CORVUS

it wasn’t supposed to be possible. everything you’ve heard about witchers- everything geralt has told you- pointed to the idea that this wasn’t possible.

as soon as even a whiff of you feeling ill crossed geralt’s nose, he practically dragged you by the ear to the nearest apothecary; glaring at the poor woman the entire time she checked you over. muttering under her breath and sighing as she leans back in her wicker chair.

“girl,” she hisses, venom lacing her voice in a way that makes geralt bare his teeth. she visibly flinches under the weight of his glare. “i’m not the most informed on how witcher.. bits work,” she explains, opening her palms outward and taking your shaking hands in hers. “if my knowledge serves me right,” her lips upturn into a smile with a little too much lip to keep from turning into a sneer, “you’re going to be a mother-”

you turn away from the woman as geralt’s sword cleaves through her neck, blood spraying across your face as the head falls, now detached, from her neck. everything feels.. numb, and far away; you don’t even register geralt’s calloused hands wrapping under your knees and shoulders, carrying you away from the apothecary’s shop.

he takes you to a stream that runs behind the apothecary, gently placing you on a stone long flattened by rushing water. your teeth chatter and hands shake as he splashes cold water on your face and neck, gently scrubbing away the tackied blood.

you stare at nothing as geralt’s hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close enough you can hear his inhumanly slow heartbeat. with his own shirt discarded somewhere nearby, the unnatural heat of geralt’s skin is a gentle brand and tether to the present.

geralt presses his nose to your scalp, breathing in deeply to inhale as much of your scent as possible. “you don’t..” he pauses, picking his words carefully, “smell different.”

“what if she’s right.” you can’t bring yourself to phrase it as anything more than a statement. a question would feel too real and set in stone. “what if i am-”

“then we’ll get rid of it.” geralt states, blunt and simple. “i’ll find silphium so it can’t develop any further.”

tears catch at your waterline, your breath hitching in fear and anticipation both. you pray to whatever god lends an ear to witchers that it’s that simple. “..please.”

“consider it done.” geralt hums, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “i might have some in the saddlebags.” he stands, wrapping his cloak around you as you shiver in the early evening breeze. you stand as well, following behind him to the campfire he had set up earlier.

roach whinnies as geralt digs through her saddlebags, clearly not impressed at being bothered so late into the day. he huffs alongside her, face drawn tight in concentration. anticipation and fear make your blood thrum under your skin; only letting up when geralt turns with silphium held triumphantly in his grasp.

“from what i remember, you eat the seed pods raw or cook them into a tea.” geralt says, leading you back to the fire and settling down next to you. your head rests at the crux of his neck, his breath fanning over your nose as his deft fingers coax the seed pods out of the flower. “eat.”

not wanting to waste another minute in the hellish limbo state you’ve been plunged into, you swallow the bitter seeds whole; trying not to grimace at the taste. geralt hums, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to his chest, close enough you can feel his heartbeat against your ear.

silence fills the void of conversation comfortably for a few minutes while your brain runs a mile a minute. gods you hope this works, or this whole ordeal is just an overreaction-

“i love you, you know.” geralt says into the night, and tears burn hot against your waterline again. “we’ll get through this.”

and the way he says it, so surely, so matter of fact, you can’t help but believe him.

❥ you’ve always suspected something was… off with you. like a floor tile just crooked enough to be noticeable but not obstructive in the long run. something that caught your eye in your peripheral vision but disappeared when you got a good look.

❥ it wasn’t until the strange circus performer aptly named pierrot intruded in your life that you truly started paying attention to it.

❥ his gaze lingered far too long to be casual glances- but that was normal. for him, anyway. you got used to his eyes boring holes into your back pretty early on. but, sometimes, it looked like he was looking through you. seeing something you couldn’t notice yourself.

❥ today, though, pierrot makes his move.

❥ he slinks into your apartment with the ease of well-practiced movement, opening and closing your slider door without a sound. he steps carefully to your bed, avoiding all of the creaky spots on the floor and kneeling down onto the bed, close enough for his head to rest on the mattress.

❥ “my lord,” pierrot greets, lowering his head in a faux-bow. “my sweet, naive lord.” his fingers crawl up the sheets, and he presses a hand against your temple, shivering at the low groan you let out unconsciously.

❥ what he’s looking for doesn’t rest on your head, but rather, in it. something hidden deep in the crevices of your brain, hidden beneath the typical amnesia of early childhood memories.

❥ it doesn’t take long to find it, humming in thought as he watches the memory replay. little you, swaddled in a fluffy blanket as a faceless person lays you on the doorstep of a quiet house, lights out and windows shuttered. when they turn to leave, they don’t even bother to turn back; instead, their steps slow noticeably and their body visibly relaxes as you let out a wail.

❥ an older pair of humans toddle to the doorstep, and they coo softly at the pile of blankets with little you swaddled in the very center. the door closes behind them, and pierrot returns to the present; and he can’t stop the grin that splits his face.

❥ your hand has wrapped around his, tugging him closer in your slumber. pierrot nearly vibrates with excitement. “my lord,” he whispers reverently, “you are devine while you sleep.”

“halsin,” your footsteps echo on the cold stone of the grove’s meeting room, grabbing halsin’s attention by the reigns. “i would like to try something with you tonight.”

he raises an eyebrow, but gestures for you to continue speaking. you grin, marching up to where he’s sitting and whispering into his ear. he blushes from his clavicle to the tips of his ears.

“if it pleases you, i will do so.”

presently, you hiss as halsin shifts slightly from his position, warm hole pleasantly wrapped tight around your cock, slick from the oil kept hidden in halsin’s desk for this very purpose. he pants against your shoulder, his more toned stomach pressing against your softer one and creating a pleasant friction.

his cock is nestled at the crook of his thighs, swollen and red at the tip from which a steady rivulet of precome drips down the shaft.

“fuck,” halsin hisses, hips humping your spread legs in hopes to fuck your length deeper into him. “i had not realized nor anticipated how-” his words drop into a low moan as your dick presses against a sensative spot, “full i would feel in this position.”

“that’s the idea,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against halsin’s shoulder. he nuzzles closer to the contact readily, and you’re happy to oblige; latching your mouth onto the crux of his throat and sucking the skin until it blooms purple. “my wonderful halsin.”

“gods,” he chokes, huffing out a laugh, “i do not think i will last much longer.”

“neither do i,” you whisper in return. he grunts, and you guide one of his hands to his own throbbing length, wrapping his fingers are it and giving it a few tentative strokes. “touch yourself for me, won’t you?”

halsin whines, deep and low in his throat. it’s animalistic, primal in a way that makes your core thrum with tightly-wound pleasure. “halsin,” you warn, hips bucking ever deeper into his hole, “i’m going to come. do it with me.”

halsin nods, clearly unwilling to disobey your command. his head throws back as his body tenses, legs tightening their hold against your waist as his dick spurts hot, white ropes of come onto your chest and his thighs.

your own release follows quickly after his, biting into halsin’s clavicle and pulling him flush against your skin, moaning deeply as you come inside halsin.

you’ve known adrian for a long, long time. you’ve watched civilizations rise and fall with his hand in yours. you’ve spent countless winters with him. time has slipped through your fingers like shadows running long during the winter solstice.

but you’ve never bared yourself to him like this. skin stripped raw with a vulnerability that felt more unnatural than sharing a bed with him, pressed skin-to-skin to counteract the colder northern climate.

the tub is warm, water just hot enough to blush your skin, but not enough to scald. your arms wrap around your chest, trying to keep adrian’s eyes off the goosebump-speckled flesh.

with your back turned to him, it should be easy to pretend he’s not there at all. however, adrian’s deft fingers work into your scalp, kneading the skin and pressing into your pounding temples.

he doesn’t even flinch at the blood staining the water a muddled red.

the sight of it sickens your stomach, curdling your intestines and making bile rise to your throat. the very process disgusted you nearly to the point of illness- were you not in pain for a week every lunar phase it could have been a minor inconvenience at best. but the world is not kind; horrible nausea, cramping like being hit with rocks repeatedly in your gut leaving you bed bound for days, and bleeding enough to soak through the bedsheets.

adrian hums, grabbing your attention. you incline your head to show you’re listening. “if you think it would be helpful, i can rub your lower back to ease some of the pain. only with your permission of course.”

you nod, and the water sloshes slightly around you as his hands sink under the water and hover against your waist. tension could tight in your gut as his fingers press into the dimples of your back, touch gentle enough to be noticeable but not intrusive.

adrian sighs through his nose, clearly gathering his thoughts. “i know it might not mean much to you,” he starts, and you have to suppress the urge to turn and look at him. not now- not with your chest exposed to him, bared for all the world to see and leer at. “but your body does not define you.”

you scoff. “that is easy for you to say, my love. the amount of times you have been mistaken as a girl is more than i can count on one hand.” adrian’s androgynous appearance made you simmer with jealousy, but you would never admit that to him. his vampiric beauty lended nicely to his body and made him appear ethereal to the average person.

“i’m well aware of that fact.” adrian responds, hands raising above the water and returning to his side to reach for the cloth resting on the rim of the tub, “yet i wanted to tell you anyway. even if you may not internalize it. you have always been my husband in all but name, and nothing your body does will change that.”

tears gather in your eyes at the factual tone adrian addresses you with. he speaks the praise like it is fact, written in stone and signed in blood. your breath stutters as you fight the burning in your throat. “you don’t mean that.”

“oh, but i do. it’s truth the same way night will fade into day.” adrian says, letting a hand rest on your shoulder. you turn to face him this time, a single tear escaping your waterline. “your body doesn’t define you, my love. my husband.” he presses a kiss to your temple, gentle and reverent.