#but another part of me is frightened by the challenges I would face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ro-is-struggling · 7 months

Text

The Ballad of Orpheus and Eurydice || Geralt of Rivia x nymph!reader

REQUESTED

Summary: Life was good when Geralt was by her side. They were in love and happy... Until they weren't and she was left alone once again. After spending so much time under his protection, she had forgotten how dangerous the world was for creatures like her. Sad and heartbroken, she was unable to defend herself when the men came for her. Now locked up far away from her forest, she only hoped that her loved protector would come to her rescue.

Warnings: angst (with happy ending), major character death, reader gets imprisoned by a evil dude (I don't know how to tag this lol but I think it’s important to mention that she’s forced to serve him), fluff (it’s not all sad, I promise), forest nymph!reader, fem!reader, let me know if I missed anything!

English is not my first language

Word count: 12.700 (it's a long one)

Notes: A few things to have in mind while reading: It follows the timeline very loosely, and Geralt and Yen's relationship never got to that solid point in s3 cause it's not real love, just the product of Geralt binding their fates together with that wish

She never imagined that her story would end like this, locked in a cold and humid dungeon far away from her forest. Nymphs were not immortal beings —something she had come close to verifying several times in her long years on the continent—, so the idea of her inevitable end was something that she had thought about from time to time. It was not something that haunted her obsessively, but every once in a while her mind would wander to the imagining of the end of her days.

She lived a quiet life, making sure to be cautious around any unwanted people who passed through her forest. She had no enemies, at least not ones powerful enough to present a real danger to her. So she always imagined that she would die a peaceful death, slowly fading away as her birth tree withered away after having completed its cycle on this earth. If not, she imagined she would die a heroic death as she fought the greedy humans to prevent the destruction of her forest. Both scenarios brought her a sense of comfort in a way, because they showed that she had fulfilled her life's mission, the purpose for which she had been placed on the continent.

She never imagined that the end of her days would actually be so dark and torturous, forced to live in captivity away from her home and everything she loved. She never thought she would miss the feel of the wind on her face, or the warmth of the early morning sun, or the sweet scent of flowers in the spring. She had never imagined herself living anywhere but her forest, but that was an option that had been taken away from her the moment King Elian's men set foot in her home.

She had heard rumors of his infamous reputation from the mouths of other frightened nymphs. His name inspired terror among magical creatures, who chose to call him The Hunter as if the mere mention of his name was a sign of bad omens. He was known for his obsession with magical creatures and what he did with them after capturing them. Despite what his nickname implied, he did not always chase a magical creature to kill it and display some part of its body as a hunting trophy. No. There was a fate far more horrible and obscure than that, and that was to end up as a piece of his collection, just another exhibit, forced to smile in his presence and perform for his entertainment whenever he wanted it. It was the terrible fate that had unfortunately fallen upon her.

In the past she had not seen King Elian as a threat. His kingdom was on the other side of the continent and while he used to go on hunting trips when he heard rumors of a creature in his vicinity, he had never ventured this far before. Besides, she was under the protection of one of the continent's fiercest witchers, so she knew no one would dare mess with her. No one who knew Geralt of Rivia would dare to challenge him, and the poor bastards who, out of ignorance or arrogance did, usually didn't live to tell the tale. The bond they had was strong, a love unlike any she had ever experienced in her many years of life, so she never thought there would be a day when she would wake up without him by her side.

"The king requires your presence." A guard announced from her cell door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She rose to her feet reluctantly, stepping up to the bars so he could put the handcuffs on her before unlocking her cell. The dimeritium on her wrists was engraved with the same symbols as the bars of the box in which she spent her days. It was a powerful incantation that weakened her magic so that she could not use her powers to escape. It was painful since the metal burned her skin, but she had learned the hard way not to complain.

The guard led her to the throne room, where the king was shouting directions to the group of servants working on decorating the place, changing the curtains and adding chairs and tables to the sides of the room. She had been there long enough to know that the castle was being prepared for a feast, though she did not know what the celebratory occasion was.

She forced herself to bow when the king's eyes fell upon her figure, though her expression showed how little respect she truly had for him. "Your majesty." She murmured as a learned response as she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I hope you used your time in the dungeon to reflect on your attitude." His voice was firm, almost as if he was still angry with her for refusing to comply with his demands almost a week ago when he had wanted to use her to entertain the king of the neighboring kingdom who had come to visit. "You have to understand that you belong to me. You are here to serve me and the only reason you are not dead already is that I find you useful. But that can change and it depends entirely on how you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue to avoid causing a scene that would undoubtedly send her straight to the dungeon again. "Yes, my king." She wasn't able to look him in the eye as she spoke as she didn't want to see the satisfaction in his expression.

"As a demonstration of my great generosity and compassion, I have decided to give you a second chance to prove your loyalty. But do not mistake my mercy for stupidity for this will be your last chance to prove your worth to me. If you say or do anything out of place you will know the sharp blade of my sword."

After she submissively assured him that she understood the seriousness of his words, he explained that he needed her to take care of some of the preparations for the feast in honor of his daughter. During the week the entire kingdom had participated in the celebrations for the girl's fifteenth birthday, an event that would culminate with a grand banquet in the evening. She would be in charge of preparing the floral arrangements that would decorate the entire palace as well as being responsible for the main entertainment since there was nothing to match the singing of a nymph. But in addition, the king put her on a special task. He wanted to give his daughter a beautiful garden with different types of flowers —one for each year of her life—, and she was the perfect person for the job. She accepted without question, not so much because she valued her life or feared reprisals if she refused, but rather because after being locked up for so long she missed being in contact with nature.

"If it's alright with you, my lord, I would like to start with the garden." She said in the most respectful way possible, explaining that with her powers weakened it was the task that would take the most work.

She was escorted by a group of half a dozen guards, who grabbed her roughly by the arms and dragged her through the castle corridors to the garden. Normally she would have complained about their mistreatment, but it all stopped mattering to her when she felt the gentle breeze hit the skin of her face. It was a wonderful feeling smelling the wet dirt in the air and hearing the birds singing after having spent so much time locked up in the deepest part of the castle. It almost felt like freedom.

Working in the garden awakened a bittersweet feeling in her. On the one hand, it was the most comfortable she had been since she arrived at the castle. Walking barefoot on the grass, feeling the earth between her toes and the flowers growing under her hands was as close to home as she had ever been. It was liberating in a way, putting her powers to good use and connecting with the nature she missed so much. But, on the other hand, it was also a reminder of all that she had lost, the life she would never get back. As much as she loved being outside after so many days locked up, she couldn't help but notice that nothing felt like home. The flowers didn't smell the same, the grass under her feet wasn't as soft, and even the birds didn't sing the same. That wasn't her home. This was not her forest.

As she buried her hands in the ground, she couldn't help but question what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it. Sure, avoiding further punishment for disobeying the king's orders was a valid motivation, but was it really worth it? Why was she trying to preserve her life when the only future she had was to live locked up there forever? Was dying such a terrible fate when the alternative was imprisonment and slavery? A life away from her home, forced to indulge the whims of a power-hungry monster was no life at all, so why was she there obeying the orders of that disgusting man?

Then she realized that she still held out hope of escaping. Her spirit wasn't completely crushed and her love for Geralt wasn't entirely gone, so even if it was foolish, she still hoped he would show up to rescue her. They hadn't seen each other for over a year, since that sad day when their story had met an abrupt end after he confessed to her that there was another woman in his life, but she still held out hope of seeing him again. She dreamed of seeing his long white hair move in the air as he skillfully knocked down the guards that separated them and freed her from her confinement. How could she not when he had been her savior on more than one occasion? In fact, that was how they had met.

She was frightened and hurt the first time she saw him, trapped in a cage with symbols carved into the bars. It was a powerful spell that weakened her powers just like the shackles of dimeritium around her wrists. The cage was too small for her, a confined space where she could barely stretch her legs or sit up straight if she wanted to. A group of well-trained men had managed to capture her, taking advantage of her distraction and temporary weakness to lock her up and take her back to their master. She was so terrified that when she heard Geralt's sword clash with that of one of her attackers, she curled up in a corner, her body folding in on itself in an attempt to make herself small and invisible to the group of fighting men.

She recognized immediately that he was a witcher and that brought her no relief. While his kind generally didn't tend to see nymphs as dangerous monsters —as long as they behaved and didn't do anything to end up on their list, of course— she didn't feel completely safe in the presence of a witcher. She tended to hide on the occasions when one passed through her forest, believing it was best to stay away from people like that just in case. After all, they were monster hunters, a concept that, in her experience, meant something different to each individual and there was no way of knowing for sure if she fell into that category or not. So, even though he had overpowered her captors, she still felt fear when he approached.

Geralt felt that fear as soon as he took a step towards her, it was almost as strong as the power and magic that flowed from her being. Her beauty alone was enough to let him know that she was a nymph of the forest. Behind the earth and blood, hidden in a grimace of terror, were the delicate features that the witcher had only seen in the creatures of her kind that he had encountered in the past. The nymphs had a certain look, a special glow that distinguished them from the rest of the magical beings on the continent. They were also one of the gentlest and most peaceful creatures on the continent, focused only on protecting their homes and turning to violence only as a last defense mechanism. That was why Geralt did not sense a drop of evil in her. And that was also why he set out to free her from her confinement.

Even though her captors lay dead on the ground, she still looked terrified, her eyes glassy with tears and her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a sob. When he approached her, the nymph snuggled further into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest in a protective manner. He raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show her that he was not going to hurt her, walking slowly toward the cage so he could release her. It was then that he noticed the symbols on the bars and the dimeritium shackles, which helped him understand how she had ended up there and why she was so scared. She was in a position of extreme vulnerability without her magic and, despite having saved her, he was a complete stranger who could very well cause her more trouble. So the witcher made an effort to appear friendly and non-threatening.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He told her to try to calm her down, though it wasn't much help. She curled further into the corner of the cage, hugging her legs to her chest and looking up at him with watchful eyes from between her knees.

"I know what you are." She answered him, the fear clear in her voice. "You are a witcher, you kill-"

"Monsters, yes." Geralt spoke for her. "But you are not one of them. You're safe with me."

At that moment she had no way of knowing what kind of impact those words would have on her life and how genuine they were. She accepted his help because she had no other choice, but time would show her how fortunate she had been to cross paths with Geralt. At first he played hard to get, barely speaking as she nursed his wounds once her powers stabilized. She'd had to resort to using her charms a little to soften that hard exterior of his, but once Geralt began to open up to her, she discovered the man he truly was.

Geralt tended to lean into rumors about himself and his kind, pretending to be emotionless and not caring about anything or anyone but himself. But that was all an act, a protective shield. In reality he cared. He was capable of feeling emotions as deeply as any other being on the continent. He hated and held grudges, but he also loved and cared for those close to him just as intensely. And once she discovered that, she found it very easy to love him back.

She was truly safe with him, and in the long years that their love blossomed he did nothing but prove that to her. Geralt was her favorite person in the world. He was her home, her lover, her protector... A love like that was not easily forgotten and no one could blame her for holding out even the slightest hope that he would come for her, that he would somehow sense that she was in danger and rush to her rescue. It had happened in the past, their connection was that strong, so it wasn't an entirely far-fetched idea. It was just... naive of her.

Geralt had been traveling for days. He usually preferred to use alternative paths hidden behind forests or swamps, they were quieter and better for his business. Not many people used them so he didn't run into anyone that would bother him, and it was easy to run into the occasional monster roaming around, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. What he hated, however, was that most of the time it took him twice as long to get to some town where he could rest with minimal comforts and eat a hot meal.

Had he taken the main road he would probably already be at his destination, drinking in the dark corner of some dingy bar or locked in the room of some cheap inn, and not wandering the forest in search of an animal big enough to satisfy his appetite. He didn't mind being outdoors or having to hunt for his food on the spot —-in fact he was so used to that he almost preferred it—, but this time he was tired and couldn't wait to be anywhere but there. Perhaps that was why when he came across a king and his hunting party he accepted his offer to return to his camp to eat with him without putting up much of a fight.

Geralt hated royalty and King Elian was no exception. He was arrogant and self-absorbed, just like the vast majority of kings, but there was something else about him that rubbed the witcher the wrong way. He tried to decline his offer at first, but he was unwilling to take no for an answer.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. My camp is not far from here and my tent is big and warm. I have more than enough food and I would love to hear some of your stories while we eat." The king insisted, pressing Geralt to accept his offer. "My men don't make for good company and I'm bored. I'm sure a witcher like you has been involved in a good share of adventures that make for fascinating stories."

In any other circumstances, Geralt would have found a way to escape from there. The last thing he wanted was to be used as the personal entertainment of an arrogant king. But this time he decided not to resist too much. He attributed it to his tiredness, he had been traveling for a long time and at least it wouldn't be a sacrifice in vain since he could at least get food in exchange for entertaining him for a while. But perhaps there was something more than that playing a role there. Fate itself had crossed their paths for a reason, even though he didn't know it yet.

"It's not as interesting or glorious as one might think." Geralt said with honesty.

In his experience there were two types of opinions regarding his people and what they did for a living. There were the people who despised them for what they were and believed they were no different than the monsters they killed and there were those who found them fascinating and longed to go on adventures like the ones they often experienced. To him both opinions were bullshit. He wasn't a monster, he didn't kill for pleasure or for fun as many people believed, but neither was he some kind of hero whose life was worthy of being immortalized in songs and poems. He was just a man who did what he knew best to survive, just like all witchers and all beings on the continent. He and his kind did not deserve hatred, but neither did they deserve to be crowned with laurels. They deserved to be left in peace, nothing more, nothing less.

"I have to say I'm grateful for the work you and your kind does." The king continued speaking without acknowledging Geralt's words. It was as if he was not there, his words were of little value to the king when they did not say exactly what he wanted to hear from him. "These creatures are dangerous and can't be left alone to live amongst us. Although some are fascinating creatures if given proper care and purpose."

Geralt looked at the monarch with a frown, unsure of what he meant by that. He said nothing, however, just remained silent for most of their journey to the camp, while trying to get a better read on the man beyond the typical arrogance of all of his kind. There was something about him that he did not like, something that caused a feeling that other kings and nobles did not. It was something more than his simple unpleasant personality, but he could not figure out what it was.

"You should come to my kingdom sometime." King Elian offered as they finally reached what appeared to be the camp where he and his hunting party had set up their base. "I have a collection of creatures I'm sure you would love to see."

The witcher halted his walk, looking at the king with narrowed eyes. "A collection?"

"Oh yes! I have the biggest collection of magical creatures in the whole continent." He admitted as if it was something to be proud of. "I have some pretty rare ones I'm sure you and your people would love to study. You're more than welcome to come over anytime! After all, we are all on the same side."

Geralt did not like the way the king referred to magical creatures and hated that he equated himself with witchers and the work they did. They didn't lock up monsters to brag about their large collection to strangers. They didn't see them as objects that gave them some kind of prestige. They saw them as living creatures, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misunderstood. Witchers did not enslave or kill monsters for fun as he seemed to do and Geralt was disgusted that he would even try to imply such a thing.

However, before he could voice his opinion, the king shoved him into his luxurious tent and the servants set a plate of food in front of him. It was filled with meat and potatoes and vegetables so colorful that they must have been freshly picked. It might have been the hunger talking, but it was the most appetizing food he had tasted in a long time. It was indeed fit for a king and Geralt thought it was definitely worth chatting with his host for a while in exchange for a share, especially after tasting the wine.

"It's good, isn't it?" the king asked him, studying his reaction as he lifted the wine glass to his mouth. "I have someone special that takes care of all the plants in the castle so I only eat the best of the best. It's actually one of my creatures. You can meet her, if you want."

Geralt let go of the piece of meat between his fingers and looked at the king with a frown. There was a subtle change in the air that made him instinctively tense, wondering what his host was up to. The king gave him a small smile before gesturing to one of his men, who left the tent without saying a word. The monarch's menacing aura put the witcher on alert, carefully watching his every move while he ate as if trying to predict what he would do next. His attitude had changed in a matter of seconds. Geralt couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something about the way he looked back at him that put him on edge. It was almost as if he was waiting for something to happen —as if he knew something was going to happen—, the glow of anticipation clear in his eyes.

He didn't understand his attitude, at least not until the guard returned to the tent. Only he wasn't alone, but was carrying a girl on his arm who was shuffling her bare feet across the ground hesitantly, as if she really didn't want to be there. Her eyes were downcast and her long hair was tangled over her face, so that Geralt could not see her features. Her dress, which seemed to have been a beautiful piece of art at one time, was now dirty and worn, with the fabric torn to shreds on some sides. Her hands were bound together at her wrists, trapped by shackles of dimeritium that marked her condition of slavery. It was a sad sight that became horrifying when Geralt smelled the scent of flowers in the air.

His heart stopped as his nostrils were assaulted with the sweet smell of cherry blossom that he knew and had come to love. The world around him stopped as he was struck with the horrible realization of what was happening. He did not need to see the face of the captured young woman to know it was her. It was enough to feel her energy in the tent as he breathed in her characteristic sweet scent.

Geralt jumped to his feet, hand gripping his sword as he entered a state of desperation. He wasn't thinking, he couldn't, he had been reduced to his most primitive instincts by seeing her there in that condition. She was weak and injured in a way that Geralt had never seen, her glow and warm, positive energy almost completely extinguished after being tortured for who knows how long. However, when her eyes met his, he noticed a slight glimmer of joy and hope. That only further increased his desire to protect her, the murderous urge growing inside him and urging him to crush anyone who stood between them.

"Let her go!" Geralt demanded firmly, turning his eyes away from his former lover to look the king in the eyes.

He was furious and desperate, it was evident in his voice and in the hard expression on his face. Anyone would have given in to his demands if he looked at them with those murderous eyes, but King Elian did not flinch. He didn't seem to care that Geralt was pointing his sword at him or that he looked ready to take on an army on his own, he continued to eat as if nothing was happening while the tent filled with guards ready to defend him.

"Please, sit down. You barely touched your food." The monarch spoke in a calm, casual tone. But Geralt did not move, he stood his ground, sword held high and hate-filled eyes fixed on him. "Fate is its a curious thing, don't you agree? This invisible force pushing us to the right path so we might fulfill our destiny, making every little interaction, every little decision, integral... Take this as an example. This morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was going to cross paths with you and yet here we are."

"Let. Her. Go." Geralt interrupted the king's unimportant ramblings, pausing slightly at each word to emphasize his anger. He didn't care what the man had to say, he would slice him through with his sword right there if it weren't for the fact that his sweet nymph was bound and surrounded by guards who wouldn't hesitate to hurt her before he could get to her. "I won't ask again. Next time it will be my sword doing the talking."

"I don't want to fight you, Geralt. If anything, I want to thank you for helping me fulfill my destiny, my purpose of becoming the biggest collector of magical creatures in the continent... You see, if it weren't for you, I could never have captured a forest nymph as powerful as her. I admit that you ruined my plans the first time when you attacked my men, but in the end it was thanks to you that I was able to get my hands on her."

"What are you talking about?" the witcher asked, confused. It could be the adrenaline coursing through his veins and drowning out his thoughts —or the fact that his heart was beating so fast that it was pounding in his ears muffling all other sounds—, but the king wasn't making much sense to him. They had never crossed paths before, and if they had, he would never have helped him in something so horrible.

"I could never have caught her while she was under your protection. But when you left... well, let's just say she was withering away little by little, weakening day by day until she got to the point where she couldn't defend herself when my men came for her."

Geralt froze in place as the king's words echoed in his head. It was a lot of information to process and he was in no condition to do so. If he wasn't so devastated he might have reacted to the implication that the king had been watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike after he had saved her from his men the day they had met. But at that moment he could only concentrate on the feelings of guilt and regret that came over him.

When he left, he never thought about the consequences his decision might have. He never thought about how his departure would affect her or if she would be okay. He knew she would be sad and hurt, just as it hurt him to have to leave her, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. So he focused on moving on, hoping she would too, without stopping to consider the consequences. He thought about her a lot in the time they spent apart —when he lay awake at night, admiring the stars and the nocturnal sounds of the woods; or as he dressed quietly after spending a night with Yennefer—, but in his mind he always pictured her happy. She was strong and had lived many years alone on the continent before their paths crossed, so he was sure that their breakup would not destroy her. He was sure that she would find a way to get back on her feet and that it would be better for the both of them to stay apart.

Now he realized that was just an excuse. He was being selfish, protecting himself and running away from reality so as not to face it because it hurted him. It hurted to know that he was hurting her. It hurted that he fell in love with another woman behind her back. It hurted to have to leave her after all they had been through together, the love they shared, the moments of vulnerability and intimacy that had brought them together. It hurted because he had failed her, because he couldn't keep his promise to be with her forever. So he completely disappeared from her life, making excuses to justify his behavior and convince himself that he was doing the right thing even though he knew deep down that he wasn't. He ran away like a coward and she ended up paying the price for it.

The witcher's eyes searched the nymph's, hoping to find in them the answers to the questions he had not asked, some indication that the king was not lying. She escaped his gaze, feeling embarrassed and extremely vulnerable. But eventually their gazes met and Geralt knew the mistake he had made. He should have been there for her. He should have helped her when they came for her. He should have searched for her all over the continent once he noticed her disappearance. He should have protected her, just as he always had. He had failed her twice, but he would not let there be a third.

Geralt carried out his threat without hesitation, lashing out at the nearest soldiers in an effort to reach her. The clinking sound of clashing swords and the groans of his opponents were all that echoed in his mind, focusing on his enemy to keep his head cool and ensure victory. They were no threat to him. They were well trained and knew how to move around very well, but he was a witcher with decades of experience and unmatched reflexes and skills. He had defeated them once in the past and he would do it again now without breaking a sweat.

At least that's what he thought before he heard the voice of the young nymph in the distance calling out for him.

“Geralt!” She exclaimed his name for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Her sweet voice traveled through the air, piercing through the sound of metal and the grunts of pain until it reached his ears. She managed to get his attention immediately as he recognized the hint of fear in it. As he buried his sword in his opponent, his eyes snapped up to her, searching for her in the crowd following the sound of her voice.

When he finally found her, Geralt's heart sank as he discovered the reason for the fear in her voice. The king had his hands around her, holding her tightly against his body. His left hand was wrapped around her torso, restricting her movement, while his right hand wielded a silver dagger against her neck. The metal gleamed in the dim light, revealing the sharp edge that burned the girl's skin. Desperate, Geralt tried to lunge at the monarch, but he stopped him with a click of his tongue.

"One more step and she dies." He assured, firmly. Geralt noticed the honesty in his voice, so he stayed in place and slowly lowered his sword —though he did not drop it—, a desperate attempt to buy time to think of a plan to get out of there with her by his side.

"You don't have to do this." Geralt tried to reason with him even though he knew it was in vain. He didn't see her as more than an object, just another piece in his long collection of creatures, so it was safe to assume he didn't value her life very much. But still, Geralt didn't have much choice so he tried anyway.

"She has been nothing but trouble since the moment she arrived at the castle, isn't that right, darling?" The king grumbled, lowering his head just slightly so he could mutter the last question against the young nymph's ear. "Crying all day, disobeying my orders, upsetting the other creatures... and now your friend over here kills half my men after I feed him and show him my generosity."

"If we present so much trouble to you, why don't you let us go? I'll take her with me and I promise you won't hear from us ever again."

"You are ungrateful brats." The king continued speaking, completely ignoring Geralt's words. "You think you are special, important, and therefore above it all... but you are not. Your actions have consequences and I am the one who decides what they are... You do not deserve my generosity or my mercy."

Geralt didn't have time to think about the hypocrisy in the monarch's words because before he could process them his eyes watched in horror as he slid the blade of the dagger across his beloved's neck. Blood began to gush violently from the wound, the thick, sticky liquid sliding down the young woman's delicate skin, turning everything red. He screamed her name, his sword slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a muffled sound. He ran towards her, completely forgetting the guards he was fighting moments before. He only cared about her.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion, as if his feet were twice as heavy and dragging them along the ground was more difficult than usual. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, the men around him, the gentle breeze of the wind... everything but her. He watched her collapse to the ground, blood covering her chest as she struggled to keep breathing. But he couldn't reach her. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms one more time, but it was as if an abyss was keeping them apart. It felt as if fate was mocking him, punishing him for his mistakes by allowing him to be there with her, but not letting him do anything to save her.

He tried to stop the bleeding as he knelt beside her —placing his hands on her neck and feeling the blood gushing from the wound—, but it was too late. She was pale and weak, all the magic in the world could not have saved her at that moment. There were tears in her eyes, in those beautiful green orbs that were fading with each passing second. She was scared, Geralt could see it in her expression. She didn't want to go, but she knew there was nothing else to do now.

"I'm here, I'm here." Geralt whispered in the calmest, most comforting tone he was capable of uttering at that moment. He swallowed his anger and pain, holding back tears so he could give her some peace. He cradled her face in his hands, fingers caressing the skin of her cheeks delicately as if he were afraid of breaking it. "It's going to be okay... you're going to be okay. I will fix this."

She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead of sound only blood came out. Geralt caressed her gently, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her hand around his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. She was begging him to understand her, to read in her eyes her thoughts as he had done so many times in the past. It took Geralt a few seconds to understand her, although in hindsight it should have been obvious to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to assure him that none of it was his fault and that no matter what had happened between them, he would own her heart forever.

"I love you. I always will."

Geralt saw the reassurance in her face as the warmth of love enveloped her in her last moments. She gave him the faintest of smiles, an almost invisible sign of the peace his words had brought her. And then her grip on his arm weakened, her hand dropping to the floor as life left her body. Suddenly, that subtle smile, now permanently carved into her expression, was all he had left of her, of her life and the love they shared.

Geralt did not fight when the soldiers dragged him and tied him to a tree to leave him there to die while they escaped, he did not have the strength to do so. He was numb to the world around him, consumed by grief. The sound of the king and his men preparing to leave sounded muffled and distant, as if they were far away from him. And in a way they were, for his mind was not one with his body, but far away. He was focused on the slowly withering body of his beloved, on the fear as she called his name and the terror in her eyes as the edge of the dagger sealed her fate. He could only think of her and all the time they had lost and could never get back, feeling the guilt slowly consuming him as her body transformed into a pile of pink petals.

Geralt admired her face in the dim glow of the candlelight, thinking about how beautiful she looked tangled in the sheets beside him. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo around her head and her smooth skin was covered with a light layer of sweat that gave her an almost ethereal glow. It felt like an illusion, a trick of his mind. He found it hard to believe he had someone like her lying next to him, looking at him with love in her eyes.

It wasn't just her beauty. No. It was the peace her mere presence awakened in him and the void he felt in his chest when they were apart. It was the way he dreamed of her and her caresses every night he went to bed alone and how his longing disappeared when he felt her warmth against him as their bodies melted into one. It was the way her kisses made him feel like he was home, safe and away from the complications of the world outside the little paradise that was her forest. It was much more than physical attraction, more than the effects of her nymph charm, as he had initially thought. It was love. Pure, honest love, like he had never felt before. He was in love with her, and while he hadn't put it into words yet, he wasn't afraid to admit it.

Her fingers aroused a warm tingle as they caressed his cheek. Geralt leaned into it, closing his eyes for a second to appreciate the magic of the moment. It was amazing how such a subtle act, such a light touch, was able bring out so many emotions in him. It was something only she could do, a clear demonstration of how deep his feelings for her were.

However, when Geralt opened his eyes again, he didn't find the special glow he usually saw in them at intimate moments like this. She was looking straight at him, but it was as if she was looking right through him, as if her mind was lost in her thoughts. Something was bothering her, that much was clear in the green tint of her eyes. Her mouth would open slightly, almost in an imperceptible movement, only to close seconds later, as if there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn't quite bring herself to say. So he decided to ask her about it.

"What's wrong?" Geralt voice was low and raspy with sleep, looking at her with a slight frown in confusion. There was a moment of silence before she answered. Her eyes never left his, but her hand slowly slid from his cheek to rest on his bare chest.

"I'm afraid of losing you." She eventually said, her voice almost a whisper. "You travel across the continent, meet all kinds of people... I'm afraid one day you will get bored of me... find someone better and leave me forever."

Geralt could not believe his ears. It was ridiculous to him that she could have such a fear of abandonment when he felt the way he did. If only she knew how happy being with her made him... If only he could somehow transfer his emotions to her so that she could feel his heart race when they kissed, or experience the peace that filled him inside every night when he lay down next to her... If only she knew, she wouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. So, he took her hand in his and pressed it against the left side of his chest, right over where his heart was beating with love for her. She needed to know that she was the only one who had a permanent place there. She was the only one he loved and he doubted that would ever change.

"Believe me when I tell you that there is no force on this continent that can keep me away from you." He spoke in a soft voice and watched as her eyes lit up full of illusion. "I love you, forever and always."

He sealed his promise with a kiss, showing her with his lips how serious he was about it. He loved her and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to be with her for the rest of his life, sharing intimate moments like this one and protecting her from any evil that might come her way. He felt complete with her and could not imagine how miserable his life would be without her by his side.

Geralt allowed himself to get lost in the passion of the moment, fingers tracing trails over his beloved's bare skin as he melted into the kiss. It was different this time, more intimate and charged with all the emotions that were left unsaid —it was their special way of communicating, one kiss and they knew what was going through each other's minds. The comforting warmth of love filled his heart, leaving him in a state of total bliss as she whispered sweet nothings against his lips. He was happy in a way he could not remember ever being before, in a way he knew he could only be with her.

But suddenly that comforting warmth that flooded his insides was replaced by a paralyzing cold, an emptiness that pressed against his chest and took his breath away. Geralt could no longer feel his beloved's lips against his. He could no longer smell the flowery scent her soft skin radiated or feel the warmth of her body. He was trapped in a black void, in emptiness itself, all alone. And in the distance he could hear his name being called.

Geralt

It was a cry for help, the voice of terror of someone who had been confronted with their own mortality. The voice trembled with fear, certain of the fatal fate that awaited them. Geralt could not escape its shrieks, no matter how hard he tried. It was his own personal hell, a void where he was forced to confront his pain, his guilt, and to listen again and again to his beloved's voice filled with terror as she spoke his name for the last time.

Geralt woke up tangled in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and breathing fast due to his nightmare. He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling as he tried to pull himself together. His beloved's voice was still ringing in his ears, only that with every waking second it became more and more distant until it became an almost unintelligible whisper. Anguish and guilt weighed heavy on his chest, but he was used to that by now. The emptiness inside him had accompanied him every moment of his life since that unfortunate day. He could not escape the pain and regret he felt, it haunted him even when he closed his eyes at night. He could not even enjoy the peaceful ignorance in the mornings, when one's mind is too sleepy to process life's tragedies, because his nightmares would remind him of every painful detail of that day so that he could not rest.

At a time like this, when life had become so overwhelming that he was unable to sleep, he usually reached out to her. With her gentle touch and sweet voice she was always able to calm his tormented self, wash away the anger and frustration and replace it with love and calmness. But now she was gone and he didn't know how to go on. He missed her more than he thought it was possible to miss anyone. He missed the melodious sound of her laughter and the light in her eyes when she was happy. He missed waking up next to her in the mornings, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping him as she whispered good morning to him, her voice hoarse from sleep. He wished he could once again feel the soft caress of her lips on his and hear her say she loved him one more time.

There was nothing Geralt wasn't willing to do to have her back with him, to be able to tell her how much he loved her and how he regretted leaving her. He had been an idiot to have given in to his desires for Yennefer. He should never have gotten involved with her, he should have let her own greed and obsession destroy her that day. He should have saved Jaskier and moved on with his life, after all Yennefer's problems were of no concern to him. But he could not resist his need to intervene, acting like a knight in shining armor instead of what he really was: a witcher. He made an impulsive decision, binding their destinies with magic and unknowingly triggering the death of his beloved. For if only he had been with her, if only he had stayed by her side to protect her as he had promised, he was sure things would be very different. She would still be alive and he would not be so miserable.

But Geralt was determined to make things right. He refused to let her die because of his mistakes. And looking at the cherry blossom tree growing outside his window, he knew the time was getting closer.

"I will fix this." He spoke to the tree, stroking the trunk with his hand as he sucked in a long breath of air. It smelled like her, a sweet scent mixed with the aroma of wood and wet earth. It ached and comforted him in equal amounts. "I will bring you back to me and I will keep my promise to you this time."

Geralt knew she was gone, but her essence was still alive in that tree. Born from the pink petals in which her body had withered when she died, it grew stronger with each day, keeping a fragment of her alive. Of course it was not her, but for now he was happy to make promises to the wind that its branches generated, clinging to the sweet scent of its flowers as the only sign that his words were well received by her. It was all he had, all he had left of her, and for now that was enough. He still wasn't sure how he would fulfill his promises or even where to begin. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that his love for her was stronger than fate itself and there was no force on the continent that could stop him from keeping his promise this time.

The solution to his dilemma presented itself almost by accident. And it came from the place Geralt least expected. He had spent the last few months visiting every library he had access to, reading every book and consulting with every expert he knew in his desperate search to find a way to bring his beloved back to life. But in the end, it was Jaskier who presented him with a solution in the form of a song.

They were traveling on a back road after a successful job. The bard had offered to accompany him under the excuse that he needed new inspirations, but Geralt knew he was doing it because he didn't want to leave him alone. Jaskier knew the pain he felt and being the good friend he was he wanted to accompany him in mourning. Geralt appreciated him even if he didn't have the strength to say it in words. His light-hearted comments and meaningless ramblings were exactly what he needed to distract his tormented mind. Even his spontaneous singing at the worst possible moment cheered him up instead of irritating him as usual. Anything to help him concentrate on something else was welcomed.

They had been walking for hours, hoping to reach the next town before dark and sleep in a comfortable bed in a warm room and not in the middle of the forest again. They were quiet, only the chirping of birds and the sound of leaves crunching under their feet echoed in the air. They had run out of things to talk about an hour ago and Jaskier was starting to get bored. So he did what he always did when he found himself in that situation, sing. Only this time Geralt didn't recognize the verses as one of his own original songs. It was one he had not heard him sing before, so he paid attention.

It told the story of a young man that had managed to win the heart of a forest nymph with his beautiful singing. The connection they shared was so strong that they married shortly after meeting, in the same place where they first saw each other. Happiness and love filled their days for a few long and joyful months. That was until fate, jealous and bitter, stood in the way of their happiness. So, one morning, after being bitten by a snake, the young nymph died. Her beloved fell into a state of despair when he heard the tragic news. Unable to accept that his wife had been taken from his life without warning, he descended into the depths of the underworld to plead for her soul. The song narrated the difficulties of his journey and the perseverance with which he had faced each difficulty until he reached the lord of the underworld himself, to whom he tearfully begged for the return of his wife. The emotion in his words was such that he managed to move Hades, who gave in to his prayers. Although he imposed a condition: that he would not turn around to see his wife's soul following his steps until he left the underworld.

The story did not end well since the young man had been too eager and had turned to see his beloved before she was completely above ground. But Geralt didn't care about that somber detail. His attention was focused on the young man and his journey to the underworld, not only because he felt somehow connected to the emotions of sadness and despair he felt, but also because he was fairly certain he could recreate his heroic efforts.

"Are you crazy?" was Jaskier's reaction to hearing Geralt's idea, his voice raised in a tone of surprise and concern. "Haven't you heard the end of the song? Things go wrong! He doesn't get his wife back!"

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“Geralt, the story it’s just a myth… a tragic love story that one could say is a cautionary tale! You’re not supposed to follow in his footsteps, you’re supposed to learn to live with the grief, process your emotions and eventually move on… Look, I know this is hard for you. I miss her too… What happened to her wasn’t fair, but it wasn't your fault either. Blindly following the words of a myth is not going to change anything.”

“But it’s not a myth, not all of it at least.” Geralt recognized that the love story of the young man and the forest nymph might be an invention, but he knew of the existence of a door to the underworld. It was hidden and required great power and extensive knowledge of magic to be opened, but it was real. And fortunately for him, he knew one of the most powerful and skilled mages on the continent. Though convincing her to help him would not be an easy task given how things had ended between them.

"Why should I help you?" Yennefer said with annoyance in her voice when he showed up unannounced to ask for her help. It was clear that she did not enjoy the witcher's surprise visit and was not shy about showing it. "And more importantly, why are you asking for my help with something like this? I thought you of all people would know how dangerous opening the doors of the underworld is."

"Why do you care?" Geralt answered her with another question. To be honest, he didn't think the difficulties in getting her help would come from a moral issue. Yennefer was not the type of mage who cared too much about such things. "Are you in this or not?"

"That depends... what's in it for me? I hope you know I'm not going to waste my energy in helping you out of the goodness of my heart, not after all the shit you did." Geralt smiled at her remark, surprised that it had taken her so long to once again blurt out her complaints about him saving her life. She was still angry at him for linking their destinies with the wish to the Djinn and at this point he doubted she would ever get over it.

"You get the once in a lifetime chance to traverse the underworld and possibly get knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension." He simply stated.

Yennefer was silent for a moment, watching Geralt intently, violet eyes piercing his yellow orbs. It alerted him to strengthen his mental shield to keep her from entering his thoughts.

"When you live as long as I have, once in a lifetime opportunities start losing power and meaning."

"I'm offering you an opportunity to explore the unexplored and that's your answer? This could have all the answers you've spent years looking for and you're not interested?"

"Oh I'm interested, I just can't understand why Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher who prides in his indifference and ability to not intervene, would be interested in opening the gates to the underworld?"

"I have my reasons and they are not of your concern. Are you going to help me or not?"

Yennfer was silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, she smiled at him, and he knew he could count on her help.

Preparing for such an adventure was difficult. It was the first time in his life that Geralt did not know what to expect. He had no idea what he was going to encounter once they crossed the gates to the world of the dead. He didn't know what kind of obstacles he would encounter on the journey or if he would even accomplish his task. But he had to try. Even if it was the last thing he did, he owed it to her.

It was difficult to prepare for the uncertain, so he tried to imagine all possible scenarios and prepare accordingly. He tried to be as meticulous as possible, but he knew it was impossible to stay on top of everything. What he never imagined, however, was that trouble would come from Yennefer's end. He always saw her as such a powerful and determined individual that he did not take into consideration that her energy could wear out and her magic could be consumed. Geralt had no way of really knowing how demanding the spell to open the gates of the underworld would be. He knew it was not something that just anyone could do, but he thought Yennefer could handle it without much trouble. He had never seen magic like hers. And what she lacked in skill, she made up for in stubbornness, so he thought that with her by his side things would not be so difficult.

However, the moment they took a step into the world of the dead, Yennefer fell weakly into the witcher's arms. She muttered something about having spent her energy and how the nature of the place did not allow her to pull herself together. Geralt suggested that she stay outside, after all, this wasn't her fight and she didn't have to risk so much for him. And at that instant, as if the walls were listening to them, the doors closed, leaving only one possible path.

The place was cold and dark, like a cave hidden deep in a mountain. There was not so much as a ray of sunlight, the little light that illuminated their way came from torches distributed along the stone walls. The air was heavy, stale, and it was hard to breathe. It was clear that this was no place for the living, but Geralt continued on his way despite the difficulties. He took Yennefer by the waist, letting her wrap one arm around his shoulders so she could walk, and followed the straight path that the torches seemed to indicate. At the end of the tunnel he came to a large river, and on the shore rested a boat. Inside it stood a hooded figure, long black robes covered its entire body in a way that Geralt could not see its face when it turned to look at them, only a void lost inside the hood.

"He's been waiting for you." The figure spoke, stepping aside so they could board the boat. Geralt hesitated, thinking back to all the catastrophic scenarios he had imagined in preparation for this moment. Surely that had to be a trap, things couldn't be that simple, could they?

"He wants to speak to you, Geralt of Rivia." The figure spoke again as it noticed the hesitation in the witcher's attitude. "He sent me to find you and ensure your safe passage through these waters." He did not trust it, but Yennefer pushed him into the boat with what little strength she had, so he had no other choice.

The dark figure did not utter another word. It went about its task in complete silence, paddling in the waters of oblivion until it brought them close to shore. It did not help them down once they reached their destination, nor did it open its mouth to give them directions. Just pointed a long, skeletal finger toward the horizon and set off the same way it had come.

A dark, dead forest loomed before them. Long, thin tree trunks, nearly leafless branches and shabby bushes decorated the path. Everything seemed to be in shades of black and gray, though that was probably due to the lack of sun. In the distance a structure could be seen, a castle whose colors matched the rest of the landscape. Although the neat and polished appearance of its exterior contrasted with the disheveled and dead environment around it. It was clear that that was where they should go, so Geralt took Yennefer in his arms once more and set off on his way.

There was not much distance separating them from the castle, but the witcher felt as if he had spent an eternity walking. And yet, at the same time, when he reached the large wooden gates, he was amazed to have reached his destination so quickly. His perception of time was totally altered, affected by the atmosphere of the place. Time did not flow there in the same way as it did on the surface. It was as if it was both stopped and accelerated all at once, as if each step took hours and at the same time a couple of seconds. It was more than the absence of sunlight confusing his perception. It was the way things worked in that place, a world separate from the one lying on the surface that he was not supposed to access.

The man who appeared in front of them when the doors opened on their own was imposing, but far less frightening than Geralt expected. It was enough to look into his eyes to know that he was the person in charge of the place. Power shone in his eyes in the same way the witcher had seen it in the kings in the world of the living. And yet, there was something unique about them, something that made it clear that he was no mere mortal. Geralt knew better than to challenge him, though he wasn't sure his emotions would allow him to be cautious if things didn't go as he hoped.

"I've been waiting for you, witcher." the god said in a loud, clear voice. "I'm surprised it took you this long to find me."

Geralt was not pleased to learn that he had been waiting for him. He had imagined it might be a possibility, but he thought the god would use that knowledge to stop him. The fact that he welcomed him without trials or difficulties, sending his people to look for him and opening the doors of his home to him without hesitation, made him suspicious. For all he knew, it could all be a trap.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, witcher! I have far more important things to do than to set you up." The god spoke as if reading his thoughts.

"You knew I was coming?" Geralt managed to say and the god nodded.

"And most importantly, I know why you are here. I knew you were going to find your way here the second she came in."

The mere mention of his beloved in the conversation had Geralt's heart racing, a gesture of both love and anxiety. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him, watching him with furrowed brows as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew of his former lover, the forest nymph he had abandoned after their destinies were linked, and he had no doubt that she would understand what was happening in just a second, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to have her back.

"So, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I do, yes. And I will not be opposing to your wishes, Geralt of Rivia. I knew from the first moment that this was not her time and I am willing to give her another chance to live out her destiny without surprise interruptions from magic... However, I do have one condition."

"And you say it was not a trap..."

"It is not! It is just a simple... exchange."

"An exchange of what?"

The god paused, taking his moment to answer.

"Souls are complex things, Geralt. Very powerful, very strong... I can't just let one walk out of here."

"Why not? You have plenty here."

"It's a matter of balance, I don't expect you to understand that. But, if you want your dear nymph back, you'll have to give me a soul in return."

Geralt was silent for a moment, carefully analyzing his situation. After all the work it had taken him to get there, he didn't plan to leave empty-handed. But he also didn't want to condemn an innocent soul who had nothing to do with his mistakes. So he knew exactly what he had to do.

"Fine," the witcher agreed. "Take me then. My soul for hers, it's only fair."

Yennefer tugged on his arm, ready to argue with him —thinking he was acting like an idiot by offering his life as if it was nothing—, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth by the laughter of the god in front of them.

"It's a nice gesture, but your soul isn't nearly powerful enough. It's better than an ordinary human’s soul, I'll give you that, but she's a nymph. Do you have any idea how much energy her soul contains?"

"Then name your price." Geralt said. He wasn't necessarily going to give in to his demands, but he figured it didn't hurt to learn what the god's wishes were.

"To be honest, I don't think you can get a soul of such power... however, you do have access to one that is quite close." Geralt didn't like the suggestive tone in the god's voice. And he liked it even less when his eyes fell on Yennefer as he finished the sentence.

"No!" The witcher declared as he understood the intentions behind those words. He had brought Yennefer with him to help him open the portal and nothing else. He refused to sacrifice one more life. No one else had to suffer because of his stupid decisions.

"She wouldn't suffer." The god spoke after glancing at Geralt's thoughts. "She doesn't even have to be dead, she just has to stay here with me."

"I don’t care. We're not doing this."

"Why don't you let her decide?" The god said, resting his eyes on Yennefer's violet ones. "It is a good deal. You get your lover back and she gets-"

"She gets imprisoned here forever." Geralt interrupted and the god looked at him wearily.

"She gets to be the most powerful madge in history, sitting by my side ruling the underworld... isn't that what you always wanted, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to have power beyond imaginable? What's more powerful than deciding between life and death?"

Geralt snorted at such words, finding the god's tricks very ineffective. But when he looked back at Yennefer, she had a look in her eyes that made him doubt. "You're not seriously considering his proposal, aren't you?" he approached her, speaking in a lower tone of voice so as not to be heard by the god.

"If we leave now then we traveled this far for nothing. Don't you want to get her back?"

"No if it means hurting innocent people. You have nothing to do with this."

"Except I do since the moment you made that srupid wish."

"I didn't save your life then just to leave you here now."

"You're not leaving me, I'm choosing to stay."

"You don't have to do this, Yennefer." Geralt's voice became softer. She seemed quite sure of her decision and he knew it would not be easy to persuade her otherwise, but he had to try. He didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, of sacrificing her in favor of his own happiness.

"Oh, please! I'm not doing this just for you. I usually don't like to waste my time and energy just to end up empty handed. I came here because, as you said, it was an opportunity to find the answers I've been looking for. So why don't you worry about you and let me worry about myself?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes. And while she wasn't lying and really had interests of her own in that place, Geralt really was a big part of the reason she wanted to accept the god's offer. There was something in his eyes, the sparkle of true love, that shone every time he thought of his departed lover. It was something she had never noticed in his eyes when he looked at her. It was clear that what they had was real, it softened her hardened and withering heart, and gave her hope that love was real. Though of course, she would never admit that to Geralt.

The witcher growled under his breath, clenching his jaw. Even though part of him didn't like the idea of leaving Yennefer behind, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved to hear those words. If she wanted to stay there for her own selfish reasons, then accepting the god's proposal was much easier on his conscience.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked her once more, giving her one last chance to back out.

Yennefer shrugged. "I lived a long time among the living, had my good share of adventures... maybe it's time to try my luck in the underworld. "

That answer was good enough for Geralt. He accepted the god's proposal, exchanging Yennefer's soul for that of his beloved nymph. She would stay in the underworld with him and in return Geralt would get a second chance with his lover. The god instructed him to return home and assured him that when he arrived, her soul would already be back in her birth tree.

As he made his way back, the thought that the god was tricking him crossed his mind. He realized that he really had nothing to assure him that he would keep his word. For all he knew, this could have been a strange move by the god to get to Yennefer and her powers for some reason he did not know. Perhaps he was being used as a pawn in a larger chess game that he did not know he was part of. Perhaps he had unleashed a terrible evil upon the continent without realizing it.

But then he felt it.

The sweet scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils the moment he set foot in the forest. It was strong, much stronger than it had been in a long time. He noticed then that everything looked greener and more alive, every flower, bush and plant glowing in the warm sunlight in a way that they didn't when he left. Even the birds seemed to sing louder and more cheerfully.

Geralt ran to the cherry blossom tree he had been tending for what had felt like an eternity. His heart was racing with every step he took, not from the physical effort, but from the anticipation. The hope of seeing her again was what had kept him sane since that horrible day he had lost her. All this time he had thought it was impossible, an illusion that only served to keep him on his feet until the pain subsided. But now it was a reality, and he had so many emotions swirling inside him that he didn't know exactly what to feel.

Suddenly, his eyes came upon a figure on the horizon. It was partially blocked by the rays of sunlight that kept him from seeing clearly, so he picked up his pace to get closer. Little by little the figure revealed itself in front of him, until it became clear to him that the one who was walking around the forest, picking flowers and petting the animals, was her.

She looked as beautiful as he remembered her, with her long hair blowing in the wind and a sweet smile on her face. It was as if time had never passed, as if that horrible day and the pain that her death had unleashed had been just a bad dream. It was as if he had never lost her.

Geralt stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on hers, paralyzed by the emotions coursing through him. All this time he had dreamed of this moment and now that he had her only a few feet away he didn't know how to react. His eyes blurred with tears, but he caught a glimpse of his beloved's figure running to him before he felt the warmth of her body in his arms. He held her tighter than he ever had, pulling her against his chest as a way of both making sure she was real and that she couldn't pull away from him.

"You came for me." She muttered, melting into the embrace. Her memory was somewhat fuzzy, but she remembered clearly the moment when the blade of the dagger had caressed her neck. She remembered how it had felt and the horror in Geralt's eyes as she fell into his arms, taking her last breaths. She remembered his words of comfort and his promise to make things right, as if he actually could. She still didn't understand how she was back there, but she knew it was Geralt she had to thank for her second chance at life. Somehow, he had found a way to bring her back, she was sure of that.

"I'll always come back for you."

The kiss they shared was unlike any other. It was passionate and desperate, yet soft and tender. It was charged with all the emotions that had been left unsaid between them, sadness, regret, longing, but, above all, love. They felt that spark the moment their lips brushed, just like in the old days. Geralt hadn't realized how much he had missed feeling her soft lips on his until that moment. He allowed himself to get lost in the joy he felt, letting the warmth of her body against his slowly remove the traces of sadness and pain that had haunted him all this time.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, enjoying the moment they had both been longing for so long. It was just him, her and the chirping of birds in the trees. Breathing in the floral scent of her hair, Geralt knew that the gray days were behind him. Gone were the guilt and the pain, the sleepless nights and the cold mornings without his beloved. She was back by his side, just as she always should have been. And he was more than happy for the new beginning he had with her. A new chance to make things right, to honor his word and keep his promise, just as he should have done from the beginning. He was ashamed that he had had to lose her to realize how big his mistake had been, but now that he had her back he wasn't going to let her go. His love had proven to be stronger than everything, even death itself.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #geralt of rivia angst #the witcher x reader #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia x female reader #geralt of rivia fluff

454 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 10 days

Text

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Three - Gasping For Breath

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.7K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this (like seriously Ken tries to kill her in this one)

Series Masterlist

The stairs to the apartment were even worse in the dark. If she didn't already have which stairs weren't entirely stable memorised, she would have been falling through the floor.

The apartment was dark when she pushed open the door. Part of her hoped that Ken had gone to bed, but a bigger part of her knew it would have been too good to be true.

Hanging her jacket on the back of the door, she carefully placed her bag on the sofa and started moving through the apartment. So far so good, she allowed herself to think.

But, of course, nothing is ever easy. When somebody cleared their throat, she jumped out of her skin, nearly falling to the floor. "Jesus, Ken," she muttered as she straightened herself up. "You scared the shit out of me."

She looked towards the kitchen, where he was sitting in the darkness. She could hardly see him, but she didn't dare move to turn the light on.

"Why are you sneaking in?" He challenged, his voice calm. And that frightened her the most.

"I didn't want to wake you up," she answered quickly. "In case you were asleep."

Still, he stared. His face was blank, unreadable. "So, you weren't with anybody?"

She shook her head. "I just lost track of time at the cafe."

Suddenly he was on his feet, striding towards the window. He moved the curtain to the side slightly and looked out onto the street below.

It was fine, she said to herself. Bob was a friend and he was probably long gone by now.

When Ken laughed, her stomach dropped. "Is that the fucking guy from The Hard Deck? The Hangman guy?" He yelled as he turned towards her, spit flying everywhere.

(Now, dear reader, I feel as though I owe you some context. You see, Bob was in The Hard Deck on the night that Jake flirted with her. He was absorbed in another conversation and didn't see her, not until this stranger was swinging at Jake and Bob had to step between them. Still, Bob didn't notice her, but she didn't notice him. They were too wrapped up in their own distress. So, when Ken saw Bob looking at the apartment building as he walked away, he got the two aviators mixed up.)

"What?" She stared at her boyfriend with furrowed brows. "Ken, that's not Hangman."

"But you were with him."

She scrambled to find words, tried to work out what wouldn't get her into trouble. But she couldn’t lie to him. He'd know instantly and it would only make things so much worse. "I mean, we met at the café, but I wasn't with him."

Ken laughed again, but this was bitter. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

When he strode over, she couldn’t stop her body from flinching away. "I never pegged you as a slut, Barbie," he said as he forcefully grabbed her cheeks.

"Ken," she tried to say, but it didn't come out right, not with the way he was holding her. "Please."

Her cries fell on deaf ears. He moved his face close to hers, almost like he was going to kiss her, but then he pulled away. "I don't kiss sluts, Barbie," he said and let go of her face, pushing her to the floor in the process.

She sniffed, but she didn't cry. Not when she had endured worse. "I'm not cheating on you," she whispered.

Ken picked her up. It wasn't loving. It wasn't her knight in shining armour scooping her up off of the floor and carrying her away. No, just as he had done the night before, he wrapped his fingers around her hair and pulled her to her feet. She cried out as she struggled to stand, but Ken ignored it.

"Bedroom," he said, voice demanding as he let go of her. "Now."

She walked into their bedroom and stripped off her clothes, just as she was expected to do. When Ken came into the room he pushed her down and flipped her over, forcing her to lay on her back and face him.

"You know I hate having to remind you of who you belong to, Barbie." The way he said her nickname, it was patronising. Like she really was just a toy for him to play with.

As he undid his belt and freed himself from his jeans, she felt physically sick. He leaned over her, pushing in with no regard for her comfort or pleasure.

Tears ran down her face, but she didn't sob. She couldn't look at him, and that only made him angry. "Let me see you, Barbie," he growled as his hands wrapped around her throat.

Ken never squeezed. He never ever caused her harm like that. But today was different. Today his grip was tight as he held her neck, like he was trying to cut off her air supply. Like he wanted her dead.

Suddenly she was gasping for air.

Desperately her hands clawed at his wrists, trying to get him to release her. "Ken!" She tried to gasp, but he sped up his thrusts. "Ken! I-"

His grunt grew louder and he moved faster, his hips snapping until finally, he finished, climaxing inside of her. He released her neck and tucked himself back into his jeans, leaving her there, gasping for breath.

On shaking legs, she crawled to the bathroom and reached into the cabinet for her birth control. As soon as she had swallowed it, she climbed into the shower, where she let herself cry.

***

"Baby On Board!" Jake shouted the moment Bob walked back into Natasha's condo. "We were just about to send the police out looking for you!" He shouted with a laugh.

He hadn't thought about how much his friends would have worried about his disappearance. His hands were in his pockets as he made his way out to the back porch, where Jake and Natasha already had a beer each.

"Sorry," he said, accepting the bottle that Natasha passed him from the box beside her. "Got caught up with something."

"And you didn't even bring back the coffees." Natasha and Jake didn't mention that, when Bob hadn't come back for an hour or answered their texts, they had turned to the coffee machine. It wasn't as good as the cafe coffee they had been promised, but it would do.

Natasha looked at him, eyebrows raised (although it wasn't the easiest thing to see beneath the lights strung up above them). "Is it a girl?" She asked.

Bob blushed deep crimson, and that was answer enough. "Our Baby On Board has a girlfriend?" Jake called, tipping the top of the bottle towards him. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"She's not my girlfriend,” Bob mumbled as he sat between Jake and Natasha.

Jake and Natasha looked at each other. "But you want her to be, right?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Bob took his first sip of beer. "I don't know," he said once he had swallowed the mouthful. "I mean, I've only just met her and she's got a boyfriend."

"So?" Jake replied and Natasha glared at him.

"Tell us everything," she said to the Weapon Systems Officer.

So, Bob told them everything. He told them about the day before in the cafe, where he had knocked over her drink and ruined her notebook. He told them how she had run to work when he tried to apologise. He told them about the replacement notebook and how she had invited him to sit with her. And he told them that he had walked her to her apartment.

"She sounds great," said Jake as he finished his drink and reached for another.��

"Yeah, perfect," Natasha agreed. "Apart from the boyfriend."

"We're hating him for you," Jake continued.

Bob shook his head. "We can't just hate him. What if he's a really nice guy?" He suggested.

A scoff left Jake's lips. "He's with Baby Bob's dream girl. That's bad enough for me," he said, reaching past Bob to fist bump Natasha, who nodded in agreement.

Bob held his hands up in defence. "All I'm saying is, if she's with him, he must be great." He sipped his drink. "Besides, I think she's just looking for a friend."

"Are you okay just being that friend?" Natasha asked, her tone comforting.

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah, I am."

After the one beer Bob said his goodbyes. He climbed into his truck and set off to his own place. Just like he had said to Nat and Jake, he was okay with just being her friend. Even if he couldn't get their interactions out of his head. Even when he pulled into his driveway he was thinking about her. Thinking about the way she laughed at him, a laugh that lit up the room. The way her eyes seemed to shine when she told a story from her childhood. The way her emotions seemed to get the better of her when she briefly mentioned her story.

He thought about her apartment. It wasn't the nicest San Diego had to offer , definitely run down and cheap. From the little he had seen of the inside, the stairs would never pass any kind of inspection.

"Frodo!" He called when he opened the door to his two bedroom house.

Once Bob had completed his second stint at Top gun and had permanently relocated to San Diego, his mother had been so worried about him getting lonely. So, to ease her worries, Bob got a cat. Frodo had the life of luxury, more toys than he would ever play with and the best food Bob could get.

He found Frodo asleep on his bed, his black hairs covering the comforter. Not that Bob minded too much; it was Frodo's home as much as it was his.

She hadn't told him her name, Bob thought as he filled Frodo's bowl (as soon as Frodo heard the cupboard containing his food open, he went running). She hadn't told him her name as he was smitten.

He just had to hope she was at the café again tomorrow.

Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess @darksparklesficrecs @primroseluna @littlemsbumblebee @wretchedmo

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader smut #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun bob #top gun maverick

88 notes · View notes

dreamingofep · 2 months

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 22 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin! Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Hello everyone happy Sunday! I’m having a lot of fun writing about not one, but two vampires now🤭 Reader is a really challenging vampire so Elvis has his hands full with you🤭 Hope you like this little part. More to come shortly! Please comment, message, and reblog if you feel so inclined

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3 I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

One.

We’re one.

That word left you breathless and never thought it would be completely true. He made you his and you did the same. You feel like you’re on a cloud, floating aimlessly around him and this new world you had to discover. You continue to study every detail of him, some that you’ve never realized he had before. Like the way his sideburns curl at the ends by his ears. Or how his eyebrows had this fluffiness to them and perfectly framed his eyes. And the way his neck has this perfectly carved musculature to it that makes you want to lick all the way up to the part of his neck you bit before.

The feeling of his touch zaps you back to reality and you look back into his eyes. You’re still taken aback by the beautiful golden sparkling eyes that look back into yours.

“How do you feel baby?” He coos.

You had to pause and think about it. You weren’t accustomed to any of this and weren’t exactly sure what you should be feeling.

“I think I’m okay, everything feels a little different but I feel perfectly fine so far,” you smile.

“I know honey, you’ll need some getting used to it all but it’s okay. I’ll help you through it all,” he assures.

Your thumb rubs against his smooth, flawless face. “How long was I….sleeping? I don’t know exactly what the right word is,” You ask.

“Eight days. I-I-I don’t know why…I’ve never been so scared. I thought I did something wrong.” His voice trembles, pulling you tighter in his arms.

You could feel this impending dread and anxiety in the pit of your stomach and consumed every ounce of your energy. But it wasn’t coming from you, you weren’t feeling like that at all. It was like being fed to you and amplified by a loudspeaker.

You take a step back and look at him bewildered.

“What the hell was that?” You ask in shock.

“What was what?” He looks at you concerned.

“That feeling of impending doom, but I wasn’t the one creating that feeling. It was almost like it was being shown to me or something,” you stutter.

He puts his hands on your arms to calm you and he gives a small smirk at you.

“I think that’s just our bond. Our senses are heightened and attuned to one another more than ever now that we’re bonded. Remember how I told you I could feel your pain when Raphael took you? In some way, that was a small preview of what would happen to us after we were one. I didn’t know it would feel that intense to you I’m sorry about that,” he says sheepishly.

“No it’s okay, you don’t need to be sorry. It was just unexpected to feel an emotion that isn’t my own, you know?” You try to articulate.

“I get it, honey. I honestly am still trying to find more answers about what our new abilities hold,” he explains.

This was a world that even Elvis wasn’t accustomed to and that was a bit frightening. There was so much to discover.

“So you have no idea why I didn’t change right away?” You ask, rubbing circles with your thumb on his forearm, his skin feeling obsessional. The way it’s so soft and melted into yours without trying. You wanted to feel so much more of it. Starting with his back under this silk shirt he had on or feel those soft little hairs on his chest you loved so much.

Jesus focus.

“No, I haven’t yet. None of the legends go into the details of what Chosen mates go through because they are so rare. God, I was so scared, I had no idea what had gone wrong or if this was completely normal.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone honey. I can’t believe I changed like this.”

“I know, you changed very slowly. First, with your heart slowing to an immortal pace. It was strange, it didn’t have that normal symphonic sound that I was used to hearing so much. Then your scars on your body healed and started to be covered by this beautiful glowing skin,” he says dreamily, dragging his finger ever so slowly down your neck and along the top of your breast. Your body can’t help but arch into that touch that leaves your skin aflame. He takes a deep breath and recomposes himself.

“Then you were very still, with no signs that you’d be waking up from this hibernation any time soon. I was like a caged animal, pacing the room all day and night worried sick I somehow did something terribly wrong to you. I called some friends, vampires, if they had heard about anything like this happening when the change was occurring and every answer I got was the same. They’d never heard anything like this and didn’t know a bonded mate existed anymore. ”

“On the fourth day, I looked at myself in the mirror, ready to be faced by the monster who ruined his Chosen mate and isn’t waking up for whatever reason. For the last fourteen years, I have been used to staring at the red, glowing, soulless eyes that I have been cursed with for quite some time now. I was shocked by every fiber of my being when I saw these glowing youthful eyes stare back at me instead. I was in shock and didn’t know what was happening to me.”

“Sometimes, I tried to wake you, calling your name and have you open your eyes for me, but to my disappointment, you never did. But I could hear your heart flutter at the sound of my voice so I’d talk to you, coaxing you through this all hoping you’d wake up faster. It gave me hope that you were still in there and just needed the time to change. I’d caress your face, feeling how perfect your face felt in my hand.”

As he’s explaining this all, you feel the worry come off of him and it hits you like a tornado. You try to brace yourself for such emotions coming your way but it's almost impossible.

“And the strangest thing happened a few days after that…” he mumbles.

“What do you mean?” You prod.

You chuckle a bit before starting to speak again, “Well, I was changing, physically. I don’t know why but, I was changing into my twenty-four-year-old self without me even thinking about it. It just came so naturally to me because well, that is what I look like under all this in reality. But I’ve always controlled how I look, it doesn’t just get out of hand and I hardly need to think about staying that physical appearance.”

“So I was walking around here worried sick about you, trying to alter my appearance again so you wouldn’t be so startled when you woke up and not be able to recognize me from the last time you saw me,” he chuckles.

“Oh honey, that’s so strange… I really wonder why that is. But I wouldn’t have minded waking up to you like that. Nevertheless handsome, I could never forget this perfect face,” you quip.

He slyly smirks, “thanks little darlin’,” he says low, his eyes staring at your pink lips. He makes a small grumble in his chest as wraps his arms around you once more. “We’ll get some answers soon, let me just hold you.”

His warmth engulfs you and this sense of comfort and longing fills the pit of your stomach. You sigh into him, savoring every last feeling he’s giving you.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh into his chest. He hums delighted, squeezing you tighter before looking down at you.

“We’re the same body temperature now,” he murmurs.

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that,” you say embarrassed. “How do I feel? Any different than the last?” You ask cheekily.

“Hmm… I haven’t gotten to touch ya, let me see,” he coos.

He carefully unties the robe and slips his hands along the curve of your back. You let out a stifled breath and look up at him longingly. His hands travel down further til he fills his hands with your ass and squeezes it firmly. You claw at his biceps and you can’t help but want more from his talented hands. You feel all this desire come flowing out of him and barreling toward you. You feel like it's suffocating you and yet you can’t get enough of it. His hands move back up your back and squeeze at your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You feel more perfect than ever,” he says as he stares at your breasts. He drags one of his hands up your torso til he can cup your breast and roll your nipple in between his fingers. A spark of electricity runs through you and you moan. You press your face into the crook of his neck and groan in agony. That delicious-smelling scent fills your head once again and makes you feel intoxicated. You groan heavily as you look at him, “what’s that smell?” You ask.

He places his hand back on your hip and throws you a confused look.

“Your senses are overwhelmed right now honey, it could be a number of things. What does it smell like to you baby?” He asks.

“It’s warm and sweet, almost like honey. But savory and delectable, like I can just take a bite out of it and be pleased beyond my wildest dreams,” you try to explain. He tries to hide his pompous smirk but you catch it anyway.

“What? What is that look for?” You press.

“Umm well darlin’, I think that’s me you’re smelling. That’s how you smell to me at least, all sweet and decadent. Like I could feed from that heavenly nectar and feel alive again,” he says low and sultry.

God yes, he makes you feel just like that without even trying. He runs a finger down your neck again and you see how much he wants you.

It’s not only him you’re attracted to, it’s the scent of his blood drawing you to him, this invisible bond attached to the lust for blood coursing through your veins. It all makes you feel for Elvis when you two first met. How he explained to you he thought you were beautiful and the scent of you only put him over the edge of wanting you. That’s how you felt at this moment. You already loved this man so much but now, what you would give for a taste of him. In a flash, this immense wave of hunger consumed you and you looked up at him frightened, unsure of what to do. Your throat started to burn and your mouth watered by just the mere idea of blood.

Especially Elvis’.

Your memory was very murky when you tried to remember how he tasted when you bit him to complete the change. You remember it not tasting very good at first, then it turned into something delicious.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, calm down. Let's get you something to drink alright?” He assures you, closing your robe up again, and ties it shut. He takes your hand to lead you downstairs to the kitchen but you stop him in his tracks by pulling slightly on his arm. You were a little shocked so little force actually stopped him. It was going to take some time to realize you’re just as strong as Elvis now. He looks at you a little surprised too and tries to lure you further out of the room by taking a few steps away.

“I want yours, right now,” you command, barely recognizing your voice right now with how demanding you sound. He lets out an intrigued grumble and feel him like that idea very much.

“Not right now honey, you have zero control and I’m almost sure you’d try to suck me dry,” he quips smartly. “For the first time, I’m the one with the great control, and not you. We have blood in the kitchen, come on honey,” he coaxes.

Your blood boiled not getting your way. It was very irrational, yes, but this new lust for blood made you feel very differently than you ever have. Your throat continued to burn and you huffed at Elvis and reluctantly followed him down to the kitchen. There was no one here and you could hear the waves crash on the shore from below. The wind whirled through the palm tree leaves and you could hear people playing on the shore of the beach.

He lets go of your hand and goes to the refrigerator. The middle shelf was stacked with blood bags and Elvis grabbed one off the top. Something about the notion of drinking blood this way for the first time made you feel queasy. Maybe the human part of you was still inside of you holding on for dear life.

You look up at Elvis with the bag in his hand and going to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

“Okay, baby we can do this one of two ways. Either I can pour this in a glass for you or, you can learn how to use your fangs. Which one do you prefer?” He taunts.

Your fangs.

Oh my God, how could you have forgotten you have fangs now? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to use them or even get them to descend.

“Teach me how to use my fangs,” you say promptly.

“Hmm, good girl,” he praises, “okay come here,” he says leading you to the table. He takes a seat on one of the chairs and has you stand in front of him.

“You need to focus on your fangs and your fangs alone. Everyone is a little different but visualize them, picture your teeth becoming sharp and strong. Let that hunger you have drive them out,” he explains.

You swallow and feel the thirst in your throat grow greater. You huff slightly in frustration and try to focus like he’s saying. You’ve never actually seen your fangs so it’s hard for you to visualize what they might look like. But you can only assume they look like Elvis’, long and sharp.

You look at the blood bag in his hand and try to imagine how it’ll taste when you finally taste that blood. Your mouth waters just thinking about it and you think that’s a good sign your body is responding to it in a good way.

“Breathe in through your nose, smell it. That helps a lot,” he says.

You do just that and take a deep breath, trying to get the scent of the blood in your nose and get your newfound senses to work. You lick your lips and take more deep breaths, trying to pick up the scent.

Warm and rich honey swirls in your head and you know what that smell is.

You look up at him with hunger-filled eyes, grab onto his wrist, and try to pull him in but he anticipates the move.

“I just smell you. Baby I want you,” you plead, every breath creating more hunger inside you.

He smirks at you amused and shakes his head at you.

“I know you do, but you don’t get to have mine just yet. You need to learn how to focus and use your senses properly,” he says smugly.

You groan in protest, hating you're not getting your way.

“Please, please let me honey. I’m starving,” you continue to plead. He presses his lips together to stop the laugh about to come out.

“Is this how I sounded to you? So needy and hungry all the time? I’m so sorry darling to put you through that when you were human, that must have been awful to hear all the time,” he winks.

“You fucking little tease,” you grumble, swallowing back the pain in your throat.

“Oh come now honey, I’m just trying to help you. You need to focus or you’ll never get to drink my blood,” he pesters.

You grumble, so annoyed with him and how he’s not letting you do what you want. You try to refocus on the bag and make your entire senses focus on what’s in there. You huff and groan at your thirst and take a deep breath in, closing your eyes to try and get your mind to focus on the bag.

A delicious little whiff hits your nose that smells completely different from Elvis and you pop your eyes back to him.

“I smell it,” you say hurriedly.

“Good, now keep taking deep breaths and let your fangs descend. You can do it, honey,” he coaxes.

You hiss as the burning in your throat worsens and the smell of the blood overwhelms you. You feel no change happening in your mouth and you’re beginning to get extremely frustrated. You were so hungry and this wasn’t easy like you thought.

“Goddamn it this is impossible. I can’t do this. Just cut open the bag,” you growl at him.

Elvis lets out a small chuckle and sees how frustrated you’ve become.

“Okay baby, seems like I need to give you a little more motivation hmm?” He smiles and brings his other wrist to his mouth.

You watch as he nips at his skin and the whiff of his delectable scent consumes you and makes your eyes roll back. You watch as his blood slides down his arm in a small pebble.

“Fucking hell are you kidding me?! You fucking tease! Please honey, please let me,” you beg, about to grab his wrist but he’s much quicker than you and pulls it away from you in time. You hate his crass behavior and growl, baring your teeth at him in anger. His mouth forms into a pleased smile watching you.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers. Your brows furrow and don’t understand what he’s saying and are about to snap at him but your tongue grazes along your teeth. There you feel your razor-sharp fangs bared and ready to bite. You can’t help but be a little surprised by the feeling of them and look back at Elvis, then back to his arm.

“Focus,” he snaps. “Focus on the bag,” he adds.

You groan and shoot your eyes back at the bag in his hand and try your best to avoid looking at his blood rolling down his arm.

You grab his hand with the bag in it and bring it closer to your face and can pinpoint the smell again.

“Gently, take a bite on the bag. Not too harsh or you’ll make the bag burst open. I don’t want you to spill a drop,” he teases.

You glare at him before looking back down and gently biting the bag. Your fangs are so sharp it didn’t take much pressure to make holes in it and the crimson fluid hit your tongue. You swallow it quickly and feel that burning in your throat reside slowly. It tasted good, not at all the same delectable smell Elvis had, but it would do. You start to squeeze the bag to let the blood flow quicker in your mouth and fill this hunger inside you. You can feel some of it dribble out of your mouth and onto your chin.

Shit. He’s not going to like that.

But you were too hungry to care about the mess you’d make. You suck the last few drops out of the bag and do feel much better. Your throat wasn’t on fire anymore and you didn’t have this unquenchable thirst. But lord, Elvis’ blood still called out to you menacingly.

You carefully take your teeth off the bag and look up at Elvis to see if he’d give you some of his.

“How do you feel baby?” He asks quietly.

“Better,” you say breathlessly, still eyeing his wrist. He looks down at his wrist too and looks back up at you with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, you think you can have some of this now? Well, you didn’t exactly listen to my instructions,” he quips, motioning to your mouth and your chest.

You look down and see you spilled more than you thought you did. You see a stream of it running down your chest and in between your breasts.

You let out a frustrated sigh, “you’re no fun to make deals with!” You snap.

“Too bad. You’ll learn to not make a mess eventually,” he teases, “as far as this mess, I’ll clean this up,” he says slowly.

He pulls you in by your hips and makes you stand in between his legs. You hiss at his forceful touch, on absolute edge right now with his bleeding arm. He opens your robe slightly and looks up at you with a big grin on his face. In one long swipe, he licks the dribbling blood from your breasts to your chin. His tongue ignites something dangerous inside you and you groan in agony as every part of you feels hyper-sensitive. Your heart pounded away as he did this and made it all feel more erotic than he might have intended. You thought you liked his tongue before but nothing compares to how it feels now. You want so much more of him and it makes you feel insatiable.

He reaches your mouth and puts the most delicate kiss on your lips. You want to collapse in his arms as he grabs onto your hips tighter. You softly tug at his hair, moaning into his mouth, “more,” you whimper.

He pulls away, “Still such a bad, bad girl. I don’t know how I’m going to handle all this newfound neediness,” he taunts.

“Oh I’m sure you have a fucking list of things of how you’ll manage it,” you say annoyed, rolling your eyes at him.

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm, you know me so well.”

•

Tagging: @powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything@ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11@that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114@raginginkedslut@epthedream69

@mh777ep1938@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis fic #vampire Elvis #70s Elvis #sinned awakening

65 notes · View notes

wishluc · 1 year

Text

˗ˏ IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY...

On a scale of 1 - 10 I think the yandere here is around 4? 5? But I find Childe to be terrifying regardless. Set in Sumeru, during the archon quest.

✧ CW: yandere character, abuse of authority, power imbalance, mentions of Harbinger-typical violence

✧ PAIRING: Childe x Fem! reader

You can't help but be mesmerized by the twinkling stars, shining so brightly against the blanket of darkness. A peaceful night like tonight is a luxury you can't usually afford.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Your mood is soured almost as quickly as it was lifted as you hear the careful emphasis on your name, almost as if he was testing it out for the first time

Regardless, you aren't surprised to see that Childe is here again.

Despite his position, he didn't seem to have much to do—except, of course, spend every possible moment hounding you. Unlike the frightening rumors that lurked around the Harbingers, Childe appeared only as a man who was extremely proficient with his weapons, full of boyish charm and towering ambition. At first, you considered that he may be putting on a front—one that relied on a disarming smile and easygoing words—but after your actual meeting with him, you realized he was not full of tricks and traps. Childe was a blatant, proud challenge. The lack of deceit on his part, the plain truth he laid out to you when he introduced himself to you as "Number Eleven of the Fatui Harbingers," was because he wanted you to know. He wanted to exude his power over you, while simultaneously, extending an invitation to you, one that read loud and clear; Try and cross me, if you dare.

Even if he wasn't with the Doctor, on official business, Childe was still a Harbinger, and it was made very clear to you already. You had never seen a man so thrilled by violence, so exhilarated at the sight of blood and pain. He wielded his weapons with frighteningly natural ease, swiftly cutting through air and flesh alike with the same fluid motion. And when he stood, yearning for yet another rush after yet another battle won, it looked as though he was born to do this. You still remembered the blood-splattered figure, the glowering blue gaze, and the mad expression on his face, and you remember thinking that somehow, you believed nothing would suit him better.

And now, you're forced to regard this bloodlust-driven creatur, as the esteemed diplomat he makes himself out to be. You have to smile at his jokes and agree with his demands, forcing yourself to ignore just how swiftly he can pull a blade out and press it against your neck, and how it would only take a moment, a single command, to get his loyal soldiers to rip your heart out for him—since you clearly won't do it yourself. You have to pretend his sly remarks and coquettish grins fluster you, and not disgust you. You have to ignore the reminder that the callouses on the hand that was often placed on your shoulder were from training with numerous weapons and what exactly the mask at the side of his head symbolized.

And you have to do it all pretending like you're honored to be serving him.

"Master Tartaglia," a polite smile found its place on your face, "I hope your night is going well."

He grins, a playful quirk on his lips, "seeing that you are here, comrade, I can confidently say that it's going splendidly."

Childe gently turns you around, a hand finding purchase on the small of your back, to face the masked Fatuus who had been silently following him, "I'll be with my friend here, so you lot can go make yourself busy, hm?"

They immediately scatter away at his words, and he turns to face you again, the lopsided smile still playing on his lips, "sorry about that. They take their jobs quite seriously."

You nod in understanding, as he looks over the railing with you. You see his eyes linger on the many food carts stationed by the streets, a soft glow of light embracing each one. He looks at you with a knowing look, that excited glint in his eyes dancing wildly, and puts out a hand for you to take. You bite back any protests and take the gloved hand offered to you, praying the night would pass quickly.

The food is as good as you remember, hot, savory, and bursting with flavor. But it's hard to enjoy yourself when you're standing next to a man who is obviously a soldier of some sort, earning you both wary looks from all around.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?"

You've always hated when he called you that. At least, with 'comrade' you could believe it came from a place of equal respect, him recognizing the role you played as his guide, and the dangers you had exposed yourself to by doing so. That, and anyone could tell that you worked with him. But when he was flirting, it made it so much harder to deal with him. He wasn't stupid. He knew that there were others listening. He knew exactly how much harder it was coming up with excuses about why you were walking around with a Fatuus glued to your side when said Fatuus was sweet talking you, face pressed close to yours, instead of marching ahead of you with no concern for how you struggle to keep up.

"Nothing," you reply, "it's just been a while since I've come out here."

He chuckles, "I must have kept you quite busy."

Your laugh is awkward at best and forced at worst, but by now, he's used to your pathetic attempts at avoiding conversation. It doesn't perturb him—not that anything you do does, anymore. Childe only hums, seemingly lost in thought as his eyes gloss over the scenic view.

The streets suddenly fell silent, except for the rustling of paper and hushed whispers. It felt as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what the Harbinger would command. You weren't sure if other Fatuus had already come around here and wreaked some havoc, or if they were just unsettled because of the way Childe's smile never met his eyes.

Then, at last, he walks some ways out to a more secluded spot. The lights here are dimmer and the silence even more deafening. You find your eyes searching around for any other signs of life, despite knowing that Childe did not bring you here to have you killed. Not yet, at least.

"I was thinking," he says, eyes closely gauging your reaction, "of extending my stay."

He's not asking for your input, that much you can tell.

"There's still a lot I'd like to see around here. So, what do you say?" The warm smile is everything but inviting, now. It feels like you're about to sign a deal with the devil.

"I'll have to see if the Akademiya—"

He sighs, "The Akademiya works for us. That wasn't what I was asking." Almost as quickly as it dropped, the all too familiar grin is back on his face, "what about it, then?"

You think back to the calloused hands stained red and the blades concealed on his person. It would take less than a moment for him to pounce. How many of his subordinates are waiting for his orders, hidden in the dark and ready to attack? You remember the bloodstained Harbinger you were introduced to all those days ago, that look of uninhibited delight clear in his eyes. Childe—Tartaglia—was not asking for your opinion. He did not have to go through the pleasantries of pretending to do so, because there was clearly only one answer you could give him.

"It would be my pleasure, Master Tartaglia."

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

338 notes · View notes

athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 8 months

Note

Okay this might be a strange request but please bear with me, so I'm not sure if you've watched or listened to this song from One Piece but basically when sung it summons the king of demons (It's called Tot Musica by Ado) so my request is what would Astarion do if Tav had the same ability? Like their in the middle of a battle or something happens that makes Tav feel hopeless or just done with everything, so they sing the song summoning darkness and etc. But as they sing its clear and obvious that it's affecting/hurting them mentally, physically, and emotionally, but they can't seem to stop, like their hypnotized.

How would Astarion react, and how would he snap them out of it and stop the song?

I never watched nor listened to One Piece but I know something similar to want you're talking with Drakenguard 3. So I can write this.

Warning: act 2 spoilers, loss of autonomy (reader), vampirism, tears of blood cuz vampires can shed tears of water (see castlevania Dracula cry), mention of trauma (Astarion and reader)

The wails of a banshee echo and bounce against the stone walls of this epic battle. The Absolute— Myrkul, Lord of the Dead, is fought by a rag-tag team of adventurers bound by fate in the shape of the worms inside their skulls. At the start of the battle they had at first gained an advantage by freeing Dame Aylin. The skeletons proved easy to dispatch but the real challenge is the Lord of the Dead.

Wave after wave of his power, his mighty form striking none directly but the ground and underground lair shook. The battle quickly began to turn for the worst… Gale readied the Netherese Orb only to be sent into the soul cage by the Dead God.

"You will suffer for your folly."

You are not going to die. You swore to outlive your master! The wail of a banshee, an old bard spell, is not one to be used lightly as it can damage the singer's voice for a time. You caused most of the undead to become frightened or charmed by your song to turn against their master.

More.

The more you sing, the more you feel the bitter sting in your eyes, your throat aches as the pain is setting. The distraction is enough to allow the others to gather themselves until…

Higher.

Soon your song is no longer a song but a screening scream piercing the very souls and God who dares challenge one chosen by the dark father!

Tears of red run down your face, the walls trembling at the might of your God's power.

Those blessed by Kanchelsis would not fear his wrath, his unholy blessed night stalkers, his children of the night. Astarion had not been affected after your song changed, the panic already driving his body and spell to get to your position fast.

Long ago you met a woman on the road, a dead one. The creepy part was her similarity to you, a young bard from a small village. Her throat was ripped out, her eyes gored out, fingers broken or ripped off. Her flute was missing.

To the others, this is another sorry murder, but you know the message— Hearing it loud and clear: He knows where you are.

The desperation, the fear, the anger, the beast feeds on this as your scream summons a piece of the Abyss, only piece is enough to draw forth the large shadow of a creature with sharp glowing red eyes. The area becomes darkness, and those with darkvision can see the many shades of grey outlining the body of the large bat-like gargoyle beast coming out of the Abyssal portal under the bony monster.

"You are mine, Myrkul." It laughs with twisted glee as its winged arms pull and tear.

Your hands wrap around your throat squeezing, everything is painful as if knives are cutting into your throat. Words whispered into your mind in a language you do not understand nor truly want to understand.

You feel someone touching you, holding you yet you are blinded by bloody tears.

Astarion tries to shake you out of the snare of the enchantment, talking to you is pointless as your mind is on the edge of truly being overtaken.

Then you feel warmth, not heat but the warmth of something familiar.

It draws you in, a hum of approval as the spell is broken.

A kiss, silly as it may seem, it worked. Gods, thankfully it worked. He clings to you as your body gives out, his arms holding on as he goes onto his knees keeping you as safe as he can, his lips never leaving yours.

Kanchelsis has claimed the upstart God of the Dead, it is not about saving the world, it is about domination.

"Such… Evil." Dame Aylin speaks breaking the silence as others down below stare in horror as gods return into the portal, color and light returned to the area.

"By the Triad."

"We all saw that right?"

"It was so cold… Colder than the Shadowfell."

Each of your companions is at a loss for words.

"Where's (Name)?" Karlach sees Wyll helping Gale but no sign of you or Astarion.

"Shadowheart, come quickly!" The distressed tone is not ideal for him to let out but you aren't responding anymore once he stopped kissing you.

"Moon Maiden have mercy."

Returning to the surface to let Isobel and Shadowheart work together to heal your body. You have lost too much blood, your magic is tainted, and there are strange blood runes all over your skin.

It is hours, far too many hours, before you awaken. Your eyes empty for a moment before the light in them returns.

"Stop!" You cry out jolting upwards as you awaken from the nightmares that trapped you. "Huh… How?" The room is not empty, every one of your companions is sleeping around the inn room of Last Light, all look exhausted. Especially the one sleeping in a chair with his head on your bed. Astarion looks a mess, though you have seen it many times after rough battles, the way he looks right now is worrisome. They all look like a wreck.

Lae'zel head lifts up and her mouth, "You're a wake." The sigh of relief. You touch your head as others start to wake up.

What happened is the question in your mind yet you know the answer and fear the consequences of it.

#reader insert #anon ask #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x vampire spawn!tav #astarion

113 notes · View notes

bagopucks · 1 year

Text

M. Marner - The Best Recovery

✄————————————

Mitch Marner x Reader

Requested ✨

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): I don’t think it’s a warning, but the reader has ADHD and Autism. Reader is overwhelmed, and nonverbal as a result.

I left this one vague in certain areas for all types to interpret and see through their own eyes! If that makes sense. I tried to make it personal to the request, but also loose enough for others with these two disorders to see themselves in as well!

—————————————

ADHD and Autism is like cold and hot. Sweet and sour. Excited and bored. Energetic and tired.

Having those two disorders, is something that can cause great deals of mental exhaustion.

I never knew for sure what it was, which disorder was taking the lead or which was bothering me on a particular day. I hated it. I especially hated it, on the days I had to go into work, and my brain was practically arguing with itself. One half wanted to take a new road and see new sights, but the other part of me wanted to keep things the same knowing it was efficient. My mind argued over playing music or basking in silence. Changing my sheets or keeping the same ones, trying new clothes and remaining secure in knowing the old ones worked.

I faced many challenges with those two disorders. Some worse than others. Like moving away from home and into my first apartment. Meeting people at work for the first time, and having to meet new ones when people were hired. Opening up in social atmospheres when people didn’t understand why I chose not to. And meeting my boyfriend.

Mitch was something else, and with him, my mind could never make a decision.

When we met, impulse control decided to fly out the window. He paid for my coffee at a diner, and I had gone to thank him, only to end up at a table with him for an hour. He was sweet. He was really sweet. He had beautiful eyes, and a light soul. He had a few flaws. A little too much energy for my taste, and maybe a little too fidgety.

Aside from those factors, he had gotten my phone number.

On our first date, I struggled between choosing a blue or white dress to wear. The symbolisms of both colors had me uncertain. In the end, I chose red, because it brought out my complexion nicely.

It was a simple dinner, but I found myself interviewing Mitch like he was trying to get a job. There were many pros, and a handful of cons. It stressed me out that certain words I used, he did not understand. I also hated the way he would clench his hands into fists every so often. I learned later, it was a nervous habit of his. I also learned, that he’d done it so much on that date, because I intimidated him immensely.

Mitch told me of his dog, which I was iffy on, and in love with at the same time. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, displacing the brown locks with each pass of his hand. He told me of his career and his friends. Then we had gone out for dessert. Something as simple as ice cream, but I struggled to make a decision. When I’d asked him, “can I get two?” He looked at me with a smile and a questioning expression, but nodded nonetheless.

I had to explain to him, that I wanted to try something new, but needed a backup plan if it backfired. So the second flavor was my go-to. My favorite one. It was on that date that I realized I didn’t have a backup plan if whatever Mitch was to me went south.

That frightened me away from him for a while. He tried to reach out, so much so that I hated how sporadic his texts could be. I hated that he couldn’t just choose one time of day to be a bother. It was only when my coworker spotted the messages, and helped talk me into it, that I decided to go on another date with him.

Mitch might have been a little lacking in common sense, but he wasn’t a complete lost cause. He often commented things like, “you’re weird,” or “that’s different,” when it came to my behaviors. Those words were always spoken with giggles and smiles, so I never took them to heart. But I knew he was right, and I knew he knew I was different. But for once, he made me feel like ‘different’ didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Mitch and I had odd ways of getting to know each other. I asked him endless strict questions, ones that often branched off whatever the answer was to a previous question. And Mitch often listened. He didn’t have to ask as many questions as I did, because he learned I always explained things in depth or I did things with no reason at all. He liked to call me, “unpredictably predictable.”

It took me some time to warm up to the idea of dating, but once we got together, I saw it through.

Mitch was a guy who liked to live life in the fast lane, but I learned that he often changed those lanes for me. He was willing to slow down and wait when I needed him to.

I attended a few of his hockey games. Depending on which disorder was more prominent those nights, I’d be down by the glass, or in a personal suite. I met his team on a few occasions, but I sometimes struggled to hold conversations with them.

Too many people would want to hold too many conversations, and I’d be in the midst of talking to one, only to derail myself and get lost on a sidetrack, and I’d completely forget what was going on.

I usually found Mitch in those situations, and one instance had been the first time where he realized I tended to just.. not speak, when I was overwhelmed. There was something so safe and secure about not engaging, that I had a habit of sinking into those nonverbal tendencies when there was a lot going on around me, or in my head.

When we moved in together, we experienced a lot of that. The actual moving in process had gone surprisingly smoothly. Despite all the change being such a stressor, I had so much excitement inside, that I managed to remain talkative enough to help Mitch get my things where I wanted them. It was the time after I was officially in, that tended to be difficult. I had to get used to a place that wasn’t my own, and didn’t feel like my own for the longest time. I avoided the throw pillows on the couch because the texture was horrid. I didn’t like the fact that I could see dog hair on things at times, and I certainly hated the way he had his towels organized.

There were days Mitch would come home from games and practices, only to find me on my love seat in the corner, a pair of headphones in staring off into space while I had one of his athletic sweatshirts on. One of which I always enjoyed pulling my knees up into, and hugging them while the arm sleeves hung loosely and unoccupied by my sides.

The first few times it happened, Mitch would think nothing of it, pop the earbuds out of my ears, and start talking about his day. Sometimes it aggravated me, and once it even stressed me out enough to snap at him.

Over time, he learned that it was easier to gesture for me to scoot over so he could squeeze his body in beside me. I would be the first to initiate contact if I wanted it. If not, we would sit in silence until I shared an earbud with him, or until I wanted to talk.

It quickly became a routine between us. Something Mitch also learned that I enjoyed. Routines. On the days he came home and I was talkative and excited, we could live and love smoothly. On other days, we learned how to make things work.

Mitch had an off day after winning the game his team played the night before. It was always a weird occurrence when I had to leave him in the mornings, but I’d done fairly well at adjusting to his horribly unorganized hockey schedule. I never would have expected exposure to so much change, to be so helpful for me. But it truly was.

I had bid my lover goodbye that morning with a smile and a hand through his hair as I kissed his cheek. He flashed his pretty teeth at me, and promised to text on my lunch break, unless I wanted to reach out sooner.

As it turned out, I never reached out before then. And I didn’t answer his messages when he reached out during my lunch hour.

People had been laid off at my workplace. Something that sadly happened in many places sometimes. Losing coworkers and gaining a new workload wasn’t necessarily something I was thrilled about. It meant I’d have to rearrange my whole schedule and the way I handled my work. It meant I’d have to redistribute my work hours so I could fit all of my additional projects in a normal day and successfully finish it.

In short, it meant everything had to change.

Only this time, there was nothing to be excited about.

I played with my hair all day, I lost focus, I blankly stared, I ignored people and any kind advances of small talk. I even ignored Mitch.

I stayed at work well past the time I was scheduled to clock out. I didn’t expect extra pay, I just wanted to efficiently reconstruct my schedule. I only clocked out to go home, after I had that sorted. Which was four hours after five. The end of my usual work day.

I’d only texted Mitch once when he asked if I was okay around six. I told him, ‘I’m fine.’

My stare was blank but my mind was running rampant all the way out of the office and back to our shared home. I ignored anybody and everybody, in the lobby, in the elevator, in the hall. Inevitably, I even ignored Zeus when I stepped through the front door of our modern home.

The poor lab was so excited to see me, but I couldn’t have been bothered to pet him. I kicked my shoes off and lined them up against the edge of the shoe mat by the door. I made sure to lock it before I stepped away.

“Babe?” Mitch’s footsteps fell on selectively deaf ears. I didn’t want to be in his presence. I just wanted to be alone. I slipped down the hall and into the kitchen to escape him, and I thought it had worked when I heard his movement stop.

“Babe?” He repeated. My shoulders fell as he peeked into the kitchen. My intense stare was a telltale sign of my inner turmoil. He looked unfazed. He also looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. His hair was a hot mess, and his eyes had that dazed sort of look that a child has when they’re woken up from the nap of a lifetime. His sleep schedule was absolute shit anyway. That’s what happens when you drink too many energy drinks through the day.

“Hey. Did they have you on overtime tonight?” He smiled at me. I couldn’t answer. I physically couldn’t force myself to open my mouth. I hated that I did this to him.

“Okay.. I can do this too.” Mitch adapted quickly to the silence. “I figured it was one of those nights.” He voiced as he walked across the kitchen, opening my snack cabinet. “You always text me back, it’s pointless to have a planned hour to text if you’re not going to text.” He wasn’t insulting me, he was restating sentences I said once. Reasons I gave for why I always responded to him. He was backing up his theory on why I’d had a bad day.

Mitch pulled out a bag of chips and pushed the cabinet shut before he made his way over to the fridge. He pulled out one of my favorite cold drinks, and went about the kitchen grabbing a few other options to snack on. He knew me so well, I almost thought it unfair.

“Will you come lay in bed with me?” His question was asked with a set of puppy eyes I had to roll my own eyes at. But I gave in nonetheless.

Mitch led me back to our room, and I was surprised to find the dark area lit up with the orange glow from our bedside lamp. My weighted blanket was already laid out on my side, and one of my favorite books was on the nightstand.

“I know you don’t want to talk, and that’s fine,” Mitch made his way around the bed to set the snacks on my nightstand, as well as the drink he grabbed. “But was it a really bad night, or just.. just a little overwhelming?”

He remained tentative, only pursing his lips and letting out a sigh when I stared him down.

“Not even gonna give me a nod?” He pried with a hopeful smile. I decided I was done with the eye contact too, my gaze met the floor. “Alright. Why don’t you just come lay down then.” He pulled back the weighted blanket, and I met him on my side of the bed. I reached for Mitch’s hand as I climbed into bed, and he held mine, keeping me steady as I got in. I was quick to break the contact after I decided I no longer needed it.

Mitch slipped his way back around to his own side of the bed, and climbed in next to me. He leaned over the edge of the bed, and his actions caught my attention momentarily.

“Zeus wants up.” Mitch looked back to me for approval. I gave a curt nod.

Soon enough, I heard him tapping his thigh, and the whole bed shake when the big dog hopped up. Zeus tried to quickly step over Mitch to get to me, but my lover was swift in tucking a finger beneath the dog’s collar to stop him.

I never minded Zeus cuddles on bad days. Well sometimes I did. But I never enjoyed him in my face. Mitch only let the dog go once Zeus settled. I slowly shifted to lay down, and the lab found his place by my feet, his head rested on top of my ankles.

“Good boy.” Mitch praised before he slipped his phone from his pocket. He checked the time, then set the device on his own nightstand.

I rolled onto my side and grabbed my book, opening to the page I had marked. I felt my weighted blanket shift, only to realize Mitch was pulling it up over my body. So caring. So gentle. I’d watched him hit guys and cross check them. I’d watched him let teammates’ bodies crash into him for pregame rituals. Mitch was such a rambunctious guy, that I sometimes liked to playfully question if he had an alter ego at home.

I don’t know how long I laid there, reading and flipping through pages. What I did know, was that my lover had not once left my side. Nor did he make any noise. He had the tv on, playing old episodes of Friends, but the sound was muted and the captions were on.

I slowly rested my book on the bedside table, turning on my back to peek at the tv before I looked up at Mitch. I sighed. Before I wanted to be left alone. Now, I wanted him.

I shimmied to his side and carefully rested my head in his lap. Mitch looked down at me, a smile slow to form on his lips. His hands found my hair, gently carding through and scratching at my scalp.

My eyes focused on the tv, one of my hands tucked up close to my chest while the other rested on Mitch’s leg.

“Can I lay down with you?” His soft voice earned a nod from me. I lifted my head and moved away while he pulled his shirt off and slipped beneath the weighted blanket with me. Our bodies faced one another, and he was hesitant at first to reach for me. So I instead, reached for him.

I tucked myself into Mitch’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around me. I felt his chest heave with a sigh, and I rested one of my hands there to feel his heartbeat. He pressed kisses to my head and temple, gently ran his hand up and down my back.

Sometimes life could be overwhelming, but one thing I never minded being overwhelmed by was Mitch. He wasn’t like a hurricane, or some devastating storm. No, he was the ocean, coming in waves. Some harsher than others, but if one knew how to face those waves, and surf them, they could stay afloat.

I had Mitch figured out like an intricate word problem. I knew every variable and obstacle, and every possible solution. I got used to his predictable behaviors, and learned to cope with the unpredictable ones. I was always thankful that Mitch was such an open book when it came to anything. His communication helped me and our relationship.

“I know you had a really bad day.. and just- just let me know if you don’t want me to talk..” he paused, and gave me enough time to protest. I didn’t. The sound of his voice was soothing.

“You’re doing so good, you know that? Every day you’re conquering something new, and I am so proud of you. I know it seems big, but right now it’s just a bump in the road. Whatever you’re going through.” His words of encouragement fell from his lips in faint whispers. I buried my head further into Mitch’s chest. His embrace tightened around me.

“And I’m always here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.” Mitch carded his hand through my hair once again. “I love the sound of your voice.” I could hear the coaxing tone- the smirk on his lips, the way he tried subtly to get me to open up.

It almost worked.

“I love your laugh too.” He pressed a kiss to my head once more. His hand left my hair, and I soon felt it tickle my side. I gasped and reached down to swat his hand away.

“No.”

When I looked up toward him, I could tell that singular word lit him up like a Christmas tree.

So Mitch brought his hand back to my side, and I wasn’t swift enough to push him away before he earned a quiet giggle from my lips. An involuntary giggle. But it did distract me from my own brooding. I couldn’t decide if I was mad at him for disrespecting my boundary, or mad that he knew me well enough to test those limits because sometimes it worked.

“Yeah.. that laugh right there.” Mitch winced when I grabbed his hand, perhaps a bit harsher than I meant to. I pushed his hand away and turned back over, simply to escape his contagious happiness.

He didn’t let me go very easily. He was quick to shimmy his body up against my own, his arm wrapping around my hip again. I tensed in anticipation.

“I’m done.. I’m done. I promise.” I nodded very slowly, and eventually melted into his embrace.

Sometimes I had trouble communicating it, but Mitch was easily my favorite person to be with. My favorite person, period.

I basked in our silence and the occasional sound of Mitch’s soft giggles. I assumed he was laughing at the tv, but my lack of knowing for sure, had me turning in his arms and onto my back. I just had to know what it was. Sure enough, I found his eyes glued to the screen. I rested my hands by his own on my stomach, and gently hooked my fingers beneath the rubber wristband he wore. I ran my thumbs against it and felt the smoothness on one side, likewise the divots of words on the outside.

My eyes settled on the tv, and when Mitch caught on, he reached for the remote to unmute it, but still kept the volume quiet enough to not bother me. Zeus seemed to have enough of all the moving and shifting, as he hopped onto the floor and curled up in his own bed near the corner of the room. The dog bed poor Zeus had to be evicted to when I moved in.

I heard Mitch yawn, and it only took moments before my body returned the gesture. He smiled at me.

“I love you.” Mitch pressed one last kiss to the corner of my lips, then pulled away. I didn’t have to respond. We’d been through this enough times for him to know I felt the same.

I always knew he could tell, because there was a sincere look of fondness that followed the hopefulness after he spoke. He was never disappointed on nights when I didn’t say it back. Instead he was simply happy to know I heard him. To know I felt loved.

Nevertheless, I liked to try. I felt he always deserved that after being so patient and loving.

I leaned forward and pressed a hand to his chest. I opened my mouth to say the words, but my breath fell short.

“It’s okay.” Mitch met me halfway, his gaze dropped to my lips as his nose bumped mine. He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, one that was soft and smooth. One that had me melting into his embrace as he rolled onto his back and slipped an arm beneath me. I curled into his side and rested my head on his chest. Seconds, minutes, a few episodes of Friends passed, before my breathing slowed and my consciousness escaped me. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep, was the faint sound of Chandler’s sarcastic laughter, and Mitch whispering another,

“I love you.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner x reader #mitch marner #nhl hockey

326 notes · View notes

finniestoncrane · 1 year

Text

Indulgences

BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 4k commission: jonathan crane and secretary!reader give in to their mutual desires, which reader needs to be encouraged to partake in 🎃🧡 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: daddy kink, oral sex, rough sex, persistent behaviour

At least I don’t have to walk through any alleys. At least I get to stick to the busier streets, the nicer neighbourhoods. There’s an artisanal coffee shop on the way, not many people can say that. It’s fine, this is luck. You’re lucky to have this job. You’re lucky to have any job, really. But this one is perfect. It’s fine. You can do it. He doesn’t have any power over you. He’s your employer. He’s your boss. Yeah, he’s Jonathan Crane, but that doesn’t automatically give him a one-up. He likes you just as much as… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you will not give in to this temptation.

Each morning, as you took the short trip to work from your apartment, you had to give yourself a pep talk. A reminder that this was worth it, in the long run. That you would be foolish, and quite frankly almost ignorant, to give up the comfort you managed to find, in Gotham of all places, because of some uncontrolled emotions. You had a job that provided enough money for you to afford a nice apartment in a nice area, that challenged you, but not too much, and brought you a genuine sense of value and worth. But it did mean you were exposed, almost daily, to the difficult charms of Jonathan Crane.

Working with Jonathan was a blessing and a curse. The security of employment with a reputable, at least society facing, psychologist was something that was rare in Gotham. Add to that the element of safety in being employed by one of the city’s more venerable and amicable villains, there was limited risk of being caught in the crossfire, unlike the employees of Sionis or Cobblepot. And he clearly trusted you, as he hadn’t been shy in telling you of his criminal escapades, his alter ego as The Scarecrow. In fact, you’d only been working with him for a month before he took you into his office and revealed the secret.

You supposed for someone like Jonathan, if he’d sensed even the slightest hint that you might not be one to trust, he would just have you killed. You’d thought as much at the time, as you stood, heart racing, swallowing your fear in your closed throat, sweat beading on your forehead. But the fear you had shown, it seemed to comfort him. Very on brand for that strange, yet deeply interesting, man.

Realising how silly you sounded, as you tried to quantify all of the thoughts in your mind, you stopped on the street corner across from the building which housed his office. You liked him. You really liked him. But it felt like a risk, or a mistake. Something about it seemed to suggest to you that it would only end in tears, or worse, in your demise. And it was this contradiction, this predicament, which made it so difficult for you to show up to work each day. Only worsened by the fact that you had begun to suspect that Jonathan had similar feelings for you.

He had always been flirtatious, part of his charm you guessed. He was like that with everyone. Little jokes, a lingering touch on the arm or the lower back. He’d frighten people, speaking soft and low, making them get closer to him before giving them a little jolt of fear. It usually had them giggling, sweating, confused. On several occasions he’d pointed that out to you, the line between fear and arousal. It all had to do with adrenaline, he’d say. And he was very right about that.

As you entered the office, you took your place at the desk in the waiting room. Checking the calendar, you realised it would be another two hours before the first patient arrived for their appointment. That gave you plenty of time to get comfortable and settled. But just as you began to repeat your affirmations, taking your slow, long breaths in a bid to calm your body, Jonathan entered.

“Ah, you’ve here. Always there to brighten my morning, huh?”

“Jonathan, lovely to see you. I’ve left coffee on your desk.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest. Why don’t you come in and join me?”

“Is that… mandatory? Or work-related?”

Jonathan offered you a wry smile as he looked you up and down, scrutinising you.

“Would that make a difference? C’mon, we’re all friends here, right?”

You swallowed your nerves at his wink, trying to maintain your composure, the control you still had over the situation.

“I suspect that this might be more than a friendly discussion, Crane.”

“Oh! I do love it when you’re feisty in the morning.”

He walked into his office, still speaking to you.

“If you feel like joining me, make sure to bring that snarky attitude with you. Drives me crazy.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, picking up a pen and twirling it as you absent-mindedly stared at the wall in front of you. With an irritated mumble, you got up form your desk and followed Jonathan into his office, standing against the closed door and staring at him with your arms folded.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I’m here now, what do you want with me?”

Jonathan let out a dry chuckle, as his pupils widened, staring at you from his desk.

“Oh, bit of a dangerous question, don’t you think? I could do a lot of psychoanalysing on that. The phrasing, the way you’re standing, the words you chose, the slight implied innuendo despite your obvious attempts to seem uninterested. All of it, very telling indeed.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“I’d rather stand, thanks.”

“A contrarian, through and through.”

“I’m really not.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, smiling wide as you proved his point. It infuriated you to no end that despite as hard as you tried to gain the upper-hand, he was always one-step above you.

“Fine, I’ll take a seat.”

You chose the softer of the two armchairs that faced his desk, avoiding eye contact with him until it was impossible to ignore the silence any longer. When you looked up to him, he caught your eyes, staring into them intensely. His stare held you, it was almost hypnotic. He was a commanding presence in your life, and you hated that as much as you enjoyed it. In moments like these it was difficult not to give in to your temptations. To succumb to the harmless but persistent flirting. To accept that you had a crush. Maybe get it out of your system even. But you sensed that someone like Jonathan Crane wasn’t up for being quickly used and discarded. He had to conquer his love interests, and you were determined not to let that be the case, despite how he made your heart beat faster and your body tremble with just a few innocent enough words.

From the drawer on his side of the desk, Jonathan produced a folder marked confidential, with your name on a label on the top right hand corner. He thumbed through the pages in silence as you sat nervously. You wondered what it could be. A dossier of reasons that he wanted to kill you? Or reasons he wanted to sleep with you? It could have been anything with him, and the anticipation only served to help you conjure up more fanatical and nerve-wracking theories.

Reading from the pages, he made an occasional soft noise, a small ‘hm’ or an ‘ah’ as he took in the information. Eventually, you grew more irritated than you were nervous, and coughed, clearing your throat obviously in the hopes that he would get whatever he intended to do over with.

Without looking to you, eyes remaining on the pages as he scanned them from top to bottom, reading whatever words were so intensely interesting to him, he finally.

“So… would you like a performance review?”

“A... a performance review? Are you kidding me?”

“No, why would I be?”

“That’s what you called me in here for?”

Jon smiled wryly as he peered over the top of the folder he held in his hands.

“Partly. I thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone. I love that phrase, don’t you? Such violent imagery. It conjures up such a guttural feeling. So… connected to our ancestry, and yet the convenience of modern life is hinted at to-”

“Jonathan. I have a job to do.”

“Uh-huh, and who provides you with that employment?”

Leaning back in your chair in slight disbelief, you narrowed your eyes at him as you spoke.

“Are you threatening me, Mister Crane?”

“Not at all, sugar. I’m simply… reinforcing the status quo here. The hierarchy. The way that our… relationship works. You’re my employee, after all. And I’m your boss, correct?”

With a scrutinising glance you tried to figure out what he was getting at, but couldn’t make it past his cool exterior.

“As technical as you can get, yes.”

“And yet, we’re also friends, are we not?”

“I suppose so.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling deeply complimented by the suggestion.

“You’re my employee, and my friend. But perhaps… maybe… I would like you to be a little more than that.”

“More…?”

“Oh, come on. As if you can’t see it, as if you don’t want the same things I do. As if we aren’t already something a little bit more than that.”

Trying to contain your smile, you feigned innocence, or ignorance, and looked up and to the right, as though you were trying to think of what he might be suggesting.

“Listen… we flirt. Constantly. I can see it, you can see it. Everyone can see it. I have clients who are so unaware that they don’t even recognise their mother is to blame for their issues, and even they can see it.”

“You talk about me with clients?”

“That’s besides the point. Look. We work great together.”

“Yes, in the same office.”

“Not like that, you know what I mean. You and I, we gel. We get on, we have a connection. I think we’d make an excellent pair, don’t you?”

Jonathan had stood up from his seat as he spoke, walking around the desk and stopping in front of it, where he leaned in repose on the surface when he had finished his argument in the little debate you two were caught up in.

“I want people to see us together, more obviously than they do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want them to see you with me. I want them to know who you’re with.”

You kept your face still, not wanting to give anything away, but desperately wanting to scream at the concept he was offering you. You didn’t want to be owned by Jonathan, you didn’t want to make a big thing out of whatever you two might have. It seemed that he wanted the opposite though, and admittedly, his determination to have you, to possess you, like a trophy he could show off, was deeply intriguing and more than a little arousing.

“In a sense that…”

“In a sense that they wouldn’t dare try anything with you, because they knew who you belonged to.”

Trying to maintain your air of composure, your dignity in the face of potential ownership, you tilted your head and stared him down with an unamused look.

“Belonged to? So I not only work for you, but I’d be your property too? Sounds… unpleasant actually, Jon.”

He stood up from the desk and moved closer to you, his stance commanding, charisma oozing from his very being, his voice trance-like as he spoke to you so directly and convincingly.

“Come on now. We’re both intelligent people. We both know what’s going on here, what’s going on between us. It would be so easy to just admit it and let it happen. I don’t have a human resources department, so there’s no one to get on our case. What is it that you’re so worried about? What makes you so hesitant?”

He had answered his own question, really. Jonathan was so deeply, intensely interested in you, in everyone. He could learn more about you from the way you lifted a coffee cup than most people could in a decade of spending time with you. You could only imagine what information he might glean from fucking you. And then where would you be? You’d be employed by a psychotic psychiatrist who knew everything about you, that’s where. Only in Gotham.

“Just let go. Let yourself give in to pleasure. I promise, I’ll make it worth the risk of this little dalliance.”

His smug grin, pressed into his cheeks so firmly that it accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes had your chest heaving as you breathed heavily. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. It was tempting, so tempting. And though you were reluctant to give in to the feelings you held for him, it was deeply flattering, and very encouraging, to see him outwardly express those same desires.

It couldn’t possibly be as bad as I think it will be. I want this. I need this, I think. It’s gone beyond just a silly workplace crush, with witty remarks and back and forth flirtatious teasing. This is… something deeper now. And the longer I hold off, the worse it’s going to get. Perhaps it would be better to just get this out of my system. Do it now and get it over with. And then I’ll-

You were pulled out of your thoughts, ruminations and worries swirling at the forefront of your mind, by the feeling of Jonathan’s lips on yours, his hands holding your upper arms to keep you steady. The grip, forceful but deeply romantic, held within it the exact amount of passion, it turned out, to have you falling into him. Melting into the embrace, you wrapped your arms around his, feeling your leg beginning to snake up the back of his pants. He gripped it, fingers digging into your thighs and bringing it higher, around his waist, as he stepped forward, pushing you, stumbling, back into the wall where he deepened the kiss.

Biting, licking, sucking at your lips, Jonathan moaned hungrily against you. You yelped as he bit a little too hard, and he pulled back quickly, soothing over your bottom lip with his thumb and offering an apologetic smile.

“I’ve wanted this for a while. You’ve held out on me. So I apologise if I’m a bit… rough.”

His eyes moved from yours and began mapping out your body, taking in every inch of you.

“It’s been very difficult to watch you, a free agent, outside of my will.”

You scoffed, but took a sharp inhale as he stared into your eyes again, smiling at you, wry and mischievous.

“You’re so dead set on not indulging me. Why is that?”

Trying to avoid his intense gaze, you turned your face, but with a soft motion he brought you back around with his palm on your cheek.

“Is it because you’re ashamed of how much you want that? It’s ok to want to be wanted. It’s completely normal to want to be owned. I should know, I’m a psychologist, remember.”

He let his fingers trace down your throat, following their trail with his tongue as he made his way down your front with kisses, planting them softly, his breath warm against you, as he got to his knees before you, resting his face against your abdomen as he ran his hands up and down your sides.

“Every curve.”

His hands pressed into you, grabbing and squeezing at your body, your waist, your hips. As he let them reach behind you, cupping your ass, you let out of a soft noise, which made him smile.

“Every moan.”

You giggled as he made his way back up your body, bringing his hands to your face, fingers skating over your lips, making you shiver at the touch.

“And indeed, every quiver. They belong to me. And only me. Understand?”

Completely entranced by the way he held you, you nodded slowly but with enthusiasm.

Smiling at you, a grin that made your blood run cold, he leaned in to whisper into your ear once more.

“Then would you kindly lay down on my desk, please. And remove all the clothes on your bottom half first.”

As you stepped past him, pulling at your clothes in a hurry to get them off, his palm caught your rear, smacking the cheek and bringing forth an amused yelp and giggle from you. It made your cheeks flush, the way you had reacted. You hated how much you liked it. And he could tell, as he watched you lean back on the desk, bottom half completely nude and exposed. Running his palms up your thighs, past your stomach and to your neck, he loosened a few of the buttons on your shirt and kissed at your neck again.

Distracted by his moans and ministrations against your sensitive skin, you hadn’t even noticed he had removed his own pants and underwear until he was pressing his cock inside of you. You moaned, letting your breath out in a slow exhale as you smiled, unable to stop yourself. It felt amazing, better than you could have imagined or hoped. And you’d spent a lot of time hoping and imagining, though you wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone, even under threat of Jonathan’s fear inducing drugs.

Jonathan, enthused and encouraged by your reaction to his cock twitching and throbbing within you, began to rock his hips, pressing himself into you further, picking up the pace and grunting with each movement. At the angle you sat at, legs hanging over the edge of the desk, perched on your rear alone, he gripped your hips, holding you steady so he could push up into you, hitting the right spots as he did so. Occasionally, past the panting and guttural groans, you could hear him laughing. He was so smug, so proud of himself. So happy to be claiming you. The thought drove you wild, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to you.

As Jonathan continued to fill you, pumping his substantial length inside of your cunt, pressing his tip as far as he could, he clutched at your back, holding you tight, close to him. In lustful desperation, you gripped his hair, drawing his mouth to your neck, begging him silently to ravish you, kiss you, bite you, suck you, whatever he was willing to do for you. And luckily, his participation extended to all three, as his teeth clenched softly on your neck, nipping at it before his tongue flitted over the stinging pain and soothed it, his lips enclosing around you, sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Ooh… Jonathan…”

“Sorry, was that too hard?”

The faux mocking tone sent a tingle down your spine, and you clung to him tighter out of instinct.

“Just… just a little bit…”

He leaned back for a second to offer you a sham pout followed by a cruel smirk.

“My most sincere apologies, I just wanted to make sure you were marked.”

Diving back into your neck, he bit harder this time, lips covering over the stinging pain in a smooth kiss.

“I can’t have any doubts as to who you belong to.”

His teeth marked your flesh, imprints of his bite pattern across your neck, soft ovals of burst blood vessels where had sucked on you, definitely leaving enough of a trace that it was impossible to deny that someone had claimed you. The notion of being entirely his was getting easier and easier to submit to with every passing second, and you could barely contain yourself. It didn’t surprise you at all when you started whispering to him, your own mouth ahead of your brain as you exposed your secrets and begged to be his.

“If you want me, Jonathan, then you can have me. Take me, fill me.”

With a struggled grunt he forced himself deeper, an action you would have thought impossible, and you could feel your abdomen tightening with the pressure of his cock buried so fully within you.

“I want you to make me yours, Jonathan. Mark me, inside and out.”

Jonathan’s breathing quickened, his pace getting faster and less steady as he rutted clumsily against you, hips jutting forth to meet yours as they rocked into his body. His grunting had been reduced to a whimper, almost a whine, as he clung to your skin, holding you as he used you, appreciated you.

“What do you want from me? Tell me. Don’t be shy.”

“I want you to cum inside of me. Paint my fucking insides, Jonathan. I want to be yours. Fill me, take me, just… please, god please don’t let me lose a single drop.”

With a guttural laugh and another quick bite at your collar bone, Jonathan’s body shuddered as he shifted you back and forth in time with his own thrusting, cock twitching as he felt himself coming undone. His seed spilled in thick, white ropes within your cunt, spent entirely within you and holding himself inside, pressed tight against you, to keep as much of him there as possible. He lingered for a few moments longer, enjoying the warmth, the possessiveness over you. His fingers tensed as they clung to your body. He didn’t want this moment to end, and neither did you.

Finally, pulling himself from within you with a low moan, he sat back down on his office chair, holding his slicked cock in his hands as he felt it softening, finally spent and relieved of the tension he had been holding back, that you both had been holding back. He panted slightly until he had caught his breath, his age showing in the way he braced himself, trying to recover from the shaking orgasm that had all but consumed him entirely.

“There… phew… no doubts now, huh?”

You were standing, trying to straighten your clothes out as best as you could, feeling his cum dribbling down your inner thigh and coating your panties. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, knowing you belonged to him, feeling like you were still marked as his territory, his possession, even after he was no longer holding you physically. You had to admit that it was divine, something you had craved before but never would have let yourself admit to.

“Doubts? About what?”

Jonathan leant his head back, groaning in mock frustration before he snapped back down, eyes focused on your body, his gaze drawing up over you and back down as he took you in, still flushed and sweating, marked by his teeth and his fingers.

“Oh, sugar. Don’t be obtuse. It’s no use, I know you’re a sharp girl.”

Playing up, just to irritate him, you stared blankly with a slight frown. You shrugged your shoulders lightly and shook your head a little.

“You wanted that. I wanted that. And I continue to want that. As, I expect, do you. I think we can both feel the tension around us, around the office. So let’s not beat around the bush here!”

He laughed as he spoke in a lilting cadence, trying to seem casual. But you could sense the desperation in his words. And you finally felt like you had the upper-hand.

“We’ll see, Jonathan.”

You walked towards the door, turning as you opened it and stepped back into the hallway.

“We’ll see.”

Leaving him alone in his office, you returned to your desk with a wide grin on your lips. Finally, you felt like you could let yourself indulge in your desires. But not before you teased Jonathan a little longer. He deserved it, after all. And you deserved to feel in control, after everything you put up with from him. A little bit of sweet and sour in your relationship wasn’t anything new, but the method in which it was employed, a change in pace and hierarchy, it made you feel excited to come into work tomorrow.

#finnie writes #batman #scarecrow #jonathan crane #scarecrow imagine #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #rogues gallery #batman rogues #btaa scarecrow

165 notes · View notes

zarvasace · 1 year

Note

Disability au, do Wind and Twilight bond over their limbn't sharing?

"limbn't" bahahaha of course they do

Scurvy

gen, Wind & Twilight, 800 words, AO3 link here :)

---

"Don't tell me you're just eating that raw," Twilight sighs.

Wind looks up and behind him. He grins at Twilight sitting down on the scrubby ground next to him. Far below their feet—Twilight's two and Wind's one, since he took his leg off a few minutes ago—a river rages through a perilous gray canyon full of rocks. A waterfall pounds down to their right, far away enough that the sound is just comforting white noise. Wind always feels better, close to moving water.

"You are, aren't you?" Twilight sits down on Wind's left and looks at the lemon.

"What's that face for?" Wind asks. "You're not the one eating it." He knows that it's a little weird to eat a lemon like an orange, but he got a taste for them at the beginning of his adventure, and hasn't ever stopped. He kind of enjoys the way it makes the others groan at him.

"Is it good? Is that why you're eating it raw like that? Are your Great Sea taste buds that much different?" Twilight's teasing, even with that injured expression.

"I mean, yeah, I'm used to it." Wind picks up his knife to hack another slice off. "Besides, gotta stave off the scurvy."

Twilight sighs again. "You're not gonna get scurvy, Wind."

"What do you know about scurvy, landlubber?" Wind challenges. He sticks the lemon slice into his mouth and sucks on it for a moment. The juice tastes yellow, and is so sour it's sweet.

"Enough to know you're not gonna get it. You get fresh vegetables on a daily basis. Or, you would, if you actually ate them."

"I eat them! Most of them." Wind licks the excess juice off his hand and changes the subject quickly, asking a question he's been pondering. "How do you peel oranges with only one hand?"

Twilight reaches over to snatch one of the untouched lemons next to Wind. "Like I do everything else—carefully."

"Uh-huh…" Wind continues to enjoy his snack as he watches Twilight demonstrate. Twilight's accent is fun to listen to when he forgets he has it and just talks.

"Can I borrow your knife?" Twilight asks, lemon in his lap, and Wind hands it over. It almost looks small in his hand. "Peeling an orange is easy, the hard part is holding it still, which… really isn't a hard part. You just wedge it somewhere." He puts the lemon between his knees and works the blade of the knife down into the skin.

Wind pauses his own lemon snack to watch. A wince takes up residence on his face as Twilight moves the knife in a way that makes it look like he's going to cut his finger or his leg. He doesn't, but watching is a little bit frightening.

It really doesn't look hard. Peeling lemons isn't quite the same as peeling oranges, but it's similar enough. Twilight has always been missing one hand, so his movements are confident. Privately, Wind has always been glad he'd lost a leg rather than a hand. Even after meeting Twilight, and seeing all the things he could do that Wind wouldn't have expected, he's still glad.

The lemon smells nice and fresh as Twilight picks the last of the rind off of it. A few strings connect the rind and the fruit until he pulls them away. He tosses the peel off to the side, then picks up the lemon.

"Ta da. See? It isn't hard. You just gotta think about it."

Wind smiles. "So now what are you gonna do with it?"

"Uh…" Twilight looks down. "I'm not eating it. You?"

"I had mine already." Wind gestures to the last of his own peel in his lap, spiky with sucked-off bits of fruit.

Twilight frowns at the lemon. "Maybe I can catch some fish, and we can use this to flavor it."

With an exaggerated hum, Wind leans in. "If you eat a piece, I'll help you fish."

"Sure you will." Twilight gives him a look, and Wind shrugs as innocently as possible.

"It's not that bad."

Twilight is clearly thinking about it. He considers the peeled lemon, digging his fingers into a break between slices to separate it out. Wind has honestly never seen a lemon pulled apart like that before.

"Promise?" Twilight asks, his eyes narrowed at Wind.

"Of course. Promise. You eat a slice, I'll help you fish." Wind taps his heel against the stone, smiling up at Twilight with as earnest an expression as he knows how to make.

Two seconds later, Twilight pops an entire slice into his mouth. His face immediately scrunches up, and Wind dissolves into peals of laughter at his reaction.

#my writing #linked universe #lu fic #lu twilight #lu wind #disability au

59 notes · View notes

femininefutbol · 2 years

Text

homely comfort

request from here

prompt: you comfort you ada hegerberg after the defeat of norway by england during the euros

word count: 1k

The final whistle blows, signifying the end of England's tirade against Norway.

You are extremely happy that you and your teammates were able to come away with a win which you decently contributed to with a hat trick. But the celebrations can wait as you have something well, someone more important on your mind.

You make your way through the sea of players and staff, many stopping you to congratulate you on the win. You engage minimally with everyone around you, still searching for the one person you can think of right now.

The blonde ponytail and the red jersey displaying the number 14 come into your view. You cautiously approach the Norwegian, stopping a few feet away not wanting to frighten the woman.

“Ada” you speak gently, taking a few more steps towards her and Frida who are comforting each other.

She looks up recognising your voice, at first she doesn’t want to turn around to face you. As she does you see the tears that track down her cheeks, the sight immediately breaking your heart.

“Congratulations on the hat trick” she states, you can tell she is trying not to dampen your moment with her own sadness but the look in her eyes makes you hate the fact that you had to beat her.

“Thank you but that doesn’t matter right now” you inform her, holding your arms open to hug her.

She moves timidly into your embrace knowing that many teams have different rules on contact with others due to COVID protocals. Even now when all you want to do is comfort your girlfriend you know you have to keep it brief.

“You still have a chance to go through, you can do this mon amour” you whisper to Ada, knowing she needs the encouragement after how horribly this game went.

After your words of encouragement you both part from each other, still standing together not wanting to have to leave just yet, knowing you still won’t be able to see each other properly until you are both finished with the tournament.

“Are you okay? Like really, tell me if you aren’t please” you plead with your girlfriend, knowing just how much football affects her, especially such a bad loss in an extremely important tournament.

“It’s tough, there is so much pressure and not just from within the team but everyone expects us to somehow be the darkhorse of the tournament. It is just hard being back in this environment and experiencing such a huge loss. I will be okay though, like you said we still have a chance to come back and I am not one to back away from a challenge” Ada responds, looking into her eyes you can tell she is already overthinking how the media will run with this loss and turn any positives into negatives.

You pull Ada into another hug not particularly caring about COVID protocols or anyone who is watching, your girlfriend is more important to you and you know that she is needing more comfort than you will even be able to give her right now.

“Can we swap jerseys?” Ada asks, a small smile crossing her face as yours turns to shock.

“You know they are both just going to end up back at our place right?” you laugh, “also do you really want to have my jersey to commemorate this match?”

“I need to make sure it ends up there, knowing you it would just be given to a fan. Also I know you are doing press after this, seeing you in my jersey at the press conference would make up for you being a show off on the field tonight” she jokes, you can’t help but smile dopily at your girlfriend. You appreciate her attitude and how she is still able to have a sense of humour with you even though majorly you aided in the loss her team experienced.

“I was just playing the way you taught me, maybe we shouldn’t have spent all the extra time together training” respond, reminiscing on the many hours yourself and Ada have spent together training just so you could both make it to this tournament.

“Remind me not to practice shooting with you for hours on end before the World Cup”

“You still would, you couldn’t resist me” you wink, pulling off your jersey finally.

Ada’s vision focuses on your abs, she has seen them basically everyday for the past five years but she still is awestruck everytime you lift up your shirt in front of her. “Point proven” you laugh, hitting her lightly with your shirt.

She grabs it from you pulling you into her, lightly kissing your lips something that she has missed doing, not being able to see you in well over a month.

“Are you trying to give me COVID? Is this medical warfare?” you question her, not waiting for an answer before you connect your lips again, not caring how much trouble you may get into for the action.

“If I wanted you out of the competition I would have found a way to do it before tonight” Ada comments, she grabs your shirt from your hand smelling it, you look at her oddly, wondering what the hell she is doing smelling your sweaty shirt.

“What are you doing?” you hold in your pure laughter at the situation, just small giggles escaping.

“I was trying to see if it smells like your perfume, I need some homely comfort tonight” she pouts at you. “It doesn’t by the way, it smells like sweat and ego” she jokes.

“I can get you a clean one and put my perfume on it if that would be better?” you ask, finding the sentiment extremely sweet of your usually rather stoic girlfriend.

“Please”

You hold out your hand to get your other jersey back since she clearly won’t be needing it.

“Oh no I am keeping this one too, I do still need to make sure it ends up coming home” Ada hugs the piece of material close to her body, not letting you get the chance to take it back.

#ada hegerberg #ada hegerberg x reader #ada hegerberg imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso community #olympique lyonnais #lyon #olympique lyonnais féminin #norge #norwaywnt #weuro2022 #weuro22 #weuro

283 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 9 months

Note

Heya! I was wondering if i could suggest a semi-specific request 😅😂

Could I request a scene where I reunite with Ray in VAE? I was thinking I could've been with him in Mint Eye and had a relationship with him - even though it is V's ending.

What happened to Magenta with the bomb shattered me, and that uncertainty about Ray was just 😖😖😖

I would miss him so, so much

Would he miss me as much too? He's everything to me 😅

After all the time V spends with him in his AE, would Ray still remember me? Would he be shocked that I remembered him? And still love him so much?

Aaah 🤧🤧

Skittish.

Tentative.

Frightened.

Those are the words Jihyun used to describe him at his worst. Even after years of trying to pull himself back together, there was nothing that could change the fact that he was forever scarred by what he'd done that day in Magenta. On the of losing everything, he thought it would be better to get rid of himself than it would be to join the rest of the believers in paradise.

What was life worth if everyone left him all over again?

That was how he felt for the longest time... his only regret being that he called you before the bomb went off. He didn't want to scare you with the truth of his actions, but that selfish part inside of his chest wanted you to know he loved you with everything his heart had and he would never love another soul like he loved you.

He thought you'd move on with your life, become happy as can be, and have everything he ever dreamed of.

In some ways... his love for you would carry on in your happiness. It was the only thing that brought him peace in those final moments, and yet, even so, he always yearned for more than that.

Maybe that was the most human thing about him. He always obeyed the rules given to him because they were an oath made in blood... like a tool or a puppet, but his love for you gave him a bleeding heart that made him feel alive. It was his love for you that kept him alive as long as it had. That's what he wanted to believe.

You were an angel unlike any other he'd ever met.

And maybe, just maybe, by the grace of your love... or just dumb luck, he survived that explosion. He suffered torment for weeks as the scars rattled his bones and fried his skin, but one thought never left his head. You. You were the singular thought that he both yearned for and dreamed would never come close to him again.

He hurt you in every sense of the word, and he couldn't bring himself to let go. It would've been better if he let you go. You could have a life with the RFA! You could enjoy everything the world had to offer and it would make him happy. As long as you had a life... a life you dreamed of... he knew nothing could ever dampen his dream. You were his true dream... his only dream, but he knew that he may never have you the way he wanted.

You would never look at him the way he looked at you... he would be a fool to think otherwise.

The light in your eyes saved him.

That was why he agreed to come with Jihyun to the party. He didn't want to go in the beginning. He only wanted to stay in the shadows... to erase himself until it was time to find his brother, but the thought of seeing your face one last time made him yearn to come along for... for what would probably be the last time he'd allow himself to see you in person.

He planned to stay in the crowd, hidden by the number of guests and patrons, and then he would retreat to the hotel to spare himself a lot of painful circumstance. Seeing you at the party, smiling, was meant to be enough for him.

If you were dancing with someone or thriving in a way that would've challenged his memory, it would've stung deep and made it hard to breathe, but... the risk was worth it. Even if you were in love with the world outside of him... and you found a reason to smile... he would be okay with that. He would have to be.

He just... needed to see your face one final time.

It had to be worth it.

You found him despite his desire to hide when Jihyun extended his hand to welcome the newest member to the RFA. He looked over at Jihyun, nerves eating away at his very soul, but a smile remained on Jihyun's face, as if beckoning him to task a risk. He stood there, like a deer in the headlights, unable to move or say a word as you stared at him.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow-motion.

His body was stuck.

Then, all at once, when he felt like he needed to run away, you leapt in his direction before his brother could—throwing your arms around him with a sob on your lips that sounded like—misery and hope all at once. He stood there, eyes wide and jaw-slacked, unable to say even a single word as Saeyoung embraced the two of you as well.

"Ray," you wept. You sounded like it hurt to lose him in the first place. He never thought you would miss him. "You're alive! I was afraid that I lost you forever! I can't believe you're here! You're here and breathing. Tell me it's not a dream...!"

"You're okay," sobbed his twin brother, his voice filled with just as much relief and pain that it felt otherworldly to someone like Ray. Years of his life were spent thinking he was nothing more than the nuisance he was taught to be, and now... just like Jihyun said many times in the past... his loved ones were telling what he thought was a pipe dream. "My baby brother, you're okay!"

Ray couldn't believe it.

Saeyoung missed him... truly.

You'd missed him... deeply.

Jihyun hadn't lied to him.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. The tears flooding his vision as he broke down for the first time in a very long time. "I'm sorry!"

#ask #anon #mod kait #drabble #vae ray #mystic messenger #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #ray #ray choi #choi ray #ray mm #ray mystic messenger #ray mysme #mm ray #mysme ray #mystic messenger ray

25 notes · View notes

writingmaidenwarrior · 3 months

Text

The Cards We Got Dealt Part 3 - Sin Eaters AU

This if for the prompt "Dare"

Warnings for attempted assassination with poison, violence in a competitive setting, implied sex,

Tagging @cljordan-imperium @jezifster @noblebs

We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be. May Sarton

It was obvious the day was too good to be true with the morning passing by without any troubles besides the knowing glances Wynthan got from Gilmyrn, Melleis and Eshfyrr. Things changed from good to bad when some ruckus happened on the other side of the gathering place.

“What is going on?” he asked one of his clan members who came running.

“One of the Cloud Tamers was found sneaking around at the camp of the Sea Dwellers clan leader cabin.”

Before he even knew what he was doing, Wynthan sprinted off to the other side of the gathering place.

“Nat, wait!” Eshfyrr called after him.

Halfway there, Eshfyrr caught up to him with a grim face.

“Don’t do something stupid.”

“I won’t,” Wynthan replied through gritted teeth.

“Like you challenging Ylvante?”

Of course, he needed to bring this up again. Wynthan already got an earful of everyone’s opinion the evening. The circumstance they reached the other clan’s camp stopped him from answering.

Talindra stood outside her cabin dressed in simple loose pants and a short tunic, her warriors holding down the intruder. She looked like the goddess of war herself how she held herself and made Wynthan stop immediately.

From the other sides, few other clan leaders appeared with some of their clan members.

“I’ll ask once again: Why have you been sneaking around the leader’s cabin?”

Wynthan recognized the woman questioning the culprit as Deiwryll, the daughter of the former clan leader. The man remained silent.

Slowly Talindra stepped forward with a predatory smile and pulled a small knife out of her belt. Why Wynthan could only stand by amazed by her, he couldn’t answer.

“See, by the law of the gathering, I am allowed to kill you here and now, but I hate to kill without a reason. Just tell me, what I want to know, and you are free to go.”

The man’s eyes grew wide, and he glanced over his shoulder back to his camp.

“She is nicer than I would be,” a female clan leader stated and stepped closer, “Talk, boy, or you will regret it. If your leader sent you, you won’t have to fear any punishment.”

Wynthan looked around. Strangely Orthenyr, Ylvante and the leader of the Mountain Callers was missing. He noted this for later.

The rite master finally arrived out of breath with a grim expression.

“I got told what happened. Did someone search him?”

“Not yet, rite master,” Deiwryll answered.

Without further ado, the rite master patted the man down and searched his belt bags. In tensed silence everyone waited for him to finish. A yelp when through the crowd when some small vial came to light. His face even darker than before, the rite master opened the vial and poured a drop of the golden liquid on his fingers for a taste. The next second, he spat in disgust and hit the man with the back of his hand.

“Poison… How dare you? This gathering had been a place of peace and cooperation since the dawn of the clans, and you defile it with your actions.”

“I got told to!” the man finally spoke up.

“Talk, boy,” the rite master pressed.

“I will take from here,” Orthenyr appeared out of the nowhere.

“You won’t, clan leader, this is a measure of the gathering and part of my function,” the rite master stopped him right there with a death stare.

“He is my clan member,” Orthenyr tried to object but the stern glance of the rite master was all it needed to silence him.

With grinding teeth, he went back to his camp. The other clan leaders exchanged knowing looks.

“Clan leader Talindra, may I borrow your two warriors to guard this man to another place?”

“Of course, rite master, whatever you need.”

She bowed slightly and signaled her warriors to follow the rite master.

Most of the people who weren’t part of Talindra’s clan also left except for the other female leader and Wynthan with Eshfyrr. An exhausted breath later, Talindra waved them to follow her inside the cabin.

“I have the feeling you have something you want to say, clan leader Ylvral?”

The other clan leader snickered and sat down.

“Indeed. I wanted to see you today to warn you something like this might happen. Orthenyr only became clan leader because he eliminated his siblings before the actual trial. He is ruthless and used to get what he wants. Yesterday’s events weren’t in his plan.”

“You mean, I wasn’t in his plan,” Wynthan stated amused.

“That is true, my friend. I have watched the two of you yesterday. Also, the fact you came first upon hearing the ruckus… I may be old, but I am not dumb. Why haven’t you two made it official yet?”

Perplexed Wynthan and Talindra looked at each other. Eshfyrr cleared his throat in a suspicious way.

“Esh?”

“Oh, come on, Gil, Mel and I knew already last time about you two. You aren’t as sneaky as you thought you are.”

“I can verify this!”

A woman who looked a lot like Talindra but got auburn hair with wild curls and a more oval face laughed in the background.

“Meri!” Talindra yelled over her shoulder.

“I told you so this morning, sis. You didn’t want to believe me.”

Ylvral laughed out loud with a deep booming voice, her hand hitting the table.

“You are cute, dumb but cute.”

“Yeah, I told her so. Leenmera, by the way.”

Talindra’s sister sat down with them and a look towards Talindra Wynthan could only describe as: I told you.

“That doesn’t help us much with Orthenyr and Ylvante now. The fact they brought poison along says they expected to run into issues,” Wynthan reminded them, “The fight won’t be until another three days, which means we have three days to look out for their tricks.”

Ylvral nodded, immediately serious again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they pull another one. Rumors have it, they tried to gain access to two other clans through this before but pulled out of the process at some point.”

The nasty laugh of Eshfyrr and Wynthan filled the room.

“They did with my sister,” Wynthan confirmed, “When it became clear I would be the leader they stated they decided otherwise.”

“Means, there is at least one proof to it. Just be careful.”

With this, Ylvral stood up and bowed lightly before she went to leave. At the door she looked over her shoulder with a smile.

“And you should consider making it official. This isn’t just some gathering romance with you. I can see it.”

“But…,” Talindra wanted to say something in return, but Ylvral left before she could.

“But?” Leenmera picked up the thread.

Talindra’s helpless look was too cute. Snickering Wynthan reached out for her hand.

“Maybe we need to discuss more than just a trading alliance.”

“Yes, you should,” Leenmera pushed.

“Absolutely, Gil would agree,” Eshfyrr stated with a shit eating grin.

For some reason, Wynthan wanted to kick his ass that moment.

With the fights in celebration of the gods being close there was no time to talk for real and they decided to have a conversation later that day but much to Wynthan’s chagrin it didn’t stop Talindra to come with him to the fights.

Sitting next to each other they watched how the clan members of each clan fought against each other and offered their strength and youth that way to the gods. A snickered escaped Talindra as one woman launched herself at the way taller man.

“Reminds you of someone?” Wynthan teased.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I remember a certain bundle of wrath who broke my nose last time.”

“Ah shut up and leave for the cabin,” Melleis threw at them from behind with laughter in her voice.

Talindra looked over her shoulder and winked. The whole row of their family and adviser behind them started to laugh.

The first rounds were over, and it would be the time for the couples who found each other already to fight against other couples. It wasn’t uncommon for the leaders to partake with their partners and Wynthan got up with a broad smirk. He stretched a hand out to Talindra.

“Shall we?”

“Are you sure? We will be poking a huge bear.”

“We already poke it. Time to show our teeth, don’t you think?”

The anticipatory gleam in her eyes was all he needed. She got his hand to pull herself up and stretched.

“Let’s beat some asses.”

“Mom will be so pissed she misses this,” Gilmyrn laughed at them, getting ready himself.

They made their way to the ring and took a look at the offered weapons. He waited what she would pick and found himself surprised by the choice of a double handed sword. Talindra raised her eyebrows at him. For a long moment he waged his possibilities against each other and finally decided for the spear.

“Trying to stay out of my way?”

“Giving you all the place to act.”

She patted Wynthan’s cheek with a smirk.

“Smart man.”

With a chuckle he followed her, amazed how she carried the sword easier than he expected. Both gave their weapons a few swings to get a feeling for its balance.

The outer couple also give their weapons a test and Wynthan a chance to take a glance into the crowd. As expected Orthenyr and Ylvante wore expression comparable to being in serious pain. Those clan leaders who didn’t participate shook their heads about it. Cheers and whistles from his and Talindra’s clan members reached his ears.

“Looks like we really weren’t that sneaky,” she stated amused.

“It really does. Look around. Everyone seems to know.”

“That makes Orthenyr’s request even more an affront. Now I really need to smash something.”

“Let the poor opponents live,” Wynthan teased her while taking a position two steps behind her to her non-dominant side.

Their opponents decided both for one handed sword and depending on how they would attack would have either and advantage or disadvantage. It was all up to them.

Or so Wynthan thought until the horn rang to start the fight and Talindra swung her sword upward with a war cry no one expected, leaving him and their opponents stunned for seconds. The other man could barely jump away before he would have been hit be her sword. She used the momentum of the two-handed sword being in motion now and whirled it around her body like a lethal dance, forcing the others into defense.

With an elegant maneuver the woman ducked away and attacked Wynthan, but he expected it at one point that the fight would take this turn and was ready to parry. Within minutes both opponents were down.

Breathing heavy, Talindra smiled broadly.

“That was fun.”

“At least no broken nose this time.”

“Nah, there are still some fights.”

She left the fighting area with a swing in her steps. He couldn’t help himself and watch her for a moment with a small, amused smile.

The other fights went almost similar even with the other couples now knowing how Talindra would fight. With each round Wynthan found himself more in a rhythm with her.

“Do you always use a double handed sword?” he wondered after they stepped aside from their last fight.

The broad smile of her confused him.

“No, but I needed to stretch my muscles. The whole uproar made me antsy.”

“I see.”

His snicker got lost in the cheers of the crowd as Gilmyrn and Melleis defeated their opponents in no time.

“Seems like the last round will be against your brother,” Talindra teased.

“I am more worried about Mel and you.”

As usual there was a longer break until the last fight to give the ones who fought last some time to catch their breaths. Gilmyrn seemed way too pleased with himself and Melleis winked at him. The small groan Wynthan’s made Talindra chuckle.

“Who is worse?”

“Mel…”

The horn signaled them to take their places. By traditions they were allowed to change their weapons for this fight and thankfully Talindra did so. She picked a single-handed sword with a side look to Wynthan. He simply nodded. Against his brother he would have preferred to fight with one and now he got the chance.

As expected Melleis changed the sword for a staff and Gilmyrn the battle ax for short swords. A grim smile on his lips Wynthan licked his lips in anticipation. Their clan members were torn who to cheer for and it went back and forth.

“Any tips?” Talindra whispered.

“Watch out for her. She is a storm in a body with a staff.”

“Noted.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw how Talindra also got an anticipatory grin on her face.

The signal to fight went off.

The first seconds nothing happened. All four eyed each other, made small movement as if they would attack to test the others’ reaction and self-control. Wynthan knew their games too well from their daily training and Talindra wasn’t an unexperienced warrior, therefore it didn’t work.

It was Melleis who launched the first attack with a straight blow of her staff direct at Talindra who simply plunged aside. Like a spell was broken Gilmyrn followed suit and attacked Talindra as well. Wynthan immediately got what these two were after and parried the attack two steps before Talindra.

“Playing unfair, dear brother?”

“Just testing a theory”, Gilmyrn snickered and went aside.

Wynthan followed him with a plunge attack himself and give Talindra more space to act, knowing Melleis would use this moment. His ears told him he was right when he heard both cry out frustrated.

“What theory?” Wynthan pressed with his sword pressing into the short sword Gilmyrn parried with.

“That you are fired up with love.”

Both rolled their eyes and jumped away from each other. The next moment Wynthan had to evade a couple of fast attacks he could only dodge. The second Gilmyrn stopped Wynthan threw himself against him with all his weight and threw him over.

“You could have just asked,” Wynthan snickered with his sword aimed at his brother’s throat.

“Would have been less fun,” Gilmyrn chuckled.

Grunts and yells distracted them. They turned to the women and found them beating the shit out of each other. Wynthan dropped the sword to the ground and wanted to go between them when Talindra and Melleis both used their powers at the same time. Water and fire collided and created a huge cloud of fog, throwing both across the field. Instinctively Wynthan reacted and raised up walls with his powers to catch them.

“Stubborn coal brains,” Gilmyrn swore next to him.

Both ran up to their partner to check on them. It wasn’t prohibited to use your powers but for exact those reasons usually not done. Talindra came to her feet first, coughing and a death glare ready that would have killed gods.

The horn signaled the end of the fight.

“The winners are Wynthan and Talindra!” the rite master proclaimed in a hurry.

He was most likely also afraid what Talindra and Melleis would do next.

“What?” she wondered.

“I beat my brother seconds before your little experiment,” Wynthan explained and pulled her in a hug.

Little did he care about anyone seeing it. For the moment he wanted to be sure she wouldn’t wander off.

“Oh… awesome,” she snickered and fell into his hug obviously exhausted from the fall.

“Come, we get you some food and something to drink.”

“Sounds fantastic. Will you stay with me?”

Her eyes big she looked at him pleadingly. From aside he heard Gilmyrn and Melleis laughing.

“I need to sort some things out first. I am still a clan leader, remember?”

The embarrassed smile gave him the feeling she did forget about it for a moment. With a soft kiss he sent her to her people.

Wynthan needed a moment for himself to gather the courage to face what was coming now. When he finally went over to his clan, everyone was already gathered with smirks on their faces and expecting eyes on him.

“Clan leader?” one of the warriors addressed him with at least the try to look neutral.

“Follow me. I guess everyone is here?”

“Of course, we are,” someone spoke up.

Everyone knew where he wanted to bring them and marched to the small common place every clan space had. Wynthan went into the middle and looked around.

“Before anyone starts to ask questions, or any rumors go around: Clan leader Talindra and I know each other for some time. I wasn’t aware of her being the leader of the Sea Dwellers until the gathering and less likely did I expect that she and I would be able to continue where we left off the last time we met. By the time I stand here we haven’t talked about any future plans because our duties as leaders and the nefarious actions of others kept us from this. I will remedy this as fast as possible. All that happened yesterday and today at the fights are still no clear declaration of intention. Please don’t forget this.”

“But you caught fire,” Eshfyrr spoke up laughing.

Multiple people agreed.

“That doesn’t matter in my position. You all need to be aware a partnership between clan leaders usually comes with mixing both clans. The Sea Dwellers are small but a strong and rightfully proud clan, I would never take this away from them, nor would I take this away from our clan.”

Slowly Wynthan looked around and saw how people slowly started to understand how much would be on the line and how much he needed to keep in mind.

“An unhappy leader isn’t a good leader. I am sure there will be a way to handle it.”

To his surprise one of the older warriors had spoken up. A smile crept on his face.

“We will see. Until then I need all of you to be vigilant and keep an eye on each other and be careful around the Cloud Tamers. Their leader refuses to play by the rules and has no problems ruining his clan members life for his gain. I trust you all to keep the peace at the gathering.”

Gilmyrn stepped in front of him with a naughty smirk.

“We will. Esh and I take care of everything that doesn’t necessarily need to be done by you. Now go and take care of your fire creature.”

Under the encouragement of his friends and family Wynthan went back to Talindra who waited across the gathering place for him with an exhausted expression but smiled weakly at him once she spotted him.

“All sorted out?”

“Yes, and it seems like my clan sort of kicked me out of the camp until we two sorted a few things out.”

“How dare they,” she snickered and leaned against him.

“Yeah, how dare they,” he repeated and kissed her cheek, “We should find some less public space before we end up on the wrong side of a sword.”

#writblr #writing #ockiss24 #the cards we got dealt #part 3 #fantasy #wynne writes

8 notes · View notes