Ok ok I’m back and with part two. I kind of let myself get carried away with this one and im sorry if it got away from me. This will most likely be the last part so let your imaginations run wild. I have been binging Black Clover so I kind of started this and then completely forgot about it. My requests are open loves!
Word Count: 1,413
Imagine: Imagine: Meeting Geralt for the first time in a tavern you work at. At least to you it’s the first time. (Semi angsty Geralt)
CONTINUED
This was her fault, at least she knew that. At least she could admit that.
If stubborn had a picture next to it in the dictionary, her photo would be right next to it. Smiling like all hell, even if she knew that all hell was about to break loose.
There weren’t many things she was good at, but with the things she was, she wasn’t just good, she was amazing.
Lying, manipulating, being cold and calculated. These were all things she went above and beyond in.
This was different, however. She was in a situation, a bad one. One that not only put herself in danger but also someone she cared for.
She stood there in the middle of a windowless room, with a knife pressed against her throat.
She stared in front of her. There stood the most important person. Him.
He was the one person she truly cared about, loved, even. He could pull her out of her own head in an instant. But she would never admit it.
She wanted to think she was heartless.
Deep down, she knew. This wasn’t a time to laugh, it was a time to be scared, to fear for her life; but she couldn’t help it.
How could he seriously believe she cared this much about her life. Her simply complicated, dark, twisted life.
That was his mistake, his fault.
She couldn’t care less about what was going to happen to her. Whether she lived or died, it didn’t matter.
So, she laughed.
… you really think I give a fuck about what you do with me?
She could feel his eyes staring at her even as she looked at the floor.
The one and only person she cared about.
And the one she cared about the least.
… do it then.
She felt the blade press deeper into her skin as her captor’s grip got tighter.
He looked at her, eyes glossed.
And for a brief moment, he could see a small flicker of guilt on her face.
He knew that he loved her, but he would never admit it.
She was heartless.
She didn’t care about anybody but herself, and he knew that.
Geralt thought back to the last time that he had seen you. You were nothing like the girl he had run into at the tavern almost a year ago. You, no, that girl was not you.
Ever since that night he had been searching for the answer.
What happened?
Where had you gone?
Why?
He had asked these questions to himself repeatedly. Simply put, there was no answer. He had scoured villages, kingdoms, forests and realms. No one had anything that had any answers.
He instead turned his attention towards a more direct approach. Locating the woman he had seen at the tavern. The shell of your formal self that he had run into on that fateful night.
He had circled back to look for you. No one seemed to remember the bar wench or anything special about her, except for her low-cut dresses.
Geralt had to restrain himself while listening to his witnesses speak. The way they spoke about your body sent him into a rage. They spoke like animals and as if you were a piece of meat waiting to be devoured.
He knew you; he knew every part of you. He had explored every single inch of your body.
But the way the villagers thought of you. The way they vividly described the small part of you they were able to see in the dim tavern light made him want to start a massacre.
No one was able to royally piss him off as much as they did. No one except for you.
Your constant taunting about how there was never a lesser evil. How he didn’t need to treat you like you needed protecting. How he was breathing or walking. There was always something to bicker about.
Geralt mounted Roach once more. He was on his way out of Kaer Morhen. He had gotten all the rest and vials he needed to last him the year. He planned to continue his search for you for as long as he had to.
Until you were in his arms once more, starting petty arguments and laughing both with and at him.
The cold air nipped at his face; he hadn’t stayed the whole season at Kaer Morhen. Only long enough to stock up on what was needed to succeed in his mission. One without coin as his prize for winning.
As dusk started drawing closer, he had decided to set up camp for himself. Something small and sufficient for one night.
Geralt typically gravitated towards a river or stream, as to have water for himself and his horse. However, there was a spot that was barren. No water or actively flowing source of hydration. Instead, it was where he and you had snuck out to, dozens of times.
When Lambert or anyone else at Kaer Morhen had gotten on your nerves, he could usually find you here.
It was a small escape for you, and for Geralt it was a treasure trove of memories from the past.
During spring, it was littered with tulips and weeds. The tall trees surrounded it, creating a clearing and a perfect sky for you guys to gaze upon as you lay.
He could almost feel the warmth of your skin as he reminisced. The memory seemed too real.
Sprawled out in the clearing, nothing but nature under you.
You nested into Geralt’s arms, looking up at the blue sky. His hands rested atop your abdomen as you plucked the grass mindlessly from the earth. His scent was so calming to you. Of course, you teased and taunted him, but he knew it was all good fun.
At first, he didn’t find it so amusing. He thought you were stubborn and narcissistic. But just as soon as he realized why you acted the way you did, he was already enthralled by you.
He found himself concerned with your safety and your recklessness. He wanted to fight to protect you even in the smallest of altercations. Geralt was well aware of your abilities and what you were capable of, but he didn’t care, he had a need to make sure you were safe.
You were indeed stubborn. Protection wasn’t something you felt you needed. You could feel yourself becoming more and more captivated by him and his ways, but you didn’t like being vulnerable.
Everytime you felt that emotions were starting to peek through, you put up walls. The only time he had ever truly seen you at peace was in this clearing.
Geralt could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He longed to be with you once more. He was the only person that truly knew you and likewise. He had let parts of himself that no one had ever seen be free around you.
As he approached the clearing the memories grew fonder and stronger, as did the faint glow to a dancing light.
Somone has tainted this land.
He dismounted Roach and was sure to be quiet. He stopped far enough back that he was still masked by the darkness.
“Stay here.”
He quietly muttered; the steed slightly nodded as if understanding what he had just said.
The Witcher drew closer, taking small and quiet steps, careful not to draw any attention towards his direction.
He knew it was not a monster or beast, simply a human looking for a camp. But not here, not in is sacred place.
The warmth of the fire slowly started to crawl to his skin. It was a change from the frigid temperature that surrounded him.
A sheet of ice shattered beneath his foot, and he held his breath.
Damnit it.
A cloaked figure looked in his direction, though he was sure they couldn’t see him he shrunk back into the shadow of the tree.
He waited, waited for a proper amount of time, till he was sure the person had assumed it was an animal or their imagination.
He conditioned his stealth like walk over to the clearing.
He could see now that the figure had moved. They were standing up, staring directly at him. With the distance he had covered, the flames of the fire surely illuminated his features as so with the cloaked figure.
Hey guys, not really sure if anyone is still active on this account anymore but I had this Idea in my head and I couldn’t get it out until I wrote it. Also, I have a new obsession which is who this short one shot is about. Enjoy my manic writing
Word Count: 1,151
Imagine: Meeting Geralt for the first time in a tavern you work at. At least to you it’s the first time. (Semi angsty Geralt)
Loud laughter and the smell of alcohol flooded your senses, much like it did every night. The tavern was especially full tonight due to some event that had taken place about two doors down. Men were hollering for food and ale left and right, and it was your job to bring it to them.
A pretty smile and a mildly revealing dress brought business to you but didn’t do too much in ways of respect.
“Oi, another one!”
You made eye contact with the man who was already well on his was of having a massive hangover tomorrow and nodded.
“Here you go love.” You placed the mug down on his table as he slammed his coin down and gave you a lewd stare. You gave him an innocent smile in return and grabbed the payment before walking away.
Tonight couldn’t go by any faster.
You stood back behind the bar, watching as the patrons enjoyed their time. Talking, drinking, laughing, just living their lives, blissfully naive. You couldn’t help but softly laugh to yourself.
No one here had any idea of what the real Continent was like. How cruel it could be, how power-hungry and callous it really was.
Everyone in here was safe from the outside. Redania’s walls protected them from any harm. Now that was something truly laughable.
It seemed as if your frigid thoughts had become real and escaped into the tavern itself. All the enjoyment of patrons had disappeared and turned into a sudden united feeling of animosity.
You glanced up from the dirty spot you were wiping down, trying to find the source. The brittle air from the door swinging open was the only thing that had changed, aside from the sudden lack of noise.
You kept looking around, trying to find the misplacement.
A tall, robed figure, dressed in black with silver stands of hair peeking from underneath the hood.
A strong sense of urgency came with your findings, almost as if something was telling you to run and fast. But you didn’t, you kept your place behind the bar, watching as the newcomer continued walking.
“We don’t like your kind ‘round here.”
Your eyes shot over to the disruption of silence.
“Mutant”
The stillness had been broken as more people spoke.
Venemous words poured out from the mouths of the patrons, like it was a common occurrence for them.
A low hum came from the silver haired man, and he just continued walking as the insults grew.
“I’ll be on my way soon enough.”
His voice was deep, deep enough to settle down the vindictive voices. As soon as he spoke, the silence was back, soon enough so was the chatter.
The dim light from the lanterns slowly illuminated his features as he drew closer.
He lowered his hood, and you were now fully able to see his features.
Silver hair, almost like mercury, messy and disheveled.
Black leather armor, with scattered silver studs.
A sharp, but pained face. Along with a pair of piercing yellow eyes.
“Ale?”
He nodded, staring at you.
His gaze pierced yours.
“And...”
You looked up from pouring his tankard as he paused with his words.
“Why is someone like you working as a bar wench?”
His voice was low this time, leaning more into the bar top.
You were taken aback. Who was he to question you? He may be a more handsome type but there was no right to objectify you like that. As much as you wanted to berate him for his words, you kept an innocent smile on your face.
“Just ‘tryn to make ends meet.”
You kept your chaste grin as you handed him his frothy drink.
“No.”
His voice was still low as he talked.
“That’s not what I meant, Y/n.”
Your smile faltered and you looked around. The villagers here loved gossip and that was the majority of the reason why you kept yourself in the shadows. They all wanted to be in the next person's business for tomorrow's latest scandal.
“That’s not my name.”
He just kept staring at you, his expression grew harder with each passing second. And so did the silence between you two.
“Coin?” You held out your hand, waiting for him to drop his pay into your palm. But he didn’t.
He cocked his head to the side and let out the same hum he had when he first entered the tavern.
That same intense feeling of needing to run away came back once more, but again you didn’t. You kept your hand out, awaiting his payment until he finally dropped a small bag into your grasp. Just by the weight of it, you knew it was far too much.
“For ends meet.”
He leaned off the counter and dropped his eyes.
Without saying a word, he put his hood back on his head once more and turned to leave.
You watched him walk away, the same sense of fleeing still hanging on in your mind.
You ignored it yet again and opened the pouch he had given you. You were right, it was far too much.
You looked down at his untouched tankard.
Far too much for a drink he didn’t touch once.
He walked out of the tavern and mounted Roach.
Its her.
Those were the only words that haunted his mind. He knew it was her. He could never forget her, never stop thinking about her. Nothing about her was forgettable.
He rode to the outskirts of Blaviken, where the road met the woods.
This is where he was going to find it.
The monster that had been haunting the village. More importantly, the monster he had been paid to kill.
He set up camp along the river. It gave him plenty of access to water for himself and his horse, as well as a means of having a shower after a long day of traveling.
It was very much needed.
He had traveled from village to village, killing what was needed for coin. It was the life he lived. But not his sole adventure. He had been looking for her for quite some time now, around a year. He had heard of a bar wench in Blaviken that had her features, and her temperament. But it was gone. This girl that he had just spoken to wasn’t the same.
The remarks that he had heard people say about her would’ve sent her into a rage.
The remarks that she had heard people say about him would've caused some type of casual battle.
Rage was common for her, at least the real her, but for Geralt it was rare. He kept it concealed withing himself. Rage and hate are what cause unnecessary death and destruction, something he wasn’t too fond of.
However, all he could feel right now was pure, unrectified rage.
Someone took him from her, and that was cause for death.
I really didn’t know where to go with this so I just ended it. Feel free to add onto it and make a part two, just make sure to tag me so I can see it! Anyway, I hope you all are having a great day/night and I want you to all know that you’re beautiful and worth it.
Word Count: 515
Sweat dripped down your chest as you plunged your blade into the heart of the werewolf.
You heaved, looking over at the long-haired man that was tied up across the room. You walked over to him, kneeling down beside him. As you gently shook him you heard a groan.
“Hey? Are you okay?” You spoke softly. The man jumped and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Don’t freak out. I’m here to help.”
He looked at you with wide blinking eyes and nodded.
“Is it dead?”
You nodded and took out your pocket knife, cutting him loose. You knew what came next, the talk. No matter how many times you had to do it, it never got any easier. Knowing that you could be possibly ruining someone’s life.
“Ok this is going to sound unbelievable and you might think I’m crazy but my name is Y/f/n and I hunt monsters-“
“My brother? Where is he?” He shrugged off what you had just said like it was nothing.
“Your brother?”
He nodded trying to get up, but you held him down. He looked up at you, surprised you had the strength to hold down a man of his stature.
“I’ll find him, where did you see him last?” You asked him, really hoping to find this mystery brother okay and our of harm's way.
You were taken by surprise as the man gently grabbed your arm but he was interrupted as a loud bang came from outside the barn. You grabbed your gun from your waistband and gave the guy a look you were hoping he understood, which he apparently did, because he slunk back down in his place on the ground.
You stalked your way over to the door, keeping your gun raised. But you found yourself lowering it when the door opened and you saw a familiar face. You had traded out your gun for your fist as it connected with his face.
He looked up at you with confusion.
“Y/n?” You looked up at him, as he towered over your frame.
“Dean.” You huffed. “You’re the brother?”
His expression immediately shifted. “You know where Sam is, where is he?” He rushed out.
You rolled your eyes at him and lead him over to the secluded corner of the barn where Sam had been tied up. As soon as Dean caught sight of his brother he ran over to him dropping him to his knees.
“Sam, Sammy? Can you hear me?” You stood behind Dean as he shook Sam awake.
Sam eventually woke up and had gotten himself to stand up. But Dean was still being his overprotective self. You could tell Sam wasn’t crazy about his brother still holding him up, especially because he could hold his own.
Sam had hoisted himself into Dean’s car and shut the door. You took this as an opportunity bring up that past. You knew why Dean was so confused when he had seen you for the first time in forever. You could recall back when you were the little innocent Y/n you had been for so long.
I’m back bitches!! I know I’ve had a long hiatus and I’m sorry for not keeping you guys updated. I’m back at public school and I’ve been dealing with my mental health, but I’m back. And it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some angst or sadness, lemme know what you guys think <3
Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse
Word Count: 724
You shook as you clutched the bathroom sink. Tears pricked at your eyes. Why? Why did everything happen to you? Your bangs fell onto your face but you didn’t brush them away.
You looked up at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were glassy and your nose was red. But you weren’t going to cry, you were too numb. Instead, you stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating on what to do next.
You woke up with a pounding headache. Everything was fuzzy, even the quiet clinging of medal beside you. As you groaned and rolled over, you immediately regretted it. Your body ached, especially down there. You winced in pain and tried to look around the room.
You could make out someone looking at you.
“James?”
You turned on the shower, putting it on the hottest setting, and you walked in. You didn’t know what to do. How could he do this to you? Almost every emotion imaginable flooded you; guilt, sadness, anger. But there was nothing you could do, you couldn’t cry, you couldn’t scream because nothing would come out. You just sat there in the boiling water doing nothing. More memories flooded into your brain.
You sat alone in the room, your vision clearing up. You tried to get up but your legs felt like jello beneath you. There was a bloodstain on the bed and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The one thing that you actually liked about yourself had been taken, you were no longer innocent.
You were taken out of your flashback as you heard a knock on the bathroom door.
“Y/n?”
You stopped your movement.
You stuttered as you spoke. “S- stiles?”
“Y/n? It’s me. Are you okay? We lost you last night.”
You didn’t say anything back. You turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your body and going for the door. But it opened from the other side.
“The door was wide open, I’m sorry for barging in-“ He cut himself off as he took in your appearance. Your skin was beet red and your cheeks were puffy, and you had a bruise along your back where the towel slacked.
“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” He rushed out all at once.
You couldn’t answer, instead, your eyes welled up and out came the tears you had tried so hard to keep in.
Stiles immediately grabbed you in his arms and pulled you in. Hushing you as you bawled. He cooed at you, repeatedly telling you that you were safe and that you were okay.
Eventually, you pulled away from him, looking up at his sorrowful eyes.
“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was dancing and the next I woke up and James was next to me, he was fixing his belt-“ He cut you off and looked at you sternly yet with a look of guilt in his eyes.
“What did he do Y/n?” He asked.
You shook your head, not wanting to say the words out loud. You knew it had happened, he knew what had happened but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually speak the words.
“I’m going to kill him! Look, we’re gonna go get Scott and we’ll-“ this time you cut him off.
“Stiles please” you begged “Please you can’t tell anyone” Tears were streaming from your eyes again. He just looked at you until his once defensive demeanor had softened. He took in how broken you really were. He looked at the bruise on your back that had caught attention again. He stared at it in the mirror and sighed.
“Y/n, we have to tell someone. My dad could help protect you, I could help protect you.”
You looked at him long and hard, until you caught his gaze. He wasn’t looking at you, but behind you. You turned around and looked in the mirror at your back that was now black and blue.
You sighed, sniffling as you kept staring at yourself. Maybe Stiles was right. Maybe you did need to tell someone. Were you the first girl he had done this to? Were you the last? These questions flooded your brain until he snapped you out of it. Stiles lightly touched your arm and looked at you in the eyes. You looked back up at him.
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