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ratofthemedievalsewers · 2 years

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The Fire I Breathe Shall Burn You Too - Part IV [FINAL]

*NOTE: YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW ANYTHING OF SKYRIM FOR THIS WORK - Any lore will be explained within the story itself, you don’t need to know any details of Skyrim.

Inspiration from @fanficsforheartandsoul

*****

Geralt of Rivia x Male, Dragonborn Reader

THE COMPLETE WORK

Word Count: 3.7K+

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Canon typical language, Very brief and hidden suicide ideation

The high reaches of Skyrim had always been bone-numbing. The cold would bore deep beneath the skin into the muscle tissue below, gripping him with its icy claws, making it a constant uphill battle just to keep moving through the snowy landscape. The furs and leathers on his back could only keep in the heat for so long; the melting snow dampening the material until it hung heavy on his shoulders.

The wind rumbled past the Dragonborn's ears, beating against him like a drum, the ever-growing pain at the front of his head growing stronger and bleeding into his temples, creating a vice-like pressure that made his eyes sting.

"Lok Vah Koor."

His voice boomed, cutting through the storm and forcing the winds to submit. The weather still nipped at his skin like a playful pup, testing his ever-thinning patience. The mountain grew steeper now; each step that fell through the freshly fallen snow met ice beneath, threatening to throw Y/N onto his back and into it's harsh clutches.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" The voice of the bard was panicked, his pitch high in his fright.

Several moments went by and yet he was not answered.

The body that carried his own was warm against his frozen skin, burning the flesh that it touched. Y/N could feel the tightness brought on by anxiety within the other's muscles; How the other stumbled as he quickened his pace, the uneven weight making it easier for him to slip in the sodden and slick ground.

"Hold him up." The new voice that spoke was raw, as if speaking those three words took much more effort than it should.

Y/N felt his body being moved from that warmth into the hands of someone weaker, shaking with the strain of holding someone else's entire weight. It only lasted a minute or two until he was pulled away from those unsteady arms and saddled on a horse. The warmth from before was now flush against his back, with an arm wrapped around his middle to keep him upright.

The peak of the mountain had always been so peaceful, the silence a juxtaposing quiet to the journey it took to reach it. The Throat of The World, the tallest point of Skyrim, able to see out into the cities and villages that surrounded it; From Solitude with its prominent guard towers and ornate decoration, to Winterhold where the battered college sat protecting its precious secrets of the arcane.

Despite seeing so much life, despite being able to look into the lives of the people below it was so lonely, so distant. Being as close as they were to the heavens made one realise why gods and the divines always sort out the comfort of mortals - So different from their own kind, but so willing to embrace and worship them with open arms.

Y/N turned away from the perch, the hollowness in his throat making him feel sick.

Instead he turned to the curved stone that the path lead to - The face of a warrior of unknown creed sat utop, looking down over the faded inscription he guarded, his eyeline following those who dared to read. The Dragonborn brushed his fingers along the carved words of the dragon tongue, wishing he could make out such ancient inscryptions of his people that came before.

Lonliness made one so desperate.

"Kul haas, dovahkiin." He had not heard or felt the flap of wings as Paarthurnax had joined him, sitting at his usual place at the edge of the curved stone. It was still unusual to see him as a soul; Where great grey-brown plates should sit were instead translucent blue scales, their form oulined by a lighter glow.

"It is good to see you again, Wuth fahdon." Paarthurnax gave his beast's version of a content smile that reached his eyes, happy to see the Dragonborn using his own language.

"You have progressed well... pruzah... with your pronunciation beyond that of the Thu'um."

"I had an excellent teacher," Y/N gave his own smile, sadness tinged within it. "I am lost Paarthurnax. I did not understand the severity of your warning..." He paused for a moment, "Fate has taken me... as it has taken you."

"Dez... Fate did not take me... I chose to... Bo both nii... Take her hand..."

"You said destiny was my enemy."

Paarthurnax hummed in a way that sounded like a cat's pur as he thought. "Destiny... meyz... something new..."

"But I am already dead."

"You are dying... Nu tiid."

Y/N huffed an amused laugh, "There's still time? I am left with nothing and no one. This 'gift' destiny bestowed upon me has become nothing more than a curse that has lead me down the wrong path time and time again. It would not let another man rule the land I swore to save and I ended up coating it in the blood of the men that were my allies."

"The empire and the stormcloaks... krent... Neither were worthy to rule. Skyrim would have been lost." Paarthurnax lowered his head as his voice became a whisper, as if speaking ill of the land would cause it further harm.

"Skyrim was lost anyway, with no ruler-"

"She is free... Ahst drem..."

He could not hear anything but the pattering of rain within the trees and the sound of the two horses galloping. Y/N could barely feel the drops of water on his numbed skin like hair thin needles of ice piercing his cheeks.

He managed to crack his eyes open ever so slightly, squinting in hopes to focus on the blurry colours that made up his vision. The horse's brown head bobbed rapidly as he ran, his main trailing behind and brushing against Y/N's hands that lay limp at his sides. The pale hands of another stood out against the dark clothing he wore. One hand held the reins while another rested on his stomach, fingers spread to hold Y/N up straight.

"Geralt," Some one to his left spoke, the voice shaking and exhausted, "He's waking up," The hand on his stomach held him tighter and the weight on his back grew heavier as he was pushed against it.

Y/N placed his palm on the lowered snout of Paarthurnax, just allowing his hand to sit there for a moment, fingers splayed to feel the convex shape of the bridge of his nose and the way his scales fit around it. It did not feel the same as when Paarthurnax was alive, there was more texture to his skin like it had been through centuries of life. Yet now it was smooth like fine silk.

Paarthurnax closed his eyes at the touch, a content sigh leaving through his pointed nostils. "You cannot stay... Meyz... Bo..."

"But I don't know what I'm meant to do now," The Dragonborn pulled his hand down the snout, slowly repeating the action. "While my path may be foggy, the destination has always been clear."

"Hin Miiraad... The Witcher," Y/N swore he could see a mischievous smile playing at the dragon's lips. "He can tame the dovah within."

"And if I do not wish to be tamed?" Paarthurnax raised his head as he spread out his wings and Y/N's hand fell back down to his side.

"Then history... Hin vod... shall repeat."

Y/N felt the power that still rested behind those great wings as Paarthurnax pushed himself up, taking flight once more into the skies of Skyrim.

The ground the Dragonborn stood upon fell beneath his feet and the abyss that swallowed him stole their air from his lungs.

*****

Y/N woke with a start, gasping at the sudden pain in his side. His head became dizzy with how quickly he was upright. Attempting to move a hand to feel for the wound, the leather straps binding him to the phasistian's table tugged, keeping his arms from moving anymore than an inch. Looking down he saw the restraints, a matching pair around his ankles. He had been stripped of his armor, leaving him in thin black trousers and a dark grey cotton shirt, that by the size, he guessed was not his own.

It had been a long time since the Dragonborn had felt like this; chained and filthy like a dog. He could feel days' worth of sweat and grime coating his skin and clogging up his pores - Most likely from a lasting fever. He smelt the odour seeping from him, making it easy to picture protruding, comical green lines . Never before had he wanted to bathe so desperately.

"You reek," As if able to hear his thoughts, a man bearing the same pendant as Geralt spoke. He stood casually across the room, grazing the sharp edge of a sword with the pad of his thumb - not directly threatening, but an action to get the message across. He wore green padded clothing and had his mousey brown hair half tied up, a few strands hanging across his face in an unflattering way. There was something cocky about him that made Y/N want to challenge his patience.

"Are you sure it's not coming from you?" The man pushed himself from the wall with the sword raised, a look of anger flashing in his eyes. Y/N sat straighter to challenge him, but winced as he pulled on the stitches that held the wound on his lower torso closed.

The man stopped, lowering his sword and huffing an amused breath as a smile played on his lips. "You remember who did that to you?"

Y/N cringes at the thought, "Geralt."

The man bent down so their faces were only inches apart, "If you try anything I won't hesitate to do the same, but don't think I'll give you the courtesy of a second chance like he did. Step out of line and I will kill you."

Naturally not finding being threatened pleasant, Y/N spat in his face, grinning at the look of absolute irritation on the other's face.

The door to the room opened before anything truly interesting could happen. Geralt stood within the doorway, attempting to assess the scene, with two sets of food and drink.

"You can leave now, Eskel," The sound of Geralt's voice sent a subtle shiver down Y/N's spine, but his ego wouldn't let him break away from the staring contest he was currently locked in with, who he assumed to be, Eskel.

Eskel huffed before he turned away, bashing his shoulder against Geralt as he walked past. The Witcher did not seem phased by his attitude, more concerned with the water that had been knocked from the cups he held.

Geralt placed down the food and drink at the table before closing the double doors for privacy. Y/N harshly swallowed as he felt the building, almost suffocating tension, between them. What do you say to the man who, not too long ago, stabbed you?

"Charming friends you've got." Y/N inwardly recoiled at how his voice sounded when he spoke. He didn't realise how noticably breathy and tired it was until now.

Geralt didn't respond to him for a moment, instead, he just looked at Y/n with his brows knitted.

"I will release you," He placed both hands on the cuff closest to him, squeazing his wrist through the thick leather. "But you must tell me everything that I need to know."

A moment of silence stood between them and in that moment Y/N noticed that Geralt's eyes were much more gold around the cat-like pupils and the iris shone a similar colour to the petals of daffodils in their peak bloom.

"Can I get a bath as well?"

A smile pulled at Geralt's lips for a moment before he undid the cuffs holding down Y/N's wrists, handing him the plate of food afterwards - It was a simple platter of basic meats and cheese, with a torn corner of bread to fill. The Dragonborn pretended not to notice the silver knife that sat at Geralt's belt, the harsh material standing out against the comfortable lounge clothes he wore.

"You don't smell any worse than some of the other Witchers here." Geralt sat beside the table, close enough for Y/N to reach him, but only by the brush of his fingers.

"Other Witchers?" There was a danger within the thought, but he did his best to ignore it. Y/N took his first bite of the food and relished in it, not realising how hungry he had become.

"To treat your wound I took you to Kaer Morhen, the Witcher school I was trained at," Geralt took his own first bite after he finished his sentence.

"Why here?"

"I only trusted you in the hands of my teacher, Vesemir," He cocked his head as if in thought, "That and I don't know what you are... or if a regular physician could have healed you. Vesemir would have been better equipped."

"Why?" One word felt like such a heavy question, but it was all he could manage, there would always be something left unsaid. 'Why give me this chance? 'Why go through the trouble?' 'Why even bother?'

Geralt downed the cup of water and placed it back down a little too harshly.

"I'll go heat some water for your bath," He left behind his plate still half full with food and the bounds that had been around Y/N's wrist still undone, an unspoken invitation to leave if he wanted, but with no awaiting arms if he ever wished to return.

*****

Y/N had managed to make it most of the way there without much help from the hallway walls or Geralt, but his legs still shook as he walked and he was forced to take it painstakingly slow. It did not hurt his wound per se, but spending several days unconscious and after losing so much blood it had become a less than easy task.

The room that Geralt lead him to, whether it was on purpose or out of his control, was up several flights of stairs, but the journey was worth the effort.

The double doors opened up into a wide, open room within one of the towers of Kaer Morhen, a lit firepit sitting in the middle, with the billowing smoke being tunnelled out of a hole in the centre of the steep, thatched roof. There was a homely aspect to it like this place was lived in even after being left for a while; Open books sat on a desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and half-melted candles. The bed covers opposite lay messy and unmade, with one of its pillows out of place and almost hanging off of the side.

A bath sat by the other set of open double doors, the steam from the hot water being blown inwards by the gentle winds from over the balcony. The tub was a simple wooden one, clearly old and worn, but still strong and stable.

"Never pegged you for a romantic," Y/N was facing away from the Witcher, but he liked to imagine that there was a blush on his pale cheeks, but he did hear a faint, amused chuckle. He made a move to take off his shirt, yet immediately winced as white-hot pain shot through his sternum, leaving behind a stronger dull ache.

"Here," Geralt stepped in front of Y/N and held the hem of his shirt for a moment, waiting in case of objection. With nothing said he began to pull the shirt up, gently bunching up the fabric within his hands, lifting it over the other's head first, before sliding back down Y/N's arms so he wouldn't have to move and cause any more pain. It was an action that only lasted a brief few seconds, but the intimacy within it made Y/N's heart speed up at the notions that came with it.

He had no doubt Geralt heard his tell-tale heart.

"I can do the rest," He spoke quick, in no more than a whisper, afraid that he might burst at the feeling of Geralt's fingers accidentally brushing his skin once more. The other nodded and turned to leave, believing Y/N was asking for privacy. "No," He grabbed his wrist, immediately pulling away at the sudden action that he did not expect to come from himself, yet he went with it, afraid he may not have the opportunity again if he let this one go. "Stay... please?"

Geralt did not hesitate before he nodded once more, turning away as Y/N removed the rest of his clothing.

"I don't mind if you look," Y/N let out a content sigh as he stepped into the hot water of the bath, the temperature making his skin instantly turn red where it touched. The dragon within hummed at such a simple delight. "I don't wish to hide anymore... at least not from you."

Geralt had seen brief flashes beneath clothing of raised and pink scars before but did not imagine how far they travelled beneath. The outline of an unfamiliar armour coated the Dragonborn's skin, only ever broken by the known neat cuts from blades or jagged scratches from claws and teeth. Although, despite the intriguing pattern, what stood out most was the brand that had been clearly burned into his skin. Despite being healed, it looked angry - It was the silhouette of a dragon, its wings and tail forming in an almost diamond shape.

Geralt could not help but kneel beside Y/N and trace his fingers along the outline of the sigil.

"The Seal of Akatosh," Y/N spoke gently, placing his hand overtop Geralt's before he could move it away in his embarrassment, not fully realising what he was doing. "It was a mark of the Empire." Geralt did not try to pull away though, but instead met his eyes with Y/N's, asking an unspoken question. Y/N let out a small sigh, "I killed the emperor during the civil war within Skyrim and then once the war was over I killed the man who I fought alongside."

"I take it there's more it the story?" Geralt asked, still gently caressing the scar, most likely subconsciously.

"They were both corrupt men... just like me, both hungry for power. I could see it within them. I had no right to be their judgement, but no one else could put a blade to their throat and end it," Y/N looked through the double doors at the scenery that waited below the balcony; So high up and so far to fall. "In the end, my judgement came to, but they did not know how to kill someone like me... so in the end, they striped everyone and everything I had and cast it in flames in front of me, just adding to the death that surrounded me."

"I had saved Skyrim from so many monsters before. From my own kin, the Great Dragon Alduin, but once those monsters wore a man's face it didn't matter if they had killed thousands in a hunt for power, or brothers for his own inflated ego. In the end, because of what I was and what I could do... they were too afraid. They banished me here because they didn't know how to kill me," Y/N turned back to Geralt, unable to stop the subtle shaking of his body now. "Sometimes I wish they bothered to find a way... Sometimes I wish they had ended it on the mountain that they announced and delivered my punishment."

They sat in silence for a moment, holding each other's gaze. "I'm glad they didn't," Geralt whispered, placing his free hand on the curve of Y/N's neck where it met his shoulder.

The water hit the wooden floorboards with how quickly Y/N moved, forcing it over the sides of the wooden tub, also splashing Geralt in the process. Although the Witcher didn't seem to care, too taken aback by the feeling of the other's lips pressing against his own. He didn't hesitate to pull himself closer, his fingers gracing one scar to another as his hand reached Y/N's waist.

The Dragonborn let his fingers tangle within Geralt's hair, pulling at the tie that held the upper half out of his eyes and letting it fall over the their faces as they kissed.

A part of Y/N roared within him, kissing Geralt harder as if a challenge to take it further. The Wither complied without question, biting at the other's bottom lip to accept.

Y/N kissed like he fought; rough and vicious, but with the skill of someone who held control over both himself and the battlefield before him. Geralt was much the same, but entirely opposite, adapting to what he was given by using his decades of knowledge and accomplishments. If the Witcher was to give up his control, it was with the knowledge that he could take it back any moment he pleased.

The Dragonborn had never hesitated to fight dirty and no was no different; he let his nails drag down Geralt's back back, bunching and grabbing at the material until the other tore it from his body and threw it aside. Y/N followed the line of scars that marked the skin of the other, both impressed at how well he fit them and angered at who or what had inflicted them.

"You are... beautiful," Y/N did not know he had spoken until the words had left his swollen and blushing lips. Geralt held a look of surprise for a moment, an expression he had not seen so clearly on the man before he could not help but let out a light laugh. "I mean it in honesty."

Geralt looked as if he did not know what to say. Y/N shook his head and kissed the other's look of shock away, his hands pulling Geralt's face close again by his cheeks. "Would you care to join me?" He whispered against the Witcher's lips, smiling as he did so, something more committal hidden with the offer, his warrior heart racing with nerves he believed to have lost a long time again.

"Yes," Geralt spoke, once he was able to find his voice again.

#geralt of rivia x you #male reader #geralt x male reader #geralt of rivia fic #the witcher netflix #the witcher x male reader #the witcher

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toska-writes · 10 months

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✩Rules✩ Make a new post and share the latest line of your WIP & tag as many people as there are words

Thanks @dreamswithghosts for the tag! Your WIPs sound so good! And now that I have time to write hopefully this WIP will be done soon

This is a Rex x reader!

“I thought for a moment you wouldn’t come.” The words destroyed the carefully armored heart of Rex. How could he have let this happen? “I’d always come back for you Ad’ika, no matter what.”

(And if anyone cares here’s a sentence from an actual book that I’m writing called “How to Grow a Carnation”)

Flowers can grow anywhere. In perfect tranquility, or in complete chaos. They can grow in the sunniest spots or sprout inbtween the ribs of the decaying.

@pizza-writes @verybadatwriting @masterjedilenawrites @sailorkamino @fanficsforheartandsoul

Sorry I might tag more later

#star wars #star wars clone wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #toska-talks #captain rex #clone boys

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saraslittleartstation · 3 years

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Grogu & Ben Are Friends AU

Things in the Speech Bubbles:

[Ben sits with Grogu in his lap]

Ben: “You met my Grandfather? So cool!”

Grogu: “HE ALMOST KILLED ME!!!”

Ben: “Oh.”

[Grogu leans on Ben’s leg and they sit watching the sun go down]

Ben: “Your Dad is so cool! My Father also met a Mandalorian once... But uhhh... It didn’t go that well...”

Grogu: “Lol.”

#I can't draw grogu #my god this was a pain #but I also had a lot of fun #omg I love these two #ben solo #kylo ren #grogu #the mandalorian #baby yoda #luke skywalker #jedi #saraslittleartstation #fanficsforheartandsoul

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Soulmate AU but pain? Because it sounds dramatic and I love drama

There was a name curled around Anakin Skywalker’s wrist, written in black ink. The cursive was fine and neat, the handwriting of a scholar, well beloved. He traced the words with his fingers, slowly let them reveal the name they hid. He tasted the name on the tip of his tongue, allowed it to linger for only a moment-

And then he cursed, snarled like a wounded beast and scratched along the underside of his arm, as if that could make them disappear. In a feverous moment of insanity, he even thought about igniting his lightsaber and using the blood red blade to burn the name out of his skin, well aware that the mark wouldn’t just disappear, but reform just above the scar tissues because it had been written into his soul, his very being.

Tortured Raised as a Sith Anakin turns 20, gets his soulmark and promptly has a panic attack because it’s a Jedi and everything would have been just fine if his other half had been one of many civilians he could just forget, them being utterly uninteresting to his Master’s plans- But no. It had to be a Jedi.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan is kind of trying to figure out why Darth Vader has suddenly decided that killing Obi-Wan is worth sacrificing his entire fleet. Nobody is well adjusted and I’m still trying to figure out whether I can wrap this up in 20k

#star wars #obikin #aus and ideas #ask #fanficsforheartandsoul

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sunflowergirl522 · 3 years

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Do you bake cookies for Christmas? And if so what are your favorites?💗

We used to make sugar cookies and gingerbread men every year but we had to stop last year bc we found out my mom is gluten intolerant. We’re hopefully making some this year though with gluten free flour. The sugar cookies are definitely my favorite.

#thank you for asking!#you got to know me #wintry asks #you asked #fanficsforheartandsoul

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momomomma2 · 6 years

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Am I the only one who's bothered by the fact that my fangs for hire can't jump into the car or truck? INSTEAD they have to run after my car and exhaust themselves to death! Like, I want Boomer in the backseat wagging his tail or Peaches in the back of my truck sleeping, like come oooon! ;(

Oh MOOD! I’m the most annoying person to watch play because I will randomly slow down or stop to make sure the FFH aren’t running themselves ragged/left behind somewhere. It’s so dumb that they can’t get in, I spent probably 15 minutes the first time I grabbed a car trying to command Boomer to jump into the back before realizing it wasn’t possible.

Though admittedly it does occasionally come in handy. Like when I was staring at Sharky instead of the road and crashed into an oncoming Peggie truck. My Cheesy boy was able to save both our sorry asses.

#bri answers asks #far cry 5 #just let me fangs in my car damnit #and also let me hug people #i want 2 things ubisoft #just 2 #fanficsforheartandsoul

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 10 months

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141!Reader: Dinner

Ghost: What do you want for dinner, Y/N? Reader: Your dick Ghost: Reader: *Your pick. Sorry, that damn auto correct Ghost: Y/N, we're having a verbal conversation-

#Reader: 0=v=0 #Soap: How the hell did you do that??#cod incorrect quotes #cod #call of duty ghost #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty incorrect quotes #gender neutral reader #reader #task force 141 #soap #141!reader #fanficsforheartandsoul

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auroranotsogreat · 6 years

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Nr. 41 from OC asks? :)

What does your character do when they’re angry? Why?

She usually screams the hell out, because that is the only way she can hold her tears and move on. This is how her coping system works

#asks #fanficsforheartandsoul #deputy emily rose

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xmalereader · 3 days

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— HeartMoor —

Lord Morpheus X Dark Fey! Male Reader

SUMMARY: Reader is a Dark Fey who has been captured and trapped by Rodrick Burgess before Dreams arrival. The two are locked away and only have each other until readers torture changes Dreams perspective and feelings towards the Dark Fey.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Angst, Dream of the endless, torture, Dark Theme, mentions of death, death threats, language, Rodrick burgess can suck ass, Dark Fey lore, semi AU, Possessive dream, slight kissing , mentions of ravens, glimpse of death, slight fluff, courting, mentions of hell.

『Chapter One 』

『 Chapter Two 』

『 Chapter Three 』

『 Chapter Four 』

『 Chapter Five 』

TAGS: @fanficsforheartandsoul @byler4lifeblog @boulevardofgalaxies @gaysimp614 @vainillacookie @mfairycow @namjooncrabs @boofy1998 @1s3v3n1 @mypsychoticlove @mxacegrey @horrfilm @lewi-black

|| If you wish to be tagged for this series please comment!! ||

#male reader #lord Morpheus x male reader #lord Morpheus #lord Morpheus x dark fey male reader #dark fey reader #dark fey series #the sandman x male reader #the sandman #the sandman x dark fey male reader #dark theme

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uhshsmsmaka · 20 days

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@fanficsforheartandsoul (and you too @yell-hound I want you to hear this) ok, ok ok ok, so

you remember how we had that AU thing where Mason (and Woods ig) helped Bell get their own identity and escape the CIA and Perseus and stuff like that?

ok. So. In Black Ops 2.. what if.. when Mason went into hiding, what if he went back with Bell to stay with them until whenever he left, bc he knew Bell and he knew he’d be safe in hiding?

I’ve had that thought rattling in my head for awhile and the Gulf War game is probably going to disprove all of this, but until then anything is canon I think. Our PS3 broke 100 years ago and I haven’t seen a playthrough of BO2 so I’m not sure if it tells us what happened to Mason while they thought he was dead, but based on conversations with my brother, it’s all just a mystery and.. idk.. it could be canon, and if not it’s a cool AU..

#bell cod #alex mason #cod black ops 2 #cod cold war #cod au

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ratofthemedievalsewers · 2 years

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The Fire I Breathe Shall Burn You Too - Part I

*NOTE: YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW ANYTHING OF SKYRIM FOR THIS WORK - Any lore will be explained within the story itself, you don't need to know any details of Skyrim.

This work was inspired by @fanficsforheartandsoul who wrote a brilliant Dragonborn Reader work, definitely worth checking out!

*****

Geralt of Rivia x Male, Dragonborn Reader

THE COMPLETE WORK

Word Count: 3.4K words

Warnings: Canon Typical Witcher Gore

The Dragonborn was forced to kneel, like the prisoner he was, in front of the crowd that had been gathered behind the Emperor's son. The winds of Skyrim were harsh against the thin cloth he had been forced to wear at his "trial" and the cold penetrated his skin, chilling deep into bones. The snow beneath his knees soaked into the scratchy fabric of his trousers, the hard stone he rested upon causing his joints to lock up and ache.

He refused to let them see him shiver, he refused to show any weakness against the people that had chained and muzzled him.

The iron shackles upon Y/N's wrists made them burn as the metal was too tight and dug into his skin, the cold further enhancing the pain of the irritation. The muzzling forcing his jaw shut cut into the bridge of his nose, harshly crushing down on his cheekbones, he could feel the bruises forming, outlining the cage over his mouth.

All that he had built and rebuilt, everything that he had discovered, founded and collected was now either tarnished or burnt to ash if it held no use for the greedy Emperor's son. Y/N had come to Skyrim with nothing to his name, not even the memories of his life before arriving at the chopping block of Helgen all those years ago.

The Dragonborn arrived with nothing, so it was only fitting that he left with nothing also.

The Emperor's son stepped forward, adorned in fine, bold robes and thick furs to shield him from the cruel snows of Skyrim. The polished gold of his jewelled necklace shone in the glaring sun; Y/N recognised it as one of the first of many gifted treasures from the people he had saved when he first set out on his campaign.

He had twisted into a different man during the war. The Dragonborn had become a shadow of Alduin, the Eater of Worlds, the Great Dragon who had ravaged these lands. The same dragon Y/N slaughtered in glory for these people who so quickly turned against him.

The Dragonborn did not blame the people for their betrayal, but his hatred for the Empire and the Emperor's son still burned hot.

"As the rightful Emperor and ruler of these lands, I cast you out. The Dragonborn shall face exile for his crimes against the empire and the people of Skyrim. With the magic brought to us by the College of Winterhold, you are to be banished!"

At the announcement, a small group of college mages stepped forward in a circle around Y/N, whispering a chorus between them and lifting their arms towards him. The light was blinding as the doorway to another land opened up in front of him, the swirling azure tones were nauseating as they twisted and turned in a jagged spiral shape. The mages chanted louder behind him, their voices rising as the portal grew in size until it began to consume Y/N.

"Never return to Skyrim, or you will face pain worse than hell." The son of the Emperor whispered this into the ear of the Dragonborn, needing to bend down only slightly to reach his level. Y/N could not spit back a response, the metal over his mouth preventing him from speaking. His Thu'um, his voice, burned in the pit of his chest, for the power of his rage to rip these people apart for their disloyalty.

The dragon inside Y/N screamed.

As the mages reached the end of their verse the portal consumed the Dragonborn. He could do nothing but stare, with a deep loathing, at the man who had exiled him from the land he had fought so hard to rule for himself.

*****

The tavern was loud and stunk of ale and sweat. It seemed every inn across the lands, not just this one, exuded the same overwhelming stench of drunkards and gambling fools. Y/N sat alone at one of the corner tables, hidden away in the darker area near the bar. He just listened; entertaining himself with the coloured tales that came out of drunken men's mouths, stories of beautiful women and fictitious hunts. Still, it was amusing nonetheless.

The people of this village were kinder than most, their only fault was that they were so close-knit; one of the smaller but still tiresome issues of being a traveller that wished to go unnoticed. In villages like these word spreads fast about newcomers, causing rumours to quickly sprout that can garner unwanted attention. It wouldn't be long before Y/N would have to move on again.

The mead sat untouched in front of him, his hand not even reaching for the handle since the barmaid had placed it on the table in front of him. The drink here was bordering on water compared to that of the Black-Briar Meadery back in Riften.

An eerie silence fell upon the tavern as the door opened and a large, broad-shouldered man entered. He was adorned in studded, black leather light-armour, with two swords resting on his back. One seemed to be made of iron, with a bronzer tone to the metal, while the other was a silver, a blueish shimmer to the finish of the blade. Around his neck sat a medallion of a wolf, with the back of the chain disappearing into the white of his hair that was discoloured by dirt and grime.

He had a dark look upon his features, evidently unsettling the villagers in his immediate presence. The cause for his annoyance appeared to follow behind him as he stepped further into the tavern, a younger-looking bard wearing much more comfortable clothing seemed to be talking and had been talking for quite a while.

"Oh come now Geralt, all I'm asking for is a little bit more of a share. After all, I am the one who's bringing these little jobs of yours in. Without me, no one would know of the Great Witcher, Geralt of Rivia." The bard seemed to speak, regardless of his company's irritated glare. He spoke mostly with his hands and posture, asserting a word with the flare of his hand or a wave of his whole upper torso.

"One room and for someone to care for my horse," The taller man, which Y/N figured to be Geralt, threw a moderately sized cloth pouch of gold onto the bar top, the coins making a flat 'clunk' sound once they hit the wood. "And a tankard of ale."

The barmaid gave a sheepish nod towards the man, not saying a word as she grabbed a clean flagon and began to fill it from one of the large, wooden barrels behind her. She gingerly placed it in front of Geralt, quickly excusing herself to attend to another table, looking behind her with her eyebrows knitted together in an unreadable emotion.

The bard went to reach for the flagon, but it was quickly swept away by the other man, some liquid sloshing over the rim and dripping onto his fingers with the force.

"Get your own," Despite his harsh scowl and words, there was no actual animosity towards the bard.

"I would, but it's hard to buy things when you have no money, Geralt!" The cadence of the bard's voice rose as he reached the end of his sentence and he crossed his arms over his chest, responding to Geralt's stare with one of his own.

The Witcher rolled his eyes and brought the drink to his lips, stopping for a moment and letting his eyes scan the room. Y/N ducked his head for a moment, finally bringing the tankard to his lips in an effort to hide his face as Geralt's gaze passed over his dingy little corner table.

"What's up?" The bard spoke, the playful tone no longer there.

Geralt paused for another moment, before turning back to face the bar again. "Nothing," even with the monotonicity of his voice, his uncertainty was clear. The bard took a look around the tavern for himself, a clearly puzzled look on his own face.

"Witcher?" A group of the local men had stood from their table and made their way to Geralt. The leader of the squad held his cap in his hands just in front of his stomach, fiddling with the material out of nerves. "We need your services."

Geralt turned to face the group of villagers fully, still holding the flagon in his right hand, as his elbow rested against the bar and held his weight. He raised an eyebrow when the leader of the group didn't continue but instead scrunched up his hat more in obvious discomfort.

Another villager to his left stepped forward. "A kikimore... There's a kikimore terrorising the eastern side of the village. They live closest to the woods bordering us... we've not been able to hunt for days and the farmers daren't tend to their fields."

"Are you sure it's a kikimore? There are no bog lands or swamps surrounding the area, it would be far from its comfort zone." Geralt stood to attention now, taking a final swig of his drink, before placing the empty container back on the bar.

"Do you take us for fools Witcher? We know what has been plaguing us." The villager stops for a moment, bowing his head and facing towards the ground, collecting himself with a breath. "There was a small effort but a night ago, some of our younger men grew tired of the beast's torment and attempted to claim its life for themselves. They did not make it. We heard their screams that night... and when the sun rose we saw the trails of blood leading back to the forest." He placed a hand on the leader's shoulder and squeezed it gently, "His son... was one of them."

"Will you help us, Witcher?" The barmaid spoke up from behind the group, placing a hand of her own on the leader's other shoulder in a sign of comfort for the teary-eyed man. "We have coin."

Geralt considered for a moment, before stepping forward, now standing a mere metre away from the group. "I'll take payment after."

The door to the tavern swung shut with a loud 'THUD' and from outside a horse let out a shout before its hooves we're heard hastily moving away from the tavern. The table where Y/N had sat now lay empty, save for a tankard of untouched mead and a few coins to pay for the drink.

*****

The Kikimore shrieked with a wailing cry as Y/N swung his sword at one of its eight, spindly legs once more. Dodging when it countered his attack and made a strike of its own.

The Dragonborn had seen many foul looking beasts in his time, but this was certainly one of the more grotesque. Even the necrotic flesh of the draugr or the disfigured forms of the seekers, in the realm of Apocrypha, were tough competitors.

It cried out again as Y/N turned on his heel and made a hard slash at one of its left legs, cutting the limb from the rest on its body. The beast stumbled backwards with the lack of extra support; with a sense of desperation, it made one last final charge at the dragon born, throwing its whole weight at him as it surged forward.

Y/N took his chance, leaping above the kikimore and driving his sword down into the top of its head, slicing through the bone of its skull and the much softer tissue of its brain. With the weapon still buried in the creature, he held on as it fell to the floor, kicking up the loose, moist dirt of the ground and splattering Y/N's leather armour.

It had been a while since the Dragonborn had killed something more than a pheasant or a deer, something that could fight back, something that made his blood pump through his veins and his body ache with the sudden exertion. It felt good to fight again; the blood staining the blade of his sword, dripping down, onto his fingers when he observed the red liquid in the light shining through the gaps in the forest canopy.

The dragon inside him let out a content sigh at the smell of the fallen kikimore's blood.

"WOW!" Y/N spun and held up his sword at the sudden sound, the tip of his blade pointing towards the bard from the tavern, his not as impressed companion close behind. "Now THAT was awesome. Did you see him Geralt?" The Witcher let out a grunt.

"You were from the tavern," Geralt spoke as Y/N lowered his weapon, pointing the blade towards the ground as he kept his eyes focused on Geralt. A smile tugged at his lips.

"Sorry for taking your kill... you can take the payment for it, I'm not interested in the coin." The Dragonborn made his way closer to the pair, watching the Witcher for a reaction that told him he was getting too close. "Your eyes... what is a Witcher?"

The bard beside them let out a small gasp, "does no one appreciate my music these days? You never heard 'toss a coin to your Witcher?'"

"A few too many times, to be honest, every bard across this land seems to sing it. Granted, it's better than some of the ballads we had back home- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Y/N turned to the bard.

"Jaskier, the greatest artist in all of the land at your service. In fact..." The bard clears his throat and steps forward, one arm behind his back and the other with his hand placed on the centre of his chest, "allow me to be the first, humble stranger, to write you a ballad of your own detailing all of your glorious-"

"You're wounded," Geralt interrupted Jaskier; the bard, in turn, dropped his arms in a defeated huff with an offended frown now plastered on his face.

Y/N looked down to his right shoulder where Geralt was staring, fresh blood slowly oozing from the small gash. "It's nothing, I'll treat it when I get back to the inn."

"It'll get infected... here," Geralt pulled a small glass jar filled with a thick, pale yellow liquid.

"Oh, so you offer your fancy healing solutions to the new guy, but never to me," Jaskier commented from the side of the two of them.

Y/N didn't take the potion, instead, he looked at it in Geralt's hands distrustfully. The other took the cork from the top of the potion, the action making a small 'pop' sound, and took a small sip from the potion for himself first, to prove it was safe to drink.

"It's called swallow, it'll help heal your wound and prevent infection." After another moment Y/N took the small bottle and brought it to his lips, smelling the potion first.

"Swallow? Couldn't have thought of a better name?" The Dragonborn tipped back his head as he drank the potion, pulling a face at the rather disturbing taste.

"It doesn't need a fancy name."

"The instructions are the name... Is everything about you so straightforward?"

"Is everything about you so mysterious?" Geralt bit back, a challenging glint to his eyes. Y/N matched the look, pushing back with his own scrutiny.

The back and forth gaze was broken when Jaskier spoke up again, oblivious to the mental battle between the two men. "That is quite a good point actually, what even is your name?"

"Y/N."

"Just Y/N... no title or anything?"

"Just Y/N."

"Your accent... you're not from here," Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, still watching Y/N like he was studying a new beast.

The Dragonborn let out a quick breath and smiled, his head slightly bowed to the forest floor. "No, I'm not. I'm from a land much further north."

"Why come here?"

Y/N shrugged for a moment, knitting his eyebrows as he tried to think of a good reason. "I'll have to come back to you on that one," he moved to untie his white mare from a tree close by, stroking at their broad neck as he guided them into a more open area and mounted the saddle. "When we next meet... I'll let you know."

*****

The tracks of the kikimore Y/N had killed were old, but still clear enough that a trained eye could follow them to the bog it had come from. It stunk, to say the least. The mix of rotting detritus, saturate mud and animal faeces left his eyes watering. moving through the stagnant puddles of water kicked up the smell further.

Through his teary gaze, he saw a familiar hulking figure. His white hair was striking against the dull shades of brown and grey. He hadn't acknowledged Y/N, that is if he knew he was there at all, even on his own the Witcher was still tensed, his shoulders hunched in a defensive position.

"Has it been bugging you too?" Y/N was the first to speak up as he came behind Geralt, the other seeming to jump at his voice, a hand on the hilt of his sword as he spun.

"Not many can sneak up on me... but yes." His hand fell back to his side, but he didn't take his gaze away from the other man.

"When I found the kikimore it seemed skittish, something that seemed foreign for a creature that looked like that. It was like its whole world had been knocked on its side." Y/N brushed his hands against the claw markings Geralt had been staring at in one of the larger cottonwood trees; there were two gashes, one significantly deeper and thicker than the first. The Dragonborn furrowed his brows at the familiar sight. "We do not have kikimore where I'm from, am I right in thinking it was strange?"

"Yes, Kikimores are usually dominant creatures," Geralt watched as Y/N traced the gashes with his index and middle finger. "You never exactly told us where you're from."

Y/N dropped his hand back to his side and turned to Geralt with a somewhat melancholy smile. "That's the thing... I don't actually know where I'm from, I just remember waking up... Not here... a place called Skyrim... Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say I have."

"I guessed. The land is encased in high, snowy mountains in most directions and the rivers which one could sail through is frozen over for most of the year. Skyrim itself is gloomy, with the only actual colour being that of blood either from the civil war, bandits or some human sacrifice to one of the nine divines. Not many people would want to go there if they've even heard of it to begin with."

"I can see why you left."

Y/N huffed a small laugh, "Even with all of its flaws, it was still home. I can't say this shit hole is any better."

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they searched further. The only sounds of the swamp were the rustling leaves of the canopy and the squelching of soaked mud beneath the pair's boots.

"Look here." Geralt called over, crouching down over a large footprint. It had three long lines pointing forward from a rounded, triangular base, a smaller, thicker line pointing in the opposite direction from the point. There were deep holes at the foot of each line, clearly large talons. "It looks like a dragon's print... but the size... I've never seen one this big."

Y/N crouched down beside Geralt, his hand hovering over the print. "An Elder Dragon... she's a long way from home..."

"She?"

"Her claws... on a female, the middle claw is usually longer while a male's are often even in length."

Geralt grunted, "We do not have elder dragons here. How would it of made it here without anyone seeing it?"

"It must be from Skyrim. Dragons, where I'm from, are intelligent... but an Elder Dragon's sheer size... I don't know it could have gotten here without being noticed." The Dragonborn's eyebrows furrowed once more as his head was filled with questions he couldn't answer. "We must find her, Skyrim was plagued with dragons. Despite their intelligence, they still do not think twice when it comes to destruction."

"I'm sorry, we?"

"Yes... we. I can take the dragon on myself, I don't need your help with that. But I have little knowledge of this land and considering you're here looking at mud I take it you have nothing better to do?" Y/N didn't give Geralt more than a second to respond before speaking again. "Great, I heard you take payment after?"

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #the witcher x male reader #male reader #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia x male reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia fic

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apocalypticwafflekitten · 3 years

Note

If you’d like, how about Maul with an S/O who likes to hold and touch his horns?… :>

Ohhhhh my gosh Nonnie! This is so cute!!!! Thank you for sending it in! 💗💗💗 I’m going to do some headcanons for this if that’s alright. I set this around TCW when Maul is Manda’lore!

*There’s a few headcanons for the smexy times, and I can’t add a cut since I’m on mobile, so ye youngins tread carefully. I’ve put in a warning where the NSFW headcanons start, so if you’re under 18, avert your eyes!

Horn Touching Headcanons!

Darth Maul x Reader

At first Maul will probably be hesitant to let you touch his horns.

They’re particularly sensitive, and he’s just learning how to properly take care of them.

Savage taught him how to buff, sharpen and polish them until they’re smooth and shiny.

So he’s super proud and protective of them now that they’re all pretty and sharp!

But once he gets more comfortable with you, he might let your hand venture up to his horns while you’re cuddling on the couch.

And when you do touch them for the first time?

Oooooohhhhhh it feels so good!!!

He’s surprised at first. How can something so simple feel so good? You’re just rubbing his horns. How can it feel this good?

‘It just does.’ He thinks, letting it go for the moment and enjoying the feeling.

No one else had ever touched his horns before. At least not like this. He’d done his fair share of agressive head-butting, and he’d used his horns to rip and tear, but they had never been used for anything else. They’d never felt anything so gentle or caring as your soft hands.

And now that he knows what it feels like? Say goodbye to your hands because they’re his now and they’re always rubbing his horns. He loves it!

When you decide to reach over and give his horns a massage, Maul can’t help but lean into the warmth of your hand with a very happy purr.

Smooth strokes up his horns, and small scritches at the base of them. Sometimes you’ll massage around them, and in those moments he swears he’s died and become one with the light side of the force because nothing else could feel this pleasant.

Well...maybe one or two things, but that’s a discussion for another day.... 😏

He loves how often you want to touch his horns. He’ll let you rub them anytime, anyplace.

In the morning when you’re laying beside him in bed? Yes!

During a meeting with the council? Definitely!

In the evening when he’s working on paperwork in his office? Yes please!

This man wants your hands on his horns all the time. Like, all the time.

Please touch this man’s horns he needs it.

Especially in the smexy times *eyebrow waggle*

Alright Yee youngins, if you’re under 18 boot it. Git. Avert yer eyes, for this is sin and I don’t want to have to exorcize you.

So...horn holding during the sexy times?

Hell. Yes.

Maul would spend eternity between your legs on a normal day, but if you so much as brush against his horns while he’s down there, you’ll have to actually pry him out.

It’ll take a lot of convincing and you might have to actually pry him away when you get overstimulated.

But yes please dash your hand out to grapple his horns when he hits that special spot between your legs. Squeeze his horns tighter and push him into you with those gorgeous moans of yours. He’ll live for that shit. He’d worship you for that.

And if you’re pegging this man and you grab his horns? It’s over for him. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been at it. It could be the first thrust or the twentieth, but if you grab his horns and yank his head back while you’re in him? Sorry, he’s cumming right then, right there, all over himself and the sheets with the loudest moan you think you’ve ever heard. The tingly sensation will course from his horns straight down his back and to his cock, and there no coming back from that.

And if it’s softer sex, with those gentle, loving touches, and whispered proclamations of love, Maul will bring your hand up to his horns and let you slowly massage them while he thrusts into you slow and gentle and with every ounce of love he has to offer. It’s a tender moment for him, and the feeling of your hands on his horns calms his racing heart and let’s him live in that moment, holding you, loving you, and being loved in return.

I hope you like my headcanons! These were really fun to write, so thank you again for the request! 💗💗💗

If you have anymore requests, my inbox is open!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags!

@justalittlecloud @fanficsforheartandsoul @thundershield @spookiifi

#darth maul x reader #darth maul smut #darth maul imagine #darth maul x you #darth maul #star wars

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