dripping onto berries, she carried and he couldn’t hear a damned word from her mouth.

Mouth. Her mouth. Their lips.

Ah, yes, he had tasted her the previous evening. Inside Tav’s tent, testing the pliancy of their lips against each other—she yielded to him. He had swiped his tongue across her bottom lip after a few preludes of longer, more downy, kisses until she mewled for him.

So delicately did her pecks tap, using her lips as a confessional upon each pore of his pallored shade. At one point, when she had felt bolder, she licked his upper lip with the tip of her moistened tongue. Astarion rewarded her with a groan, coercing her to glue herself to his chest with her own while he guided her hands to hold onto his broad shoulders.

And her eyes, those very wide orbs of storms. They searched. They searched. They searched. A risky assessment of his features; an oracle knocking on the undeath pane of his soul. He couldn’t stand it. Not a single one of his pillaged targets had ever sought him out in this manner, too enthralled with their own lusts. The meddlesome witch with the tempting gaze made his throat twist with sour spittle.

Lo, with a crown of stars fastened in her hair, she’s the queen of swords. To pierce the hearts of men and drain them of their festering cancers. Her eyes; the ocean—you’ll drown, you’ll drown, you’ll drown.

Oh, but the tides shortly fell from her court, right back into the shadow of his hands. Because her lips were swollen for him, so luscious towards the end of their interlude, that he pricked the spike of his fang into the dewy tissue of the lower vermilion of her lip. The tiniest beads of blood formed and he nursed upon them with sensitive suckles.

Astarion could hear the irregularity of her flitting heart, like the melody of a black-capped chickadee, and his soul mate mark began to pulse in tandem with her frolics. She quivered in his arms over and over again, with gasps and goose flesh along her arms, until their kisses slowed and he wished her a fair rest of the night.

This was the exact leverage he needed and she so readily provided it to him. The song she sang by the river—the longing in her voice—was for him. For a connection she so desperately wanted to believe was still alive in the world. And by the immoral scriptures hidden from saintly eyes, he would perform to her. He would take up the mantle, murmuring corruption in between her thighs until she was screaming his name. He would play the part of her lover and she would gladly be his defender.

Because she was touch-starved. Because she wanted tenderness. Because she would protect him from his former master.

With this, he would have some form of sanctuary. And if all of the stars aligned, Tav and the rest of this questionable gang would help him in his pursuit in true freedom from Cazador.

But, her wavering request of ”please, don’t hurt me” kept reappearing in his thoughts, as if it had been drawn in the fog of a tarry marsh.

“You’re protecting him? For Mystra’s sake, why?!” Gale’s continued goading grounded Astarion back to reality.

What? He could only hear the soft whispers of Tav’s voice, but judging by how Gale looked over her shoulder with a heavily creased brow in the vampire’s direction, her answer was unanticipated.

As Tav stalked off, boots creating clouds of dust leading out of the camp, Astarion stared at the back of her form long after she left, with the opinion that his tadpole must have consumed more of his brain matter than he originally thought.

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The pangs of hunger were unbearable.

Daggers in hands, freshly sharpened, Astarion stationed himself on the side of the dilapidated house. The overcast shadows of one of its walls provided the perfect hiding spot. Shadowheart crouched behind him, preparing a warding spell, trying to ghost the incantation with bitty utterings.

“Shh. I’m trying to concentrate,” he chastised under his breath.

In front of the building, he eyed Tav like a hawk as she sang to the oversized lard of an ogre. Her flexible fingers strumming the lute, she had been trying to distract the monster with an on-the-spot folk song called: It’s Never Ogre. He mocked her for the painfully moronic pun, while not acknowledging the slight upturned cordiality near the corner of his mouth.

Before they decided to confront the last beast of the Blighted Village, she told them her plan with her typical bashful confidence. She’ll play her notes with a garish tale of gluttonous delights, then, when she gave the signal, Astarion would sneak up behind the ogre with a devastating attack into his spinal cord—rendering it immobile. It was an attack the spawn had conducted enough times to the point of it becoming second nature.

His stomach churned again and he keeled over at his waist in pain, one of his weapons almost slipping out of his cold grip. Why the hells did he continue to condemn himself to this fate?! He was free damnit!

“Astarion, when was the last time you fed? I can hear your guts and dare I say you look deader than usual,” Shadowheart dismally questioned.

She peeked around his shoulder to glimpse at the concert their leader was desperately trying to continue with a phony smile plastered on her expression. “Just don’t get any ideas about my neck, fanger.”

He baited the Sharran cleric with an impudent fleer. “You’re assuming I’d even think about sinking my teeth into that darkness thickening your blood. You’ve forgotten, I was already there for two centuries.”

“Hush or we’ll miss the gesture.”

”Would you like an appetizer with dinner tonight? How about a plate of roaches? Eat up, my beloved spawn.”

Astarion shuddered exhaustively with each turn of his joints. He felt weak. Too weak for combat. During the last couple of evenings, he prowled the night, creeping upon deers and boars in the area. But, as he got close to his potential hunts, he would taste the chilled blood of decomposing rats on his palate.

He would recoil, like the obedient man he was for master. Instead, seeking out the familiarity of smaller woodland creatures in the vein of squirrels and rodents until they became too weary to descend their hiding places—knowing a strange predator was on the loose.

Tasting the ichor of the minstrel had made him too greedy. No. He was undeserving of the warmth that flowed throughout his body as he drank from a thinking creature. It was like being wrapped in a blanket on a crisp winter’s eve from the inside out and the only comfort of his sanguine life he was entitled to, were the corroded bits Cazador approved.

Submit to him. Draped in master’s arms while he feeds dribbles of red decay on your lips. His unholy communion. Body and blood of Cazador. Amen.

“Astarion! ASTARION! NOW! SHIT!!” Shadowheart was shaking him violently.

The shrill of Tav’s screams echoed throughout the rest of the vacant village as the ogre tightened his ginormous hand around her torso.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Astarion panicked aloud as he regained his senses.

He ran forward with no time to sneakily assassinate the giant. Lunging on his back, the vamp grabbed onto rolls of fatty tissue to climb upwards. With the point of his blade raised, he carved through the air and stabbed it in the middle of his back, slicing through vertebrae. The ogre, thrown off balance, stumbled to the ground.

Astarion pulled out the dagger and lunged it a final time in the back of its head, a smell of foul blackness spewing from the wound, killing him immediately. Tav scrambled away from the slumped fiend’s body, coughing, gasping for breath.

Shadowheart ran to her side with a minor healing potion. “Hold still, let me at least check you for injuries.”

“I guess he hated the song after all,” she joked. “I think I’m fine. Maybe a few bruises. Are the two of you okay?”

Astarion trotted over to them flicking inky blood and greasy fat off his blades before sheathing them onto his back. “Nasty creatures those. I'm all for murdering our enemies, but maybe we could avoid the ones failing to practice good hygiene in the future.”

Tav smiled up at him with a breath of relief. “I’ll be sure to ask them ahead of time to bathe before we decide to play slaughter roulette.”

The cleric stood quickly, pointing her finger inches from his chest with circles of scorn spiraling in her eyes. “Lady of Loss guide me. Astarion, you were in a total state of haze! She almost died out there!”

Shadowheart wasn’t incorrect by placing her ill contempt on him. It was his fault. Being around the others with his newfound freedom had been nothing short of exhilarating thus far, but it proved to come with its complications, including these episodes he couldn’t seem to gain control over.

He scrunched his face dramatically. “I—well, he’s in his grave now, isn’t he? And here she is: alive and breathing with that golden voice still intact.”

“Ugh, fine. I’m not going to argue with you if you’re going to gloss over what just happened. Just know that if you don’t feed soon, you’re about as good of use to us as a corpse is—pun intended. Tav, I trust you’ll keep his bites in line.” Shadowheart trudged over rubble towards the ruinous home, likely in search of supplies before nightfall.

Astarion reached down, offering his arm out for Tav to grab onto. She wrapped her hand near the crook of his inner elbow and he easily pulled her body weight up in one heave, still keeping her in close proximity to him.

“You’re truly alright? I would offer to kill the piece of shit that harmed you, but it seems I’ve already done my good deed for the week,” Astarion sarcastically grinned.

“Must’ve been the line I inserted about a dwarf mocking their loincloths that riled him up,” she giggled.

“Serves you right then for singing such awful lyrics.”

She playfully punched his bicep. “But, aside from that, you could have told me last night that you needed blood.”

His eyebrows rose. There was a languid swallow to bite back another spasm rumbling from within. And one more to cower behind the rascal he summoned forth. “I seem to remember our focus being on other delights.”

Tav’s ears flushed. She folded her arms against her bust in what appeared to be mild indignation. “Astarion, I’m being serious. Please consider the danger you could be putting us or yourself in next time if your hunger is present to this extent. I would almost consider being heartbroken if you were harmed.”

Astarion was grateful she didn’t inquire further about his mishaps. He wasn’t ready to confront these diseased irreverent reflections, let alone pretending someone cared about him enough to confide in them about the personal affairs of his unbeating heart.

He moved his hand to lightly touch her cheek with the back of his fingers, offering her a pulpy grin. “Almost consider? I think you may have given away who your favorite companion might be! I’m just glad you didn’t wind up a mangled piece of meat, you daring minx. I don’t want you to go anywhere—just yet.”

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Tav couldn’t stop touching her lips.

They felt raw. Full of blood rushing from the memento of forbidden kisses shared, now the haunting sensation of a ripened plum being pushed against her.

The heat pooled between her thighs as she imagined how Astarion’s tongue might taste in her mouth. Several times she invited him to break through her barrier by licking smooth circles on his lips, but he would only pull back to settle germane brushes of his maw in the delicate reaches of her neck and cheeks. He intentionally held back.

Astarion was a complicated person, easily slipping his debonair mask back on when he needed it most. Living as a slave must have nearly stripped his entire identity away. But, those unbreakable shards that embedded themselves in the lemure silhouettes of his tarnished soul, were the ones Tav wished to know. Because now he walked a path of barbed shells and rubbery bones and she was hesitant to cross his boundaries, leaving her questions at rest—patiently waiting for what he wanted.

As she approached his tent—reciting to herself that she was only offering her blood to him as a means to an end for his hunger—she could see Astarion reclining on the rug in front, witnessing the disappearing sun giving way to night’s oil slick puddles stretching across the canvassed sky.

Her breath caught in her throat, much like when she observed him in the sun. With a pillow tucked under his elbows, he resembled a handsome tunic wearing emperor lounging in deep thought over his conversations with the planets.

“Good evening, my almost favorite rogue. Am I interrupting?”Did I just flirt with him? Gods!

Astarion flashed a teasing smirk. “And a pleasant evening to you, my almost favorite songbird. It’s quite a sight isn’t it? The night sky. I could take or leave that fashion sense of yours.”

Tav snorted. She looked down at her camp clothes, a blue ankle length skirt and light beige chemise she traded with scrolls. “My fashion? Well, I could take or leave your hunger for blood, but here we are!”

He lifted the side of his mouth to show off his canine to her. “Speaking of which,” he stood, rearranging his camp clothes, casting a coy impression. “—you were my first.”

Her eyes were wide as the moons. “Beg pardon?”

“Not that! I’ve feasted on beasts for two centuries, but you—you were the first thinking creature I’ve drank from. I can’t stop thinking about how delectable you tasted. Which brought me to ponder how the others might taste.”

“You’ve been looking at other necks? I actually think I’m a bit sad, Astarion.” Tav delicately placed a hand on her chest, in feigned hurt.

“Now, now, I’m a man of tremendous appetites. Take Shadowheart for instance, she has Calishite Absinthe written all over her, but what do you think about our local Blade of Frontiers?”

She scratched her cheek. ”Wyll? How about a simple sweet cider? Since, he’s such a man of the people.”

“Oh, that sounds very refreshing!” He chortled like a schoolboy.

“Though, you have stroked my curiosity. What did I taste like?” She asked innocently.

Astarion moved in closer to her, catching a strand of her dark ashen locks to play with in between his fingers. “Hmm. I think I may need a fresh sip of your blood to accurately describe the details to you.”

Biting her lower lip demurely, she peered into his garnet jeweled eyes with confidence upon her lungs and a drumming behind her rib cage. “Okay.”

“What?”

“Don’t you still need blood? Take mine.”

He lowered his hand to touch her previously bitten wrist, prudently feeling the healed wounds. “I—yes, I do. But, to make sure you invite me back to dine with you in the future, drops from a wrist isn’t going to suffice this time, my sweet.”

“Then, my neck. Would that be enough?” She posed assertively.

She noticed him modifying his stance to subtly adjust a certain part of himself in his pants. “…yes. It would or at least fill me enough so I can hunt. We can—my tent?”

Tav nodded, giving his arm a flimsy squeeze.

Instead of waiting for him to invite her inside his tent with whatever welcome mat of words he could conjure, she took it upon herself to enter. She noted the plain velveteen rococo pillows in different shapes he had thrown in a pile, a small candelabra lit off to the side with his recent reading material. Stacks of books they found in storages, bookshelves, and chests. A few jars of congealed blood and soiled rags strewn about. But, what caught her eye was a nondescript espresso colored keepsake box that sat under a neatly placed sewing kit.

She couldn’t help but smile warmly wondering what type of trinkets he bundled into the container. Was Astarion a sentimental man? Maybe he was a collector and kept defective coins inside. She swelled with elated tenderness at the remarkable novelty of it.

In the den of blood and evocation of chased pleasures of a thousand faces, a holy box of unknown covenants to a man stood untethered. To keep out the crusades of devils and evil tyrants, how far would the soul be sold?

“Looking for something?” The vampire blocked the entrance to his tent. Tav couldn’t read him, but she did notice the sift of vision fall in line with the box before turning back to her.

“N-no. Only admiring your decor. And here I was thinking you couldn’t possibly have more pillows to add to your repertoire.”

He closed the flap behind him, moving to sink on top of the plush pile. They both tossed their boots over towards a separate corner of the space. “I’m a maximalist when it comes to the luxuriant, including whose blood I choose to drink within my tent.”

The pale spawn’s posture straightened, he patted the space between his open legs, with a come-hither tone. “Forgive my eagerness, but shall we?”

The bard’s heart started to flutter thinking about the vicinity they were about to be in with each other, even if it was only to help out a friend. Friend. Is that what they were?

“How should I sit?”

Astarion beckoned her to come closer with a repetitive motion of his index finger and a seductive grin. Tav crawled over towards him. He drew a circle in the air with the same finger, gesturing for her to turn around. There was a nervous excitement dancing along the fine hairs of her skin when she obediently turned all the way around and sat on the ground in front of him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and scooted her against him silently, save for the rustling of her skirt dragging. She melted as soon as her back clamped against the coolness of his chest. Unsure of how to position her legs, she bent them upwards, whilst letting the flats of her feet rest on one of the ornate cushions.

Tav could feel him gather the fountain of her wavy hair from her back, placing it over one of his shoulders to give him full allowance to nip at her neck. A waft of her lavender and vanilla scent burst out into a cloud from her wispy strands. Astarion inhaled deeply, gliding his hands from her waist up to sit on either side of her shoulders. She shivered when he leaned in to nuzzle his lips against the balm of her jugular vein.

“You know, I have a rather invasive curiosity you may be able to sate. A minor detail from your morning.”

The songstress tilted her head slightly away from him with inquisition on her mind. “And what would that be,” she breathed out.

“Gale of Waterdeep. What was it that you said that caused such outrage from him? Your conversation seemed rather—heated.” The vampire’s voice was a needling whisper against her skin, as he pecked the area he currently favored.

Tav puffed out a heady sigh. His fingers modestly skittered down her pale arms as if they were tendrils of vines seeking the charity of the sun. “Why would you like to know? Are you jealous of him, Astarion?”

He smirked, the upturned edges of his mouth tickling her neck. “Why ever would I be jealous? It is not him that’s leaving marks upon your body, Tav.”

He mildly bit down on her, unaccompanied by the piercing of his fangs. She cried out when he sucked leisurely on the spot, worrying the velvet of her tender neck in his mouth. Tav murmured a prayer in his name as he spread the thinnest layer of his spit around the sensitive spot. The sound of her name on his beautiful lips caused the fluid of her arousal to settle in between the inner folds of her cunt.

Tav felt so ashamed with her thoughts, succumbing to this man so wantonly that she had only met recently. Of the betrayal of wetness; of the desperation to know what comes next. If he requested her to suck on prayer beads being fed to her one by one by his long fingers to exhibit how lewd of a woman she had become—she would submit.

He removed his gaping mouth away from her long enough to speak. “You’re trembling again, much like the first time I had you in my mouth. Did you come here for a reward—for all you’ve done for me?”

Tav turned her head towards him as far as she was able, trying not to writhe in his arms. “I need no rewards. I just wanted to help you.”

Astarion tilted his head in towards the lobe of her ear, his breath a luring sweet chill of undeath. “Then, what exactly did you come here for? Surely, the reason wasn’t to only let me drink from you.”

Her head spun with lust for the want of him. Not only to quell the fervor her body organically felt for him, but also the unbridled tenebrae of his forgotten beating heart that she kept dipping her toes into. Wading in his twilight. She had never known hunger until this mysterious man came into her life.

And she wanted more.

“I came here for a distraction,” she panted, referencing back to a previous conversation they exchanged. Uncertainty bit at her worried lips about him, what he may be thinking or feeling. “But, Astarion, if you don’t want—

He traced cool brushes across the protruding bone of her clavicle, from one side to the other. “Shhh. Let me take care of you, darling.”

And then, Astarion’s voice was a lyrical cadence caressing her ear, “Let me speak to you of wandering.”

Gilded fingers swooped down her ribs, feeling each ridge until they momentarily grabbed onto her hip. With the vacancy of his other hand, he guided his knuckles to the side of her swollen breast, caressing its rounded shape. Tav felt the walls of her slit clench onto nothing. Her heartbeat sped up in anticipation like that of a small animal.

Closer and closer he drew to the front of her bosom, pulling out gasp after gasp from her until she felt faint. Tav seized his hand, rotating it so his digits could feel her perked teat through her clothes. She implored him to rub it with a “please.” He released a teasing chuckle behind her.

“So very impatient. Though, I have a confession. The first time I bit you, I could see your breasts peeking through your shirt and I wanted to outline the letters of my name on your nipples,” he breathed into the shell of her ear.

He pulled down her chemise, letting her bountiful chest spill free. A pale index finger circled around the spun sugary pink of an areola, eliciting a carefree vibrato from the bard. He tested her sensitivity by giving her nipple a soft pinch. Tav squirmed as he held her, holding onto the wrist delivering his ministrations for dear life.

Astarion kissed the back of her shoulder, a gratifying hum, a low roll on her skin. “Mm. You react so exquisitely to my touch. Should I start with the letter ‘A’?”

Gods, she wanted to scream. She would remove the crown of regal flowers from her head, to smear his want in each crevice of her mouth. He could order her onto her knees, pushing the tip of his cock past her sumptuous lips with promises to anoint her with his cum and she would obey. To allow him to claim her for the depraved woman she wanted to be for him.

“Answer me,” he said roughly, squeezing her whole breast in his hand.

“Please trace your name on me,” she whimpered with an embarrassed huff.

The scrape of the vamp’s fangs were at her neck and she imagined what it would feel like for his sanguine fascination to nip at her tits. The stitch of his razored cuspids mixed with bloody desire. Tav hadn’t confided in him about how aroused biting in general made her or the fact that she had sunk her fingers several times over into her wet hole, remembering how the initial pain of him biting her wrist felt.

He rubbed the tip of her pertness with his thumb in strokes and swooshes, spelling out his name possessively on her flesh. “A. S. T. A. R. I. O. N. Look at you. Being such a good girl for me. Let me see where else I can wander.”

Astarion startled her when he shifted and the grip on her hip went slack. His hand appeared near her foot where the hem of her skirts dangled. He toyed with material of her silken stockings, dangerously lifting up her skirts enough to sift his fingers up and down her clothed shin. The icy touch halted near her inner ankle before he tantalizingly dragged the fabrics upwards, where his limber fingers left a trail of glacial tingles along her leg.

Her eyes clenched shut when the compass of his touch made it to her knee. “Astarion, keep going. Don’t stop,” Tav rasped.

Further up his descent he drifted, reaching the halfway point of her inner thigh. He forced the rest of her skirts up to rest by her hips in one swift motion.

“And what do we have here?” Astarion skimmed his touch along the ribbon tied around her thigh, holding up the hidden lace trimmed silk of her hosiery. “Such forbidden raptures concealed from the world. Did you wear these in hopes I would see them?”

Tav gulped. She answered him with a suggestive moan. Her body tensed as he stroked his fingers between the stocking and the creaminess of her thigh. The folds of her slit were bathed in fluids; her smalls were soaked from her neediness.

There was a sharp intake of his breath, a certain gluttonous deprivation she could detect. He urgently pressed her ass back into his pelvis and she could feel everything. The salivating length of his cock, the perfect girth of it, most of all—how devastatingly hard he could get.

Sensually, he gnawed at her ear lobe. “Gods. Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

Aloud she whined for him, twitching in his arms. He continued to pinch and pull at her nipple with one hand, while the other tumbled closer, closer, closer to her heaven. He slithered his fingers to frisk the hem of her smalls, drafting the threads delicately stitched along the outer edges.

Astarion kneaded his hand into the space between her thigh and her dripping filth, encouraging her legs to widen. “Reach down and spread yourself for me.”

The smoldering flush overtaking her body was nearly unbearable. But, he was commanding her with a carnally low voice and she wanted, no, needed to surrender to him. And so, she reached down betwixt her pale thighs—like the good pet she wished to be—to push her smalls to the side, timidly spreading the outer lips of her labia.

Clit throbbing to the exposed air, Astarion wasted no time in drawing foreign symbols around it. He circled her nub with his index finger, spreading her gathered slick as if he were savoring the sweetest of desserts before allowing himself to swallow it down.

“Oh my gods…,” Tav managed to stutter out. His fingers were slowly pulling her to nirvana with his golden chilled scald.

For the last several nights, she had thought about his hands on her, guiding her to a blinding light of pleasure. She had never been embraced in such a hedonistic, yet tenderly amatory way in her lifetime. He was practiced in his persuasive dynamics, but he treated her like she was the only woman alive that could bring rhapsody to his aching frenzy. That she was his to keep and place inside that little curio box he kept tucked away for his own bliss.

Two of his fingers dipped down into her gaping hole and a lilt of an impassioned wail came undone from her throat. She had tears in her eyes from all the sensations she felt. Tav thought for years that a man would never caress her again, that she couldn’t bear to let another physically have admission to the spectrums of her ecstasy. But, Astarion roused a blistering zeal she had been petrified was completely emptied out of her from her last relationship.

He easily entered her, rocking her back and forth on his digits. “I can’t believe how your cunt drips for me, lover.”

But, he doesn’t stop the firm thrusting of his long fingers into her canal. He gave her no breadth of room to steady her breathing. His fingers crooked into that spongy spot within her and she perilously concentrated to keep her lips open wide for him. The songstress’s pitch, once mere murmurs of dew drops falling from leaves into the soft earth, became lewd church bells of lamenting convictions sobbing his name.

“Ast—Astarion! Astarion. Ahhhhh. Oooo.”

Deftly does he move his hand from her breast to her mouth. He placed his index and middle fingers in front of her crying lips, coaxing it to open. A long exerted sigh of warmed air left her lungs as she readily—so hastily—accepted his agile instruments into her wet orifice. Tav greedily slid her tongue between his fingers, offering the loveliest of sucklings to them as a succubus’s groan filled her mouth. The holy water of her saliva could not keep him out.

Her body turned pliable when he nibbled near the point of her ear, flicking her earring with his tongue. She sighed around the intrusions in between her lips, finding herself grinding her backside along his hard cock. He stilled her with a thumb pressing along her aroused clit.

Astarion alternated between gentle languorous pumps into her drenched slit and rubbing her sensitive bundle of nerves. He softly stroked from the middle of her vagina up to her unhooded clit, applying slow thrums of taps when she whimpered for him to keep going. Then, he slid his fingers in the shape of a ‘V’ down her inner labia lips slowly until he reached the entrance of her sex, encircling it gently.

The further he prepped her for climax, the more her spit coated his fingers and dribbled down her chin in an immodest show of her starved paradise. The woman within his arms begged for release with her body the more she sacrificed herself to him.

There was a howling wind knocking at his tent and cicadas drowning out their debauched acts. Astarion was washing her ashore with his fingers moving like honey exploring her insides. Her pearl was his to enrapture and he was massaging it so sweet.

“I’m close,” the songbird whispered into the dimly lit space of their sins.

“Sing for me,” he keened.

Then, his fangs were biting into the ripe juncture of her neck and he was drinking her like a carafe of water. The blood was flowing in a deluge of puddles into his mouth, ribbons of merlot streaming from the wound. And the noises he made as if she belonged to only him, sent a twinge of secretions to her nether regions she didn’t realize she could still create.

He lifted up from his supper long enough to tell her to cum for him and she did. She begged and screamed around his fingers in muffled phrases of “I want you inside me” and “ oh my gods, Astarion.” Waves washed over her body in a rite of passage ceremony, contracting around his willowy fingers as they slowed their propels.

As the quakes started to subside, Tav removed saliva soaked fingers from her mouth and tugged on his silvery curls, ripping his face towards her from his drink. Her half-lidded pools of blue bore into the crimson of his eyes. The smells of her vitality and sexual energy were heavy in the air, a luring mixture of creeds continually inviting him in. She stared at the bloody nectar flowing down his chin—the smears stained across his mouth—and crushed her lips against his.

The vampire spawn moaned into her mouth, then pulled back from the kiss. He pulled out his fingers from her quivering heat and cupped her cheek, her musky elixir permeating her skin. His eyes foraged hers, shifting back and forth, as if he were seeking spiritual redemption. And she waited. She waited for him to discover one of the unspoken truths she could not explain.

Finally, he kissed her back, with a salty musk and rich caramel taste thick on his tongue as he stuck part of it in her mouth. Then, there was a frantic impulse where they were placing open-mouthed kisses on each other's hands, necks, and faces. Tav turned around, her breasts still unsheltered and her juices leaking down her thighs, as Astarion wrapped his arms around her back pulling her into him. She threw her arms around his neck and the need to cover herself with his scent from his cool body was insatiable.

Struggling to breathe, she reached down to tear his billowy shirt from his pants. “I want to make you feel good too.”

But, he grabbed her calloused hands and pressed the back of them to his blood-stained lips with soothing pecks. “Not tonight, my dear. You have done more than enough.”

Tav retreated from him with a concerned smile, sitting back on her knees. The spell is now broken and self-consciousness festered within the small space. Something felt—off.

He reached for a few of the rags he kept and aided her in after care. With composure, he wiped her wetness away, then grinned impishly as he cleaned her lips and mouth of her red nectar. Delicately, he pulled her chemise back up over her chest, giving a final rub to her exposed shoulders.

There was a mournful dance behind his eyes and she wanted to lead him from his demons to lay his head in the cathedral of her lap. What’s wrong? She wanted to sing, stepping on airy tiptoes. Her thoughts were oscillating as her heart panged in an act of guilt and a bloom of feelings she wanted to extinguish. What they just did—meant something to her—but she wasn’t sure it did to him.

By the hells, she wanted to tell him. That he made her feel wanted. That she never thought touch could feel like deliverance. That he was wanted too. And she would follow him through his odyssey of entrails because she cared about him with the passing second. But, it’s a conversation she didn’t know how to have.

“I should probably head back to my tent before anyone becomes too nosey,” Tav laughed anxiously.

He simpered silently, opening his flap to the entrance.

She smoothed down her locks, heading for the exit, forbidding herself to look back at him.

”Tav?”

Fuck. “Hmm?” Briefly, she glanced over her shoulder.

“To answer your question earlier about how your blood tastes—” He moved awkwardly, a fleeting expression of contemplation present.

“Yes?”

“You taste like ambrosial blackberries and…a ballad of home.”

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novankenn · 9 months

Text

He's a ... BARD!?!

Team RWBY was still outside JNPR's door when the team, lead by Jaune exited. Find them all standing there waiting, Blake and Yang with knowing looks, Ruby looking shocked, and Weiss looking more than a little upset, caused the entirety of JNPR to stall their progress into the hall.

In that short time of shock, Weiss made her move, crossing the short distance between herself and Jaune...

SLAP!

Weiss: HOW DARE YOU MAKE A MOCKERY OUT OF ME!

Yang: Hey, Weiss...

Jaune: It's okay, she has a right to be upset, after what happened.

Pyrrha glared daggers at the Ice Queen, as the rest of JNPR moved to flank their leader. RWBY doing the same for Weiss.

Weiss: (Tears appearing in the corner of her eyes) HOW COULD YOU?

Jaune: Guys, can you give us a few minutes?

Yang/Nora/Pyrrha: Jaune?

Ruby: Are you sure?

Jaune: Yes. Weiss and I need to talk, and it is better we have some privacy. So head on without us, that is if you want to Weiss.

Weiss, still fighting back her tears, pushed past Jaune and the rest of JNPR to enter the room behind them.

Jaune: (Rubbing the back of his neck) So, we'll meet you guys in a little bit.

The remainder of the two teams hesitated, but then relented and moved off, as Jaune turned and reentered his dorm. He closed the door behind him to give them even more privacy, only to see Weiss when he turned around, sitting on Nora's bed crying.

Jaune: For what it's worth... I'm sorry about it all, Weiss. I truly am.

Weiss: Was it all a joke? Did you do all that to just humiliate me?

Jaune: To be honest...

Weiss: I need to know. Were all your advances and cheesy lines meant to embarrass me?

Jaune: At the start, no. But towards the end, yes, they were.

Weiss: (Still sobbing) Why?

Jaune: Because I was angry, at you and me, and I made the wrong choice. I chose to focus on your rather rude, but not unjustified, dismissals of me.

Weiss: So, the song?

Jaune: It was my final shot at you, and I was wrong to do it. I should have taken your first refusal and stopped... now I feel terrible, and have for a while now, about what I did.

Weiss: So what now?

Jaune: That's up to you. You can either accept my apology, and we try to mend the bridge between us, or you can tell me to go to hell, and I'll do my best to limit being around you.

Weiss: ...

Jaune: I do want to be friends with you, Weiss, I do, but I'll understand if my actions have ruined that chance.

Weiss: ...

Jaune: I'm going to go meet up with the others. You're welcome to stay here and get composed if you want.

Weiss: Please.

Jaune didn't reply, but gave Weiss a small nod before turning and leaving the Heiress alone, to get her emotions under control. It took Weiss almost half an hour to get herself calmed down, and during that time she had come to a decision. She couldn't see not trying to be friends with Jaune, seeing as how close her team and his were, but she doubted they would ever be true friends, but still... she felt like they should at least try.

Weiss: (Speaking to herself) A duet. He can start by taking part in a proper duet with me.

Weiss bit her bottom lip and nodded her head at her suggestion.

Weiss: That'll be the start, and we can go on from there... if he's willing.

(Master Episode List)

(SO, suggestions on what we be a good duet for the pair of them to do? Please post suggestions in the comments below. Thank you ahead of time for your assistance.)

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #jaune can sing #ren can also sing #was jaune screwing with weiss?#Youtube #He's a ... Bard!?!#team jnpr #team rwby #weiss schnee

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lilisette · 4 months

Text

bit of a roster update since its almost the end of the year! my roster has changed a lot since and many characters have come and gone. hopefully next year i will actually make up my mind and really finalize my main 6 🫠

from top to bottom, left to right:

Aurelian (Paladin) | Selaena (Souleater)

Endymion (Berserker) | Inaenna (Slayer)

Calibourne (Paladin) | Celestina (Bard)

rip arcana, summoner, artist, destroyer, sorceress and so many other classes i deleted/benched... i will come back to you one day...

also main 6 roster evolution for this year, watch me change again with breaker under the cut 👀

i wanted to do a 5 support 1 dps gold roster at the start of the year but yeah. artist came and nuked that idea to the ground lmao. those few months were truly hell to pug on a support

this was i think a few weeks before elgacia? i had an artist prior to this screenshot actually, but she never made it to the main 6 because i didn't like her sprinkle skill and no space to take DR skill. but with the new changes coming on january i might give artist a shot again.

oh destroyer. hes so much fun to play but way too slow for me. i still do guardians on him though and hitting perfect swing is truly chefs kiss

theres a 5 month gap between this screenshot and the second one. summoner on paper is great but playing her was pure SUFFERING. idk not even the massive january buff + season 3 bozos jar can change my mind now, she felt way waaaaay too slow on MS and i dont like CO so... rip 1540 summoner i might come back to you if smilegate reworks the class again..

ngl i made a random dps just to do t3 tower cause there was nooooo way i was gonna do it on a support. originally i wanted to make a pistoleer but then i saw i need to use cursed doll and i HATE cursed doll, so i picked berserker instead. mayehm zerk is pretty fun actually and very consistent despite the negative sentiment around him.

ooh boy souleater. i dropped my first ever character (sorceress) for her and she did NOT disappoint! they were not joking when they said souleater is just a better igniter. sorceress is still nice to play dont get me wrong but souleater numbers man... its getting to me...

and heres the most recent one. rip arcana and my MC for so many of my fics... arcana is also amazing and i pull my own weight on raids dont get me wrong, its just that i have no hands to play her to the best of her ability lmao. plus the damage numbers on souleater is really getting to me, hence slayer. still not sure which engraving i want to do on her, i might actually buy 2 sets of accessories for her so i can switch whenever.

this will be my main 6 roster until maybe breaker? also not sure if want to make him yet. but definitely until smilegate announces a male mage/male delain/female paladin. also a sage class would be cool, be it dps or support. the voldis sages are great and i hope theres more lore/content about them yes i want to see mariu again dont judge me

#lost ark #lostark #man looking back at these screenshots made me realize how much of a hold this game has on me #we dont talk about the second and third roster page #its a mess there #oh and! if anyone here wants to do raids together im on EUC Ealyn #shoot me a dm if you wanna be friends in game :)

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fandomsandflyingstingrays · 1 year

Text

Stepping Stones: Chapter 2

A sharp pain in Hunter’s stomach makes his eyes fly open, and he throws himself off his makeshift bed, frantically patting himself, searching for goo or some other trick of Belos’s. There’s nothing he can see or feel, but maybe he should wake someone, just to be sure—

His stomach growls.

Right— he hasn’t eaten since… dinner on Halloween.

Flapjack would have brought him something, would have flown out to Bonesborough to get him some Hex Mix, but— “Flap’s not here,” he mutters into his hands. “Come on, Hunter.”

Careful not to wake Gus, Willow, and their parents, he slips out of the living room and makes his way to the Owl House’s kitchen. Surely there has to be something in there that’s still good. But cabinet after cabinet are empty of nothing but the occasional skeleton. Clearly this place has been looted from top to bottom over the last two months.

Footsteps echo in the hall, and he finds himself reaching instinctively for his staff. A surge of anger races through him, potent enough to make his vision blur, and he has to blink furiously before he’s able to make out the figure in the doorway.

“Raine?”

“Oh— hey, Hunter.” Raine rubs the back of their neck. “I was just looking for some apple blood for Eda.”

“I don’t think you’ll find anything.” Hunter glances at the open cabinets. “Everything’s been cleared out.”

“That makes sense. Well, maybe I can conjure…”

They trail off, and Hunter looks back to find them staring at him. “What?” He demands.

“Your scars,” they say softly. “Belos possessed you too.”

Hunter folds his arms, about to snap that it’s none of their business, when the last word takes root in his mind. “Too. You were…” Hunter steps closer, until he’s able to make out faint scars beneath Raine’s glasses, like tear tracks streaking down their cheeks. “Belos possessed you?”

Raine nods. “While I was a puppet. He used me to manipulate the Collector until he realized the Titan would make a better target.”

“But— how did you survive?” Hunter demands. “My palisman had to give me its life just to get me to move, and you’re just fine?”

Raine’s eyes widen. “You lost Flapjack?”

“Yes, I— how did you know his name?”

“Darius told me about your palisman. When you started asking the coven heads what a flapjack was, I put it together. Hunter… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Hunter looks down, unable to think of anything else to say. He lowers himself into the closest chair, suddenly too tired to stand.

Raine gingerly makes their way to the table and sits down, like they’re approaching an injured animal. “Eda helped me carve my first palisman,” they say. “Her dad taught her to carve Owlbert, and then she taught me. They were an arctic fox. I named them Lightning.

“I never really liked the coven system, but I joined the bard coven of my own free will,” they continue, and Hunter glances at them, bemused at the sudden change in topic. “I loved music, and I believed in its power, and I thought the coven would teach me to use it best. I only realized how corrupt it was when I got higher in the ranks, but by then, I was in deep enough that I knew the best way to take down Belos was from the inside. I rose higher and higher in the ranks, until I was the best candidate to replace Scooter Crane. But, like all the other coven heads, I had to give Belos a sacrifice to prove my loyalty.”

“Your palisman,” Hunter whispers, putting it together.

Raine nods, their glassy eyes focused on the table. “I couldn’t think of a way out of it,” they say hoarsely. “If I refused, it would mean giving up my best chance at rebelling from the inside. I told Lightning they could run away, if they wanted, that I wouldn’t blame them— but they thought it would be too suspicious. So I gave them to Belos. I pledged my loyalty.” A tear frees itself from Raine’s eye and traces the path of their scar. “I watched Belos break them, but before he could take in their magic, they ran to me. They gave it to me instead.” They let out a long breath. “Belos still allowed me to become a coven head— he said it wasn’t my fault, and I think he was interested in having a coven head with the power of a palisman in addition to their own abilities. It was that power that allowed me to fight Belos off, and to keep fighting him until the end. And I’m guessing it was Flapjack’s power that did the same for you.”

Hunter nods.

“Having their magic is a poor substitute for having them,” Raine says. “But no other palisman will have to meet the fate they did because of the sacrifices they made. Belos fell because of them. Remember that.”

Hunter thinks about the little bear he handed over to Belos when he entered the Emperor’s coven, about the hundreds of tortured forms crying out in Belos’s mind, about feeling Flapjack splinter beneath his fingers. Flapjack, who made sure it would never happen again.

“Thank you,” he tells Raine. “For saying that.”

“Don’t,” Raine says sharply, shaking their head. More softly, they add, “I don’t deserve it.”

They look up at Hunter, a sadness in their face he’s never seen before. “As a coven head, I knew how you were treated,” they say. “I let Belos manipulate you, and lie to you, and threaten you. I could have stepped in, and I didn’t. I told myself it was for the greater good— that if I left the castle for one person, I couldn’t save everyone else. But that will never excuse it.”

Hunter thinks about what would have happened if someone had told Belos to stop sending him on missions, had said his treatment of Hunter was cruel, had blocked him every time his goo got too close for comfort. Part of him wants to say that would have changed everything. Maybe it would have. But…

“I’m not sure it would have even saved me,” he says. “You’re not the only one who has regrets. I wondered, sometimes, if what Belos was telling me and what I was doing for him was wrong… but I pushed those thoughts aside so harshly. Luz and Amity offered me a way out, and I didn’t take it. I only allowed myself to see who Belos really was when I actually went into his mind. And even then— not until he tried to trap me there. If you had spoken against him, I probably would have just said you didn’t know what you were talking about.”

“You’re a kid, Hunter. I still should have tried.”

“Maybe,” Hunter admits. “But I understand why you didn’t. I’m not sure we’d all be here if you had.”

The sadness doesn’t leave Raine’s eyes, but they give him a little smile as they stand up. “Well, now that we don’t have to worry about Belos, I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you. Maybe I could start by cooking you breakfast?”

“I told you, there’s no food in here—“

“No, but I do have a stash. I left some ingredients at the CATTs’ headquarters before we left, in case… in case the kids came back without us.” Raine draws a wide circle in the air, and a number of bags and cartons crash to the table. Hunter squints at the assortment. There’s something familiar about them… like something he’s seen in Camila’s kitchen.

“Are you making flapjacks?”

Raine tugs nervously at their hair. “Is that okay? I always felt bad I couldn’t tell you about them when you asked, but Terra was keeping me on a very short leash… so I thought I’d make them for you now. It sounds like you’ve already seen them, though, so—“

“Yeah. But, I like them a lot. I’d like to see what the Boiling Isles version is like.”

Raine looks at him for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s lying— and his stomach picks that moment to give another loud growl. Raine cracks a grin.

“All right. I’ll get started.”

The kitchen falls silent, except for the occasional clatter of Raine’s spoon scraping the bowl as they mix and Hunter’s fingers tapping at the table as he tries to figure out how to broach the next subject.

“Raine?”

“Mhm?”

“Is Belos really dead?”

They stop mixing, turning to give Hunter their full attention. “Yes,” they say. “I saw it.”

“Luz said he got hit by the rain,” Hunter says. “That he… melted, sort of. But the Collector splattered him against a wall, and I thought he was dead then, but he followed us into the Human Realm.”

“Belos didn’t just melt, Hunter. Eda, King, and I… we kind of… stomped on him.” Raine grimaces, and it’s clear they know that as much as Hunter hates Belos, part of him misses him, too. The gentle uncle he thought he had.

“That’s okay. He deserved it,” Hunter replies, forcing all the memories of that gentle uncle crushing Flapjack in a single motion. “But that still isn’t proof. I mean, the Collector kind of stomped him, in a way—“

“—And he followed you through the portal. His goo… it was all over us. If he had been alive, he would have tried to possess us, wouldn’t he?”

Hunter releases a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, he would.”

Raine squeezes his shoulder and goes back to mixing. After another minute, they pour the batter into a pan, and the kitchen of the Owl House begins to smell almost like Camila’s. Slowly, drawn by the smell, the rest of its wayward guests trickle in— but Raine makes sure Hunter gets the first flapjack, even though Eda’s looking at them with enormous, pleading eyes.

“You’re getting a good deal, kid. No one makes this recipe like Raine,” she says, winking at them as they pass.

“You’ve never tried Camila’s,” Willow insists, coming to sit beside Hunter.

“She’s a genius,” Gus agrees, and Camila smiles at them both.

Hunter feels a hand on his head, and the pressure is familiar enough now that he already knows who it is before he turns to find Darius giving him a small smile. He comes to sit on Hunter’s side, Eberwolf beside him, and speaks in a low voice.

“Raine told me you two talked.”

Hunter nods slowly, wondering if this is about Flapjack or Belos.

Neither, it turns out, because when Darius speaks again, his voice is even lower. “Listen, little prince— I owe you an apology too.”

“You couldn’t compromise your position by standing up for me. I get that.”

“Yes, but I didn’t have to be so hard on you, either.”

Hunter looks down at his hands, fingering the line on his finger where he first saw Belos seeping through. “Belos killed your mentor, the Golden Guard before me. Because he betrayed him.”

Darius nods. “And then, a few months later, you showed up. A perfect, younger copy of him, but so loyal. I held that against you, tried to goad you into rebelling the way he did, when I should have treated you like your own person.”

“That would have been nice,” Hunter agrees. “But I don’t know that I would have made the friends I did if you hadn’t pushed me. Maybe there were better ways to go about it. Maybe there weren’t. But we’re here now, and Belos isn’t. That’s enough for me.”

Darius smiles, then clears his throat, glancing down at the table. “Well. Now that Belos isn’t around… if you need a place to stay… you’re welcome to come to the CATTs’ headquarters with Raine, Eber, and I until we get a more permanent place sorted out.”

“You’re also welcome to come back to the human realm with Luz and I,” Camila adds, making both Darius and Hunter startle.

“Speaking of,” Luz says, “we should probably head back after breakfast. We can grab some more food.”

“That would be nice,” Raine admits. “We didn’t put enough food in Headquarters to last this many people for more than a day.”

“And Vee must be worried sick,” Camila adds. “Good idea, mija.”

Hunter goes back and forth in his head as they eat. He got comfortable with Darius those last few days in the castle, and he believes Darius and Raine will take care of him now. He has no desire to be separated from Willow and Gus, either. But, aside from Halloween, he’s never felt safer than he did in the human realm. Until he knows for sure that Belos is gone, he wants to be a world away from him, to walk on ground he hasn’t possessed.

So, after his stomach is too full to hold another bite and everyone’s plates are clean, after Camila and Luz stand together, he does, too. “I’d like to come back with you,” he mutters. “If that’s okay.”

Luz slings an arm around his shoulders, and he leans against her, letting out a grateful breath. Maybe it’s just Hunter’s imagination, but he thinks Darius’s expression falls, just a little bit.

The Owl Lady isn’t nearly as composed— true terror takes over her expression, and Luz reaches out to hold her hand. “I’ll be back in just a few hours, Eda. I promise.”

“She will,” Camila adds, and Eda seems to take that as a guarantee, relaxing a little.

Luz lets go of Hunter to hug King, and Gus takes her place, pulling Hunter into a quick hug.

“You’ll be back soon?” He asks.

“Of course,” Hunter promises. Gus pulls back, and they bump fists.

Willow hugs Hunter next, and he holds her back gently, face on fire, trying not to move or breathe. I’m holding on for too long, he thinks, should I let go first? No— maybe that’s not right. Why do people do this thing with their arms? Why aren’t there more rules for how it works? Why—

Willow pulls back and presses a kiss to his cheek, and he stops thinking at all.

He quickly tilts his head to the floor, trying to hide whatever face he’s making and when he speaks, his voice is about three octaves higher than usual. “Great. Well, I’ll see you all soon.”

“Come on, hermano,” Luz says, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter as she wraps her arm around him again and leads him towards the door. Hunter draws in a sharp breath, looking up to scan her face.

She’s smiling, but not laughing at him. Just smiling, casual as anything. And the heat in Hunter’s cheeks fades, replaced by moisture in his eyes that he frantically blinks back so that he can see where he’s going.

Maybe things could have been different, better. But what Hunter told Flapjack is still true— he likes who he is right now. Someone with Raine Whispers and Darius Daemonne looking out for him, someone with Willow Park’s kiss on his cheek, someone with Luz Noceda’s voice in his head calling him brother.

He rubs his hand over the scar again and smiles through his tears. I win, Belos, he thinks, and for the first time, it feels true.

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #willow park #huntlow #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #raeda #darius daemonne #toh eberwolf #emperor belos #luz noceda #camila noceda #gus porter #ray rambles #ray writes #stepping stones

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gwilin-stay-winnin · 2 months

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ok u mentioned this in a tag game from a bit ago that u could see gwilin with almost anybody in the game, but im wondering if theres a perfect npc for him in ur eyes!! or u could tell me about him/ur oc lol. im curious what like personality traits u think would complement his

Oh you bet your bottom dollar there is. Or, I guess, 'are'? I preface my response here stating that this is all specifically regarding Farmboy Gwilin (of the FGCU).

Aicantar – He is well-read in history and archeology, like his uncle, which Gwilin loves, since his reading tastes are similarly inclined. Aicantar scratches a scholarly itch for Gwilin–he never the had the opportunity to participate in an academic setting himself, and isn’t even sure the experience would’ve been all that gratifying for him, but you just know he’d relish the chance to be able to live out that unrealized dream vicariously through Aicantar. Plus, think of all the steamy nights spent in that museum in Markarth, where you’re not sure which you like best: the heat coming off of your lover’s skin, or the heat being released from the steam of the Dwarven machinery turning all around you.

Urzoga gra-Shugurz – God I love her so much. And Gwilin would, too! He’d get into a tumultuous relationship with her after they bump into each other on the road while she’s transporting prisoners. “Outta my way, beanpole,” she’d say, and it would be love at first sight for him. Gwilin would learn that Urzoga isn’t as scathing as she seems, once you get to know her (she has a soft spot for theatre, and, like Gwilin, is a skilled woodworker). She’d propose after like three months of them seeing each other. Gwilin would say yes, but later realize they rushed into things, and they’d part ways. Later on, they’d bump into each other on the road again, and start in on that familiar, ill-advised script: “Why did we ever split up?” “How come it didn’t work out between us?” etc etc.

Lurbuk – They’d meet while Gwilin was staying at Moorside. Lurbuk would confess to him, after a few drinks, the deep insecurities he feels regarding his abilities as a bard, and Gwilin would assure him he’s heard worse, which would disarm him immediately. They’d totally hit it off because, despite having little musical talent, he’d discover Lurbuk is incredibly well-versed in musical theory, and really does possess the heart and soul of a poet. A few kisses later, and Gwilin and him would find themselves in a long-distance relationship carried out by courier. Lurbuk is a pillow princess and Gwilin is a sub vers, so the sex they’d have whenever they’d get to see each other isn’t explosive or whatever, but neither of them consider sex to be a focal point of their relationship and there’s a lot of love and trust, so it’s always fun for them, regardless.

More generally, Gwilin would have a FIELD DAY with the ladies in Riften. I’ve mentioned this before, but he often travels there with Temba to make deliveries and chummies up to the barkeeps of all the places he visits so they give him pointers for good spots to go to draw or people they think would be willing to act as models for him. I could totally see him chatting with Keerava at The Bee and Barb one night, and when he asks her who might be willing to be his muse, she's like “Well, it's just for art's sake, right? You ever draw an Argonian?"

Gwilin would go into it very professionally, but Keerava would come on to him halfway through the sitting and he'd fold like a lawn chair. He’d have similar trysts with Constance Michel, Marise Aravel, and Nivenor (who he’d later feel very gross for having slept with, because she’s an asshole). This happens for two main reasons: 1.) Gwilin’s got paramour energy out the wazoo and 2.) Riften is a city of corruption, greed, and paranoia where most folks spend their days either fretting over who might plunge a dagger into their back, or plotting who they’ll be plunging that very dagger into next. Gwilin is a sensitive artist who cares little for money or status and trusts easily. You can put two and two together here.

The two people from Riften he’d have more of an intimate relationship with are Threki and Valindor. He’d throw himself into Threki’s arms completely, falling head over heels for her and her commitment to speaking out against Ulfric even from within prison. He’d plan her escape with the help of Valindor, and end up falling in love with him as well, in the process–for many reasons, not the least of which is Valindor got to grow up in Valenwood, as Gwilin never did, and so being with him helps him feel connected to his culture. They would make a lovely throuple <3

Now in regards to Temba, Gwilin has a HUGE crush on her, which he would never ever try to materialize because he’s afraid of what would happen if they got together and then broke up. He doesn’t think Temba would be the kind to want to stay friends, so he’d probably lose his job and have to leave Ivarstead. He’d hate for that to happen. After all, Wilhelm and Lynly are his very best friends on Nirn :D

Final point insofar as NPCs: the College of Winterhold has an intricate polycule Gwilin has been trying to integrate himself into for years, but he never makes it past the initial screening process. Too intense for him. Doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying, though. hehe

In short, the personality traits which most meld with Gwilin are those that are reflections of, but at the same time extensions of himself. Humor is central to any relationship he maintains, romantic or otherwise, and he infuses it into the loudest, most exciting moments as easily as he does into the quietest, most intimate ones. He loathes affluence. He fits in best with people of an equally strong or stronger personality than his own. Any benign impulse he has, he absolutely must follow through on, though it's easy to talk him out of something that could get him hurt if you know him well enough. Finally, sexually speaking, he loves having his efforts to take the lead be frustrated (he enjoys being indulged in this regard).

Below you'll find some graphics I made to illustrate some of the personality traits/interests involved in the first three relationships I described, just to give an idea of how they'd bounce off of/complement each other.

can you tell i'm autistic

A heem heem anywayyyyyyy. This post is already kilometric so I won’t even get into my OCs. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK, THOUGH!! It pushed me to organize all this info I had floating around :D

#it'd been a while since i made an effortpost like this 😭#tesblr #tes #gwilin #gwilingang #rentfree #depictions #hi1quastion

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mrcrowblargs · 7 months

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been a little while since I updated my BG3 log and I got lots done aaaa feeling excited and a bit sad that I'm nearing the end. I've really enjoyed this adventure.

After Cazador, took Gale to visit Mystra. Got some big news but I urged him to seek forgiveness and freedom over anything. I like that Gale is on the surface one of the good guys but he can fall into power corrupts as easily as say, Astarion.

On the hunt for the House of Grief I ran into THE WORST FUCKING QUEST EVER OH MY GODDDDDD this haunted ass house handed my ass to me over and over. I hated every inch of it.

Fashion time! It's so late in the game that you find new underwear

got one little tag on my doodle comic like "OP is in denial about the rotting teeth" and im just like I DONT SEE IT HONESTLY??? they just look yellow and like there's a of a snaggletooth.

More plot based stuff under the cut!

Wrapping up Shadowheart's quest was harder than Astarion's by virtue of TWENTY FUCKING ENEMIES I had to restart twice before the first round ended... made liberal use of Hypnotic Pattern. I didn't find it as cathartic an end as Astarion's but there was still definitely like, a release. And I love Shadowheart's last line there.

The reward was great tho. My bard now has 24 CHA baybeeeyyy

time to rescue Lae'zel (she was kidnapped before Cazador) and OH SHIT THATS THE SKULL FROM THE MAIN MENU SCREEN??? AAAA The Baahlists are a bitch and a half with all their murder status effects and I was SO GLAD I respecced Karlach into Barbarian 8 / Thief 4 for that extra cunning action when the "defeat this guy before he casts Power Word Kill at you" fight came up. What a fucking mess that was.

Fighting Orin was easier... I was not expecting her to transform into a big dumb monster honestly! I expected she would be teleporting around or use some shapeshift abiltiy to be all annoying but it was a really straight forward fight.

Oh, aaaaaannnd I did not fight Sarevok, so that was another Weird Ritual to inspire my tav. He's now an unholy assassin and I'm sure Astarion must appreciate the smell of being absolutely soaked in blood. I don't feel too bad about killing Valeria because she seemed like a terrible detective though I did have karlach skip her turns in the fight because I couldn't imagine her being for it. Like it's just pathetic.

Took Astarion to the drow twin courtesans... tbh I appreciate the game showing like, yes he is healing and doing better but some things you just don't get over right away. But I also want to get the spray bottle out like dude!!! don't force yourself!!!

I used a growth elixir on Karlach for the Orin fight which didn't use up that many character resources and the elixir lasted all day so... directly to the House of Hope with Karlarge it was!

Bit of a visual glitch because it reappeared later but it was nice to see Aldrich without the raccoon eyes and veins again. Just went around sitting on things in Raphael's house.

AND THEN UH???? UHH??? This supremely awkward scene with Raphael's personal incubus who looks exactly like him??? I didn't wanna start a fight because I thought Raph himself might show up but I could not pass the fucking Con check afgkdd

"you can have my body but not my soul" AGSFKHDDS???? I'm jelly tho I wish I had these eyes (but more purple) for Aldrich

Reloading and fighting the incubus was absolutely worth it for this Speak With Dead bit. the answer: he bottoms exclusively.

AND THEN THE FIGHT WITH THE BIG DEVIL HIMSELF!!!! I was already amazed when vocals dropped into the fight music BUT THEN HE WAS SIGNING HIS OWN BATTLE MUSIC???? It absolutely slapped. Amazing fight. I had Hope with me and convinced Yurlgirldsbfjs whatever his name is to join which greatly reduced the chaos. The only criticism I have is that it was a big of a slog getting Raphael down from 666 HP. but damn what a great loot payoff!

Getting near the end now. Of outstanding quests I have now, I gotta pass the hammer off to Voss, find/recruit Minsc, see if anything else is in the sewers, then sabotague the Steel Watch factory, infiltrate the Iron Throne, and confront Gortash. Then we'll see how it goes for the finale.

I'm still kinda worried what it will mean for my Tav going partially illithid and also aiming for freeing Orpheus. Seems like freedom really rides on the guy cooperating with us.

#crowbar plays bg3 #aldiirn bg3

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bear-do-well · 5 months

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so i just made two new tav's in bg3 so im just gonna show you them all with their pronouns bc i can

left to right, top to bottom

Shade the drow sorcerer (she/they), from my playtrough with @deep-space-siren

Nyx the halfling ranger (they/them)

Ezra the human fighter (he/they) the urge to call him geralt was huge

Shadow the tiefling druid (all) the og, my first tav

Luscinia m. Golzii the silver dragonborn bard (xe/xem/xyr) if you are wondering the name is the latin/scientific name for eastern nitingale

Esmeray the dwarven paledin (she/her)

and yes all of them are queer as fuck one way or another

enjoy XD

ps i only found out recently you can hide the overlays of text and shit

I love that they're so varied and then you've also got the most played class and race combo in all of DnD history (human fighter)

#so neat we can hide the UI for screencaps #i simply just don't do it cuz I'm lazy 👍#asks

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pheita · 6 months

Text

Aspec OC Event 2023: Sojan from Blood Night

The wonderful event was introduced here

I decided to make a post for each OC since there are only from the WIPS I am working on right now.

Sojan is the demiromantic and graysexual main character of my high fantasy story Blood Night. You can find the WIP blog over @lagawood-guildhouse

He makes a living as a monster hunter from the continent's hunter guild, wandering the land with his trusty friend the giant wolf Parin who is also his mount. Only a few know he is actually a lust demon, among them only the hunter comrades from the guild house at Lagawood where he usually stays over winter. Since his kind makes a big deal out of sex, it never occurred to him how different he is, especially because the term lust demon was given to them from the other races because their uncontrolled magic causes non-demons to go into a sex frenzy.

It wasn't until the fellow monster hunter Desssielle brought up the topic of his views on sex when the bard Lyran started flirting with him, Sojan began to question himself at the ripe age of 562 years (which is basically around 30 in human terms).

Finding yourself is already complicated but even more when the end of the world hangs above you, caused by your own father who already caused great pain and trauma in the past, but somehow Sojan managed, also with the help of his sister Arritit and the patience of Lyran, who also had his own trauma to deal with.

Under the cut, the conversation between Dessielle and Sojan when they merry gang stops at a small city for a few days.

After another night in which Lyran was tormented by nightmares that he partly woke up from them, Sojan was also just tired. He didn't mind if they both got more sleep. But for now, he needed to stretch his legs after a day at the inn, and maybe he could find a merchant who had some candy. In any case, he had to find something to make Arritit feel mellow again after he had moved the lesson to the afternoon.

To his surprise, Dessielle arrived just a few steps behind him. "Morning, on your way to the marketplace, too?" she inquired as she stretched. "That was the plan. I'm afraid I'll have to buy my sister's favor so she won't try to kill me. Dessielle's laughter filled the street. "I thought you just needed to brush up on the basics." "I was never very good at magic," Sojan confessed with a shrug. "I see, a man of action, eh?" "As a rule, yes."

She nodded a little, which almost seemed thoughtful to Sojan. "There is one thing that puzzles me about this, though." "Which is?" inquired Sojan. Dessielle had not yet distinguished herself as particularly curious, but that didn't have to mean anything. They entered the next street, which was also starting to get more crowded. "If you're a man of action, why do you keep Lyran away from you like that?" "You too?" The groan came from the bottom of his being, it seemed. She just smirked. "I just wonder." "Let me guess. Arritit is related to this?" "Kind of, yeah." Eyebrows went together as Dessielle avoided someone. "Kind of?" "She's the prime example of your tribe, you'll give her that."

Slowly, Sojan got an idea what was irritating Dessielle so much. To the others, it certainly looked like Lyran had made the first move every time, and it wasn't entirely wrong. He exhaled loudly. "Indeed it is. I'm the counterexample to that." As a merchant's cart passed them, they were forced to stop. "But you're not averse to it, are you?" "Sex? No, but I don't understand why everyone makes such a fuss about it either. There are other things that are great." She just nodded. Slowly, a smirk spread across her face. "You spent some time with elves, didn't you?" "I have. Why do you ask?"

At some point, Dessielle's thoughts had taken a turn that Sojan couldn't keep up with. So he could only wait to see what she revealed of her thought processes. "Have you come across the concept of loshal before?" For a few steps, Sojan tried to rummage through his memory to see if he had heard the term before. "No, it hasn't. What's loshal?" The smirk widened a bit, and she gestured him away to the left to enter the marketplace. "It's a little complicated. It means that the people in question only feel sexual attraction under very specific circumstances. It can mean that someone only feels it when they fall in love when the other person has been friends with you for a long time or has known you for a long time. It can also mean that feelings are more important than sex. And it can also mean that someone only wants to have sex in phases and the rest of the time is not interested in it. Or not at all." "Interesting concept…," Sojan mused aloud, "We don't have anything like that." "You guys don't have a lot of things," Dessielle commented with a roll of her eyes.

She was actually right about that. As a lust demon, you had to be interested in having sex, no matter how strong it ended up being. If you weren't interested, you were put to the test to see if something was wrong somewhere in your body. The other tribes were clearly more developed, even the humans. "You have no idea what all there is not. There are regular problems with the other clans." "What kind of problems?" Dessielle glanced at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road ahead of them. Of course, the closer they got to the marketplace, the more crowded it became. "Well, for other clans, lack of interest in sex is not a problem. Neither does not want to have children. For my clan, both are unthinkable. It's so ingrained in us that there's even a state where our entire existence is focused solely on producing offspring." She rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Sillatura. I know." A cynical half-smile appeared on Sojan's face.

#writblr #writing #acespecoc #aceweek2023 #blood night #sojan #fantasy

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ravenwitch45 · 2 years

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Not sure you do requests or not, but could you by chance whip up a small fanfic of some sort based of this picture I found?

(Yep, an Adopted!Amity fic but with Moxxie and Millie as here parents. Also for this you could make her human in the story if you want.)

Yes I do do requests from time to time and this an interesting premise so heck yeah!

(I put a bit more detailed explanation of this AU at the bottom if you want to read it btw)

AboM&Mable Prep

(Amity get's ready for a date with Luz with her Imp Mom and Dad)

“How about this? It’s fancy.”Millie said grabbing a purple plaid dress from the closet before Amity grabbed it out of her hands “Uhh yeah Plaid is not fancy, sorry Mom.”Amity said putting it back, making her mom cross her arms as the witch looked through her closet for the upteenth time

“Well I’m just surprised your having any trouble with this, all your clothes are so pretty”Millie said gesturing to her daughter’s grand wardrobe, most of them gifts from Amity’s father or uncles.

“I know, but I don’t want to intimidate her by dressing too formal, but I also don’t want to dress too casual and make her think I’m not taking it seriously. Ugh…”Amity vented out her frustrations before sitting down on a chair against the wall of her bedroom

“Ammy she did fight a paper dragon for ya, I don’t think something as silly as an outfit will scare her off”Millie assured warmly putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder“I know… I just want it to be perfect.”Amity said nervously before Millie pulled her into a hug

“There’s nothing more perfect than being yourself. Especially on these things.”Millie said comfortingly, before using her tail to reach back into the closet and grab the plaid dress again “And use the plaid, it’s still nice”Millie said in a teasing tone, making Amity laugh as she accepted the suggestion, Millie going back to look for something else to add to the outfit, settling on a black leather jacket that had a magenta pattern on the bottom reminiscent of abomination goo

“Oh and… this, to reminisce on how you met.〜”Millie said making Amity blush at the memory “Mom! Don’t remind me, I still cringe.” Amity said slipping the dress on over her black tank top and leggings, before taking the jacket “I know.”The Impess giggled certainly not helping her daughter’s red face as she threw on the jacket, quickly heading to her vanity to see how it looked “This look needs Makeup, Dad!”Amity called quickly getting a response

“Working on it!”They heard, and before long Moxxie walked into the room holding a medium sized box of supplies “Okay, I’ve got lipstick, lip gloss, eye shadow, eye liner, blush, and more My whole show biz kit” The bard imp explained, Amity seeming to think over what to choose“Hun, Ammy all that’s too much, we’re doing lip stick and some eyeliner and that should be good for her, and if it’s not I’m getting my old ax out.”Millie interjected

“M-Mom, not your ingredient chopping ax!”Amity stammered, making Millie laugh “I’m kidding of course, but still just that should be good for her.”Millie said with a dismissive wave of her hand as Moxxie walked over to start with the make up “Dark, as you like it dear.”He said using some bluish black lipstick and eye liner, applying it wth a skilled hand to his daughter’s face, before finishing it and asking “How’s that?”

“Great. It is right?”Amity asked nervously “Of course it is, I’d kiss you all over if it wouldn’t ruin it”Millie said pulling Amity into another hug “Oh Mom!”A flustered Amity faux complained as Moxxie joined the hug, wrapping his arms and tail around his family, both eventually letting her breathe

“I’m so happy for you Ammy, I’ll know you’ll knock her dead, not literally but you get the idea.”Millie said caressing her Daughter’s cheek “And be back by nine, or else we’re calling your uncles to track you down.”Moxxie noted ever the cautious one out of the couple “Okay I get it, I… think I’ve got this.”Amity with the most confident tone she could come up with

And then it vanished the moment the doorbell rang, as a characteristic huge blush appeared on her face

“I don’t got this.”She said nervously

“Yes. you do, now don’t make us push you out the door. Go meet your girlfriend.”Millie assured a little smugly, Amity calmed down a little at the statement, beginning to walk to the door.

“Okay, just breathe…”Amity said using the technique Willow taught her, before she felt calm enough and grasped the door knob, and twisted it “You got thi-”She began to say to herself before she opened the door and any ords died in her mouth.

Luz stood there almost dressed as well as for Grom, black pants and vest over an orange plaid shirt, and brown boots though might just be the same boots she wore then.

“Luz! You look great, and surprisingly formal. Even in plaid”Amity said almost side eying her mother behind her who was howling in laughter at the coincidence

“Yeah this was kinda scrambled together from stuff Eda had scattered around the house, most of it had apple blood stains so that’s why it smells so fresh, after a hundred cycles…”Luz explained mumbling the last part before blushing as well “You look great too! Love the jacket, kinda reminds me when you spilled abomination goo all over me”Luz said awkwardly

“That was the intention.”Millie said in a half whisper still barely stopping herself from laughing

“Okay, what did you have in mind?”Amity asked as composed as possible “Stargazing actually, Eda told me about a spot she went to when she was younger that’s not too far from here, that sound good?”Luz said offering her hand awkwardly

“Yeah of course, that sounds great, let’s go.”Amity said quickly accepting the offer with a blush on her face as she waved goodbye to her parents

“Have fun!”Millie said quickly followed by “But not too much fun! Stay Safe!”Moxxie interjected, receiving responses such as “I know” from their daughter and “I promise” from hopefully their future daughter in law as the young pair walked off into the starry night

“Oh Hun, our daughter is so precious…”Millie said with a smile, hands over her heart “She certainly is.” Moxie agreed, pulling his wife close as their tails intertwined

(Okay a little bit of explanation of this AU, essentially the I.M.P crew and the Goetias are just biped demons on the isles, Moxxie is a bard and Millie is an Abomination Witch who worked at Blight industries and that kind of ties into how her and Moxxie ended up adopting Amity.

As for the Blight family, essentially Alador put his foot down when Odalia tried to get rid of Willow and divorced her but didn’t want his kids to be around that so he let them be adopted by one of his friends from work, AKA Millie while he got the divorce settled and just decided to let the situation stay after seeing how they bonded with his kids. This is why Amity knows the Park breathing thing since she never had to stop hanging out with Willow, and was also always nice to Luz.

Alador is still in his kid’s lives, him and M&M are just co-parenting. And just so you know Amity’s uncles are Blitzo and Stolas in this AU. Also sorry i didn’t really plan anything for the twins so think whatever you want here.)

#ask reply #the owl house #helluva boss #amity blight #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #luz noceda #lumity #requested fanfic #fanfic

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wrongdodo · 1 year

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Murderous knaves and perverts

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier. But like… don’t tell anyone, because it’s a surprise.

Summary: Jaskier knows a thing or two about witchers. After an impromptu gig at a local tavern gets weird, Jaskier enjoys the long walk home with Geralt and they both let off some steam

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving). More plot that I intended to write.

Word count: 3.6k

Authors note: Bit of Geraskier for your nerve! I always thought I’d write super short smut, but I accidentally some plot again. Oops.

Tag list: @madamemelancholysstuff (different to the last two, hope this is up your street!)

Click below for filth only if you're 18+!

Jaskier knew how to get a crowd worked up. Performing was his bread and butter, after all.

Despite the fact that this tavern was at the bottom of arse-fuck nowhere, by the end of his second verse, some of the dreary locals were even clapping along. The bard might have wagered that nobody else had ever played for the tiny village of Baincord... Or Bincord, or whatever it was called.

As the final chords of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher rang through the tiny tavern, Jaskier swore he even heard some people singing. Tunelessly and barely in time, but definitely there. But it should hardly have come as a shock; he didn’t doubt that there were some individuals here tonight who’d never seen a lute- let alone heard one. His rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter ensured that the crowd were eating out of his hand, and even encouraged some of the more bashful locals to join in.

What had started as a charitable gig to alleviate some boredom and impart a bit of culture to this dim shithole, had become pretty enjoyable. He decided to finish his set with a soulful ballad, pacifying the crowd and challenging himself to tug at their heartstrings. On the right night, Jaskier’s ballads could pull tears from even the most hardened ruffians.

After taking a bow to the relative-roar of the small crowd, he lifted a jug of cloudy mead from the bar and settled into the most comfortable-looking spot he could find. Spread out along a ragged, barely-cushioned bench, Jaskier took a moment to bask in a job well done. Such was his comfort, he almost dared to rest his boots on the chair adjacent - but stopped short when the scary innkeeper gave him a look.

As expected, it took mere seconds for a pair of new-found fans to approach.

“Can we join you?” one of them asked, coyly curling a ringlet of jet-black hair around one finger. One tall, the other short - the women stood arm-in-arm, pouting and doe-eyed. Jaskier smiled warmly, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture of welcome.

“Please! Ladies, it would be my honour. Did you enjoy the show?”

The duo settled eagerly into the wooden chairs opposite, batting their eyelashes and grinning inanely. The performer smiled back, and idly thought that he was the most famous person they’d ever meet in their plain little lives.

“Oh, it were amazin’!” the red-haired woman beamed. “Felt like bein’ at some fancy party in the city. You rich an’ famous or somethin’?” She could barely contain herself, Jaskier thought with amusement – her entire body jittering with excitement.

“You could say that,” he sipped his mead, slurping in a particularly-chunky bit of something that threatened to make him gag. “I’ve played for a few courts here and there, the odd palace, a royal wedding or two…”

“I said to Ema you was famous!” the dark-haired girl grinned, giving her companion a playful shove. “I knows that song you did! That one about witchers!”

Jaskier could freely admit to himself that he enjoyed attention. This attention, that attention, any attention – he’d take it as it came, soaking up every last drop like gravy on a slice of bread. And although he wasn’t remotely interested in anything else these women had to offer, he could still enjoy a bit of their attention.

“Ah, yes. That’s definitely a crowd-pleaser. One of many crowd-pleasers, I should add. I believe I noticed you two lovely ladies singing along to the chorus?” They looked at each other, giggling shyly.

“Of course, how could I forget such… angelic voices?” The bard’s fibs instantly caused the pair to blush.

“So… you ever actually meet a witcher?” Ema asked –bright eyes sparkling with curiosity in the dim light. Her voice became hushed and breathy. “Daryna reckons there’s one in Baincord. This night.”

“I did says that – seen him with me own eyes, in fact.” The dark-haired woman, Daryna, sat up stiffly in her chair and folded her arms across her buxom chest. Jaskier noted that her tits were almost threatening to pop out the top of her shirt. She suddenly looked quite serious. “Two swords, he had. A grey cloak… and piercin’ eyes, yellow as the moon.”

Jaskier wasn’t surprised that Geralt’s presence was causing a stir among the locals – it often did, especially in smaller villages like this. Still, if all these girls wanted to do was talk about witchers… well, he couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated. Even in absence, Geralt somehow managed to spoil his fun.

“Look, all my works are based on fiction. Myths, tales, legends...” The bard drawled, unable to hide his mild annoyance. It was a disclaimer he’d well-rehearsed. Still, the women seemed not to hear, and were engrossed now in their own conversation, gossiping like loons while he sipped his mead silently. Fucking lovely.

“Devils, they are. Just as like to kill a monster as to kidnap a woman an’ kill her ‘ole family. Murderous knaves and perverts.” Daryna nodded with conviction while she spoke, and her listeners could tell that she truly believed what she said.

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate –“ the Bard cut in, immediately wishing he’d held his tongue. “You know, based on my extensive research. Which was very… extensive.” Nice save, he thought.

When Ema turned to Jaskier, she did so coquettishly – hazel eyes alight. Her gentle smile still managed to show that she had a fair-few missing teeth. “My cousin once bedded a witcher.” Ema reached out to stroke the supple leather of Jaskier’s sleeve, her soft voice far-off and dreamy. “Well, not bedded exactly – ‘cos it were a cowshed... But he loved on her like a man possessed, he did…”

“That weren’t a witcher, you daft cow!” Daryna huffed, snapping Ema from her trance. “That were a weaver. He made baskets.”

“Oh. Well, don’t matter…” the red-head mumbled quietly. She grasped Jaskier’s arm now with a fresh expression of wonder, looking deeply into his eyes. “I heard Bards are even better.” She winked.

That’s more like it, he thought, smiling as he shifted in his seat. Time to flex the old charm. Jaskier’s face settled into a well-practiced expression of flirtation.

“Ladies, ladies… believe me when I say; you’ve heard correctly.” They giggled – no, cackled in response.

But the merriment was short-lived… because Daryna wasn’t done talking about witchers – somethingthat was quickly threatening to bore the bard senseless. She droned on and on; “Unnatural creatures they are - make my skin crawl. My Da says if he catches one sniffin’ round here, he’ll be strung up and gutted like a dog.”

Jaskier bit his tongue – then released it. “Your Father sounds like a treat.”

“He’s the landlord.” she grinned smugly. The scary-looking, bearded chap behind the bar eyed Jaskier as he wiped tankards - with a look that could only be described as quite deadly.

The bard took a nervous mouthful of mead, bits and all, and swallowed it with a gulp.

“Ladies, your interest in the inspiration behind my works is flattering. But wasn’t there something else you’d rather discuss?” Jaskier loved to flirt, and wasn’t going to give up on flexing those particular muscles just yet. He loved the way he could hold someone’s attention, turning on the charm at the drop of an eyelid. Some might say he was out of practice lately, but he’d had plenty of experience to know when someone was into him – and he had suspicions he could have these women hanging on his every word.

Both women reached towards him now, leaning over the table and running their hands over the sleeves of his favourite jacket. The sudden reduction in space took the bard by surprise, and he felt uneasy. Now they were closer, the smell of cheap perfume was rank among the scent of tobacco smoke and ale-soaked wood.

“Well, we was thinkin’… you should join us upstairs. Both of us…” Ema winked – this time Jaskier noticed the ugly way her freckled nose wrinkled when she did. The woman nodded towards her companion as she spoke. “You know, she does this thing with her mouth -”

“- I call it the slimy cockatrice -“ Daryna cut in, waggling her tongue lewdly as she looked deeply into Jaskier’s now-terrified eyes.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Want us to show you?”

Jaskier couldn’t hide a look of pure, unchecked disgust. It could have been the mead, but felt the colour drain from his face as his stomach tumbled.

“Ladies, listen. What I’m about to say I mean with upmost sincerity...” The pair somehow managed to lean even closer as they goggled him expectantly.

“That sounds completely fucking horrifying and I will be sure to have horrible nightmares about it.”

Both women withdrew in an instant, as though stung, and eyed him bitterly. “Suit yer-fuckin-self. Arsehole.”

When the sound of barking cut the silence, Jaskier thought he’d never heard a more blessed, welcome sound. It was as though every scruffy guard-hound in the village had been roused – and it was a sound one quickly became accustomed to when traveling with a witcher.

When Jaskier stood from the table, he did it so briskly that the table lurched across the floor with an ugly scrape. “It’s been a pleasure, it really has. But I believe my ride is here.”

Striding away from their sour stares, Jaskier noticed how his boot-buckles pleasantly jingled as he moved, and wondered why on earth he’d chosen to use the word ride. When he reached the door, it swung easily on rusted hinges.

Geralt stood in the moonlight, cloaked and mysterious beside the gravel road which snaked through town. The bard prayed that his sigh of relief went unnoticed as he approached.

“Not staying?” inquired the Witcher. Jaskier didn’t even stop to shake his head – he briskly began striding down the rudimentary path and hoped Geralt would be right behind him.

“No, I’m not staying. No, thank you. I’d like to go far, far away from here as soon as possible.”

Geralt let out a growl of affirmation. “They didn’t like the music, then.”

Not exactly, Jaskier thought. In fact, he was pretty sure they bloody loved it. But it was easier to let the Witcher assume he’d failed, than to go into specifics. Jaskier decided to choose his next words carefully.

“I think it’s something to do with… a lack of culture.” The dim light of the inn was still uncomfortably visible when Jaskier glanced back. “This is a backwards place you’ve dragged me to, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“How was your night?” If he could draw the Wolf into a bit of chit-chat, Jaskier hoped, then maybe he could take his mind off the evening’s… discomfort. “Did you find out what was lurking by the cemetary?”

“Hmm.” Geralt seemed not to have heard.

“Was it a pack of ghouls? A troupe of goblins? A cluster of fiends?”

Geralt continued to ignore the bard - which was fine, because Jaskier loved guessing games.

“Ooh, a gravier? An imp? An alghoul?”

“Foxes.” The Witcher’s response was as gravely as the path, and much shorter.

“Come again?”

“It was foxes. No monsters.”

Jaskier knew better than to laugh, but couldn’t stop his mouth splitting into a wide grin. “Wow, you must be pretty pissed off.” But it was more than that - the dark look of aggravation on Geralt’s face was hilariously delicious. “Sounds like we both had shitty evenings. How far back to our splendid lodgings?”

“7 miles. Think you can handle that in your ridiculous boots?” he rumbled, finally confirming Jaskier’s suspicions that he hated them.

“I’d walk on my hands if it meant getting further away from that forsaken shithole,” the bard stated plainly. He meant it, too.

There was a long pause, and Jaskier was beginning to think they’d spend the rest of the journey like that - walking doggedly in silence. The young man knew he was always treading a fine line with the White Wolf – somewhere between outrageous annoyance and what he hoped might be genuine affection. Although Jaskier generally considered himself someone that could read people… it was rarely easy with Geralt.

“You made friends tonight.” Geralt’s low voice in the darkness brought the bard away from his thoughts. Like many things the Witcher said to him, he could never be sure if it was a question or a statement. At that moment, he realised that the smell cheap perfume lingered plainly on his clothes.

Well, the bard thought hotly, a little surprised by his own defensiveness. Am I not allowed a bit of fun?

Geralt and Jaskier had a thing. And whatever thing they had, it had never been discussed. But there was something. It felt fragile to Jaskier – like it might to fizzle into nothing if he so much as thought about it for too long.

It was relaxing by the campfire, wrapped in the Witcher’s arms. It was Geralt’s lips against his own during a stolen moment. It was drunken, wordless nights at the inn. Sometimes more, sometimes less. They’d go weeks without addressing it, then days where it was impossible to keep their hands off each other. Geralt was more hot and cold than a… really hot-and-cold thing.

The knot in his stomach reminded Jaskier that he should probably answer.

“Yes, friends. Delightful girls.” The words tasted funny in his mouth. “They said they’d heard of me, knew some of my songs...” Jaskier was quiet for a moment as their heavy footfalls crunched in the gravel. “They said they wanted to bed me, Geralt.”

“Sounds like they wanted to rob you.”

The remark struck a nerve – more than one, in fact. Really, he thought, as if Geralt found it so difficult to believe that someone else might want to sleep with him. But the worst part was that the Witcher was probably right… although he wasn’t convinced that the slimy cockatrice had many takers.

Jaskier leant against one of the more sturdy-looking fence posts that lined the path, needing a moment to level his pride. Geralt watched with interest as the bard lifted one foot, busying himself by picking tiny stones from the sole of his stupid boots.

Eventually, Jaskier spoke. “You know, there was a time not that long ago when they probably would have managed it. Robbing me, I mean.”

Geralt had stopped walking now. Only he knew he knew the playfully curious expression with which he was eyeing his companion. “What changed?”

“I think you know what changed.” Don’t make me say it, I don’t want to be the one to ruin it. But it couldn’t stay undisclosed forever, until it died like some malnourished baby bird. “I’m talking about us. When we… do things.”

For someone who was supposed to be gifted with language, the bard found it simply impossible to find the right words. Geralt loomed closely now, but Jaskier didn’t dare face him. It wasn’t until he felt a gentle touch on his arm that the younger man realised how near they were.

“You’ve changed your whorish ways?” Geralt eyed Jaskier with a smirk, taking him in easily under the moonlight.

The bard allowed himself an awkward chuckle, daring to glance at the Witcher now and meet his gaze. It had already occurred to the bard that, without Geralt, he’d have been forced into a miserable night back at the tavern, too scared to venture back along the path in the dark. But around the Wolf, it was easy to feel safe.

“As a poet, I’d put it a different way…” He responded, easing into a sing-song tone that he hoped might draw some amusement. “I’ve tried the best, so I’ll forget the rest-

“You’re a shit poet.” The Witcher growled, connecting his rough lips with Jaskier’s ear and causing his eyes shut to tightly. Fuck this stupid man - the thoughts ignited brightly in the bard’s mind - he can do whatever he wants to me and I don’t fucking care.

Geralt knew it too. He loved how easy it was to make Jaskier shiver, how the bard bent and snaked in response to his touch. He was used to it with women, but seeing it work on Jaskier was exciting. Pinned between the Witcher’s lips and the fence post, the bard’s knees quivered, as they both knew they would. Geralt ran a lazy hand up Jaskier’s thigh, across the front of his trousers, and tugged purposefully at the waistband.

The owner of the trousers gulped. “You want to do this here? Now? By the road?” He was suddenly pulled uncomfortably away from his lust, and the knot of nerves was back in his stomach. “What if someone sees?”

Geralt’s smile could be felt against the bard’s neck, before rumbling into his ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had your cock sucked under the stars.”

The poet held his tongue, knowing it was probably not a time for honest answers.

Geralt knelt in the gravel, briefly looking up with pale eyes that seemed to reflect the moon. Through nerves, Jaskier bit his lip - but didn’t stop the unfastening of his trousers. There was little doubt in his mind that he wanted it, and when Geralt spoke, all remaining doubt was slain.

“I want to make you feel good.”

Fuck,something about the Geralt of Rivea uttering those words made Jaskier crumble. For all his bombast and confidence, he’d never thought a man like the Witcher would want him like this. But from the first time it had happened, he’d thanked the Gods each day that it had.

When Jaskier’s cock sprang forwards, Geralt wasted no time wrapping his warm mouth around it and drawing a breathy moan from the bard’s throat. They’d never discussed Geralt’s experience with men, but Jaskier had always suspected it was scanty. Not because the Witcher lacked any particular skill, but because of his totally uninhibited enthusiasm. Geralt’s eagerness to please was incomparable to anyone Jaskier had ever been with. If he was inexperienced, the Witcher certainly seemed to relish every chance to practice.

Leaning against a rickety wooden fence under the stars, the poet imagined how they’d look to some local passer-by. Geralt on his knees, serving cock with his mouth, grasping the bard’s narrow hips in his strong hands. Jaskier’s head lolling back, eyes shut in bliss. If those tavern girls could see me now, they’d lose their fucking minds, he found himself musing, with more than a tinge of smugness.

Answering the ache in his jaw, Geralt drew his lips off the bard, gripping his cock in one hand and lapping eagerly over the head. He was enjoying each little groan he could elicit, just by jerking his hand up and down - rotating and sliding the bard’s slick cock across in his palm. This, Jaskier thought, Geralt was particularly good at.

The Witcher rose to plant a heedless kiss on his lover’s shaky lips. When he rolled his pelvis against the bard’s, it drew another groan, allowing the hardness of his own cock to be felt between them.

Jaskier didn’t wait to be asked. Sinking to his knees, trousers pooled around his ankles, he released Geralt’s splendid cock from the confines of his clothing. The white-haired man couldn’t help feeling impressed by how skillfully the bard managed the transition. It was his turn now to lean headily against the wooden fence as Jaskier took the Witcher’s thick cock into his mouth.

There had always been something about sucking cock that Jaskier just adored - but when Geralt filled his mouth, fingers laced in his messy hair, the bard felt transcendent. He settled a hand over his own cock, jerking it skilfully as he enveloped his prize. Hungrily, he worked his lips along the Witcher’s length, tasting every inch with his tongue. They both knew the bard took pride in his ability to please a lover, and in the few times they had done this, it had hardly taken Geralt any time to cum at all.

The Witcher announced his climax breathily, moaning his lover’s name and pulling his pretty mouth deeply against his cock. Gods, how Jaskier fucking loved to hear Geralt moan his name. As he groaned his own reply, the bard spilled his own orgasm messily into the gravel. When Jaskier carefully withdrew his mouth, he ensured every drop was savoured.

The bard glanced up at his lover curiously, watching his broad chest rising and falling against the stars. He was eventually able to stand with only a minor stagger, licking the remnants of his own orgasm from his fingers in a way he hoped was subtle.

“A public footpath, Geralt…” he mused, beginning to fix his trousers nonchalantly. “Never knew you were so filthy…”

“Hmm,” came the gruff reply from the witcher still leaning against the fence. “Not sure I knew either.”

Jaskier smiled, feeling brave enough to plant a kiss on the stubble of Geralt’s jaw. He idly noted how pleased he felt to have the taste of rank mead gone from his mouth. The notion made him smile stupidly.

By the time they met their destination, a tired Jaskier was sure he could see the first pinkish light of dawn creeping from the east. Geralt, of course, had noticed long before. The rest of their journey had passed without incident, giving them both much-needed time to reflect.

If you enjoyed this fic (or even if you didn't) I'd die for feedback of any kind! I'm very new to fanfiction so it would be much appreciated. Thanks :)

Jaskier still hoped that they could leave Bincord as soon as possible, and took comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t be leaving alone.

***

#geralt x jaskier #the witcher smut #witcher sex #the witcher oneshot #geraskeir

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let-the-stars-guide · 1 year

Text

Oc Info

Legal name: Makula Managold

pronounced (mak/cue/la) (mah/na/gold)

Name meaning : Pearl

Nickname (s): Minty, Mack

Native country:Khaenri’ah

Pronouns: She/They

Reincarnation : 5th stage Acceptance

Ethnicity: Khaenri'ahian- Sumerian descent

Currently living : Mondstadt(Germany)

Age: 21

Vision (Power) : Hydro

Constellation: Hyades

Gender: (she/them)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: 04/04

Family: Elias, Marianne “Créme”, Bay “Blue”

Affiliation: Merchants of Mondstadt

❗️Side job(s): Bard

S/o: Amanita Virosa(teyvattales oc)

Species: Human

Appearance Information

Eye color: Gold with a star symbol engraved as the pupil.

Hair color: dark blue (usually in a red headwrap) :D

Height: 5'8

Weight: 135 lbs

Body: pear shaped

Piercings:Lobe

Unique body marks: Two moes at the bottom of their face, scara markings near heart(via hiku’s death)

Personality/Work/ Backstory

About Minty:

Ambivert(Istj) They have no problem starting conversations with others but they really prefer to be alone. Minty tends to hang around others with similar personality traits to them.

Favorite foods: cold treats

Job: Merchant (sells clothes), designs outfits

Business name: Far by the Shore

Positive traits:Good listener, ambitious, hard working

Negative traits: Hot headed, tries to solve things on their own(which isn’t always good), impatient (especially when waiting for letters)

Dislikes: Anything political, beings involved in conflict, having a lot of attention on them.

Hobbies: Sketching, sowing, singing to pass time, plays Lyre, traveling

Fears: Losing family, being alone permanently.

Backstory Information [Locked]

Would you like to use 2 story keys?

Keys(⅔)

Want to Unlock? Yes or No?

Backstory unlocked loading…….

Backstory : Makula lived in a small town in Khaenri'ah. At a young age they began working in their parents’ shop. Elias, their father, worked at a food market stall and Marianne (their mother) owned a clothing store. Makula and their sibling would go out and make deliveries to their customers. When Makula and Bay were old enough, they left their home to expand their parents’ business overseas. Their sibling Bay went to Inazuma ,while Makula went to Mondstadt.

Traumatic story unlocking….

Trauma event: When Makula first came to Mondstadt, they asked a man for directions. Instead of being guided, they got jumped by Treasure hoarders. Since Makula didn’t know how to fight, they tried to defend themselves with a stick. With Makula’s back to the corner, they swung the stick trying to scare Men off….(Elaborates on “About Minty”)

Voicelines

About Knights: “They are our best luck of protection in this country, even if some of them aren’t.. so trustworthy.”

About Bards: “Some play beautiful music and have interesting stories to tell.”

Concerns: “I honestly worry about expanding the Business further. I’ve been putting it off since there have been issues lately.”

About Discounts:“If you ever need a discount on food while in Inazuma, you should visit my brother Bay. He sells regular food but also some recipes that other countries don’t use. If you see him, tell him Mack sent you.”

About Friends: While living in Mondstadt they’ve gotten acquainted with some recent customers. Their most recent are some of the teen vision users, some of the Knights and the Traveler.

About Amanita: The Fatui? I don’t know alot about them except this one person. The one that goes by the name Amanita. Why do you mention him? Are they giving you any trouble??

About Angetsushin Hikomi

That woman is my darling Amanita’s 2nd lover. Yes I did not stutter I’m not his only wife. The impression I’ve had from being around her is positive. She’s generally respectful, sh

About Buisness in Mondstadt🔒

About Amanita 2🔒

About traveling🔒

Ancestry🔒

Family🔒

About Fatui 2🔒3

About Jean🔒

About Venti🔒

About Bennett🔒

About Kaeya 🔒

Fighting lines

Joining Party: Let’s be quick about this I have work to do.

Joining party 2: Really right now?!

Joining party 3: I’ll do my best.

Opening Treasure Chest: Damn this is alot!

Opening Treasure Chest 2: I wonder if I can use these?

Opening Treasure Chest 3: A job well done Traveler!

Elemental skill: Hey Hey! Hold this really quick!

Elemental skill 2: Don’t run away now~

Elemental skill 3: Get the fuck out of my way!

Elemental Burts 1: Ready to drown?

Elemental Bursts 2: I’ll make your death painless!

Sprint start 1: We gotta go!

Sprint Start 2: I’m late I’m late!

Low Hp: Good for you, you landed a hit. *sarcastic*

Low Hp 2: I’ll be fine

Low Hp 3: Hang in there Makula

Fallen 1: Wait no!

Fallen 2: Bay.. I’m sorry.

Fallen 3: Manny .. take care.

Story Quest 1: Amata bene: Of Merchants and Bunny boys Chapter 1🔓

More Voicelines will appear the more I write about Minty.

Current picture of Minty for rn Below

Loading Makula Mandagold file ………

ERROR SEARCHING FOR MAKULA MANAGOLD 2.EXE

Found 4 documents

Do you wish to proceed

Yes or No

Makula Managold

Nickname: Rea (like Rhea the Goddess of Motherhood and Fertility)

Age: 21

Job: Merchant

???: Deceased, Reincarnated (currently as MInty)

Date of birth: 04-13

Family: error lost a file, Sage Managold (son)

Significant Other: Amanita Virosa

File 2 LOADING

.Nickname: Amira

age of death: 19

cause of death: poisioned,, killed by a bomb

Job: Tavern bartender

Family: unnamed child, unnamed family

Date of birth: May 07

Body marks: Has burn marks from previous death

File 3 loading

Nickname : Mina

Personality; keeps to self, introverted.

Age of death- 18

Job: Theif

Partner in crime/ Amanita Virosa

Body marks: Rash on face and other parts from poison

cause of death : ???

.Nickname: Hoku

Personality:

Age of death: Fight broken out in Khaenri’ah

Job: Astrologist

Family:

Body marks: moon symbol covers body marks. Birthmark is a mole on her head from when she died in the previous life.

#oc #oc file #oc rp #my ocs #oc tag #black oc

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genshin-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Where He Likes To Kiss You

AN: Hiii!! This is going to be my first Genshin fic that I post so I hope you like it! This is one of my fav types of way to write fics. Just choose a bunch of characters and write preferences!

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Venti, Razor, Xiao, Xingqiu, and Zhongli!

Come one! Come all! Find your mans and read!

Summary: The boys like kissing you! But what’s their favorite spot?

I DON’T HAVE A BANNER FOR ZHONGLI BUT I JUST CAN’T FIND A GOOD PICTURE TT^TT (POST EDIT: I DO NOW >:) )

Ears!

Kaeya loves to sneak a smooch on your ears every now and then.

If you blush or get shy, expect even more after. He likes to tease you every now and then.

His preferred method for getting a smooch is ambushing you. He finds you doing something, sneaks up, wraps his arms around you, and gives your ear a gentle kiss.

Yes, you’ve accidentally knocked him out.

You were busy looking at the list of commissions you had just received and failed to notice your boyfriend approaching. Your eyes were glued to the list as you tried to figure out which ones would be faster to complete and which ones would require help. As you turned the page in the handbook, you felt an arm around your waist, and a pair of lips brush across your ears.

You jumped, shutting your eyes and closing the handbook. With a pout, you turned around in Kaeya’s arms and looked up at him.

“Come on! You scared me!”

“Now if you’re going to keep looking this cute, how do you expect me to stop?” He teased, brushing his lips across your pouty ones. You only huffed, but had to admit, it was a nice surprise. You closed your eyes and leaned your head on his chest as you hugged him.

Cheeks!

Venti loves your cheeks. They’re so soft!

Venti loves squishing your cheeks between his hands and he loves to rub his nose against your cheek as well.

He usually prefers to hug you and then give you a kiss on the cheek. Venti’s very playful, therefore, you always get playful kisses.

Venti can be a little too playful at times, but he always makes up for it. He’ll gently grab your face, rub his thumbs against your cheeks, and place a kiss on your lips… then cheeks right after.

You waited by the tree that Venti usually liked to visit. You both had agreed to meet here in between the commissions you were given. You didn’t have too long, only an hour, but that was enough for Venti. Really, he’d even take seeing you for a minute rather than not seeing you at all.

Finally, you saw the bard not too far away. He was walking towards you with a big smile, waving at you. You stood from your spot and waved back, running towards him. You finally jumped up as he caught you, with a bright smile.

“VENTI!”

“(F/N)!” Almost immediately, Venti was kissing your cheeks, over and over. You giggled as he finally set you down before taking your face in his hands. The adoration and love in his eyes almost melted you as he gazed at you. “I missed you.” He whispered, his thumbs grazing your cheeks.

“I missed you too.” You responded as he leaned in and pressed a loving kiss to your lips. You both found a nice little spot to lay down and spend your precious time with each other.

Forehead!

Diluc loves to kiss your forehead.

There’s just something about grabbing your face and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. Your blush is just icing on the top.

Diluc doesn’t really like PDA, so he prefers being in private when he kisses you.

He likes to grab your hand or arm and tug you towards him. He then gently grabs your face and leans in, pressing a sweet kiss right on your forehead.

You sighed and shut your eyes, stretching your arms above your head. When had it gotten so late? The sun was gone and the bright, full moon lit your path ahead. You were ever so slowly making your way back to Dawn Winery since you’d promised to spend the night with your boyfriend, someone who you didn’t get to see very often. Both you and Diluc were so busy that you barely had time for each other, so you decided to spend the night with him instead of an inn.

You knocked on the doors which opened in a couple of seconds with a maid greeting you. You made your way upstairs to Diluc’s room, knocking on the door and waiting patiently. You didn’t have to wait long as he’d opened the door almost immediately. Diluc grabbed your hand and tugged you close, shutting the door behind you. His arms were around you within seconds and you melted against his warmth. It was a second before he placed a kiss against your forehead. You smiled and looked up at him, meeting his vermillion eyes.

“I missed you so much, (f/n).”

Nose!

Razor loves to give Eskimo kisses.

He also loves to nip at your little nose.

Razor doesn’t really understand kisses, but this is something that he can do to show affection. You have kissed him before, but he prefers your nose.

Usually Razor just awkwardly comes up to you, but after being together for a while, you understand what he means. So you just lean in and let him nip your nose or give you an eskimo kiss.

“Why does he have to live so far away!” Paimon pouted as she followed you. You only giggled as you jumped over a rock and looked up at her.

“Paimon, you’re floating. What muscles are you using right now.” She only crossed her arms and playfully glared at you.

“Hey! Floating requires a lot of work!” You only nodded as you started to make your way off the beaten path. You had missed Razor a little more than usual and he still refused to come live with you. You had been trying to convince him and it seemed like it was working. Mostly because you wanted to spend more time with him and go on adventures with him.

“(F/n)!” You turned around and saw your silver-haired boyfriend right behind you. Paimon took that as her cue and quickly disappeared as you smiled and waved, walking towards him to give him a quick hug.

“Razor! I missed you.” He gave you one of his rare smiles as he nipped your nose, making you giggle. It was always something adorable that you loved to see him do. You interloped your hands as the two of you started to venture deeper into the forest together.

Hands!

Xiao likes your hands, he loves holding your hands, and especially loves playing with your fingers.

Xiao is a little awkward when it comes to intimacy. He doesn’t really understand it but he feels the most comfortable with holding hands.

This is the only thing he doesn’t mind doing in public. It bothers him when people stare if you two kiss, so holding your head will have to suffice.

Whenever you see Xiao, the first thing he does is reach out to grab your hand. There’s just something about holding your hand, feeling the warmth, and feeling how real you are that brings him comfort.

“Xiao! Hi!” The Adeptus smiled as he closed his eyes. He could hear your footsteps getting closer and he turned around and saw your form move closer.

“Hello, (f/n).” Oh, how he missed your voice and scent. You had been much busier than usual and- although he didn’t want to admit it- he really missed you. You walked closer, placed a small box on a nearby table, and gave him a hug, one that lasted longer than usual, but you didn’t mind. He held you tightly, letting your warmth and scent spread around him, before eventually letting you go.

Almost immediately, he took your hands into his and lifted them up to his lips. He placed a kiss on both hands before gently brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He was always so gentle and careful, it made you feel great, even though both of you knew just how tough you were.

“You’re always so soft.” You giggled as you moved closer, making him huff a little.

“Soft… I’m not soft… you are.” You giggled and picked up the box and held it out to him. He took it and opened it, giving you a rare smile when he saw the contents. Almond Tofu.

Lips!

Xingqiu loves your lips! They’re so soft and warm!

Xingqiu also loves touching your lips. Not full on playing with them, but he loves to drag his thumb across your lips and just… stare. Why are you so fucking bEaUtIfUl?!

He also loves to see you blush. Like the first time he snuck a kiss in, your eyes went wide and your cheeks flushed red. Yeah, he likes that. Do it again.

Generally, he’ll smile when he sees you. He’s not very awkward at all, actually. He’ll slide an arm around your waist and tug you in close before placing a kiss on your lips. It’s a couple seconds long, but don’t tempt him. He can’t help himself.

“-qiu! Xingqiu!” The bluenette jumped and looked at you, blinking a couple of times. You were giving him a little pout and he laughed nervously before placing his book down on the grass.

“Sorry, (f/n), I didn’t mean to get so lost into the book.” You huffed and moved away, crossing your arms and looking in the distance.

“Since you’re so busy, I’ll just get started on my commissions! I have a bunch anyway.” Before you could even stand, his hands grabbed yours and he tugged you into his lap, before wrapping his arms around you.

“No! I’m sorry!” He stuffed his face into your chest and closed his eyes, breathing in your scent. “I’ll pay more attention to you.” He looked up at you, raising his hand and gently running it along your bottom lip.

“Keep that up and I’ll revoke kisses for an entire day.” You swore you could see his world fall apart. His eyes widened and a look of horror fell on his face.

“NO! I’m so, so, so, sorry! Please forgive me, my love. I swear I’ll pay attention to you all day!” Wow, that was easy. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you leaned in.

“Oh? You promise?” He nodded immediately, making you giggle as you leaned in, pressing your lips against his. He hummed in content as he closed his eyes and returned your kiss. Ok, now you had a little teeny bit of leverage. Just a little! You would definitely use this power wisely and weren’t going to abuse it.

Neck!

It wasn’t intended to be one of the first places he kissed, but here we are.

He does have to admit the first time he saw your reaction, there was just this urge to… do it again. He wanted to see you blush like that again.

Mans is a bit awkward, but he means well. He does give you cute little awkward hugs just to get to your neck, but you just giggle and pat his head.

Whenever he sees you off in your own world, he comes up behind you and places a small little kiss against your neck. He then nuzzles his face on the spot right after. It took a bit of getting used to, but now you just melt into his arms.

You and Paimon were looking at the lists of requests that you’d gotten. Recently, the adventure guild had received A LOT of requests for you in particular to help. Of course, you weren’t one to refuse a plea for help so you’d accepted them all. They weren’t too difficult, but they were lengthy. There was only one of you but the requests were piling up. So the faster you got started, the better. The good thing was that you weren’t alone. Your team was there to help you!

You jumped a little when you felt an arm around your waist and face bury itself in your neck. You giggled as Paimon quickly disappeared as you placed the requests down on the table and leaned into your boyfriend.

“You surprised me!”

“I’m sorry, you were just in your own world and you looked really cute.” You smiled as he placed kisses along the nape of your neck, making you giggle. It did tickle a little bit, but there was a comforting sensation that followed. The feeling of warmth and safety that surrounded you that you just hated to leave. You turned in his arms and smiled up at him.

“You’re cute.”

“Huh? No, you.”

“No. You’re cute.”

“I think I was very clear when I said you were the cute one.” Oh dear, this cycle wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin razor #razor x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xingqiu #xingqiu x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Someone Else (I'm Still Right Here)

also on ao3

minor warning for Geralt coming on to Jask when he doesn't know who he is, but nothing comes from it.

They've hardly been in town long enough for anything to go wrong and yet, Jaskier finds his thoughts interrupted by banging on the door of their room. If it was Geralt, he would simply let himself in even if he didn't have his hands free to open the door properly, so it must be important. Jaskier rises from the bed, setting his lute aside with a sigh. He detests being interrupted while he's working for anything less than an emergency - and judging by the fact that the knock hasn't come again, this is hardly an emergency.

He saunters to the door, pulling it open to find the face of the innkeeper's wife staring back at him anxiously.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "it's your Witcher, sir. Something's happened and no one is... well, they're all afraid to get too close to him. They called in the healer from the next town, but-"

Jaskier frowns. The contract was for a pair of drowners, not even a nest of the damn things. Geralt could have taken them out in his sleep - so what went so terribly wrong?

Jaskier lets himself be led downstairs, doing his best to mask worry with intrigue, but it isn't working. The innkeeper's wife leads him to the edge of the forest where her husband is waiting, a look of pained concern on his face. Jaskier's stomach drops as the man just points into the trees, and he hurries forward without delay. If the people in town won't help Geralt, he will certainly do his best.

When he finds him, Geralt is in a bad state. His eyes are still dark from the potions - probably why the locals wouldn't come near - and there's blood streaked down the side of his face.

Jaskier stays quiet. It's bad enough that Geralt can hear his pulse racing, he doesn't need to make his fear any more obvious to him. He kneels down on the soft ground, assessing the damage before moving him. He's learned from experience that one wrong move can make a wound worse rather than better.

"Okay," he says once he's satisfied. "I'm just gonna pull this off," he taps on Geralt's left pauldron, "make sure your head is the only thing you banged up." Jaskier frowns as he says it, but Geralt seems, as usual, unconcerned. He's much better behaved than usual though, which strikes Jaskier as being particularly odd.

He ignores it and pushes through, tearing an already ripped piece of Geralt's shirt to wipe away some of the blood. Geralt will be grouchy about it later, but if Jaskier replaces it, he can't be too angry. He does his best to clean Geralt's skin and he finds just the one injury - a hefty blow to the head. Not that it seems to be bothering Geralt any.

But when Jaskier cups his jaw, tipping his head to one side, Geralt hums. It catches him off guard and Jaskier jerks back to look at him.

"Your hands feel nice," Geralt breathes and leans into the touch. Okay. So maybe the head injury is more serious than it appears. The innkeeper's wife said a healer was coming, Jaskier will mention it to them when they arrive. Or maybe it's just the blood loss. Either way, the healer will be better prepared to deal with it than he is.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt asks.

"The innkeeper's wife came to collect me. Figured someone ought to come and collect you."

"No one else would even get near me."

"Yes, well, I'm not everyone else, am I?"

"Hmm. Guess not."

Jaskier comes around to look at him, straddling his thighs and Geralt leans forward, resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.

"Yes yes," Jaskier hums, "I know you're tired, darling, but we have to get you up and back to town."

Geralt is reluctant, but he lets himself be hauled to his feet and doesn't even complain about Jaskier propping him up as they make their way back toward town. He's quiet, which is to be expected, but Jaskier is worried that he's keeping something from him, that he's worse off than he seems because Geralt seems quite happy to let himself be assisted - something he would regularly fight against.

As they make it back to the inn, Jaskier knows everyone is watching them and he scolds a couple of them for not offering to help when a man was injured. He takes Geralt up to their room and ducks out from under his arm, leaving him alone for a moment so he can get the fire lit and ready the bed for him. But before he can do either, he finds himself pressed up against the room door with Geralt's face mere inches from his own.

The dark veins and darker eyes are… sexier than they have any right to be and Jaskier swallows back a groan, pressing a gentle hand to Geralt's chest. The Witcher is still woozy and unsteady on his feet, but he resists being pressed back and Jaskier frowns at him.

"Mm, as much fun as this is, I doubt you'll think so highly of me in the morning, darling." Geralt smiles slyly and, for a split second, Jaskier worries that he's become Geralt's quarry, that the toxins running through Geralt's body are really as bad as he always claims they are and that he is, in fact, in real danger around him. But then Geralt leans in, bumping his nose against Jaskier's and any thoughts of fear dissipate immediately.

Instead, Jaskier ducks down and away, holding both arms out as Geralt follows him.

"Geralt," he asks, "what's gotten into you? Not that I mind, but-" he eyes him carefully and Geralt just grins at him again.

"Don't be coy with me, bard, this is what you brought me here for."

"Um. No? I brought you here to rest, to put you to bed not take you to bed, and find you something to eat. This is our room, Geralt, not my room. They only had one left and I didn't think you'd mind-"

"Our room?" Geralt interrupts and Jaskier nods. Worry creeps in and he looks closely at Geralt. His eyes are black still, though the veins are retreating and he seems brighter than usual, not so gloomy.

"Yes?"

"Why would we be sharing a room," Geralt huffs, "I've only just met you."

Jaskier gawks at him. It's not like Geralt to play games, that's Lambert's area of expertise - and this is stupid and obvious even for Lambert's tastes. But something is off about Geralt tonight. The worry turns to fear and Jaskier suddenly wonders if the man he's brought back is his Witcher at all.

He's never met a doppler, but he's heard Geralt tell stories about them. For the most part, they're harmless, but Jaskier suspects they can be paid or bribed like anyone else and the thought of a stranger here in the room with his things, with Geralt's things-

"I thought you wanted sex," maybe-Gealt says again, slightly confused but not at all dissuaded. Normally Jaskier would take it as a compliment that he was still so enthusiastic about fucking him, but this feels very, very wrong. And yet a part of him still considers it.

If it is a doppler, there's no harm really. He's consenting and Jaskier is more than happy to fuck a man with Geralt's face (he doesn't think too much about how that will affect him after it's fine). Right? But there's still a nagging feeling that this isn't a doppler. He'd know, he thinks, if he brought someone else home with him.

"Can you just-" he says, backing up toward the bed where his bag is sitting on the floor. Maybe-Geralt just watches him with confusion as he crouches down and pulls his dagger from his pack.

It's just a little thing, but it's pure silver, gifted to him by Geralt in case of emergency.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jaskier says, holding it out, "I just need you to touch this."

Maybe-Geralt gives him a questioning look but reaches out and takes the dagger from him, turning it over in his hand. Nothing happens.

"Hmm," he says, "nice weight, well made. A little decorative maybe-"

"Doesn't hurt?" Jaskier asks and maybe-Geralt, who is seeming more and more like just Geralt laughs.

"Not unless you stab someone with it."

Jaskier valiantly ignores the little smirk and shuts his eyes.

"Okay," he says, "start at the beginning, what do you remember?"

"I… woke up in the forest and then you showed up," he smiles at him and Jaskier is already preparing a refusal.

"Listen, Geralt, I am your friend and you would probably even argue that-"

"How come? You're very handsome and you've been helpful and kind-"

"But it's not like that, Geralt. It never has been. I offered once and you were… less than impressed with me." Geralt says nothing and Jaskier takes the opportunity to reign the conversation in. "Can I clean you up now? Something is obviously wrong and we have to get you to a doctor."

"They said a healer was coming."

"I was thinking of someone a little more professional," Jaskier says and Geralt gives him a look. "We have a mutual friend who may be able to help. But for now, you've got me and I'd like to take a look at that wound."

Geralt relents and Jaskier finally succeeds in getting him sat on the bed without Geralt trying to come on to him again. He pulls Geralt's hair back and ties it out of his face, it'll need to be washed later, but he's not going to try and explain how it's fine for him to wash his hair but not fuck him right now.

The wound itself it's so bad, a bit swollen, a bit bruised, but the actual gash is small and very manageable. He cleans it first with water and then with vodka and applies a good amount of salve. He doesn't know which herbs Geralt combines for a poultice, so he bypasses that for the time being; when he gets him to Shani if the wound isn't healed on its own, she'll be able to tend to it.

He finds linen wrap at the bottom of his bag and presses it to Geralt's forehead, gently wrapping it around and tying it at his temple.

"Should be good for now. I'll go down and have supper brought up. Do you want a bath?"

"No. Thank you."

"Alright. Just… stay here, I'll be back."

As soon as the bedroom door is shut, Jaskier closes his eyes, but he waits until he reaches the main floor to lean against the wall and sigh. He has no idea what he's going to do. He never thought he'd be sad to see the day Geralt tried to get him into bed, but it feels so wrong. He'd rather spend the rest of his life failing to impress Geralt than spend another five minutes with him like this.

He takes his time ordering food, half-hoping that Geralt will be asleep by the time he gets back to the room, but their supper is ready quickly and Jaskier reluctantly takes it back up to their room, setting the tray on the table beside the bed.

Geralt at least spares him conversation while they eat and then Jaskier sets the dishes aside and strips out of his clothes for bed, already dreading having to share a bed. He keeps his shorts on and waits until Geralt is already in bed before climbing in after him.

The fire is burning low already, so he's not worried about it, but he blows out the candle beside the bed and pulls the blankets up over himself. He faces out into the room, preferring not to see Geralt right now. It feels weird to want to avoid him and it makes his chest ache because this is Geralt, but it's not. He just wants his Geralt back.

He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep but Geralt is cuddly like this, shifting closer and pressing up against him. He gets an arm around Jaskier's waist and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. It's everything he thinks about during the long nights sleeping around a campfire, but he can't let himself give into it. But it feels good because it's Geralt's arm around him, Geralt's chest pressed to his back, Geralt's breath against his neck. He very nearly whines because it's so damn unfair.

But then Geralt's lips press against the back of his neck and a little gasp escapes his lips, unintentionally. He ignores it the first time, but then he does it again and when he shifts closer, Jaskier can feel the length of his cock pressing against his ass. And fuck, that's hard to turn down, but Jaskier wrenches himself out of Geralt's arms.

"I can't," he whispers, unconvincing even to himself.

"You want it, though," Geralt hums, "I can smell it on you."

"Maybe," Jaskier confesses, "but not like this. Not when you don't know who I am. Not when fucking any other person in this place would be the same for you. I can't, Geralt. Go to sleep."

Jaskier hates how disappointed Geralt sounds when he pulls away, but he doesn't try again and Jaskier almost finds himself wishing he would. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself and pulls his knees to his chest, trying to force back the fear that he might not get his Geralt back.

In the morning, Geralt wakes first and Jaskier is relieved to find himself alone in bed, although he worries about where Geralt has gotten to. But when he drags himself out of bed, he finds Geralt packed and ready to go with a hearty breakfast waiting for him.

"What's all this?" Jaskier asks, "trying to get away from me all of a sudden?" It comes out more bitter than he intends and he winces at the tone of his own voice.

"You were so sad, last night," Geralt says quietly. "I don't know how to fix this, how to remember you, but I thought you'd want to get started early. I had breakfast brought up." He offers a soft smile, gesturing to the food and Jaskier's heart flip-flops.

"Oh. Thank you."

"I've eaten. Take your time and we can leave when you're finished."

"Right."

Geralt just sits on the bed while Jaskier eats his breakfast and contemplates the fact that this is still his Geralt, as much as it doesn't seem like it. His own things are still ready to go and he has no idea who to go to to collect the reward for the drowners, but it couldn't have been much anyway, so he's not worried about it. Geralt won't be pleased about it when he remembers himself, but there's only so much Jaskier knows how to handle and he wants to get Geralt to Shani as quickly as possible.

They head out mid-morning, and Geralt insists on letting Jaskier ride, which is… nice, in a concerning way. Roach is equally confused and concerned, but Jaskier does his best to comfort her. Thankfully, they aren't far from Oxenfurt or Jaskier isn't sure how he would cope.

Geralt walks alongside him, happy enough apparently to let Jaskier ride. He hums as they travel, a low wonderful sound that had Jaskier's heart fluttering, but it tears him in two because the song is his which means Geralt does remember something, but he's also so sad to see him this calm and relaxed knowing his goal is to take that away from him.

For now, he won't say anything, will just let Geralt enjoy the journey. When and if they find a way to get his memory back, he'll explain everything and give Geralt the chance to decline if he wishes. The selfish part of him hopes he doesn't.

They carry on in much the same way, but even when Geralt talks, Jaskier struggles to find it in himself to be too enthusiastic about anything. He's already in a difficult spot and he just wants to get through this, whatever the outcome. But it's obvious Geralt notices and that he's trying to distract him from it.

Jaskier tries to cheer up a little, if only for him, but he finds it difficult because he knows Geralt can tell how he's really feeling. But Jaskier appreciates the effort, either way.

"Remind me where we're going?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes he hasn't told him, Geralt just trusted him not to be leading him towards certain death.

"To Oxenfurt," he says, trying to sound cheerful, "it's one of my favourite places on the continent. I have a friend who practices medicine, she should be able to help."

"You don't have to pretend for me. I know you're sad, I know you miss him. Me. I wish I could give you your friend back."

Jaskier's heart clenches and he takes a steadying breath. "I'm fine," he says, "and I can't miss him, he's you and you're right here." He feels odd, like he's talking to a child, but Geralt just smiles at him, softly but like he doesn't believe him. Jaskier wouldn't either, he's never been good at lying to Geralt.

There's a heavy silence that falls after that and for some time they continue forward unspeaking. Jaskier twitches to feel the silence, to sing or talk to something just to keep from thinking that Geralt is upset with him. Then, abruptly, Geralt speaks.

"What kind of man am I?" Jaskier doesn't even have to think to answer that.

"You're kind," he says, "more than anyone gives you credit for. You always try to take the less violent route, even though your job is to kill monsters. You're generous and loving and you care so deeply for your friends and family."

He pauses for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. Because he's not included in that group. He knows Geralt must care for him, but not in the way he loves Eskel or Lambert, or even in the way his friendship with Shani or Zoltan comes so easily to him. Next to him, Geralt is silent for a moment and then.

"Jaskier are you-" Jaskier shuts his eyes, dreading whatever is coming next. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," he says, forcing cheeriness into his voice, "You're my best friend."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"Geralt-"

"I know I don't really know you, but I… think I love you, too."

"Geralt, don't say that," Jaskier shuts his eyes tightly, "you can't know that."

"I feel it."

Jaskier wants to scream. It's so unfair to hear those words from Geralt's mouth and know they’re not true. He pushes Roach a little quicker forward, but Geralt stops him.

Roach comes to a full stop and Jaskier grows frowns at Geralt as he comes to stand next to him. Geralt raised a hand up, cupping his jaw and guiding him downward.

"I feel like you won't hear it from me again, so I love you." He's soft, almost breathless, and when he stretches up to kiss him, Jaskier doesn't stop him.

It's just soft, no urgency, no want for something more than just a kiss and Jaskier can't help but lean into it just a little. Because those are Geralt's hands on him, Geralt's mouth against his own, soft and slow.

But Geralt moans softly against him and Jaskier remembers himself with a start. He pulls back from the Witcher, almost unseating himself, but Geralt steadies him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I can't, it's not fair-"

"To me?" Geralt asks and there's sadness behind the humour in his voice.

"Yes."

After that, they spend the rest of the day in silence and Jaskier feels bad for Geralt - he can't imagine losing his memory and not knowing who he is - but he can't stand the fruitless hope. Because Geralt doesn't love him, he's made it known that they're not friends and how could Jaskier hope for more when he can't even attain friendship?

Then again, the man walking next to him now still is Geralt. He doesn't feel like Geralt and he doesn't act like Geralt, but he is. Jaskier isn't sure how people usually react when they lose their memories, so he doesn't have a basis to judge by, but it is still Geralt.

When they stop for the night, Geralt sleeps close enough to keep him warm but doesn't cuddle up like he did the night before and Jaskier hates himself for it. Maybe Geralt has a chance here at a new life, one where he can be happy and not weighed down by the memory of his childhood. And if he does, if he wants it, who is Jaskier to deny him that?

He's not sure he could be a part of it, though. Even thinking about him now, wishing Geralt would come a little closer, curl an arm around his middle, he feels like he's betraying his friend, betraying the old Geralt as the case may be.

Either way, he'll get Geralt to Oxenfurt so they can speak to Shani and see if there's anything that can be done. If there's not, he doesn't have to worry about making the decision to leave or stay, but if there is- If there is a chance Geralt can regain his memories, Jaskier has to let him make that choice alone and then make his own depending on what Geralt wants.

They reach Oxenfurt a few days later after what feels like a month-long journey and Jaskier is just glad to be somewhere warm where he can have his own room and not have to worry about wanting to be close. He leads them immediately to the inn and rents two separate rooms. It's fairly costly and he's reminded of the reason they needed to take the last contract, but he could be in Oxenfurt for a while depending on how this goes and he'll be able to pick up work easily enough.

Jaskier heads up to his room and makes sure Geralt gets settled, then he heads down and orders food and a bath up to Geralt's room before heading out to find Shani.

The first place he looks is the hospital, but the nurse working informs him that Shani has her own clinic now and she's located near the centre of town. Jaskier thanks her and doubles back, following the directions she'd given. Shani's clinic is tucked between two other buildings and Jaskier knocks before entering. There's no one inside but it's only a moment before Shani emerges from a back room, the neutral look on her face quickly growing into a smile. When Jaskier doesn't return the gesture she frowns.

"I take it this isn't a personal visit," she says and Jaskier can feel something inside him slip. He shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry. I- we need your help."

"Geralt?" she asks and the last bit of his self-control gives way and he chokes on a sob. "Hey," she says, "come sit down."

Shani guides him to a back room and sits him down on a plush soft, surprisingly nice for a medical clinic. She shuts and locks the door behind them and sits next to him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Geralt," he chokes, "hes'-" he takes a deep breath, swallowing back another sob. "Shani, he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know who I am."

"Oh. What happened?"

"I wasn't there. I just- they came to get me because no one else would get near him. It was just supposed to be a drowner contract but he got hit in the head or something. I don't know what to do."

"Where is he now?"

"Back at the inn."

"Here?" she asks. Jaskier nods. "Why don't you take me to him, I'll take a look."

"I- I don't know if he'll want to be fixed? He came with me but Shani, he seems happy."

"Why don't we go and see him first. We'll figure out what's wrong before worrying too much, hm?" Jaskier agrees and Shani packs a bag and they head for the inn.

They find Geralt in his room, having eaten and bathed and he looks good. He's got his hair down around his shoulders and he's shirtless and Jaskier has to avert his eyes. He takes a seat in the corner and lets Shani introduce herself and asks to look him over. Jaskier stays quiet and watches cautiously as Geralt easily lets Shani look him over. Once she's finished with his body, she examines his head.

"Well," she says at last, "you obviously took a pretty hefty blow to your head, but the good news is it should be simple to reverse the memory loss."

"Good," Geralt says quickly. He spares a glance for Jaskier before turning back to Shani. "What do we have to do?"

"It's simple really, just a shock to your system should do it. I have a friend who can help."

As Shani goes into the details, Jaskier tunes out. He hears something about neurons, but he's more concerned about getting Geralt alone for a couple of minutes before he makes a decision. He loves Geralt, wants nothing more than for him to be happy, so he wants him to go into this knowing everything Jaskier can tell him.

"Can we have a moment Shani?" he asks and Geralt looks at him as Shani nods and ducks out of the room.

"You want to do it?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're happier like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt, I've never seen you this relaxed. In twenty years, you've always been miserable. I just- I want you to make an informed decision."

"You say you want me to be happy," Geralt says, "but since I told you I didn't know who you were you've been so sad. How is it fair for me to be happy like you say when you're still suffering." He tips Jaskier's chin up with two fingers and looks into his eyes. "What I said before, I wasn't lying. I don't know where all these feelings are coming from but I know you are so important to me."

He pulls up a smile and Jaskier knows how this is going to end. And he'll be happy to have his Geralt back, but know him like this? To know this Geralt wants him, even in some weird, imaginary way? He doesn't know how he'll be able to continue.

"Okay," Jaskier relents. "I just… wanted you to know what you were getting into."

"I'm sure it can't be all bad. I have you."

Jaskier's heart clenches, but he doesn't get another chance to speak because Shani enters the room. Thankfully, Geralt has stopped touching him, but he's still close and she gives Jaskier a look.

"I put out a call to my friend," she says, holding up a box that looks vaguely familiar. "Xenovox," she explains, "Marilla is a mage. She should be here in the morning."

It's late afternoon now, so that means spending another night at the inn and Jaskier is torn. On the one hand, he wants Geralt to be back to normal, but on the other- he's selfish and he wants Geralt like this. He wants so badly to have anything and- no. No, he can't.

Shani leaves them shortly after assuring Jaskier that it will be alright, that Geralt will be fine. He wishes these were better circumstances, that they had come to visit Shani instead of asking for her help, but she waves him off with a smile.

"Come and visit when things are back to normal," she says, "I'll see you in the morning."

Jaskier sees her off and then returns to the room to find Geralt sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. He's still shirtless and Jaskier finds it hard to look at him directly. He sits in the bed next to him, hands folded in his lap.

"Well," Geralt says, "we have the night. Things will be different after I get my memory back, right?" He turns, reaching out to cup Jaskier's cheek. "Be with me tonight," he breathes, "just for tonight, let me take care of you while I have the chance."

Jaskier huffs a humourless laugh. "That's the problem, you always have the chance, but you never want to take it."

"Then let me now," he hums and his hand falls to Jaskier's thigh.

And it's so tempting. Because Geralt is right here offering everything he's ever wanted, if only for a night. But this is not the Geralt he fell in love with. This is not truly his Geralt's consent. When Jaskier looks up, it's obvious that Geralt knows his answer before he even speaks.

"I'm an idiot," he says softly, "to not jump at the chance to be with you. If I don't remember tomorrow, I want you to know you're important to me." Jaskier nods weakly, but he can't find the words. "Maybe we should turn in early? We have a long day tomorrow, I think."

Jaskier nods and he lets Geralt pull him down to the bed and tonight, he lets himself be held, curls into Geralt's hold and presses his nose into his neck. He doesn't let himself think, just buries himself in Geralt's scent, so warm and familiar and shuts off his mind.

Jaskier awakes to a knock on the door and realizes he's still in his clothes from yesterday. Geralt answers the door to Shani and Marilla, and Jaskier is only just climbing out of bed when they come into the room. He gets a look from Shani, but if she's feeling any particular kind of way about finding him in Geralt's bed, she doesn't say anything.

The actual process doesn't take any time at all. Marilla comes in and does something to Geralt, what she does is unclear but he falls unconscious and Jaskier panics at first, but Shani holds him back.

"Sorry," she says, "I should have warned you."

Jaskier does his best to make Geralt comfortable in the bed and he leaves with the two women to let him sleep. He thanks Marilla desperately and asks her to stay until he wakes, but she tells him she has other business to attend to and after dipping down to kiss Shani briefly, she disappears down the stairs.

"Friend, huh?" Jaskier asks and Shani smiles at him.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Actually, can I ask you about something?"

"Of course. Why don't we get a drink, he could be out for a couple of hours."

They head down to the common area and Shani orders them a pair of drinks while Jaskier finds a table out of the way. He's never understood why Geralt likes corner tables, but right now he gets it. He doesn't want anyone to talk to him and he just wants to be able to sit and drink with Shani.

When she returns, she slides his drink across to him and slips into her seat.

"What did you want to ask about?"

"Uh," Jaskier starts, turning his mug in his hands, "when I first took Geralt back to our room, just after he was hurt. He tried to kiss me. He… thought I was bringing him back there to fuck him."

"Oh."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not, really. I'm surprised he acted on it, but-"

"What does that mean?"

"Geralt doesn't have any brain damage," Shani explains, "something just… got knocked loose, so to speak. He was still him, Jaskier. His thoughts, his feelings? That was all him, Jask."

"You're telling me-" abruptly, the memory of Geralt telling him he loved him comes back to him and his mouth goes dry. "You're telling me that was just him?"

"Mmhm. Without all the baggage and self-loathing."

"I don't- he can't- if he wanted me that way, I would know."

"Would you?" Shani asks, "because I think you would be the last person to know. Wait till he wakes up, talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Shani, for this and for everything."

"Happy to help."

They finish their drinks and Shani heads home. Jaskier thanks her again and promises to visit when things are better and waits until she's gone before heading back up to Geralt's room.

The first thing Geralt knows when he wakes up, is a pain in his head. He blinks awake to find himself in a bed in a nondescript inn. A better look around finds Jaskier asleep in a chair next to him, but he stirs as Geralt sits up and then he's scrambling to pass Geralt a mug of water.

He feels woozy, but Jaskier's presence soothes him; he knows from experience that Jaskier would never let anything happen to him and is willing to risk his own health and safety to assure it. There's no one else he'd rather see upon waking. But he doesn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembers is taking a hit and stumbling away from the scene.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks gently. He looks up and the first thing he notices when he looks at Jaskier is how sad he is. The emotion wafts off of him, but Geralt doesn't need his heightened sense of smell to be able to tell.

"What's wrong?" he mumbles, his voice thick.

"Tell me what you remember. From the start."

Geralt thinks back, going through the events of the hunt, none of which are very interesting until he was thrown into a tree. Water hag, he remembers, chucked mud and blinded him. Then he's stumbling away, all three monsters dead and then- fuck.

His gaze snaps up to Jaskier's face, looking for any sign of recognition, but he remains eerily calm, even as Geralt recollects kissing him, pressing him up against a wall and- fuck, what was he thinking? The more he thinks about it, the more comes back to him, but in bits and pieces.

Kissing him, touching him, pressing up against him in bed. The memories are all foggy, scattered, but they feel too real to have been a dream. But Jaskier shows no signs of being assaulted by him.

"I'm-" he starts, but sorry doesn't feel like it's enough. Jaskier is open with his affections, but he wouldn't be okay with that.

Geralt tries to push himself up, to get out of bed and away from Jaskier because he can't stand the thought of doing something like that. He can't remember why he did, but the more he thinks about it, the more real it feels.

"Geralt," Jaskier says firmly, "I'm not mad. But I think we need to talk if you're up for it."

He doesn't want to talk to Jaskier. He would rather find out from someone else, he can't bear to hear the words from Jaskier. And he knows Shani was there. Shani and another woman who he didn't recognize.

"Where's Shani?" he asks.

"She's gone home, darling. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

Geralt looks up at him and he feels hopeless. Jaskier is exhausted, he can see the bags under his eyes, the dark circles. And he doesn't seem any less sad than he did initially. It doesn't take much to realize what happened.

"I'm sorry," Geralt mumbles, "about what I did- when I kissed you, I-"

Jaskier stops, already halfway toward the door and sighs deeply, stopping in his tracks before turning around.

"Okay," he says, "we're talking about this now, then." He comes back and seats himself on the end of the bed, facing him. "Tell me exactly what you remember, Geralt."

"I remember taking the contract, fighting off the drowners - and a water hag - got mud in my eyes, stumbled and something hit me, threw me into a tree. Probably one of the drowners pushed me. I took them out, started back toward town but I must have passed out, the next thing I remember is-"

"Me."

"Yeah. You took me back to our room, I thought you were- I thought you wanted sex."

"I know, you were fairly adamant about that."

"Fuck. Jaskier I'm sorry-"

"You didn't know who I was. If a handsome stranger took me back to his room, I'd think the same. When you didn't know who I was I was… terrified. I didn't know if I'd get you back." They're both silent for a moment and then Jaskier prompts him to continue.

"I remember that. I remember talking to you," he lowers his eyes, "I told you I loved you, I don't know why." Immediately Jaskier's sadness intensifies and he catches it in the twitch of his lip, the way he glances away.

"You asked if I was in love with you," Jaskier explains, "and told me you loved me. What else do you remember?"

"I remember asking you to- suggesting we- I propositioned you. And I remember being in bed- Jaskier, did we-?" He can't imagine anything worse than sleeping with Jaskier while he's not himself, than having the chance to be with him and not truly being present in the moment.

Because he certainly won't have another chance, especially not now that he's gone and muddled things up.

"No," Jaskier confirms and for the first time a small smile tugs at his lips, "not that you didn't try. But It didn't feel right. I knew when you had your memories back, you'd hate me for it and I couldn't-"

"I could never hate you," Geralt interrupts, "if anything I'd hate myself for pushing you into it."

"No," Jaskier says, shaking his head, "Geralt you don't understand. I wanted to. I wanted so badly to just say yes last night when you asked me. I tried to work it around in some way that you wouldn't hate me for taking advantage, but every time I just feel terrible to even think about it. The reason I didn't sleep with you is because I couldn't bear the thought of fucking you when it wasn't really you. Because I didn't want him, even if he was you. I wanted- I want this you."

"You do," Geralt snorts, "someone who throws himself at his friend because he doesn't remember, someone who tells him he loves him unprompted-"

"Do you think," Jaskier suggests, and it's clear by the look on his face that he's considering his words very carefully. "That maybe what you said to me and what you did- what you offered," he corrects quickly, "was because you do have feelings for me?" His voice shakes just faintly and Geralt can smell the anxiousness coming off of him.

It's cloying, overwhelming and it mingles with the scent of sadness and fear and just the faintest hint of something hopeful.

"It's just that Shani said there was nothing wrong with your mind, it was still you in there when you asked, when you said that." Jaskier looks up at him and Geralt feels years of emotion welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to hold it back any longer, not what Jaskier is asking him outright.

"Jaskier, I-" he takes a deep breath, focuses on a mark on the blanket between them. "I don't remember everything. But I did mean what I said. I do… I love you," he whispers, "I didn't want you to think less of me or," he glances up and Jaskier's eyes are shiny like he's trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"I'm not sad," Jaskier says, "Geralt, I have been following you around for half my life, caring for you, singing about you and you didn't think for maybe a moment that I could love you back?"

"You-" Geralt stumbles over his words as Jaskier's confession sinks in. "You sleep with everyone. Everyone but-"

"You don't even call me friend, Geralt. Why would I try and take you to bed with me thinking you don't care enough to call me your friend?"

"Oh."

"Oh? You didn't consider that?"

"You're not my friend," Geralt says, by way of explanation, "but you're not a lover, either. You're not a brother. Not a comrade. I don't know what you are."

"Oh."

"But you could be… a lover?" the word feels strangely heavy in his mouth and he nearly regrets saying it at all until he sees the way Jaskier's eyes light up. A smile tugs at Geralt's lips and he leans forward, reaching out to take Jaskier's hand, tentatively turning it over.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "can I kiss you?" A wide grin spreads across his face and Jaskier tips forward toward him.

"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

#geraskier #memory loss #200 fic celebration #no.1 #the witcher #rex writes

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