lunarfrost



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  1. Public Bookmark 70

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    “How else are they to get clean?” asked Regis, drawing his chair closer. “Even without the blood, they looked as though they could use a soak. How long have you been wearing them?”

    “Couple of months.” The witcher looked down at his wound, grazing pale fingers over the puckered flesh. A fine crust had formed where the skin came together. “Might as well have been wearing a silk nightgown for all the good it did me.”

    “That can always be arranged,” said Regis, and he had intended it as a joke, but it came out unexpectedly sincere. He surprised himself; after over three centuries of life, he’d assumed he had all his sexual inclinations worked out, and then a pretty witcher comes along…

    A younger Regis, fresh from his fifty year reformation, comes upon an injured Geralt and decides to nurse him back to health. But not entirely for the right reasons.

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    17 Sep 2021

  2. Public Bookmark 39

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    “I want to check something,” he said after a long moment, drawing a few unsullied handkerchiefs from his pocket. “Smile for me. Gently.”

    Geralt did. His lips stretched into a small, warm smile, like those he extended Yennefer, and Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat.

    Who ever said you can't always get what you want?

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    16 Sep 2021

  3. Public Bookmark 52

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    “It’s not your fault,” Geralt finally ground out, coming to stop before his trophy shelf. He flexed his hands a few times. “I thought this was fine. I thought it would work.” He shook his head, and Regis’ heart plummeted even further.

    “Geralt," he said quietly. "You don't owe me anything, neither your love or your friendship. If ever I-"

    “I already told you,” said Geralt, a little harsher and louder than necessary. “It’s nothing to do with you. I want you. I want this." His voice dropped in volume as he continued. "There's just something wrong with me, Regis.”

    Geralt grapples with the abuse he experienced as a young man. Regis is there to guide him through it.

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    16 Sep 2021

  4. Public Bookmark 86

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    He didn’t notice the headlights in time to evade the vehicle barrelling toward him. A dull pain blossomed in his leg and he toppled over, slamming into the asphalt hard enough to bloody his nose and smash the bottle of bourbon he’d been gifted. He groaned, writhed, rubbed his leg, and raised his head just enough to see that he’d been hit by a red Lamborghini. Some rich asshole, no doubt, and Geralt knew immediately there was no possibility of getting a new bottle of bourbon out of them. Groaning, he lifted himself from the ground and picked up his plastic bag, hobbling for the sidewalk.

    “Hey, wait a second!” A man had leapt out the car and run after him. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, are you alright?”

    Geralt turned to frown at them. It was an old man. Black hair with hints of grey, black eyes, pale skin, and muttonchops. He didn’t seem to groom himself very well, which was surprising for a rich guy.

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    16 Sep 2021

  5. Public Bookmark 66

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    A man Regis recognised as the famed White Wolf would come into his coffee shop every day at four, order a black coffee with two sugars, and situate himself at the corner-most table with a pile of manilla envelopes and that days newspaper. He didn't try to engage the staff in conversation, nor did he pay the other patrons any mind. He would sit in that corner for three hours and do nothing but read.

    Regis had thought, at first, that he had come to scope out the location of his next job. He had good reason to be nervous, as the establishment was not only owned by a vampire, but entirely run by them.

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    16 Sep 2021

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