#(Geralt is racing against time before she gets too frustrated on the side of the road and just eats his order)

[muffinlance]

The Witcher but it takes Geralt five novels and two video game adaptations to open his damn takeout bag (he misplaced it in book two)

*cradling bag of take-out to my chest like a newborn princeling being whisked to safety out of the grasp of the Mad Usurper's army* i'll protect you my liege

[teawrites01]

Don’t Forget About Me (Part 2)

Geralt x reader

Part 2! I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to send me requests!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt had been sitting next to Jaskier for the past several hours, worry and grief written across his face. He was still trying to process everything that had happened. The image of Jaskier holding a limp, bloodied and pale Y/N was imprinted in his mind. He kept seeing Jaskier slowly shaking his head, signalling to Geralt how injured Y/N really was. Fear gripped him as he remembered her trying to comfort him as if she wasn’t the one dying. He felt sick.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Jaskier tried his best to comfort his friend, though he felt lost himself. He too struggled to not think about the way her blood felt between his fingers, or the slowing of her breathing and the look of panic in her eyes.

“Why would she do that? What was she thinking?” Geralt wasn’t sure if he was looking for an answer or if he was just trying to process.

“She was thinking that you loved Yennefer and would be happier with her.” Jaskier murmured. Geralt felt a pain shoot through his chest at that. Was this his fault? Did he really make her feel as though he didn’t love her? Even more so, did he make her think that her life wasn’t worth his happiness?

Geralt’s thoughts were cut off by Yenneifer making her way down the stairs, her eyes filled with relief and a small smile on her face. At that, Geralt and Jaskier immediately hopped out of their chairs.

“Let them have some time.” Yennefer stopped Jaskier as he tried to follow Geralt who was bounding up the stairs two at a time. He nodded and sent Geralt a small smile.

Bursting through the door, Geralt stopped dead in his tracks. The sight of Y/N lying there, limp and pale in the bed was almost enough to bring him to his knees. He drew near and sucked in a breath at the dark bags under her closed eyes, clearly left there from the blood loss she had endured. Not wanting to disturb her, he quietly removed his filthy armour. In the rush of getting Y/N back to the inn where Yennefer could finish healing her, he had forgotten about his armour. He was still covered in kikimora blood. Taking one more look at her, he slowly made his way to the bathroom.

After frantically scrubbing away the filth and getting dressed, he quietly moved to the bed. Slowly, he lowered himself beside her, being careful not to wake her. Reaching out, he gently began stroking her hair. Touching her and feeling her warmth calmed the panic in his chest. He couldn’t help but remember all the times he had done just this.

Her hair kept blowing across her face and directly into her mouth as she tried to eat the food Geralt had offered her. He watched the frustration grow on her face and she would go to take a bite and end up spitting out her hair. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You better not be laughing at me!” Her gaze settled on him, her mouth formed into a pout. He had wanted to kiss that pout away but didn’t want to risk scaring Y/N. He knew he had feelings for her… were they only just feelings? What he felt seemed much more than that. And then it hit him; he felt love. He loved this woman.

Reaching out cautiously, he pulled her hair out of her face and brushed it back, only to find himself holding his hand against the side of her head. She gave him a small grateful smile, pink brushing across her cheeks. Beautiful, she was beautiful, and he loved her.

“Geralt!” He jumped up as fast as he could and rushed toward her voice. The panic she vocalized spurring him on. He raced past Jaskier, who watched him run before returning to tuning his lute. Geralt finally broke into the clearing where he could see Y/N standing, facing away from him. Coming up behind her, he spun her around, immediately searching for any sign of injury. She held up her finger which was an angry red, a bump already forming.

“I just wanted to hold the spider… he was trying to get back to his web and couldn’t reach.” She pouted and leaned into his chest. After making their way back to camp, he kissed and wrapped her finger before settling next to the fire, holding her. With her between his legs and her head against his chest he slowly started petting her hair. She hummed in content.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I know a spider bite must seem dumb compared to what you deal with.” She mumbled against his chest. He paused to kiss the crown of her head before continuing the comforting touch.

“It’s not dumb. You were hurt and you called out for me. If anything, I am honoured that you consider me your protector. I will always be here to take care of your spider bites, my love.” Saying such things should have felt strange for the brooding Witcher, but saying them to the woman he held in his arms only felt right.

Geralt held Y/N close, their naked bodies sharing each other’s warmth. Y/N smiled up at him, more joy than he had ever seen lit her eyes. He had wanted to make things official between them for weeks, but travelling with Jaskier sleeping no more than eight feet away had ensured they kept their hands to themselves. He leaned down to press a kiss to her hairline before holding her close to his chest, running his large fingers through her soft hair. She let out a deep breath before relaxing against him.

“Can I… uhm… can I tell you something?” She fiddled with the ends of his white hair nervously. He shifted, concern lighting his eyes as he noted how nervous she really was.

“Of course, anything my dear.” He couldn’t help but feel nerves of his own. Did she not enjoy herself? Was she rethinking their relationship? Was she- his thoughts were cut off by a soft,

“I love you.” She looked up at him, searching his eyes for approval of her statement. He couldn’t prevent a boyish grin taking over his face. His heart fluttering, he felt like a normal person. In that moment he wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t a mutant and he wasn’t the White Wolf. He was just a man who loved a woman so much he could barely control what came out of his mouth.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know, little bird.” He pressed a firm kiss to her lips. She smiled against him before rolling on top of him to finish what they had started.

His memories were interrupted by Y/N’s eyes flying open. She gasped and tried to sit up. Her eyes were wild and she was trembling.

“Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe!” She continued to breath heavily, eyes scanning the room, trying to figure out where she was. Geralt reached out to touch her, only to have her flinch away. In fear of her re-injuring herself, he grabbed her face.

“It’s me. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Her panicked eyes met his. It took only a moment for her body to soften and slump into him.

“I’m sorry.” She began to sob, her whole body shaking. Geralt held her close while trying to decipher what she could possibly be sorry for. She had come back to him. She was sitting beside him, breathing. Alive.

“Why are you apologizing, my love?” He ran his hand carefully down her back, trying his best to comfort her.

“I caused all of this. I’m sorry for being a burden,” Her crying began to quiet down. Geralt stared at her in surprise, not understanding. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay.” Geralt couldn’t help but feel she didn’t only mean staying there in that room with her.

“What?” He finally managed. Y/N fiddled with her fingers nervously before finally quickly explaining

“I know you want to be with Yennefer. It’s okay, I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about my feelings. I know you are a good man and don’t want to hurt me but I can’t bear being the reason you aren’t truly happy.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“What are you talking about? I don’t want to be with Yennefer.” He stated, and in that moment, he started piecing things together. How she shut down the morning after Yennefer had showed up. And how little he had seen of her the past week.

“Oh no, my love… I am so sorry. I love you. I want you. Not Yennefer, not even a little bit. I am so sorry I made you feel otherwise. I want to spend my life with you, Y/N. I want to wake up and go to sleep next to you. There is nothing I want more than to be there for every smile, receive every kiss and love you as long as I breathe.” Geralt confessed. He looked down to see her eyes tearing up, now for another reason. She leaned into his chest. Geralt slowly eased her back down to the bed, careful of her still-healing abdomen.

“I guess I should thank Yen for healing me.” Y/N states.

“I think you two are even. You saved her life to begin with.” She could hear the unhappiness in Geralt’s voice at the situation.

“Please don’t ever do anything like that again. I was so scared… I thought I lost you. I thought I would never get to hold you again.” The Witcher’s voice cracked, sending pain flaring through Y/N’s chest. Hearing the fear in Geralt’s voice was jarring as the Witcher rarely showed discomfort. Geralt pulled Y/N closer to him. The two of them quickly fell asleep, exhaustion finally taking over. Geralt couldn’t help but wake up at every little movement to ensure she was okay.

The following morning, Geralt grudgingly left Y/N’s side to care for Roach, leaving Jaskier to watch over her. He happily sat down next to her, excited to finally be able to see his best friend.

“You’re such a jerk! How could you scare me like that?” Jaskier joked, but she could tell that he was genuinely afraid.

“I’m alright Jaskier, I just had a little… set back. And besides, at least we get to stay in the inn for a while rather than on the cold, hard ground.” She smirked up at him.

“Fair.” Was all he responded with. The two of them quickly looked up as Yennefer crept into the room.

“Awe, c’mon. I just got here!” Jaskier dragged himself away from Y/N’s side and made his way to the door. Y/N smiled and waved in his direction. With a final dramatic sigh, he left the room.

After a moment of silence, Y/N gestured to the empty spot next to her. Yennefer slowly made her way over to it. After she took a seat on the bed she immediately started,

“I don’t know how to thank you. I’ve been thinking about it for the past day and I can’t figure out why you would do that for me.” Yennefer looked genuinely lost.

“If Geralt loves you then you are worth protecting in my eyes.” Y/N said nonchalantly. Yennefer stared at her, trying to decipher her words.

“He’s lucky to have you. He needs someone to love him enough for the both of you. I couldn’t do that. Hence why we are much better off as friends. I hope you don’t see me as a threat, Y/N. I don’t care for Geralt in that way and he certainly doesn’t see me like that either. He only has eyes for you.” Her words put the last bit of doubt to rest. Y/N was happy to feel any leftover nerves leave her chest.

“Thank you, Yen. I appreciate it.” The two women smiled at each other. Though a friendship may not have been in the cards at that exact moment, it definitely wasn’t out of the question for the near future.

Yen left the room after some more conversation and checking Y/N’s abdomen, which seemed to be healing quickly, thanks to Yennefer’s magic, of course. Y/N had become visibly exhausted and settled back into the soft bed just before Yen left the room. Yennefer closed the door behind her before turning to find the Witcher leaning against the wall.

“How much did you hear?” She glared up at him.

“Not much. Thank you again for saving her. I don’t know if I can ever make it up to you.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest as he tried to keep his voice low.

“The famed White Wolf owing me a favour? Now that I could get used to!” She joked. “But in all seriousness, it’s okay. I am just happy to help.” Yennefer smiled softly. She genuinely liked Y/N and was happy Geralt found someone as lovely as her. “She’s a keeper Geralt. You better not let go of her.”

“I’m not planning on it, I love her far too much.” A small ghost of a blush spread across his cheeks, and the two decided it was time to part ways. But Yennefer promised to make sure they crossed paths sooner rather than later.

The following morning, Y/N woke up to a heavy arm across her chest, carefully avoiding her still sore abdomen. Slowly opening her eyes, she was met with Geralt’s soft stare. He slowly smiled as she rubbed sleep away from her blurry eyes.

“Good morning, dearest.” Geralt’s morning voice never failed to make Y/N swoon.

“Good morning, my love.” She smiled back and gently nuzzled his scruffy jaw. Contentment filled her.

“Can we stay here a couple days?” She asked. With the answer almost always being no, she was pleasantly surprised when he pressed a kiss to her forehead and said yes. She was even more surprised when he told her his plan for the day. In order to get her strength back, he wanted to take her for a walk around the town. Even to the flea market, which Y/N always sadly walked past, yearning to investigate. She could barely hold back her excitement.

“Awe, is the Witcher taking lil’ ole’ me on a date?” She teased. He laughed and buried his face in her neck, his warm breath tickling her.

“I guess I am. But don’t go getting too excited. You are still recovering.” He scolded. This did nothing to prevent Y/N from leaping up from the bed, a little too fast. Trying to play off the ache in her abdomen, she tugged on his solid arm.

“Come on! Let’s go!” She whined.

“I saw that, little one. You be careful or else I’ll carry you back here.” His grumpy, yet gentle demeanour returned. Y/N let out a soft giggle before hugging him tightly. “I love you, little bird.”

“I love you too, my wolf.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Curious Travels - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: Yet again has your humble bard dragged you and Geralt to another kingdom for whatever reason, though as the snow falls outside, you know just how to keep warm.

Warning: fluff, SMUT, some actual plot

Masterlist

Jumping off of your own horse you’re immediately greeted with the soft crunch of snow under your boots. Your pack of three mighty adventures have traveled all this way to the wintery mountainside kingdom of Turga for, as Jaskier would say, “food, festivities, and fun times to be had”. Not being one to ever walk away from such intriguing tidings, you’ve made it a point to accompany Jaskier on his trek to the kingdom.

Geralt on the other hand could absolutely not be bothered in the slightest to come for such “fun times to be had” but he loves you and begrudgingly decided to follow the two of you anyways.

The whole ordeal of traveling had taken about a week, through forest and fields, streams to pass and bridges to cross, until finally at last your horses had reached snow. And more importantly the wooden post naming the direction of said mountain kingdom, causing your bard to become even more chipper and talkative then usual.

Much to your amusement and Geralt’s silent moody frustration, though he would have liked to smack the bard across his head or quite possibly snap that lute in two. Watching your face light up at Jaskier’s jokes and stories from before he met both you and Geralt, so far has kept the grumbly Witcher to himself, just being able to see your beaming face is enough to make this trip all the better.

Though he’s still doubtful anything fantastic will actually come out of this journey in any way, considering most travels with the two of you end rather poorly.

You’re eyes grew big once they spotted the snowy glowing city of Turga sitting comfortably atop a silver hill in all her beautiful glory. Jaskier wasn’t fooling, this place is absolutely magnificent, it’s like a true winter wonderland.

Great evergreens stand tall at the large wooden gates of the town, two guards dressed in silver armor and a red sash over their breast greet you three with generous smiles of welcome tidings that take you more off center then you’d ever expected. How strange it is not to be looked down upon, or scrutinized by people who always tend to think the worst.

Jaskier simply grins, clearly knowing something you and your grouchy Witcher do not, but what could that possibly be, then again it isn’t exactly abnormal. Following closely behind, you and Geralt lead your horses along the snow covered streets as Jaskier leads the way to the stables.

The whole time your eyes have been wide in awe at the beautiful surroundings of the town, lanterns held up by steel chains hang in a line above your heads. Dashing evergreens keep watch from their various positions in the square. Oddly enough the stables look cozy, decorative pines are hung at the front doors, and from the opened windows you can see on the inside that there are rafters kept along with ornamental little flags of a hundred colors.

Soon enough the face of a dirt smudge stable boy races out of the wooden door, a wreath on the back of it jostles at the quick unexpected movement. Although on further inspection you realize he is a sylvan once you notice the two hooves peaking out from under his oversized cloak, he smiles brightly at the three of you while his big shimmering eyes shine a soft pink as he shuffles through the snow to Jaskier’s steed.

“Vallo Vaskier! Hove yuv bveen!” Exclaims the boy in a peculiar accent with a smile that could light up a room.

“Oh you know..” Shrugs the bard, “A bit of this a bit of that. But here’s something....I have made some loyal companions on my travels, they’re a real time, it’s been great honestly...although a tad bit dangerous at times but eh I’m still breathing.” He laughs, “So anyways, when’s the grand feast at the lady of winters hall?”

The boys face turns into a thrilled grin, “Are you performing?”

Jaskier glances to you before turning back to the kid, “Of course I am. Didn’t just travel all the way up here for nothing. So uh, when’s the feast?”

“Oh, right the veast. You hev to be invited first. But I vouldn’t vorry to vuch, vord alveys spreads vhen you’re here Vaskier.” States the stable boy with a curt nod.

“Boy you got any taverns close?” He snaps his head up to you, curls bouncing in the process as he gives a shy smile before nodding.

“Of course mviss. Vaskier knows ver they are.”

A smirk plays at your lips as you find the bards gaze, “I should have know.” You mutter, turning your head to find Geralt, “Now to find that tavern.” You add suggestively with a quick wink. Causing your man to hand you the smallest of smiles in knowing acknowledgment. 

“Alright, Finn. Take this pretty lady to her home for the night. You’ve got two others who’ll need a stall.” States Jaskier as he nods to his horse, “And uh, the one with the scary face and white hair, be good to his mare. She’s very special to him, more then the half-vampire that rides with us and..Oh! Oww! Y/N don’t hit me woman!” Stammers the bard as you fold your arms across your chest.

A smirk upon your lips at his flustered reaction, “What was that about Roach being more special then me? You didn’t finish what you where going to say.”

“Well I would have if I wasn’t assaulted first.” Assures Jaskier, turning back to the kid, “Anyways, we’re ready to find our stead’s a place for the night. Well perhaps a couple nights, we may be here for a few days give or take.”

“A few days? He never said anything about that?” Grumbles Geralt in that familiar gravelly voice of his, “Y/N did he mention a few days?”

Grasping your horses leather reigns in one hand, you rest the other on Geralt’s broad cloaked shoulder, “Oh where’s your festive spirit? Come on love this is gonna be fun. I can feel it.”

Turning to follow Jaskier and the stable boy into the barn, Geralt tugs for Roach to start walking, rolling his golden eyes as he watches you swagger into the large pine rimmed entrance. Though a small tinge of excitement rushes throughout his body when remembering that subtle wink you shared with him only moments ago.

Your crimson irises light up at the colorful flags and cozy barn atmosphere, perfect for the tired horses that so desperately could use a good rest. You’re never this impressed by such festive decorations most times, but it’s been a long while since you’ve bared witness to such things. It feels rather nice, and anyways, another adventure with your boys is always welcomed.

The stable boy quickly takes Jaskier’s horse to get settled for the night, leaving yourself to find your own stable and Geralt to do the same. You turn, leading your own mare into a hay covered stall and doing what you can to help her feel more comfortable.

Taking off her saddle, you lay it off to the side, going now to brush her brown back, smoothing her fur down as you do. While so lost in your own little world you can’t help but begin rambling about your thoughts to the patient horse.

“Now since it’s come to mind...I think this place isn’t too bad, ya know? I haven’t really met any of the townsfolk so my true impression of the people here have yet to be determined. Although I’m not really getting a hostile feeling coming from this place so that’s good.” The mare snorts in reply, or at least you think she does, causing you to chuckle at the horses timely reaction, “Yes, my friend that’s exactly what I was thinking but you already new that and now I am talking to a horse.....and Geralt is standing right over there isn’t he.” You rush, whispering the last part to your horse.

Geralt leans his large frame against the wooden stalls door, a small amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you brush the mare. “Not strange at all. I think they understand, in their own way.”

“Maybe it’s because I travel with you too much, look at me, I’m talking to a horse.” You mutter with a small laugh, “Though I guess their company can be better then an actual persons. I have a feeling you know my meaning.”

He smiles again, looking around the barn until his golden eyes find yours once more, “Better then most.”

You gently tilt your head in a small nod, brushing the last of the mares ruffled hide before setting the brush down. Then reaching for your belongings that are hanging from a metal hook inches from Geralt.

He politely steps to the side as you take your cloak and sheathed silver dagger from off of the hook, bundling them under your arm you take a step forward past him, stopping for a moment to not-so-subtly trail your eyes up to his handsome face.

“See something interesting?” He muses, eyeing you up just the same causing a swarm of butterflies to make themselves know in your stomach. 

Biting your lip you refrain from pushing him against the wooden wall and kissing him like your life depends on it, deciding to instead hug your things tighter and give him a small fangy smile.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Is all you can whisper out as you swiftly turn on your heel to go and find Jaskier before you change your mind and pounce on your Witcher like a cat to her prey.

It doesn’t take long to find him, the bard is casually seated on some blocks of hay as he gently strums on his lute while the stable boy brushes his horse for him. Jaskier is so caught up in his own world of playing that he neglects to notice when you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Jask!” You vocalize loudly, causing the entranced bard to jump and just about drop his prized lute if not for the strap.

“My gods Y/N, warn a man would you.” He sputters, setting himself a bit straighter once again as he gathers his bearings, “I could have dropped my dear lady just now.”

Taking a couple steps backwards towards Geralt, you chuckle, “In that case, I’ll try harder next time.”

Jaskier sends you a silent dirty look, causing Geralt to slip a couple hushed snickers out from behind you. “Alright bard..” Starts your Witcher, “where’s the nearest tavern? Considering it’s late and we’re all hungry.”

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier nods, “Right. Right. Of course, a tavern would be nice. Well my friend...and Y/N...let’s go find one.”

“Yes let’s.” Mutters Geralt, annoyance lacing his voice as Jaskier practically swaggers past the two of you, lute tightly in hand.

You turn to follow, nudging Geralt’s shoulder as you step past him, “Come on my White Wolf, let’s find that tavern. I could use a good rest, how about you?” The wink you send him is all but enough to fill his mind with wondrous thoughts for how his evening may truly end.

His heart admittedly fills with warmth and excitement as he watches you trail Jaskier out of the barn and into the wintery night air. Soft cool snowflakes kiss your warm skin as you stand in the silver wonderland, waiting for your Witcher to catch up.

A pleased smirk shows itself upon your face as you turn your head up to the dark clouds, enjoying the feeling of the small ice crystals as they float all around you. The night is absolutely divine, as you enjoy the small white puffs of air leaving forth from out of your mouth and nostrils.

You feel no chill from the harsh winter air, though you’re surprised when a certain someone unexpectedly attempts to throw a snowball at your back. Hearing the ball of ice swishing in the crisp air, you step inhumanly quick to the side.

A burst of laughter falls forth from your lips when the snow crashes into the shoulder of Jaskier as he looks from house to house trying to remember where the tavern is. He jumps back, his blue eyes wide as he snaps his jostled attention over to you, and the snowy haired man smirking from behind you.

“That was—was....Y/N!” Grumbles the bard with an angry pout before he begins to smile and eventually shake with laughter as well.

Chuckling still, you turn a raised brow to Geralt as he simply shrugs, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah okay, Sir. I-Didn’t-Even-Want-To-Come...” Suddenly your eyes narrow causing Geralt to loose his amusement, “You tried to hit me with a snowball, you fucker.”

Geralt takes a cautious step closer to you, a pleading look crossing his features, “And now I know how well your reflexes are.”

“You already know how well my reflexes are.”

“Yes. But...” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say next as you await an answer, finally he takes another step closer, bringing his hand to tilt your head up with the tips of his fingers. His face so close now you can feel his hot breath against your skin, “I’ll deal with your wrath all night long if that’s what you’d wish.”

Gently removing his hand away from your face, you lean in even closer, your lips practically brushing past his own, “I think that is a deliciously appealing proposition, my love.”

Geralt has no time to answer before you swiftly shift away from him, leaving the man with his thoughts and slightly tighter pants as he watches you walk over to Jaskier once again, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

It took about a good fifteen minutes to actually track down the tavern of Jaskier’s choice, an admittedly large and homey hall appropriately called The Silver Faun Inn. Quite the name for quite the tavern, as per usual when walking into anywhere on the continent in a place like this.

Your marry band of three was immediately greeted with a multitude of cautious glares and many other intrigued excited glances. Though to your relief, no one dares bother either of you while you make to find a quiet corner for the late hour of the darkening evening.

Soon fresh food and tasteful ale is to be had, filling the three of you up just enough to be satisfied for the night, but not too much, you’ve got plans for later. Plans that are so obviously unnoticed by the titular bard who’s now decided the tavern is in desperate need of entertainment.

Leaning into Geralt’s strong side, a lazy smirk upon your face, you watch in amusement as Jaskier joyously strums his favorite lute. “Don’t think I’ve heard that ballot before.” You whisper.

Your quiet Witcher hums in reply, earning him a light friendly squeeze to his forearm that rests on the table next to yours, “The enthusiasm radiating off of you is just, astounding.” You chuckle, burying your face into his shoulder.

Geralt smiles affectionately at your adorable reaction to his less then impressive one, his heart swells with more silent joy when you pull away once again. Only to stop yourself from speaking, your scarlet irises so caught up in your lovers humored face.

You remain quiet for a moment, your face stoic though your eyes crinkle with mischief before you finally break out into a large beaming grin. Without a second thought, Geralt leans in to gently press his plush inviting lips against yours for a beautiful moment of love and lust.

He feels so lovely, you can tell just how much he truly wants you, but all to soon does he pull away, “I think we should find that room, what do you say Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you stare longingly into his golden eyes, “Fantastic idea. I got the keys so let’s get outta here.”

In a heartbeat do the two of you slip from the taverns quiet corner to wander past your oblivious bard as he belts out another marvelous tune that sends the crowd into fits of song and laughter. Soon all is forgotten and left to the back of your minds as you lead your Witcher up the steps and down to the end of the hallway where your room just so happens to be.

Quickly going to unlock it, you’re bewildered when the little metal key won’t turn left, huffing in frustration you try and force it as gently as you can muster. Geralt leans an arm against the doorframe doing nothing to help you focus on your new task at hand.

“Y/N just turn it left.”

“I am turning it left.”

“More gently.”

“I am turning it gently.”

“How much did you drink?” He chuckles.

Snapping your head to him you playfully make a face, “Same as you idiot, now if only I could fucking get this bitch open then we could...” Errreck. Crack. “Oh fuck me.” You deadpan.

“I’m trying.” Muses Geralt.

Smacking Geralt against his arm you take a step away from the broken lock, “Dammit. I broke the fucking key....and I think the lock too.”

“Can you open it now?”

Sighing in annoyance you raise a brow at your man, “Well uh, guess we’ll find out.”

Turning towards the thick wooden mahogany door with its freshly broken lock, you nervously reach a hand up to turn the golden door handle, sucking in a breath you twist the knob only to be met with resistance.

Pursing your lips together you lean your head against the door, “Whoever made these shit locks I’ll fucking cut their hands off cause apparently they don’t need them anymore with whatever kinda fuckery this is.” You growl.

All you wanna do is get it on with Geralt, this is not helping.

“You could just force the door.” Suggests Geralt.

“I’m not forcing the door love, I really don’t need a bounty on me for breaking a knob.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to sleep in Jaskier’s room tonight then.” Replies your Witcher with a shit eating grin, he knows just how much you want him right now. And so help you god if you don’t get what you want when it comes to a night with Geralt of Rivia.

“No! No! I can handle the fucking door!” You sass.

Taking a step back into the hallway, he folds his arms over his chest, “Alright then. Open the door Y/N.” Smirks Geralt, urging you to create some chaos.

Huffing, you take a step back, readying yourself to charge the grand mahogany door. The smirk on your Witcher’s face is admittedly smackable or kissable, you just can’t bring it in you to focus on anything else but opening this door. He watches in anticipation as you charge, hands out and ready to force open the closed entrance as you make hasty steps for the tavern room.

Without warning the giant door swings opens, taking you off guard as you fly through the new opening and into the grand room before falling to the hard floor with a grunt. Your chin smacks the wooden floorboards with a thwack sound, your opened palms doing just the same when you land.

“Ouch.” You mutter, lifting yourself up from the ground, turning when your nose catches the scent of someone new.

Snapping to your right, you’re caught with big brown fearful eyes of a young maid, “Oh, uh....your room is ready miss.”

Not aware of the less then friendly grimace adorning your face, Geralt steps into the room before you decide to shove the girl out yourself, “Sorry. The lock wasn’t working, I think we may have broken it.”

Quickly snapping out of her frightened trance, the girl turns a nervous eye to your Witcher, “Um, that key you have there...it’s not the right one. I’ll just uh....leave then.” She whispers, her eyes never leaving yours as she hastily slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Geralt gently closes the door, shoving a chair under the handle to create a makeshift lock while you take a couple steps forward over to the large mattress, resting a hand on the bed. He turns to you, “Well that was...”

“Entertaining much?” You scoff, rubbing your split chin, “I think I’m bleeding....no yeah, I’m definitely bleeding.”

Geralt hums, nodding before walking over to find a small spare cloth on the nearby table, “Sit on the bed I’ll clean you up.”

Doing just as directed you sit, watching as your silver haired lover walks across the room to seat himself next to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rolling your eyes you pout, “Funny is it? The things I do for you, and now my fucking chin hurts.”

Suddenly his eyes go soft, though there still remains a tinge of humor in them, “Y/N, you’ve already healed and the pain will die soon enough....here, let me just clean the blood away.” He mutters, reaching his arm up to press the pale cloth against your blood smudged skin.

Fine, ignore my pain you ass.

Though you’re still annoyed, the feeling of being tended to by Geralt is enough to dissipate away all your recent frustrations and brewing anger. Sending you into a blissful minute of staring lazily into your mans pretty golden eyes like a dazed lover.

Once he’s confident all the blood is gone, he sets the pink cloth in his lap, saying nothing as the two of you stare deeply into the eyes of one another, the sexual tension of the room rising by the second. You slip out a soft breath, the tiniest of smiles pulling at your lips.

“This is the part where you kiss my pain away. Right here.” You point at your chin, just below your lips. His golden eyes dart down, following your directions.

Ever so meticulously slowly does he lean in closer, the blood smudged cloth left and forgotten as it falls to the floor when his large hands go to touch your face. His lips press softly onto your chin, then cheek, then the other, and another two over your jawline. Earning a satisfied hum of approval from you, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your own hands grasp onto his thick forearms, the rest of yourself feeling rather warm all over as Geralt kisses all over your face, slowly as ever.

“You know..” Kiss, “Geralt, mhmm....my lips are right here...” You mutter, just as he presses a heated one onto the preferred area you’ve asked. He tastes so sweet, like the ale he drank earlier in the evening, but this is admittedly much better then any ale you’ve ever drank.

Soon his hands fall to your waist and arm, then to many other places as he decides to explore your body with his calloused hands. Not being one to hold back, you do just the same, earning a low husky moan from deep within his throat when you palm him just to see what’s going on down there.

Fortunately he’s decently hard, the fabric of his dark pants are nicely stretched out from what pleasantries await you soon enough. Leaving him be for the moment, you gently break away from his sweet lips.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” You chuckle at the annoyed expression adorning his handsome features, “I’m just, rather wet down here and I’d like to get things rolling. Though don’t get me wrong I could kiss those lips of yours all fucking day.” You add, deliberately doing your best to give him your bedroom eyes.

He pauses for a second, his eyes trailing from your clothed nether regions all the way up to your shimmering lust filled gaze, “You’re already wet?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to pull him further up the bed, “Oh fuck off, you’re already harder then a frozen ice cycle and that was before we even got into this room so shut uh uhh mhmm...” Is all you’re able to ramble out before he’s attacked your neck again with those beautifully plush lips of his, the rest of his body hovering just above you as he rests a knee between your parted thighs.

His lips leave a wet trail all the way down your throat until they reach the edge of your tops laced fabric, where a clear V is had that reaches down to the area between your breasts. He kisses once on the lace and exposed skin on your sternum, then another further down.

He’s just about driving you wild with the frustratingly grand lack of friction in certain areas that are so desperately craving such attention. Done with his teasing you lightly tug at his long white hair.

“Geralt just fuck me already.” You mumble, sucking in a quick breath when he gently squeezes your breast without warning.

Kissing your cheek, his face remains mere inches from your own as he stares mischievously into your crimson eyes, “We may need to take some clothes off first.” He chuckles, planting a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back on the bed.

Laying there, body hot and pulsing with pleasure unreleased, you hastily sit up and fumble as fast as you can to remove your grey top. Flinging it to the floor as your eyes find Geralt’s once again, though this time he’s completely shirtless.

Drinking up every last little piece of your muscular Witcher, you bite your lip as he smiles at you, “And that’s a sight I could look at everyday.” You just about swoon at his quick witted words, no doubt feeling a bit heated the longer he stares at you.

Winking at him, you swiftly shed the thin dark material calling itself an undershirt, a playful gleam in your eye as you watch Geralt quickly find your two exposed breasts. Beautiful and soft, your nibbles perked at the arousal coursing throughout your entire vessel.

Wanting to be bold, you wiggle a brow at him before confidently standing, your eyes never leaving his. He watches with an intrigued curious gaze before you begin unbuttoning your black trousers, earning another blissful smirk across the mans face.

Soon enough are all the buttons finally undone, with a spectacular dramatic bow do you then go to shimmy out of your pants, kicking them to the wooden floor in a rush as you’re now left in nothing but your small whole filled and slightly ripped underwear.

As to be expected, Geralt reaches a hand out to touch your exposed legs, getting nothing but a quick playful kick to his hands as you hum in disapproval. Instead you go to set a hand on your hip, nodding your head for him to remove his own concealing attire.

He hums in reply, standing to his full height as you unabashedly watch him fully undress himself, tossing his pants and undergarments to the floor ever so dramatically. He stares you down with those big beautiful golden eyes of his, you keep your sights locked onto them and painfully ignore his now exposed member that’s hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Biting your lip, you try your absolute best to keep from smiling, “Fuck me I love you so much.” You speak breathlessly, your eyes turning more serious again, “Now sit, please.”

Geralt hums, seating himself upon the soft billowy mattress just as directed, deciding to lean back on his arms and let his body lay open and ready for you. Blinking slowly you finally reveal a pleased smile down at him, just about mirroring the same one that he’s handing you so freely, just like his body.

Slowly you walk forward on the bed, your legs held firmly to either side of his lower waist as you kneel down, hovering your soaked womanhood right above his glistening member. You let out a breathy chuckle, resting your palms against his broad shoulders as he does the same action but with your bare hips.

“May I?” You politely ask, leaning your head against his as he gently squeezes the flesh of your hips in reply.

“Of course.” He mutters, low and gravelly in your ear as he patiently awaits your body, his very heart about to explode with how much he loves you right now.

Parting your legs wider, you remove one hand from his shoulder to quickly grasp his thick cock, “Alright let me just...” Bringing it to your dripping entrance you line it up perfectly, “I’m coming in..” You laugh, “literally.”

“Y/N you don’t have to say it...”

Digging your fingers into the side of his shoulder you quickly tilt your head to shut him up with a kiss, “Yes, but you laughed.” Pulling back to look at your face, Geralt’s mouth opens to reply, though his words are left on the wind when you slowly slide yourself onto him.

The new welcoming warmth of your core sending his mind swirling with nothing but a colorful bliss. Yours about the same, he’s big as he sinks deeper and deeper into your body until finally he’s completely filled you up.

Closing your eyes, your face scrunches up in slight discomfort at the new thrilling contact, this feeling isn’t anything new it’s just he’s quite large and you need a couple moments to adjust before the real fun begins. Sensing your slight displeasure, he keeps still inside you, trailing a comforting hand over your cheek as he watches your brows furrow together as you adjust.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Worries your beautiful Witcher as you open your glistening scarlet irises to find his concerned face.

Shaking your head you slowly roll your hips into his, “Never. Apologize for a big dick Geralt....you’re honestly about to work wonders so keep that pretty mouth shut and make me scream.”

Holding in his laughter, he decides to do just as you’ve asked, a second later do you gasp in surprise when both his hands dig into your hips. Pushing you down onto him even more as he pulls you with each roll of your hips against his. Creating a blissful synced rhythm that begins to bring a low pleasurable build into your soaked core.

He suddenly thrusts up into you as you bounce down on him over and over again, your chests rubbing against one another as you both attempt to hold each other’s gazes for as long as you can try. The room feels hot and sticky, the smells of sex, sweat, and Geralt filling into your sensitive nostrils that drives you mad with lust.

All that can be heard is the familiar slapping of skin on skin as you both move against one another in quick passionate motions. Without warning Geralt thrusts deeply into your sweet spot sending you into a flurry of moaned curses as he thrusts his strong hips into you over and over again.

Your body falls flush against his as you whimper and moan into his shoulder from the intense buildup of pure pleasure that he’s slowly filling you with by the second. He can tell you’re close and with that thought in mind you’re pleasantly surprised when he abruptly holds your back, keeping you against him as he quickly lays you onto the soft mattress.

You audibly moan at the new positioning, not being able to hold back any more whimpers of pleasure as he fucks you into the comfortable bedding like his life depends on it. You’re visibility sweaty now, the slickness of yourself and Geralt doing everything to increase your growing pleasure as he slides in and out of you like a crazed man gone years without a proper fucking.

Another moan escapes from your lips as Geralt bounds you into the mattress, hitting you with deep precise thrusts each and every time, leaving you with nothing to keep you steady but his bare back that no doubt is covered in fresh pink scratch marks.

He keeps flush against your body, his manhood buried deep within your parted thighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours, his lips so soft and inviting as they press against your neck and jaw. You can’t remember if you’re ever felt such pleasure from this man as he pulls you to the edge of oblivion.

He suddenly moans against your ear sending new waves of bliss deep into your core and just like that do you come, moaning his name over and over again as he relentlessly thrusts into you with all that he has left.

He grips your hands tight, his warm seed spilling into you a second later, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter against his, “Ugh fuck Geralt.” You moan, your lips brushing past his as he pumps into you for a few more blissful moments before he falls limp against your body.

Utterly spent with your heated love making session, you chuckle at his honestly adorable actions as he lays flush with you, his cock still buried deep inside. He may be a large heavy man, but you’re no common human woman who lays underneath this handsome Witcher.

It’s plain as anyone could see, though you’d cut the throats of anyone bold enough to take a peek at your secretive actions.

Humming in content, Geralt moves to lay at your side, bringing you along with him so that he can stay inside you for a bit longer. You smirk, holding him close as he does the same, “A little needy tonight are we?” You muse, placing a chaste kiss against his puffy red lips.

“Maybe I missed you in more ways then one.” He replies, his golden eyes finding your crimson ones, “It certainly doesn’t help that Jaskier is always with us when we set up camp. I never get a true moment to myself with you.”

Trailing a hand down his scar covered back, you smile once again, “Well you’re about to get a whole week with me if you’re lucky. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.”

The way you make him feel cannot ever truly be expressed in Geralt’s mind, though you can tell he loves you deeply even when no words are said at all or perhaps when he gets flustered and stumbles on his tongue for the right ones. Though right now he seems to have you vexed, completely entranced and utterly opened and surrendered to him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same, his eyelids close in content as you gently trail your fingers down his cheekbone, earning a low hum from deep within his throat that sends shivers down your spine even with something so innocent as this.

You break out into a grin, your fangs showing as you let out a couple chuckles once you realize he’s still inside you. His own lips curl into a tired smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Y/N?” He mutters, wondering what on earth could be so funny right now.

Pushing a few stray hairs out of his face you blink, trying to contain yourself once more, “Oh nothing, you’re just being....dare I say, cute. And all things considered, you’re still inside me.”

Geralt shows you a lazy grin, “I like being inside you.”

“Yes and what if I have to relieve myself, or get a drink?”

“I see no problem when you’re lucky enough to be laying next to me.”

Fake scoffing you gently tug on his silver locks, “Geralt of Rivia you’re blessed enough I love you so much you ass.”

Finally he opens his eyes, the most adorable of smiles crossing his face, and only for you, “Well I guess someone has to.”

“Yes.” You smirk, “And I’ll make disappear the next confidant fucker who dare think to take you away from me.”

“So I’m assuming that last tavern wench we met a month ago went missing....not, under mysterious circumstances?” He wonders, a brow raised in humored accusation.

Rolling your scarlet irises, you give him a friendly pat over his bare shoulder, “I wasn’t appreciating that foxy look she was giving you, looked like a horny buck ready to pounce.” The look he gives you is enough to make you burst with laughter, “What? Don’t give me that face Geralt, I didn’t do anything adherently evil....all I did was leave her in the middle of the woods...near another town!” You protest, trying to make your little petty adventure sound less terrible.

 “Well, at least you were nice about it,” Muses Geralt, “though I’m not sure if that’s better.”

“Oh shut it, I couldn’t help myself if you’d like to know alri...” Knock. Knock. Knock. Three raps against the thick bedroom door immediately draws your attention away from Geralt. Propping his head up by his elbow, he turns a protective glare at the mystery person keeping themselves on the other side.

Wanting to snap at the hidden individual who dare break you away from your rather pleasant evening, you push away from the soft comfort of the mattress, quickly pulling out of Geralt, you maneuver yourself into a seated position. “I’ll see who it is, can’t be anyone with a personal vendetta against us, well.....at least I don’t think so.”

Pursing his lips together in slight apprehension, Geralt silently watches you slip from the bed with nothing but a thin white sheet to keep your nakedness from any prying eyes. Your steps to the barred door are swift and silent as an owl in flight, just the same when you remove the chair from the door knob.

With one hand on the golden knob and the other grasped tightly onto the bunched up bed sheet, you turn a curious glance to Geralt who’s now seated fully upright on the mattress, a thin sheet covering his previously exposed manhood.

Finding your sights upon the door once again, you turn the knob, swiftly opening the door where you’re both greeted with the nervous wide eyed face of a young elven boy, who looks only to be about fourteen, dressed in lord-like attire. A suspiciously high status pose about him that sends your brows furrowing in confusion for this strange unexpected intrusion.

Wearing a soft purple scarf over a pure white thick fur laced jacket, his green eyes shift warily from you to your shirtless Witcher then back to you again. His cheeks most certainly reddening the longer he stares, mouth slightly agape, clearly this kid was not expecting the sight before him.

Deciding to relieve the awkward atmosphere, you clear your throat, “Well you certainly don’t look like an assassin, nor do you appear to be ready with coin for a wanted killing. So, do relieve us of this suspense...I was kind of in the middle of something important.” You state, the tone of your voice appearing slightly annoyed even when you try and hide it.

His big emerald irises flicker as he blinks, swallowing his nerves, does the elven boy in the fancy coat and purple scarf stand a bit straighter, “Hello. I am Venemyr of Rorym, messenger to Queen Allira and her husband King Gabriel of this winter kingdom of Turga.” He stammers, eyes shifting nervously from Geralt to you, suddenly he pulls out a folded piece of white and gold craftsmanship in the form of a beautiful card.

His hand shakes slightly as he reaches out for you to take the concealed letter, finding no ill intent from the boy, you fearlessly accept. Once in your hand does he finally begin his explanation, “I come to ask the Princess Y/N of Alkatraz and the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, if they will accept this invitation to the King and Queen’s eldest son’s banquet as special guests of honor.”

Oh, now things have just gotten very intriguing.

Not positive on how to correctly respond to this large proposition, the young elven messenger nods, “My adversaries had been made aware of you two by a bard named Jaskier who is thought of warmly in this kingdom, then it appeared that the eldest prince became very interested in meeting a lady dhampir and a Witcher of Kaer Morhen.” 

Oh, Jaskier you motherfucker.

Smiling politely, Vesemyr watches with wide foresty eyes when he catches sight of your fangs, noticing his apparent change of demeanor, your face falls, “Uh, well, thank you for the message and this invitation? We’ll see to it soon, and without a doubt report back accordingly sometime tomorrow.”

“The banquet is in two days.”

“Is it now?” You reply in a knowing tone, your brows raising, “Good to know, now if you’ll excuse us...the hour is late and you’d better get to wherever you’ve come from before it gets any colder outside.” And with that said do you flash him a wink before slamming the door into his scared little face and high end attire without a second thought.

Looking down at the strange yet exquisite invitation placed in your hand, you turn it over and find the golden waxes seal of a house sigil. “Y/N come to bed, I think I’d like to have a look at whatever fuckery Jaskier has roped us into.”

Raising your attention back up to the naked man seated casually against the headboard, you smile, making swift steps to the mattress before launching yourself next to his side causing the bed to shift and creak at your jostling movement. Instead of finding his annoyed expression, you’re fortunately greeted with an arm pulling you flush against his side.

With the two of you wrapped up in the white bedsheets, leaning comfortably on one another does Geralt slowly take the parchment from out of your hand. He holds the letter up, studying it’s beauty in the side table’s candle light as you rest your head on his shoulder with one arm slung over his muscular waist.

His breaths are slow and calm, the rise and fall of his chest gently pushing you up and then back down again only ever so slightly while your Witcher carefully observes the golden wax of the houses sigil. “A stag, with a crown of leaves....should we open it?” Muses Geralt, fully aware of how much you want to see what’s inside.

Geralt I swear to god.

Gently giving his waist a loving squeeze, you nod, “If you’d be so kind.” Humming in reply, Geralt makes quick work of the letter, soon its cut open and pulled out for your eyes to witness its ink marked contents.

“Fuck.” Mutters Geralt dismally, “Guess that kid wasn’t fucking with us.”

“And I guess we’re going to a party.” You exclaim, much more excitement flowing through your voice then what Geralt could ever give.

He quickly turns his head down to you, “Y/N no. I don’t give a shit if this prince wants to speak with us, I have no interest in becoming involved in something like that.”

You lightly chuckle at his less then stellar mood before turning your face to press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, he sighs, meeting your crimson gaze once again, “Think of it, free drink and food, and this prince wants to see us....we’re practically the guests of honor and I cannot wait to see Jaskier tomorrow cause I’m gonna slap him for it...then I’ll thank him.”

“Ugh, fine.” Begrudgingly mutters Geralt as you press your lips to his.

-

Maybe a part 2 later on, idk we’ll see. Hope you enjoyed this :)

Tagged for series:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 5]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Geralt is beginning to warm up to you, however, in his own annoying way.

Warnings: Minor SMUT

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

You kept your gaze fixed to the front, your eyes lined to the back of the Witcher's head, his messy hair falling loosely all over his shoulder, covering the back of his neck. The forest was quiet, apart from the occasional croaking of the crickets, or a bird flying by, flapping it's wings.

Your feet hurt, as you had walked all the way from your home, and then had taken a detour through the forest, even though Geralt had said not to. This was all the more reason you took a deep breath, swallowing away the soreness for you couldn't let the man know. No— your ego won't permit that.

Another thing that bothered you was the Witcher's silence, which made you feel that probably it was better to have no company at all, rather than this.

Finally, you gave up— a mixture of both, your exhaustion as well as boredom which made you stop walking, and move to the side where sat a large rock. You lowered yourself upon it, your hand instinctively flying to your boot as you pried it off and began rubbing your ankles to relieve some pressure off them. It was only then that Geralt abruptly halted, when he didn't catch the sound of you behind him.

He twirled around, his hand almost flying to the hilt of his sword out of instinct, the first thought that passed through his mind was that you were taken. It was only after a split second or so did he see you, huddled against that rock, rubbing your feet. His nose twitched, his lips pressing into a firm line as he strode towards you, the sound of his feet against the hard ground causing your head to jerk in his direction.

The next second, you were protesting— angrily lashing out at him, trying to claw your nails into his arms as he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you off that rock, without even uttering a word.

"What the fuck, Geralt? What —"

"I thought you wanted to go to the village. Now, we are going to the village which means that there isn't going to be a stop. I want us to come back before sunset."

These words were the longest words that he had formed towards you all day but his choice of words made you hiss angrily at him, regretting how you didn't enjoy the silence earlier, which was far better than this. You tried prying the hand off your arm to free yourself but the grip instead tightened, pulling you towards Roach.

"Fuck, what the hell is the matter with you? I'm exhausted and just need a minute—"

Before you realized what was happening, you felt him place his hands on either side of your waist, almost like you do to a child when trying to make them climb onto a higher ground. That's when you realized what he was doing— he was trying to get you to climb onto Roach.

"Get on her, [Y/N]. We aren't stopping. The forest can be dangerous."

The blow of the moment hit you right in the gut. You skewered your head to one side, intentionally biting down on your lower lip as you watched Geralt walk up to the rock where you were sitting at. He bent, grabbed your boots, and walked back up to where you were perched on his mare, both your legs on either side of it. Without taking permission, he grabbed your foot, illiciting a gasp from your end but didn't stop, as you squirmed a little, just by the surprise of the act. He easily slid your boot on your left foot before making his way to your right one and you, unknowingly, lifted your foot, without even him having to grab it.

His eyes flew to yours, and you noted the faintest of the smirks that crossed his lips, before he removed the gaze and began working on your right foot to get your boot on, and you smiled, now that he wasn't looking at you.

He then moved away, back into the position he was earlier in— the only difference being that you weren't walking next to him any longer. He took hold of the reins again, as he began walking, as you held on tightly, even though the horse was only galloping in a slow pace.

After about five minutes of silence, the Witcher finally spoke.

"You could have said thank you."

He was facing the front so you couldn't clearly see, but you were sure he was smirking internally. You rolled your eyes, your hand mindlessly flying to your belly and grumbled under your breath.

"Nope. I'm carrying your baby, which makes it your duty to take care of me."

He turned his head towards you, his amber orbs meeting yours halfway, and the look he gave you— his lips curved into the tiniest of smiles over his otherwise serious, brooding face; made blood pump into your body faster and cheeks flush. If it wasn't enough, your mind couldn't stop the thoughts to slither back into it like a snake, the image of the Witcher on top of you, his thick arms pressed to the either of your sides, your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock sliding in and out, in and out, in a rhythm, his balls slapping against your skin.

Suddenly, a loud screech rang through the air startling you, and Roach at the same time, making her stand up on her hind legs, panic stricken. A bloodcurdling scream broke out from your lips as you lost your balance the moment the mare got out of control, your body falling backwards towards gravity as your eyes reflexively closed, your body waiting for a sickening crash.

But the hit never came—

When you opened your eyes, you were in Geralt's arms, his thick arms holding you like a bride, but his eyes were trained to his galloping mare, who was galloping away.

"Roach, she's ..she's running away, oh my god," you cried, just when Geralt placed you back on the ground and drew out his sword.

"She'll come back, you get behind that rock—"

"Geralt, what the fuck was that noise?" You blinked, your eyes concentrated on the side of his face, though he was looking around, his sword ready, and his posture tense. Your words made him grunt under his breath and turn towards you, just for a split second, but he was looking at you with frustration, before you felt him grab your wrist and start walking towards the rock. He jerked you slightly, but not harsh enough to make you fall, until you were crouching behind the rock and he was towering over you.

"Ever heard of a wyvern? You'll finally get to see one yourself."

You gave him a look of pure horror, as you slid down against the ground, keeping sure to stay hidden behind the boulder, your arms locking around your knees, when the screech came again, but this time, it didn't sound distant at all. His hand held a tiny vial of what looked like a coloured liquid, and he quickly downed the contents of it. After that, it took mere seconds for Geralt's eyes to turn into a monstrous black, causing you to shudder.

A loud, bellowing screech filled the air once again, and that's when you looked up to see the wyvern circling above in the sky. Your breathing hitched and for a minute you forgot why you were crouching, you were just so awestruck at the sight of it. Without knowledge, you stood up, staring at the sky when you heard Geralt scream.

"I asked you to stay down!" His voice was sharp and angry, instantly pulling you back to reality as the wyvern finally came swooping from the sky, descending straight towards Geralt, who was distracted, his eyes on you.

"Geralt, watch out!" You screamed out, your eyes thrown wide as Geralt, upon your warning, jumped back around, but a second too late. The Wyvern slammed into the Witcher, sending him flying through the air, his back cracking against a tree bark as he crashed and slumped against the ground, groaning. The blow was enough for his sword to drop from his hand, the impact having caused him to be thrown away from it.

"GERALT!" You cried out, a little too loudly, crouching out a bit so you could see him, which turned out to be a rookie mistake.Your eyes threw themselves open, your lips almost trembling when you saw the wyvern turn slightly, so its monstrous yellow orbs were fixated on you.

"Uh, Geralt? That thing is staring at me? What the fuck do I do?" You croaked, a lump forming in your throat when the creature screeched, the jabbing screech directed at you. You quickly stood up, pressing yourself to the tree, your eyes helplessly looking at Geralt who coughed a little and groaned, struggling to pull himself up. You bit your lip hard, so hard that your teeth almost nipped into your lower lip, the taste of metal flavouring your taste buds.

You had a few seconds to act now— for the Wyvern was already charging in your direction.

"[Y/N], RUN! THROUGH THE FUCKING TREES, RUN THROUGH THE TREES!" Geralt's yelling pounded through your ears, and he was asking you to run, but the sword— the sword was too far away from Geralt, and it was much closer to you. If only you could grab the sword, toss it to Geralt and then run towards the trees, Geralt will be able to strike this creature from behind, you thought to yourself, in that split second between life and death.

Geralt pushed himself up on his elbows, growling from the pit of his stomach like a wolf, his eyes ablaze. The wyvern, however, had gotten bored toying with the Witcher it seemed. He kept racing towards you, momentarily flapping it's wings as he lifted in the air and circled around for a bit before darting straight in your direction.

You screamed, knowing that what you were going to do was sheer madness, but yet, something inside of you prompted you to run towards the wyvern, towards the sword, and not away from its into the trees, like Geralt had asked you to. Your calculation wouldn't fail.

Ignoring Geralt's thunderous scream, you grabbed the sword, sweeping it in your palm, your fingers clasping against it at the right time as you threw it out in the air, towards Geralt, screaming, "Geralt! The sword!"

He caught the sword at the exact same time as you turned away, missing the wyvern's claw by a mere second as you began darting at full pace your legs could carry you, towards the trees.

Geralt growled once again, as he stood up, raising the sword as he began charging at the wyvern, who swivelled back to face him, when he jumped in the air, the blade of his sword slashing into the wyvern's wing first which disoriented the creature, who retreated to the ground, howling in pain.

You knew you were supposed to stop— but you couldn't bring yourself to. Maybe it was the adrenaline, that was making you keep running, deeper and deeper into the forest, using the canopy of the trees to cower over you. Behind you, you could hear the creature screeching, until the noises finally came to an end.

You finally stopped running, looking up to realize that you were by a glistening stream. Falling to your knees, you placed both your hands into the icy cold water, splashing some to your face, instantly feeling the cool wash over you and provide you with some temporary relief. Instinctively, your palm flew down to your belly as you stroked it twice over the fabric of your dress.

You waited for a few minutes, knowing that Geralt would find you.

He did find you.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard slight rustling from behind a thick shrubbery. You squinted your eyes, glaring at it, when suddenly a mass of familiar white hair flashed at you, the eyes now gone back to his normal goldens. He was limping, a deep gash having formed on his right thigh, that you could see.

His lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyes lined on you, a look of rage plastered all over his face.

By one look at his face, the first thought that propped into your mind was, you were so fucked.

"Geralt, I—"

He charged at you, his hands coming to rest on either of your arms, his hold not gentle in any way as he pulled you into him, looking down at you, while you looked up at him.

"I told you," He hissed.

"That sword was right there, I had to go for it—"

"NO, YOU DIDNT. I ASKED YOU TO RUN FOR THE TREES, [Y/N]," his grip on you was hard and unwavering, his fingers digging into your flesh as you tried to wriggle free but were obviously, unsuccessful in that attempt.

"STOP, GERALT!" finally, you screamed with a finality in your voice, one which forced the Witcher to let go off you, but you didn't step away. In fact, you placed your palms on his chest, and pushed him hard with all your might. He did not even move an inch. When you looked up at him, your tears had finally betrayed you. You couldn't control yourself from letting out a weak sounding sob, straight from the pit of your stomach as you moved away from him, and began wiping the dirt off your knees with the river water, whispering, "let it go please. It's over. I'm safe now."

Geralt waited for a few seconds, unsure— a thousand thoughts running through his mind looking down at you, but he couldn't find the right words.

So, he cleared his throat, and in a low voice, walked up to where you were kneeling down, and knelt down next to you, not looking at you, but rather into the air around him, as he mumbled, "You're hurt?"

You snorted, more in annoyance and frustration, and disbelief at how easy it was for him to go from cold to warm. You glared at him, throwing him daggers from your eyes, not wanting to give him the answer he wanted, but that's when your gaze fell on the gash on his thigh.

"No, YOU ARE, Witcher," you whispered in a low voice, and he looked down at his thigh, then back up at you, giving you a grunt before he stood up, throwing out his hand towards you, "I'm fine, now come on. We keep moving."

You took his hand, and he pulled you up, but you grabbed his wrist tight when he let go off your hand, pulling him back, into your face, so it was inches away from yours.

"You're hurt, Geralt. We aren't going anywhere until I've made sure you'll live."

A ghost of a smirk crept over his lips for just a split second, and had you blinked, you were sure you would have missed it.

"I'll live. It will take more than that to kill me."

You were about to reply, come up with a good come back, when you heard the familiar sound of the mare's whinnying, causing both you and Geralt to turn towards one of the thickets, from where Roach trotted out, and Geralt smiled, when he took in the sight of his favourite four-legged companion.

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[sherrybaby14]

All the Same

This is for the wonderful @lancsnerd​ 1K challenge (Sorry I am so late)!

Pairing:  Geralt x female reader

Warnings:  Domestic Violence, Smut, Angst, Violence, Blood

Words: 6k

Prompt:  “I was your assignment, and then you fell in love with me”. (Changed it a little)

Summary:  The Witcher is coming to your village and you have been tasked with finding out why.

   The drunkard on the piano was playing the same song he did every night and you rolled your eyes as you filled another pitcher of lager.  

   Some nights you wished more than anything you got moved off the graveyard shift, but others you were grateful the drunks would leave soon and your time at work would consist of watching the empty bar.  

   “Best to keep an eye out tonight.”  Your boss leaned against the doorway to the kitchen.  

   “Why’s that?”  You glanced to the dagger kept underneath the bar.  

   “Word is, a Witcher is on the road. Stopping here.”  He flung the rag over his shoulder.

   “Here?”  You about overfilled the pitcher.  “In our tiny village?  Why?”

   “That’s what I want to know.”  He glanced across the barroom, watching the dwindling crowd.  “Find out for me, would ya Love?”

   “Not my job Sir.”  You had never met a Witcher, but your heart raced at the idea.

   “How about now?”  Your boss tossed a bag of coin next to you.  “Still trying to get on your feet aren't ya? I’ll double it if you give me anything worth my while.”

   You did not hesitate as you picked up the bag and shoved it in your pocket.  A pang of guilt hit your heart, you were no spy, but were desperate.  You needed to get back on your feet.  Besides, this was the first bonus your boss had ever offered.

   “Consider me hired.”  You turned to drop off the pitcher, the customer closing out their tab.  

   The piano player abandoned the instrument and you could tell the mood had shifted.

   “Witchers are bad for business.”  Your boss kicked off the door and went to the kitchen.  “I want him gone.”  

   “Monsters are worse.”  Of course the idea of a monster in this town was silly, the only one who lived here was your ex.

~~

   The crowd was gone by one.  It was strange, you were used to forcing people to their rooms around two, this was the earliest you could remember the place being empty.

   You picked up your current book and tried to read, but every thought went to your boss’ warning.  Why would a Witcher come here?  You hadn’t heard a single rumor of anything off.  Maybe he was passing through?  If memory served you right there was a sheep slaughtered a few weeks ago.  People said it was a wolf, but maybe more, would a Witcher come for that though?  

   The door opened and your breath caught in your throat.  There he was, pale skin with pale hair that stood out against the vibrant oranges of the wooden walls dancing with firelight.  

   You shook your head and shut your mouth, trying not to show your awe for the man.  

   The mug you grabbed shook as you turned and poured him some mead.  

   “I heard you were coming.”  You spun back around and set the drink on the counter.  

   “You did?”  He blinked in confusion and glanced around the empty room.

   “Oh, I’m not a psychic or anything.” You gave a nervous laugh.  “My boss, he told me.  He said you were coming here though and I never asked how he knew that part.  It’s been bothering me all night.”  

   The man walked slow, his eyes taking in everything.  You cringed as you grabbed a smaller glass and poured yourself a bit of wine, hoping to drown your embarrassment.  

   “I am sorry.  I should not have been so forward.”  You smiled as you drank it down.  “I should have played it much more smooth.  May I start over?”

   “Please.”  The man grabbed the handle of his sword and you turned around, half expecting a vicious beast behind you. “Now it is my turn to apologize.”

   You looked back to him as he let go of the handle, holding his hands in the air.  

   “I am not used to hospitality.”  He pulled out the chair and had a seat.  “This is most unusual.”  

   “You are most welcome here.”  You poured another shot of wine and took it down.  “So, did my superior mean here as in this bar or here as in the town?  I mean, we are the only bar in the town and it is no secret Witchers like to indulge, but there is a much nicer inn not far from here, but we do have a few rooms if you would like to stay the night?  All are vacant, we are not frequented, occasionally a drunkard needs a spot for a few hours, our rates are reasonable but for you it will be gratis of course and have I mentioned I babble when nervous?”  

   Worst spy ever.  You grabbed the bottle of red and brought it to your lips, this time taking a chug as the Witcher smiled.  

   A warmth spread through you at the sight.  A Witcher smiling.  You never knew such a thing was possible.  

   “I am not sure what your supervisor was aware of, but it’s no secret Witchers indulge?”  He picked up the mug in front of him and looked inside, his eyes wide as if he were studying.  

   “My father, he used to tell tales of fairies and dragons and warlocks and vampires.”  Your eyes flashed as you pictured his face.  “And Witchers too.”  

   “Did he tell you how we strike down the wicked? Or how we are sell swords?”  The Witcher took a drink and then brought the mug away from his face, staring at what you poured him with shock.  

   “He told me how easy it would be to poison your drinks.”  You smiled but the man almost fell out of his chair as you burst out laughing.

   You clapped as he grabbed for his sword handle, hesitating as you grinned at him.  Then he relaxed in his seat as his eyes looked over your face.  

   “I am sure you have far better insight into a Witcher than my father, enlighten my poor soul?”  When you sat down the coin in your pocket jingled, reminding you of your mission for the night.  There was no harm in getting to know the man in the process though.

~~

   “I have not spoken as many words this night as I have all of the past year.”  Geralt’s eyes continued to dance on your face.  

   It would have been easy to shy under his gaze, but as the dawn grew near your mind was being tugged elsewhere.  

   “Does the sun rising bother you?”  His brows furrowed.  

   “Not in the slightest.” In fact, you frowned, wishing you were just waking up instead of readying for bed.  “I would give anything to not sleep in a tiny bed upstairs, not work overnights at a place where the bulk of my wages go to room and board.  I am saving up.  This is temporary.”  

   “Then why do you keep glancing at the door?”  Geralt shifted, you watched his hand shift toward his weapon once again, but this time he did not come close to grabbing it.  

   “Fell in with a bad lad.” You shook your head.  “Controlling type.  He works overnights as well.  Only I am off at eight and he is off at six.  I expect him any second.  He will sit down, beg for me to come home, lament about his problems, like I give a fuck.  It’s been almost a year since we split, or should I say since he split my head open and I had the common sense to leave him.”  

   Tears started to form, but you blinked them away.  

   “Whatever monster you are here to kill.  I hope it is him.”  You smiled at your joke, hoping to break the tension, but Geralt didn’t find any humor in your statement.  

   Now the air grew thick between the two of you, all the good will and fun turned to awkwardness.  

   “What are you here to kill by the way?”  The subject needed to be changed.  “A banshee? A ghoul? A Bailisk?”  

   “Your father taught you well about the supernatural.”  Geralt swirled his drink.  “He must have been well researched.”

   “Right after he died, I wanted him back.  I was broken.  He was all I ever knew.”  This time you let a tear fall.  “I even tried to find a Witcher or a Mage or anything.  But his books, the legends he told me, they all said the same thing.  The dead,  even if they do come back, they can’t understand the living anyway.”

   “Very well researched.” Geralt grunted.  

   The door opened and relief flooded your body as the opening bartender walked in.  

   “Well, my shift is over. Kolly is here.  I am sure she can keep your attention.”  You stood up and wiped your tear.  “Unless you have changed your mind and want a room?”

   Your coworker’s eyes went wide as she looked at the only patron.   You were sure she was as shocked as you were not to walk in on your ex sitting there.  

   “Where do you sleep?”  Geralt rose from his stool.  

   Kolly stopped walking and glared at you. As immoral of a question it was your body heat flared and you clenched your thighs at the thought.  The last you wanted was rumors flying around the town.  

   “I sleep alone.”  You gave Kolly a side glance and she nodded in approval before walking into the kitchen.  “But thank you for the company, though my boss will be disappointed.”  

   “Why is that?”  Geralt narrowed his eyes.

   “Well, you were my assignment.”  It didn’t feel right to lie.  “Find out why you are here, but after our night I believe I am more likely to fall in love with you than deceive you.”

   The same smile you caught earlier washed over his face.  This was the first time since Robert you’d felt any connection with another person.

   “Tell your boss,  I am passing through, there is wraith in Sehalsberg, but given the warm reception I received I will return for the hospitality.”  Geralt’s eyes focused on you again.  

   The way he looked at you fluttered your stomach, how you wished Kolly was not here to judge.  

   “Goodnight then.  I hope you return soon.”  You tried to hide the smile as you turned and walked to the stairs, feeling his eyes on your back as you headed to your small room.  

~~

“That’s it?”  Your boss scoffed.  “Passing through?  And how much free mead did you give the man?”

”I...I was trying to get information.”  You should have known better than to think your boss was going to pay you a dime.

“Well, that will be coming out of your wages.”  He shook his head.  “Plus I heard Mister and the boys did not arrive in the morning, you know how much coin they drop here! Sometimes I swear it's the only reason I keep you on.”

All the frustration you were feeling you bit down.  You needed this job.  So you nodded.

“Kick you out on the street.”  He threw his hands in the air.  “A Witcher, passing through.”

~~

The bar emptied out at the normal time.  You kept the fires going, trying to read your book and hoping Geralt would stop in again, memories of your night before making you smile non stop.  

But as the hours went on your heart broke more and more.  You told yourself it was unreasonable to think he would be back the next night.  Then when the door opened and your ex stepped inside with his group of coworkers your heart shattered.  

His eyes locked with yours and there was a fury as he strolled up to you.  

“What did you say to him?”

You moved back against the bar, but he reached out and grabbed the hair above your ear yanking you forward.

“You know I love you?  Why would you betray me?”  

As you tried to twist away he slammed your head down against the bar.  Monster.  You should have made that clearer to Geralt.  Then maybe he would have saved you.  

~~

   There was no warning from your boss, no rumors.  But you had not forgotten of Geralt. Months had past, but when the doors opened at two in the morning one night and he walked in your heart went a flutter.  

   “Passing through?”  This time the shake was worse.  You had played this conversation out over and over in your head.  “There cannot be a second monster in a nearby town.”

   “I never caught the first.”  Geralt sat down, making no attempts for his sword.  “I thought you might have forgotten me.”

   “A girl never forgets her first Witcher.”  You poured him a jug of mead.  “Now please, tell me where you have been.  What you have seen.”

   “I would rather hear about you.”  He took a drink without looking.  “Tell me, has your monster returned?”  

   Your chest struggled to breath.  Now was your chance to ask what you had been hoping for.

   “Every day since the last you were here.”  This was not how you practiced.  “He was violent once, nobody cared.”  

   Geralt stood and you ran around the bar to him, this stranger from one night.  You broke down against his chest, sobbing.  His arms came around you, his body stiff.  

   “There’s no comfort in you.”  You pushed off of him, glaring up.  

   “What?”  He looked surprised.  

   “I can feel it.”  You put your arms to his chest, palms against his leather top.  “You don’t care either.  I am trapped here.”

   “Untrue.”  Geralt pulled you back, cradled you.  Then you felt it, his stiffness relax, his hands pulling you tighter, rubbing your back.  “I care more than you know.”  

   “I think about you.”  Shame and embarrassment over your confession vanished.  “Just one night talking and I think about you non-stop.  I wonder where you are, how you are feeling, what mundane tasks you must be doing.  Curious why you have cast such a spell on me.”  

   Geralt’s hands found your shoulders and pushed you back.  He gazed at you with the studying look that should have made you melt, but his eyes would not stay still.  

   You tried to focus on what he was looking at when he pulled you closer, upwards and his lips crashed into yours.  Heat seeped into your veins.  A burning as your mouth opened and his tongue drove inside.  

   You drank him down.  Shuddering against his chest as you attempted to keep up.  The warmth turning to a burn as you kissed him back, your brain going dizzy as all the liquid in your body gathered between your legs.  

   Just as you started to give in, the feeling vanished.  Your eyes blinked several times, seeing the warm hues from the room and the greys from him turn into one.   His purple eyes were aflame.   His chest moving faster than your own as he struggled for breath.  

   “What’s wrong?”  Every problem in your orbit had vanished with that kiss.  

   Anger returned your gaze as Geralt let go of you and vanished out of the bar.  You wanted to follow but were too stunned.

   You hunched over and your struggle for air turned into tears.  What were you thinking?  A Witcher would never be your savior.  You were doomed.  

~~

   It was hard to tell the passage of time.  Your savings depleted with every broken glass.   You were beginning to think your boss and your ex were in on this together, keeping you trapped here.  

   Memories of your one night with Geralt kept you going.  But then you remembered the second night, the kiss and look of disgust on his face.  Witchers could not fall in love.  And who fell in love with anyone after one night?  Oh, that’s right.  You did.

   “Best to keep an eye out tonight.”  Your boss leaned against the doorway to the kitchen.  

   “Why’s that?”  You remembered the last time you heard this.

   “Word is, a Witcher is on the road. Stopping here.”  He flung the rag over his shoulder.

   “He won’t stop here.”  You knew the hospitality ran out.

   “Find out why he is here.”  Your boss flung a bag of coin at you.  “More when you get the reason?”  

   It couldn’t have been that long ago that Geralt was here.  You looked up at him with confusion.

   “Witchers are bad for business.”  He kicked off the wall and walked away.  

   Much like the last time you had this conversation, the bar began to empty.  A weird echo ran down your spine, but you brought your fingers to your lips and felt the tingle.  This time a pit formed in your stomach as you never expected to see Geralt again.

~~

   The last patron left and you started to wipe down the counters, thinking of reasons to lock the door.  Sure your boss would find out and then slash your earnings, but that happened anyway.  You had confessed your feelings to a Witcher on the second time you saw him.  Why would he come back anyway?  To torture you?  

   You sighed and went to close up early, not caring if you got fired.  But before you rounded the bar the door opened.  

   Pale hair.  Pale skin.  A different face looked up at you.  Not Geralt.  

   The man drew his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.  

   “There is no need for those weapons.”  You went back to the bar.  “Can I offer you something to drink?  I promise you have nothing to fear here.  We welcome Witchers.”  

   “You…..what?”  The man looked at you and then stalked into the kitchen.

   “That’s not a public area…” You followed behind him, but he spun and moved into a defensive stance.  “I am sorry.  Please, do what needs to be done.”

   You thought about Geralt’s first night, how he kept going for his sword.  Cautious, hesitant.  This must have been normal.  Inspecting for enemies.  

   Without thinking you poured him and yourself a drink.  Visions of your kiss with the previous Witcher tried to dash in front of your eyes, but you pushed them away.   Should you bring up his name?  Ask where he was?  Where he had been?  What he was thinking about?  Had he mentioned you? Is that why the new one was here?  

   But before your nervousness made you blab he came out of the kitchen.  His eyes and stance toward you as he circled the bar.  

   “I poured you a drink.  Please,  sit and relax.”  You took your own and slammed it back.  

   “How odd.” He looked at your face with the same scrutiny as Geralt, studying and curious, but there was no spark.  It was more like he glared as if you were a dead animal he was attempting to dissect. “Where is your crypt?”

   “Crypt?”  You gave a nervous laugh.  “We are a bar with a few spare rooms upstairs.  No crypt.”

“Take me to your room.”  The man pointed the dagger at you.

You stared at him with your mouth open, unsure what the threat was or his intentions.

“Do you know Geralt?  He is a Witcher who has passed through here.  Are you looking for him?  He has not been here in ages, but he mentioned a monster a few towns over.”  You started to back up against the mugs, but the Witcher spun behind the bar, turning you with his sword and dagger out until you were in the open area.  “This must be a misunderstanding.”  

“These are pure silver.”  His eyes flashed with anger.  “Do not think of trying anything smart.  Now take me to your resting place.”  

“They look lovely, I can tell the fine craftsmanship.”  You tried to hide your nerves, and remembered what a gentleman Geralt was.  “A lady’s bedroom is no place for an uninvited man.”

“NOW!” His voice roared as he lunged forward.  

“ALRIGHT!”  You jumped back.  “Please don’t hurt me and put those things away.”

All the fear you had been bottling since the man walked in came rushing forward.  Your instincts took over and you ran to the front door.  He dropped his sword and reached out, grabbing your shoulder, and spinning you to face him.

“I can touch you.”  His face was featureless as he recoiled his hand with a look of horror.

“Not tonight.”  You slapped him across the face as hard as possible before turning to run again.  

You didn’t make it three steps before he shoved you forward, your knees hit the hardwood with a clunk as your body bounced.  

“STOP!”  You kicked at him as he dropped down on top of you, the weight of him heavy as he flipped you over.  

You struggled while he straddled you pinning you down.   You continued to claw, bite, kick, whatever you could.  The dagger was still in his hand when a slice sounded through the air.  

An inhuman scream left your lips as your arm flooded with white hot pain.  You vision began to blacken as your chest heaved.  It felt as if your arm was starting to rot off from the inside.  You cried and winced, unable to gasp for air.  

The Witcher let go of your hands and you cradled your arm.  Confused as to how this could hurt that badly.  

“I am sending you back to where you belong.”  He lifted the dagger high in the air.  

Your head rolled as if an infection was spreading, your brain and muscles oozing with hurt.  You shut your eyes and opened them again.  The warm orange against the brown wood was gone.  You saw grey and decay.  Spiderwebs and a rundown bar.

“What?”  You pinched your eyes shut, thinking it was a fever dream.  “Have you poisoned me?  What treachery is this?”

The bar you spent each night cleaning was covered in dust and mildew.  There was a broken beam in the ceiling and a hole in the roof.   Your head lulled back at the piano.  

“Someone was playing that all night.”  You didn’t undrestand, the beautiful polished keys were missing, chipped.  Strings were hanging out the top.  “What is happening?”

“You will haunt this place no more you evil beast.”  The Witcher puffed his chest and raised the dagger even higher.  

“NO!”  You braced yourself, shielding your body with your arms.  

“SHES’S NOT EVIL!”  Geralt’s voice filled the room.  

“Geralt….?”  You tried to twist and look at him, but your eyes couldn’t focus.  “What is happening to me?”  

“Have you forgotten your creed?”  The weight on your hips lifted as you rolled on the floor. “She must be destroyed.”  

“Have you forgotten yours?”  The sound of a sword being drawn echoed and you looked up at the moonlight, seeing the rotted bannister to the upstairs.  “We don’t kill innocents.”

“Innocent?”  The other Witcher scoffed.  “She killed Robert Blanton.  The son of the man who hired us!”

“She is stuck in a time loop.  She does not know what she is.”  Geralt’s voice began to fade.  “How is that her fault?”  

“So you want to what?  Save her?”  The stranger laughed.  “You are insane.”  

“I won’t let you kill her.”  Geralt grunted as he stepped over you.

“She is already dead.”  The man let out a roar and you heard the clashes of blades.  

“Dead?” It came out as a whimper and you rolled on to your side.

The sounds of the men fighting faded away as you lifted your hand.  The flesh looked real, the color the same it had always been, but then you caught sight of the wound.  The scratch from the dagger was spreading decay.  You could see your bone as the skin pulled away, as if you were struck with fire that would not burn out.  

“MmMmmpph!”  You looked up and spotted a man on his side, bound and gagged.

There were tears running down his cheeks, he was older, you would guess at least sixties, he was bald with a white beard, nothing but fear in his eyes.  Those eyes.  

“That’s the monster you are after.”  Geralt’s voice came back.  “He did this to her.  He is responsible for Robert Blanton’s death.”  

“Stander?”  It was him, your ex who taunted you every morning, who hurt you physically and mentally, but he was so much older even though you just saw him that day.  

“He is a human being.” The other Witcher laughed.  “We do not kill humans.”

“You are correct.”  The banging of the sword continued until you heard a grunt and a slice followed by a gasp.  “We kill monsters.”  

There was a groan and a thud against the floor.  Everything hurt.  

“Are you alright?”  Geralt came to your side and pulled you close.  “It’s over.  I’m going to take you from here.”  

With a swirl, everything clicked.  Time loop, two Witchers, Robert being dead.  The way your boss was so mechanical, the way every day felt the same.

“I was your assignment.”  You reached up and cupped his face.  “But you fell in love.”  

   Geralt’s eyes flashed in the moonlight.  He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut his lips.  You pinched your eyes shut as your chest started to shake.  

   “No...no...I won’t let you die.”  He set your head on the ground.

   “Fix her.”  Geralt stomped over to Stander and kicked him in the gut.  “Fix her and I will spare your life.”  

   The objection hung on your lips.  You were ready to cross over, but before you could get the word out consciousness left.  If you had to leave, at least it was being loved.

~~

   The bustling of the dinner crowd woke you up.  You had more of a headache tonight than you’d had in months.  Nothing you could do about it now.  You took a drink of water from your bed stand and then readied for work.  

   When you walked out of your room you ignored the crowd and smiled, a vision of Geralt in your head.  Of course it turned into a frown, remembering the kiss.  You were destined to be alone.  

   “Good evening.”  The voice echoed across the crowd as you made your way downstairs.  

   Your heart wanted to leap out of its chest at the familiar voice.  You locked eyes with the Witcher and the headache intensified.  

   The colors and sounds of the bar started to blur.  You shut your lids to take the flashes out and sat on the stairs.  The noises flared and your headache intensified.

   “Hey.”  A warm hand touched your knee.  “It will be alright.”  

   The background noises left and you looked up with a shake to see your Witcher standing in front of you.  

   “What?”  The bar was dilapidated, dust and holes and rotted wood.  

   Memories came crashing back.  The second Witcher, Stander.  

   “What am I?”  It felt like all the air was sucked out of your lungs as you looked to your arm.  There was no scar, but the searing hot pain echoed in your bones.  “Am I dead?”

   “In a sense.”  Geralt’s finger came under your chin.  “Twenty five years ago, you were murdered here.  Your killer could not let you go.  With the help of a Mage he trapped your spirit in this, a fake recreation of your body.

   “He sets you with a time loop, you can break through and when that happens he murders you again and resets.  It makes you see things that aren’t there.  But some memories don’t get erased.”

   “Like you?”  You looked around in the moonlight.  “My boss?”

   “After your murder, he let the business go into shambles.  Everyone in the village knew who the killer was, but nobody would speak up.  It was the perfect spot to reset you. Some of the things he said, knowing they would be erased did not.  That’s how the image of your boss knew I was coming.”  Geralt hid nothing.  “Stander was the only one who set foot in here over the years until…”

   “Until Robert.”  You gasped.  

   Memories that had been lost came forward.  The way he walked in, shocked to see you.  The way he kept coming back, how you looked forward to it.  Then the one kiss and he was gone.

   “I killed him?”  You thought of the heat from your kiss with Geralt.  “I drain the life force with my touch.”

   “Not your touch.”   Geralt ran his fingers over your lips, it sounded like an echo of sorrow spread across the bar.  “The murderer showed me the spell, I brought you back one final time.  Silver will destroy you. Once it spreads to your heart you will be free.”  

   Geralt set a dagger on the step next to you.  You looked at the metal, the thought of crossing over.  

   “So am I gollum?”  You didn’t look away.  “An unnatural recreation, do I even have a soul?”

   “You are a soul.”  Geralt gave a squeeze to your knee.  “But you can cross over now.  Be with your father.”  

   “And what if I am not ready?”  You looked at him.  “Am I trapped here?  Tethered?  It feels like months, but its been years?”  

   “Tethered to this realm yes, but not this place.”  Geralt bit his lip.  “You are free to leave, just did not know you had the option.”

   “The fake time loop.”  You glanced at the door, never thinking of walking through it because every night had felt like an average night at work.  All the years you had wasted.  When you could have walked away.

   A creak in the floor made both of your heads snap.  There was Stander, tied to a chair.

   “I promised I would spare his life in exchange for the spell.”  Geralt stood.  “I am a man of my word.  I thought you might want the final one with him.”  

   The final word.   Dragging your killer, your tormenter to the bowels of hell.  It was tempting.  

   “I need more than a word.”  You stood up from the stairs and took a brief pace.  “I think my former lover needs a kiss goodnight.”

   You ripped off the cloth bound over his mouth and he let out a scream as you pushed your lips to his.   It was slow, not the burning passion you felt with Geralt.  But the heat intensified as your lips pressed to his.  You gripped his cheeks, holding his head in place while you felt his life source draining into you.

   The heat turned into a scorch, but unlike your arm the night before it was pleasant.  You wanted that burn.  He tried to scream, but it was muffled by your lips as his body began to jerk.   You sucked in air and pulled away, taking him with you, your body glowing with warmth as his corpse twisted into the chair.  

   “I promised nothing.”  You wiped your lips as pure energy ran through your veins and you turned to Geralt.  “Tell me, am I a monster now?”  

   “No.”  Geralt walked forward.  

   “And was I a monster for killing Robert?”  You pushed your shoulders back.

   “No.”  Geralt took another step.

   “And if I kill again,  will that make me a monster?”  You swallowed.

   “Not if they deserve it.”  Geralt came closer.

   “And if they do not?”  You reached out and grabbed his hand.  “Will you end me?”  

   He hesitated, his lips trying to think of the words.

   “I do not believe that day will come.”  His hand moved to your waist and he brought you closer.  “I saw you, that first night.  You will never be a monster.”

   “But if it does, do I have your word that you will kill me?”  You tilted your chin and looked him in the eye, watching his iris swirl.  

   “No.”  His lips dropped to your neck as you let out a moan and clawed at his back.  

   He sucked and nipped as he guided you until your back hit the bar.   You dropped your head and kissed his cheek as your fingers found the hem of his shirt.  You untucked the garment from his pants and tugged it upward.  He pulled away and stripped the top off before crashing back against you, guiding your legs to spread.  

   Strong hands gripped your bottom and guided you on to the bar.  You gathered your skirts and spread your legs, baring yourself to him.  

   Both of your fingers went to his trousers and undid the lacing.  His cock sprung free and your chest heaved with excitement.  How long had it been?  Who was your last?  Was there ever a first?  Not with this body.  

   Geralt ran the tip of his cock up your slit, you were soaked and ready for him.  He lined up and you gripped his shoulder.  

   “Ah!”  Your head fell back as he pushed inside of you.  The pain made your thighs shake as your head fell against his shoulder.  “It hurts.  Too much.”  

   He stilled and with gasped breaths looked at you, steadying himself.  You could feel him pulsing inside of you.  

   “This body, whatever it is, it’s new.”  You brought your hand to the back of his neck.  “I want to kiss you.”  

   His fingers traced down your cheek and he bit his lips as he shook his head.  With shut eyes you leaned against him and nodded. Then brought your lips to his collarbone and began to make your mark.  

   Geralt followed your lead, pulling out a bit before diving back in, bracing himself against the bar with one hand, the other digging into your hip.  

   Each stroke replaced the pain with pleasure.  Your winces turned into coos that turned into moans.  

   A rhythm formed as you lifted your hips, welcoming him inside of your.  The movements hit your core and you felt yourself tense.  

   “Too much?”  He kissed your head as his hand ran up the back of you neck.

   “Not enough.”  You started rocking faster.  “Please, go, go.”  

   Your fingers wound in his hair as he honored your request.  The tightness in your chest spread to the apex between your legs and you ground down harder.   Geralt picked up his pace and your vision began to blur.  

   You fisted his hair and yanked as your release came over you, pleasure filling your body, no your soul as the cry left your mouth.  

   He followed you into the oblivion.  Filling you with his seed in the process.  Both of you started to kiss each other’s necks, moving up the cheeks until you were almost at the lips.  

   Foreheads dipped and you pressed them together.  A few times you saw him go to pucker, but pull away.  There would never be a real kiss between you.  

   You stayed like that for a moment.  Both of you gathering your bearings.  When he slipped from you, you almost collapsed, but his hand stayed on your hip.  

   “We need to leave.”  Geralt tucked himself away and picked up his shirt.  “There is a dead Witcher and a dead villager.”  

   “To hunt monsters?”  You stood up from the bar, your legs shaking.  “That is my life now?”

   You looked at the door, ready to venture into the world.

   “Not your life.”  Geralt smiled.  “Never forget,  you’re already dead.”  

   You stared at him before a big grin crossed your face.  

   “And you love me all the same.”  

A/N:  Thank you for reading!! I so appreciate every comment and like!  

[blackmissfrizzle]

Collide

Characters: Dean Winchester x black!reader, Geralt x black!reader

Summary: When on a case, the reader bumps into a familiar face.

Warnings: None

A/N: This idea has been in my forever. I’m happy its finally out.

Between the store clerk trying to stare down your blouse and him giving you, Sam, and Dean unnecessary details of the attack here, you were gonna blow your brains out. Dean noticed your frustration and smiled at you. He loved the little pouty look you would get when you were annoyed. It was the same look you gave him when you wanted something from him.

To get away from the clerk’s stare you roamed around the gas station, still intently listening to his story.

“Then some dude who looked like he came straight from Game of Thrones came inside. I thought he was LARPing.”

“LARPing?” Dean repeated looking up from his notepad.

“Live action role playing,” you explained, your fingers dragging over the chips.

The clerk looked at you adoringly. “You know what it is?”

“Yeah,” you sauntered back up to the counter. Time to tease this little sucker. You took a cherry blowpop and unwrapped it. “I do it all the time. My favorite is the professor and the naughty schoolgirl.” You fluttered your eyelashes as you stuck the lollipop in your mouth.

Dean squeezed your hip in warning to cut it out. He didn’t need more reason to knock the kid out. You paid him no mind though. You just continue to smile at the clerk in which you had no doubt probably jizzed in his pants.

Dean slammed the countertop to get the young man’s attention. “Hey, eyes over here. What happened when Jon Snow came in?”

“Umm, he umm, went crazy.” You couldn’t hide your smile as he stumbled over his words. Serves him right for being a little creep. “He started swinging some blade around and killed the three other guys that were here. I thought I was next when we made eye contact, but he walked right pass me.”

Sam asked for the footage for the fight, but just our luck the camera was busted, it was only there for show. Now you had to be here longer listening to the clerk ramble.

“Uh, he’s as tall as you,” the clerk pointed at Dean, “But he’s ripped. More ripped than you,” he pointed at Sam while Dean murmured, he was ripped. “Oh, and his eyes, they were freaky man,”

The three of you traded looks. Maybe you were just dealing with a demon.

“What color were they? Yellow? White? Black?” Sam questioned.

“Yellow, well more like a golden color. You know kinda like Twilight vampire eyes.”

That was odd. None of you dealt with anything with those kind of eyes before. Guess this means this wasn’t gonna be as easy as you thought.

“Oh, and he had long white hair which is weird because he did not look that old at. Maybe it’s a new hipster trend.”

Your head popped up at the mention of the white hair. It couldn’t be him. He’d be dead by now.

Losing all jokiness, you grabbed the clerk by the collar and pulled out the necklace he gave you that you always wore. “Did he wear something like this?”

“Yeah, the same thing, just bigger.” You let him go and smoothed his collar in apology before walking out. You needed air asap.

Sam and Dean soon followed. Neither have seen you get rough with a witness before. “Y/N/N, you okay?” Sam rubbed your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think I know who our killer is.”

“Kinda figured that out. Care to share with the class?” Dean knew just how to pull you out of that state, being a dick. You couldn’t pass up hitting him.

“Remember when those witches sent me to the past? I think the guy who helped me is the killer.”

Dean snapped his fingers trying to remember the man’s name. “What was his name. Geral- Gerald? No. Geral-”

“Geralt.” You finished for him.

Dean didn’t like how you said his name or how your eyes lightened up. The two of you weren’t a couple, but you were his.

“Wouldn’t he be dead by now?” Sam questioned.

“Time travel.” You simplified for him.

Dean shook his head. “Man, I hate time travel.”  

—

The three of you ended up at an abandoned house. You used a hair tie Geralt gave you as a conduit for a tracking spell.

“Geralt, do you have an extra scrunchie?”

“A what?” He asked, looking up at you on Roach as he walked alongside you.

You forgot they didn’t know the term scrunchies. “A hair tie.”

“Why didn’t you just call it that?” He complained.

You rolled your eyes at his grumpiness. “That’s what we call them in the future.”

“Ah. No, I don’t have an extra one. Why do you ask?”

“Because mines broke and I don’t want my braids in my face in this heat.”

Geralt sighed as he undid his. “Here,” he handed you his hair tie.

When you got into town, you bought a new hair tie at the market and you tried to give Geralt’s his, but he insisted on you keeping it. Instead he took the new one.

You surprised it work since it was so flimsy, but you couldn’t use the necklace he gave it to you, because technically it wasn’t his. He had it made for you. It was for his ‘little witcher.’

You opted to lead with your sword instead of your gun. Geralt wouldn’t be shooting at y’all. Plus, the only time you could use it was when you were hunting vamps and you missed swinging this baby through the air.

Quietly, you entered the home. Geralt would be on guard and you didn’t feel like fighting him off.

The three of you split up, in search of him. You really hope that you would find him first and not Sam or Dean. He wouldn’t trust them as easily.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard Dean yell, “Son of a bitch!” Racing down the hall, you and Sam arrived at the same time only to see Dean dodging Geralt’s sword.

“I thought you said he was some sort of hunter?” Sam pointed out Geralt’s black eyes.

“He’s not!”

You screamed out the Witcher’s name, but he didn’t respond. He had to be under someone’s control.

“Don’t shoot him!” You yelled at Dean, who was letting out rounds.

“Well, tell him to stop trying to impale me!” Dean rolled to his side to dodge the sword once more.

The witcher had the hunter backed into a corner with no room to miss his strikes. Before Dean could get stabbed, you blocked Geralt’s sword with yours.

“Geralt! Stop! It’s me!” Geralt’s black eyes held no recognition. It was as if you were another monster.

You’re a total badass but fighting Geralt proved to be exhausting. He was a much better swordsman than you and it didn’t help that you learned from him.

While you were trying to stay alive, a book barely missed your head. Looking in the direction it came from, you saw Jaskier being hemmed up by Sam and Dean.

“Jaskier, did you just throw a fucking book at me!?”

“Y/N?” The bard squinted his eyes, trying to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating you. “It’s you! Thank the heavens! Geralt is in dire need of your help.”

“I can see that!” You gritted, while Geralt had you backed against the wall with your swords crossed.

“Geralt, look it’s Y/N, the woman’s name you’ve been saying in your sleep is here.” He’s been saying your name in his sleep? You were sure he be too caught up with Yennfer.

It didn’t matter though. Geralt still was on attack mode. You were talking to Jaskier, trying to figure out what was happening when Geralt stroke your sword out of your hand with the tip of his near your neck.

Jaskier was forgotten by the boys, now that you were in imminent danger, but you told them to stand down. You knew you could get through to him.

“Geralt, it’s me!” The sound of distress in your voice broke through Geralt. His eyes reverted back to normal, well, normal for him.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The one that got away.  Geralt dropped his sword, shortened the distance between you two by leaning his forehead against yours while cupping your jaw gently. “Y/N,” he whispered against your lips.

His lips took you by surprise. You haven’t felt them against yours since you came back your time. This time it was different. It was more passionate. The eagerness from Geralt let you know that he was seeking familiarity and you were willing to give it.

A throat clearing broke you out the kiss. You turned to see a pissed off Dean, a smug Jaskier, and an uncomfortable Sam. Taking in that sight, you stepped away from Geralt’s embrace.

“Um, Sam, Dean, this is Geralt of Rivia.”

Despite his immediate disdain for the man, Dean introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester of Lawrence.”

Geralt ticked his head to the side before shaking Dean’s hand. So, this was the idiot that Y/N would groan on about. He never quite understood why the idiot didn’t want to be in a relationship with Y/N. She was smart, beautiful, and a hell of a hunter. He would’ve taken her for himself if only time didn’t separate them.

With introductions over, you got to the meat of it. Geralt explained that someone plucked him, Jaskier, Ciri, and Yennefer out of time, just to use him as a weapon. The rest were used to keep him in line, but after one too many fights with his abductors they found a way to spell him under their control.

“Then why are you with him?” You asked Jaskier.

Jaskier’s face flushed and he looked towards the ground. “They said I was annoying, so they sent me with him.”

You had to contain your laughter, but Geralt did not. Leave it up to Jaskier to annoy his kidnappers to the point they couldn’t stand being around him.

You were getting into the backseat of Baby when Geralt just stood there a little confused. “What are you doing? Get in!” You patted the empty seat and he hesitantly slid in.

“This is small,” Geralt commented as his eyes roamed the vessel. It sort of reminded him of a carriage without the horses.

“Faster than Roach. How is she?” A smile graced your face as you reminisced on the stead. She was the most beautiful horse and as protective over you as Geralt.

“She’s well. She misses you though.” Not as much as him though, Geralt thought.

Nuh huh. This was not gonna happen on his watch. Dean let the freakazoid get one free kiss because he was disoriented, but he be damned if he let him make moves on his woman. “Who the hell is Roach?” Dean asked, looking at the pair of you from his rearview mirror.

“My horse.” Geralt met Dean’s eyes in the mirror but for only a moment.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Really? you named your horse after an insect.”

“Dude, you literally named the impala Baby,” Sam slapped his shoulder.

Sam’s comment launched the brothers into an argument about Baby’s name origin. While they were having their silly argument, you leaned up and turned on the radio to drown them out.

Immediately, Jaskier was intrigued by the music coming out. You told him all about the advancements in music and promised him to show him some good music.

Dean caught the tail end of your conversation and asked Jaskier why not start his music lesson now.

Sam and your eyes went to each other. Both of you knew Dean was about to go through his expansive cassette tape collection. Sam put in his headphones while you leaned your head back, getting comfortable for your nap.

You didn’t feel Geralt pull you off Jaskier when your body slumped over on him. You didn’t feel Geralt wrapped his arms around your waist as he leaned your head on him. And you definitely didn’t feel Dean’s hot gaze staring at your conjoined bodies.

Tagging: @deansblackbeauty​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @jinaaaannnnn @amethyst09​ @titty-teetee​ @deanscroissant​ @deansbbysblog​ @thickemadame​ @arizonalovesher​ @harrywujj

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

It Was You All Along (Part 3)

Tags: @ayyyyitswednesdaymydoods​ @blackjay04​

Author’s note: This one is a bit short, but I was just too excited to post it! Enjoy the angst~

-------------------------------

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly. I’m not really sure if that is good or bad, but at least the hunt Geralt went on was successful and he made some coin. Now, it was Jaskier’s turn. 

The tavern owner agreed to let Jaskier perform tonight before we head out in the morning. Honestly, I was looking forward to it. Maybe I could clear my head while listening to him sing. 

Geralt and I sat across from each other at a table in the back of the tavern, each of us gripping a mug of ale. Jaskier stood off to the side of the makeshift stage getting his lute ready and adjusting the collar of his doublet. 

“Keep staring like that, and your eyes just might freeze,” Geralt muttered over his ale. 

I jerked myself out of my stupor and turned to the big oaf in front of me. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Geralt.” 

“I’m sure you do.”

I glared at him and turned back to look at Jaskier who was now being announced as the performer for the night. What does Geralt know? Not a damn thing. He’s probably been hit in the head too many times to even remember how to spell his own name. Idiot. 

As Jaskier introduced himself to the crowd, I couldn’t help but notice the gaggle of desperate girls in the very front, pointing and giggling while he spoke. It was like that at every tavern, but this time it rubbed me the wrong way. And I really don’t know why. 

“What a bunch of morons,” I grumbled into my ale as I brought it to my lips. 

I noticed Geralt looking at me over the mug’s rim. 

“You should learn to mind your business, Witcher,” I spat at him. 

“And you should learn how to read your own feelings.”

What would he know about feelings? Nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Piss off, Geralt.” 

I’m not really sure where this anger came from. All I knew was that I was frustrated, and I could feel it bubbling inside me. I almost felt like hitting something. Almost...

But when I looked at Jaskier performing, a smile gracing his lips and his hands strumming his lute, that anger disappeared. It was replaced with another feeling. A happier feeling. But also a sad one. I really couldn’t describe it. I had never felt anything like it before. But I liked it. I think I liked it, at least. It made me feel better, to look at Jaskier. His happiness was contagious, and I wanted more of it. I wanted it for myself. 

As I watched him, I thought back to this evening in the square, when I caught up to him after the dance and had all those thoughts flitting through my mind. Just recalling them made my heart speed up. And as he finished his rendition of “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher,” my heart sank and my thoughts stopped all at once. 

“Oh, gods...”

Geralt glanced at me from the other side of the table with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. My face was on fire as I turned to face the wall. 

“Shut up, Geralt, or I’ll cut your hair in your sleep.”

He laughed quietly to himself, a low rumble erupting from his chest. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. He just knew about it before I did. 

I was in love with Jaskier. 

Said bard moved on to his next song, but I wasn’t really listening. I was staring at the girls that were still fighting for Jaskier’s attention. Is that all it takes? A few brain cells and exposed breasts? Maybe I have more of a chance than I thought I did. 

He shot them a wink as he turned on stage, pulling out all the theatrics for this one. I couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt by it. But he did it everywhere he performed. It was part of his charm. It was part of what I liked about him, I guess. But every other girl liked it too, and that made my heart feel heavy. 

~ 

Jaskier finished his set with a flourish, and he made his way over to us. I was on my second mug of ale and Geralt looked as if he was bored to death. 

Jaskier plopped down next to me, his doublet slung over his arm, leaving him only in his undershirt. The white fabric clung to him, and sweat glistened on his forehead. But he looked very pleased with himself. And his smile took my breath away. 

“So what did you think? Good, yeah?” he asked us as he waived at a server for a drink. 

“It was great!”

He turned to me, his chest still heaving a bit from his heavy breathing. The corners of his lips were turned up in a smile, and he looked down at the drink that was set in front of him. 

“Thank you, love,” were his words to the woman that brought it to him. 

She smiled and left. And I had to keep from glaring at her. 

Geralt cleared his throat and I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. A hint of the smirk he gave me earlier was reappearing on his face, and my foot shot out to meet his shin underneath the table in response. If it hurt at all, he gave away nothing. He simply stood and looked down at where we still sat. 

“I’m going to bed. You should too. If you aren’t up on time, I’ll leave without you.” 

And then he was gone. Which meant that it was just me and Jaskier at the table now. Under normal circumstances, this would have been fine. But I was feeling anything but normal at the moment. 

Jaskier turned towards me and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it suddenly, looking up at what seemed to be my head. 

“Oh, your flower crown has already started wilting! I wonder if there’s any way to save it.”

His lithe fingers, so sure of their movements, reached up to my head and gently grasped the crown. As he took it off, the edge of his knuckles gently grazed my forehead, and the contact made me shiver. Thankfully he didn’t notice because he was looking at the flower crown with genuine concern in his eyes. 

“Perhaps you could press the petals in a book to keep them. To remind you of our epic adventures when we are all old and gray!” Jaskier said with a childlike grin. 

His words made me smile too, and I took the crown from him gently, my forehead still tingling where his skin made contact with mine. 

“Perhaps I will,” I murmured quietly. 

It was at that moment that the woman who brought Jaskier his drink earlier approached our table once again. She was very pretty, with her long blonde hair done in a loose braid. She had big doe-like eyes that reflected the soft light of the tavern in their blue irises. 

Jaskier glanced up at the movement next to us and when he realized it was a person, he flashed her a smile. 

“What can I do for you, darling?”

“You’re Jaskier, right?” she asked excitedly. 

“The one and only,” he said with a wink. 

“I just- well, I couldn’t help but notice you tonight. Like really notice you.” As her words left her lips, she leaned over the table, her breast a bit exposed at the top of her dress. 

“I’m done working for the night, and I was wondering if you wanted to...get to know each other a bit.”

I swear I could feel bile rise in my throat as she talked to him. And it only got worse when he placed his hand over hers on the cracked wood of our corner table. 

“All you had to do was ask, love.”

Tears began forming in my eyes and I had to blink rapidly to keep the stinging feeling they brought at bay. The woman giggled and grabbed Jaskier’s hand, pulling him up from his seat. 

As they walked away to what I assumed was her room, Jaskier turned to me with a crooked smile and a glint in his eyes. 

“Don’t wait up for me!” he yelled back at me. 

I sat frozen, clutching the wilting flower crown to my chest to try and bring some sense of comfort to my racing heart. To try and remind myself of the good day I had with my best friend. But it wasn’t working. And long after he left, I was still staring at the spot he had been standing when he gave me his parting words. 

“I won’t.” 

~

I didn’t get much sleep that night. I didn’t think I would. My room was right beside Geralt and Jaskier’s and that was all I could think about. Would he even return to his room? Or would he spend the night with that woman from before? I stared at the ceiling as I thought about all this, gripping the blanket a bit too forcefully. When I realized my knuckles were becoming sore, I released the blanket and got out of bed. I’m not sure where I was going, but I just couldn’t sit still anymore. 

I glanced out the stained window next to the washtub. It was pitch black, and a few stars twinkled in the night. The stables were right below my room, and I could see Roach in her stall. That made me smile a bit. Lily was two stalls down from her, munching on something. I gave a small laugh, though it sounded more like a clicking noise than anything. I wasn’t truly in the mood for laughing. 

Deciding that I needed to move again, I made my way across the room towards the door leading out into the hallway. Maybe I’ll take a walk around to clear my head a bit. As I reached out to grab the door handle, I heard footsteps coming closer. They were heavy and spaced out. Whoever it was walking was not really all there. A drunk perhaps. Maybe I need a drink. That sounds like a good idea...

I cracked the door open to leave, but then I saw who it was stumbling down the hallway. It was Jaskier. Of course it was. 

He was leaned against the wall, stepping here and there. He was clearly drunk, as I thought before. His doublet dragged behind him from where it was clutched in his fist, and his shirt was halfway undone and untucked from his pants. Even in the shadows of the night I could see the dark purple marks blooming along his throat and collarbone. Tears threatened to spill over once more, and I decided to close the door. 

But before I did, I saw that he made it to his room, and he went in. Then I heard voices. Geralt must have still been awake. 

I didn’t really know what I had in mind. All I know is that in a split second, I was on the other side of the room, leaning my ear against the wall that divided me from them. 

Surprisingly, I could hear them talking. But I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying because of my pulse pounding in my ears. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, I closed my eyes and began to concentrate. 

“...couldn’t have been any quieter when coming in?”

I heard a scraping sound and a thud. I assume Jaskier sat down in a chair.

“Shut up, Geralt.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” was Geralt’s gruff reply. 

My heartbeat picked up again, causing me to only hear bits and pieces of their conversation that followed. 

“...wouldn’t understand...what do I do?...”

“You want advice?...grow a pair...stop whining...”

“...seeing her was...bad idea...(Y/N) can’t know...don’t want her...”

I decided I had had enough when I felt tears pricking my eyes for what seemed the millionth time that day. My hands met the wall and pushed the rest of me off. He didn’t want to see me? Is that what he was saying? That it was a bad idea to be around me? 

I wasn’t sure if I was more hurt or angry or confused. So I made my way back over to my bed and fell into it with a sigh that felt like I had been holding it in for hours. 

I prayed to whatever god was listening that I could sleep tonight without dreams. 

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Nurse Witcher

Geralt of Rivia x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: You get hurt and Geralt takes the responsibility upon himself to patch you up.

Word Count: 2020 words 

Warnings: swearing

- requested -

Masterlist

The day you officially joined Jaskier and Geralt on their journey was a life changing one but you couldn't say you regretted it. You were always up for an adventure and a little danger and following a Witcher, those two were always around somewhere. You’d been travelling with them for just over five months now and you couldn't ever imagine going back to your life as a farmer’s daughter. There was no excitement there. 

Unfortunately, all the constant monster hunting was bound to get someone hurt eventually, you just didn't think it would be you. Jaskier had heard word of a striga in the woods in a village not far from where you were currently residing. Naturally, Geralt didn't wait too long before heading into the monster’s territory, leaving you and Jaskier racing to catch up with him. Jaskier was thankful for your arrival to the team since you let him ride with you on your horse. Though, you never saw Geralt giving Jaskier glaring looks whenever he held onto you a little too tight. 

Jaskier was like your best friend so you two were quite close, which Geralt always seemed to make comments about. You guess you could say you were friends with Geralt but there was something preventing you from becoming close friends with him and that was your undeniable attraction to him. Granted, you never told either of your companions but you never really made an effort to get to know Geralt on a more personal level in case you messed things up, knowing how easy it was to get on Geralt’s bad side. 

So, you and Jaskier were currently in the woods, trying to track Geralt’s location. You were going to offer him some assistance in combat while Jaskier wanted to watch the fight so he could write a song about it. You were both quietly walking through the trees when you heard a loud screech and a man’s shout. You and Jaskier both looked at each other before breaking out into a run towards the location of the sound. 

There was a dip in the ground and you fell, tumbling down a hill that had been a couple feet in front of you. You heard Jaskier calling out to you but you couldn't ear him well, the sound of leaves and sticks scraping against you was too loud to concentrate on what the bard was saying. You finally stopped moving when you were at the bottom of the hill and you wasted no time in climbing to your feet, drawing your sword. You saw Geralt roughly twenty feet away from you and he was fighting this beast. It wasn't a striga like once thought but it was an ugly creature indeed. It looked half man, half wolf and was covered in matted hair and its snout looked broken. But, you assumed you could fault that to Geralt’s actions. 

Not wasting any more time, you raced over, despite some pain in your left ankle. You could only guess that your accident had sprained the joint sometime during your fall. You raised your sword above your head and swung it down, aiming for the beast’s head but it moved and the metal was lodged into it’s broad shoulder. The creature roared and it turned and swung it’s arm back towards you, throwing you off the ground and into a nearby tree. 

You felt a deep pain in your lower back but you made the decision to ignore that as well and got back onto your feet as quick as you could before Geralt took any more damage. In hindsight, Geralt was more than capable of handling the creature himself but you liked to help, it got the job done quicker and it made you feel as though you were contributing to the team rather than being just a lowly tag along. 

You groaned as you hurried over to the two to grab your sword that had fallen onto the floor and pick it back up. Reaching down for the weapon, you looked away from the beast for two seconds but it was enough for it to strike you without you noticing. You felt a sharp pain in your side and you cried out. As you fell to the ground, you looked to your right side and saw three deep gashes. Your fall caught Geralt’s attention and when he saw the blood spilling from your side, he felt an overwhelming rage take over him and he lashed out at the beast. He skillfully swung his own sword and proceeded to slice at the creature’s torso, thighs and arms before ending the fight with a swift chop of the neck, separating it from it’s body. 

As much as you would’ve liked to congratulate Geralt on his success, you were too busy focusing on applying pressure to your wound. Jaskier came running down the hill as soon as the beast was dead, to be able to stumble by your side and try to help. But as soon as Jaskier was at your side, Geralt was already picking you up in his arms to carry you back up the hill to take you back to the village where you were staying, “Why did you do that? I was perfectly capable of killing the beast myself.” “Fuck off, I was just trying to help.” You tried to laugh but you only succeeded in bringing yourself more pain, resulting in your crying out. 

“She needs a doctor, urgently.” “No!” You cried out at Jaskier’s comment. You despised doctors, had done ever since you were a young girl. You had too many bad experiences with them and you’d sworn you’d never set foot in one again, so long as you may live. Geralt and Jaskier both knew this and while Jaskier thought it was ridiculous, Geralt respected your wishes. “I’ll do it myself.”

“No offence, Geralt, but don't you think someone more professional should be handling a wound as grave as hers?” Geralt grunted in dismissal, “She doesn't want a doctor so I’ll do it myself. I know what I’m doing.” Jaskier gritted his teeth, “If my friend dies because of you, I swear I will hurt you so bad, you’ll...you’ll...Just don't hurt her!”

You were listening to what they were saying but you were far too delirious from the pain that you couldn't give a response apart from a few unintelligible mumbles. Geralt looked down at you with worry once Jaskier had stopped his lecturing. Your eyes were half closed and your breaths were heavy but slow. He needed to hurry or there was a chance you couldn't be saved. When Geralt sped up his pace, that’s when you passed out from the pain, not able to take any more. 

---

Wood. That was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. With a loud groan, you turned on your left side to be able to take a look around the room you were in. It looked similar to the room you had been in last night but it was different. You then turned back onto your back and turned your head to the right, seeing Geralt sat on the chair next to the bed. You jerked from surprise, “Fuck!” Geralt gave the smallest smile of amusement from your reaction then turned serious when you cried out from the pain of your movements. Your hand immediately went down to clutch at your side and you hissed from the pressure. You pulled the sheets off your body and lifted your shirt, finding bandages wrapped around your whole stomach and sides. 

You relaxed your head back down onto the pillow and let out a deep breath, “So I’m not dead then?” “Fortunately not.” You grinned playfully, “Fortunately? Are you getting sweet on me?” Geralt rolled his eyes and got up from his seat, moving to the small table in the corner of the room where he picked up a roll of bandages and a bottle of what looked like herbs but who knew what it was. “I need to change your bandages now, you’ve been out almost two days now.” 

Your eyes widened, “Two days?!” Your nose then scrunched up from the pain in your side from getting worked up. Geralt sighed, “You need to keep still or it will take twice as long to heal.” “I know. Fuck, it hurts.” “It’s going to hurt less if you just let me change your bandages.” You sighed and gave a small nod, letting Geralt swiftly prop you up into a sitting position. It took everything you had not to scream, tears rushing to your eyes from the pain. It felt like you were being jabbed in the side with a heated iron rod over and over again. 

You saw Geralt’s hand move to reach for the bandages when you realised he was going to see your stomach. Out of fear, your hand gripped his wrist and he stopped, “What’s wrong?” You gritted your teeth, “I can change them myself now, thank you.” Geralt shook his head, “Don’t be ridiculous,” “I’m not.” “Just let me-” “No!” 

Frustrated, Geralt growled and glared at you, “Why must you be so difficult? I assume you’d have no problem with Jaskier doing this? is my touch so repulsive?” Shocked at his words, you paused. You cleared your throat before speaking, “No, it isn't. I don’t want you to see naked. I’ve been told it isn't a pleasant sight.”

“If that is your attempt at humour, it isn’t very amusing.” Geralt’s voice had softened as he slowly started to unravel the material around your waist. Your hand gripped his wrist more firmly, “It’s not a joke, Geralt.” The Witcher grunted, continuing with his task, ignoring your grip on him. “It may have escaped your notice, but I have already seen your bare torso when I first cleaned your wound. If nothing else, trust me when I say the sight is more than pleasant. Even with the nasty wound on your side.” You scoffed a laugh but groaned afterwards. Geralt had now unwrapped the last of the bandages and was focusing on your wound. 

With care, he opened the bottle of herbs with one hand, keeping you upright still with one arm behind your back. He hesitated slightly before applying the herbs into your wound, knowing that it was only going to cause you more pain before it would help soothe your injuries. You forced yourself to endure the pain, knowing it was meant to help you, but you didn't realise that Geralt was experiencing pain of his own. He felt an ache in his chest every time he heard one of your pained groans and whimpers.

Once he was done, he was careful to slowly wrap fresh bandages around your wounds, seeing that they still looked practically brand new. Geralt could tell that these were going to take an extra long time to heal and would most likely leave very large scars on your body. Now that you were lying back down, you sighed from relief. There was still pain, but it was dulled and it felt like you could breathe properly again. You grinned, “So, wanna tell me why you care if I’d let Jaskier touch my wounds?” Geralt got up and walked away from the bed to put his medical supplies back into his small leather pouch and attach it onto his belt. 

“It’s nothing to concern  yourself with. You need to rest.” “I’ll rest once you tell me.” Geralt continued to act as if it wasn't important to him, “Go to sleep, (Y/N), or I’ll have Jaskier sing you to sleep.” You mock gasped, “You’re no fun, Geralt. Fine, I’ll rest.” You couldn't see the smile Geralt had on his face as he was stood with his back facing you. Geralt said nothing else as he left the room, presumable to alert Jaskier that you had woken up. Smiling at the door that Geralt had just left through, you slowly closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax and let yourself drift off to sleep once more. 

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

"Behave" and "Mine" smutty timees with Geralt the sexy witcher pretty pls?

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 1,914 Rating: E Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Some academically inspired smut for you xo

Beware the witcher, they said, for they are a fierce breed. You longed for a taste of that ferocity for though Geralt was an excellent lover he was also very… well, not timid. He was passionate and thorough and very generous but he was so soft. He caressed and peppered kisses and was so careful with you all the time. You’d tried to tell him that you wanted him to be rough but even that had only inspired a slightly brisker thrusting, never really getting what you were asking for and you grew too embarrassed to vocalize it more clearly. It wasn’t until the pair of you attended a lecture by Jaskier that it clicked for him. He’d watched you stare at Jaskier in rapt attention as he shared the many different ways to express love and affection in art, including the acts that most deemed too improper to speak of. If anyone could and would speak of it, it was Jaskier de Lettenhove.

“When we write of a man’s loving strike it isn’t to glorify violence, but to communicate the needs being met in different ways,” he explained, “In the tale of the Lusty Carlotta she is shunned for her – quote – extreme tastes and even sent to a nunnery which is where she paradoxically finds her satisfaction. The severe punishments of the abbess awakens her own lust and whether or not you agree with the text from a religious standpoint you cannot deny it’s very evocative.”

Your eyes never wavered and you made little notes in the journal you’d brought as he spoke. Geralt glanced over and saw you were writing titles of the pieces he mentioned and slowly but surely the witcher understood.

“Now perhaps you think to yourself, what if someone’s partner is hesitant because they fear hurting their lover,” Jaskier said. Geralt caught himself nodding a moment too late but thankfully no one had seen. Still he listened carefully as the bard continued.

“This is where communication is vital. You must express in the story that the lovers understand the roles and why it’s desired. We take for granted that we know what our partners want but in life and stories the best, most stirring embraces may only be experienced between two who know what is wanted and know if they can provide that for them. If you’ve decided to write a tale or share an anecdote about a passion that explores this side of carnality, you have to be sure that you express clearly that not only is the submissive desiring of this, but the dominant one is as well.”

Geralt pondered this, chewing it over slowly in his mind and by the time they left he still wasn’t sure what to do with it. You noticed his pensive silence, sliding your hand in his and squeezing it gently to pull his attention to you as you walked towards the house. The amber eyes glanced at you and then flitted away quickly. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was almost bashful.

“Is everything alright Geralt?” you asked.

“Hmm.”

“Did you enjoy the lecture?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh…” your voice grew small and you looked askance awkwardly. Geralt heard the defeated tone in your voice and tried to think of what to say. Words were not his forte. He didn’t know how to tell you that he finally understood what you were asking for and feared he may hurt you. He didn’t know how to tell you that it scared him a little that he enjoyed the idea of doing these things to you, or, as Jaskier had insisted one should think of it, for you. He stayed silent as you took off your cloak and hung it on the rack. He stayed silent as you moved into the bedroom and wordlessly began to change out of your clothes. He stayed silent as he crossed the room in quick strides and wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close. He cradled your face in his large hand, his golden eyes staring into yours intently with the words he could not say until he summoned the only one that seemed to capture what he felt.

“Mine,” he said in a low, firm voice. Your eyes widened slightly and you smiled.

“Yours,” you said. He loved the sound of it, loved the possessive and proud feeling that welled in his chest as you gazed at him and called you his.

“Mine,” he murmured against your lips, pulling you into a bruising, punishing kiss that you responded to eagerly. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled you up against him by your hips as you wrapped your legs around him. He walked you back to the bed and experimentally tossed you down onto it. You bounced once and giggled, landing with your legs parted and your half-undone dress just barely shielding your breasts from view.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, and you felt emboldened by the lecture and the look in his eyes.

“I want you to make me yours. I want you to use me any way you want. I want you to p-punish me if I don’t do what you ask,” you admitted, stammering over your words but feeling freer for saying them. He was so proud of you and so in awe of how lovely you looked as you took charge. He wordlessly pulled his shirt off, throwing it aside carelessly.

“I want that too,” you said. He chuckled as he leaned forward, body large and looming over yours. He slid a hand into the opening of your bodice and palmed a breast so tightly you gasped. He startled slightly, watching your face warily but you didn’t look upset. He could feel your heart racing and roughly ripped the dress open further. You swallowed hard as he bared your body to him and ran a hand down it starting at your neck and down between your breasts and your stomach until he reached your mound. He was surprised to find you already dripping wet and he palmed you, enjoying the way you ground against his hand and writhed beneath him.

“Who do you belong to, Y/N?” he asked.

“You, Geralt,” you answered.

“Too fucking right,” he growled. You whined when he pulled his hand away but sat up with interest as he undid his belt and quickly finished disrobing. You ached with need at the sight of him, hard and thick and yours. He saw your eyes fall to him and he took himself in hand, stroking slowly as you watched.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

“You.”

“Be more specific.”

Your eyes flitted up to his and you felt your courage waver slightly. He sensed your hesitation and moved closer, reaching out to lift your face to meet his with a tender look in his eyes.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he repeated.

“I want your cock.”

“Where?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Geralt where do you thi-”

He rolled you onto your stomach and before you could ask what he was doing you heard the thwack of hand meeting flesh and your ass stung.

“Behave,” he growled, leaning over you as one hand massaged the spot he’d spanked. You could feel his hard length brush against your ass as he moved to look into your eyes as you craned your neck back towards him.

“I asked you a question, Y/N,” he said in a voice that was stern and demanding though you could see a tinge of uncertainty and concern in his eyes.

“I want you to fuck me, Geralt. I want you to fill me up and make me scream your name. I want to be owned by you inside and out so fully that I feel the ache for days but still crave more.”

Geralt had never been one for dirty talk, preferring to use his actions over his words, but when you said this he understood its appeal for the first time. He kissed you hard and before you could get a proper breath he’d pushed you into position, propping you onto your knees and presenting yourself for him lewdly. He just looked at you for a moment, stroking himself though he was more than ready for you.

“I’m going to be careful,” he said, “But I’m going to give you everything you want.”

“I want you. I just want you,” you said breathlessly, propping yourself up on your hands and arching back towards him. He aligned himself at your entrance and entered you slowly. You were tight and warm and wet and he wanted to bury himself deep inside of you as quickly as possible but he kept his control. There was good and bad pain and he would be certain you only felt the first. He looked at the red mark on your ass and smiled. You grasped at the bedsheets, panting as he slowly filled you.

“Go faster I can take it,” you pleaded. He swatted you hard, giving you a matching mark on the other side and he felt you get wetter, screwing his eyes tight and forcing himself to breath slowly and maintain his slow, steady pace.

“I know what I’m doing, Y/N. Now shut up and take it,” he snapped, surprised but delighted when you moaned in reply and he felt you clench around him. You obeyed though you rocked against him lightly so he had to still your hips with his hands until he was finally, blessedly, buried to the hilt. He pulled out just as slowly, your little frustrated sighs music to his ears but nowhere near as beautiful as the gasping moan you gave when he quickly thrust back into you. The pace grew quicker, building slowly but still quicker than he’d planned. He had excellent stamina, not a brag just a fact, but when you came for him, suddenly and catching you both by surprise, he nearly lot himself as well. You clenched and fluttered around him and your moans were half-cursing, half-sobbing as he fucked you through your climax, pushing you with ease into a second one and this time he let himself take his release as well.

“That was…” your voice trailed away as you lay side by side. He stroked your hair and nuzzled your cheek with his nose, more tender and careful than usual as he tried to check in with you. He waited for you to finish your sentence, anxious for what you’d say.

“Perfect,” you finished, lolling your head to the side to give him a sleepy smile. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, pulling you in close to press a gentle kiss to your puffy lips.

“Mmm good,” you yawned, “Would you want to do it again sometime?”

“Yes,” he answered just as quickly, “Would you ever want me to…”

You cracked open one eye and watched him, waiting for him to continue.

“Take the lead?” he finished.

“Ooh what would that be like?” you asked, seeking fodder for your dreams.

“I don’t know�� We could read those stories you wrote down. See what they have to say,” he mumbled.

“Geralt of Rivia that is the sweetest, sexiest thing anyone could ever say,” you murmured, eyes falling closed though the smile on your face remained. He harrumphed, fearing that you were teasing him, but when he fell asleep moments later there was a smile on his face as well.

[brexrif]

The White Wolf: My Hero Part 3

The White Wolf: My Hero Part 3

REQUEST: “Can I ask you a romantic scenario with Geralt and a shy girl who starts to follow him and Jaskier after Geralt saved her life? Can I ask you to add some smut too? If you are comfortable with that. Can I ask you to make the girl a virgin too?”

I have really been enjoying working off of this request! It’s gettin’ a lil wild up in here with three parts! You’ll know by the end of this one, that it’s still not the end either. 

I recommend reading PART ONE and PART TWO before diving into this third installation of the series!

Please enjoy any other Geralt smutty goodness on my MASTERLIST! It is all smutty and filthy, you have been warned.

Warnings: light smut, mostly fluff 

Gif credit to @witches-ground​ go to them for all your Geralt gif needs 

Just to remind you where Part 2 ended:

“Fuck” he said through gritted teeth as his cock slowed inside you. Geralt’s head snapped to the door suddenly, his cock still sheathed inside you draining the last drops.

You were still panting and enjoying the feeling of his warmth spreading through you, when-

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Felix. Just outside your door.

PART THREE: 

Geralt pulled himself from you begrudgingly and rolled off the bed .He stood in the light of the fire, his cock still hard as it began to slow. Your eyes widened, and though you wanted to relish in the euphoria of your first time, Felix was now at the door and you needed excuses. You attempted to cover yourself with blankets, suddenly being overwhelmed with fear and a twinge of shame.

 “Um, yes! Felix, I am just fine, thank you.” You raised your voice so he could hear you and shifted up in your bed, feeling Geralt’s seed leak from between your legs.

 “I could have sworn I saw that Witcher come up after you, but I was so busy-uh, it was a while ago at this point” You could hear him getting closer to the door, as if he was listening in carefully. Surely, Geralt could hear exactly how close he was to the door. He quickly pulled on his leather trousers, shoving his semi-hard cock in and tying the laces quickly. You already began to mourn the loss of this magnificent sight.

 “I’ll handle this,” you whispered quietly to Geralt. You raised your voice a bit for Felix, “Um, no. Everything is fine I didn’t see Geralt up here.” You rose from the bed, dragging the blanket with you as a makeshift cover. As you walked to the door curiously, the drag of your blanket pulled over Geralt’s sheath and two swords, which were precariously resting against a stool in your room. They went clanging loudly to the ground before you or Geralt could react.

 “Y/N! I’m coming in!”

 Felix pushed open the door and Geralt grabbed him before he could realize what was going on. Geralt moved quickly, shirtless still and sweaty pinning Felix against the wooden post in your bedroom with a hand on his mouth. (another fic in this moment alone, I’m sure)

 “Felix, calm down and don’t yell! I don’t want father to overhear,” you said calmly. You walked over to Felix and Geralt while holding the blanket securely over your breasts. Geralt clearly had the same fears as his first move was to cover Felix’s mouth. Felix was struggling against Geralt and looking at him wickedly, seething. Suddenly, he brought a knee to Geralt’s crotch and ducked out under his grasp. Geralt, who was no doubt extra sensitive in this region right now, was bent over breathing labored breaths and hissing.

 Felix grabbed you and pulled you to the opposite corner of the room, lifting his axe towards Geralt protectively. “You stay away from her Witcher!” he warned, pushing you into the corner and shielding you from the very man you were just making love with.

 “Felix, it’s okay! Geralt means me no harm!” Geralt coughed and straightened himself up. He was much taller and thicker than Felix. The muscles on one of his arms likely made up the entire muscle mass of Felix’s string-bean, boy body. He raised his hands and approached slowly.

 “Let’s talk this out. I’m not going to fight you” Geralt said cooly.

 “Like hell you aren’t!” Felix charged at Geralt swinging the axe again. He was very brave, you’ll give him that. Geralt effortlessly grabbed the axe by the hilt, tossed it to the ground and wrapped Felix’s scrawny arm behind his back in a hold that rendered him defenseless.

 “I am not going to fight you.” Geralt said again, more irritated this time, moving Felix to the same post he had been pinned to earlier. “We are going to talk and you are going to keep it down, or I will have to keep you quiet and I don’t want to have to do that.”

 You followed them quickly and eagerly. “Felix, listen to Geralt. Let me explain.”

 “I do not like this Y/N. I do not like this one bit,” Felix argued, but you could see him breaking under Geralt’s hold and your pleading eyes.

 “I doubt he needed to get you all out of your skirts to have a look at those wounds again” Felix spat at Geralt.

 “Umm. No. We were just-“

 “None of your god damn business.” Geralt interrupted, tightening his hold.

 “Fuck off, you filthy mutant. She’s much too good for your like” Felix barked back at him.

 “Both of you, cut it out!” You moved over and placed a light hand on Geralt’s bare back, shuddering at the feel of his skin under your fingers again. Felix noticed your tender and familiar touch.

 “Really, Y/N? A Witcher?” Felix turned, looking at you pleadingly now. You could see the wound spread right from his heart to the creases on his forehead. His brow furrowed and his eyes seemed to grow bigger, glossier.

 “Geralt is a kind man, Felix.” You moved closer and Geralt loosened his grip as Felix began to give in to temporary heartbreak in place of rage. “But you cannot tell my father about this. Please, for me, you cannot tell him.”

 Felix could not hide his distaste and disappointment. He clenched his jaw and shifted his eyes between you and Geralt.

 “You better get out of here, Witcher. Before I change my mind. I’m only letting you leave for Y/N” Geralt released his grip on Felix. He stretched his arms dramatically and regained his physical composure, staring daggers at Geralt the entire time. He grabbed his axe and headed to leave in a huff. When he turned to shut the door, he left with one long look at you. He downcast his eyes and shut the heavy door behind him.

 “That kid is so pathetic for you” Geralt scoffed. You cast your gaze to the floor, genuinely feeling bad for Felix’s hurt feelings. Geralt crossed to you and took your chin in his hands, bringing your face back up to his. “But I can’t blame him.” He held your attention with his amber eyes, soft and his chiseled face drew into a gentle smile. He pulled your chin in and kissed you deeply, you dropped the blanket to wrap your arms around Geralt’s massive shoulders. His hands slid down your bare sides once again, leaving a trail of delicious tingles in their wake. You melted in his hold again, your whole body going slack in his arms. He held you so easily, cradling your love-weak limbs carefully, just as he had carried you wounded from the forest.

 His tongue swept effortlessly into your mouth, teasing you upwards and bringing you right back to the vulnerable bliss you had been enjoying before. You felt the crest of your folds tighten and your core contract, allowing the last of Geralt’s cum to leak out and on to your unstable thighs. He must have sensed your involuntary reaction as his fingers began wandering down to feel your warmth there again. He pressed the large pad of his middle finger between your wet lips as you stood, slicking his finger before dexterously winding it around the bulb of your clit. You moaned into his mouth and weakened at his expert touch. You felt Geralt twitch beneath his trousers and you ground your hips on his fingers, eager for another round.

 “I do care for you, Y/N” Geralt hummed, curling his finger inside you carefully, eliciting a contented mewl from your already parted lips. Geralt began gently guiding you to the bed again, the bulge in his trousers was impatient, but his eyes were gentle, loving. He removed his fingers from between your legs and you whined at his absence. He set you on the edge of the bed and looked at you carefully. His angular face, scarred and weathered was soft for you. His gaze was slow and lingering, his lithe smile was loose and you could feel a warmth spread through you. Though you sat so vulnerably now, on the edge of the bed for him, naked, yet you never have felt safer.

 “Look at you” he admired you aloud, tilting his head a bit. You smiled and your cheeks flushed at the compliment. Geralt drew near to you on the bed again and gently began pushing your legs apart. Your heart was racing and you braced for more. Geralt would guide you through another lesson in pleasure and euphoria under his touch.

 Just then there was another rap at the door, hurried and timid.

 “Erm Um, Geralt?” It was Jaskier.

 “What” Geralt growled, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes with frustration. He had not intended to be interrupted again.

 “There’s a bit of a situation cooking up down in the pub, I think you might um” Geralt covered you carefully with the blanket and crossed to the door, opening it a crack.

 “I overheard the apprentice boy mentioning something about you to the girl’s father and I just..well, given your history with folks in these regards and..”

 “Let him come then. I have nothing to hide.”

 “Geralt! Please!” you rose from the bed, dawning your blanket dress yet again. He turned to you, his expression turned from irritated to concerned. The urgency in your voice rousing the part of him that so decidedly needed to protect you.

 “I will speak to my father. Allow me to handle this alone. He will not listen to you right now, not like this.” You gestured to your obvious nakedness.

 “I’d rather face him like a man. You don’t need to put up with his ridicule.” Geralt looked away from you, his pride clenching through his jaw.

 “Geralt, please.” You extended a hand to graze the impressive muscles in his upper arm, pleading and comforting.

 “Fine.” He was not satisfied, but struggled to say no to you. “Jaskier, go create a distraction. I’ll leave out the window and meet you outside with Roach.” He directed. He had shifted gears and was in the same problem solving state you had seen him dressing your wounds.

 “Right!” Jaskier agreed and left quickly to distract your father below.

 You threw the blanket back on your bed, and quickly fussed to get back into your dress from earlier. Geralt was hurriedly putting his clothes back on as well, but stopped to admire you briefly.

 “We don’t have time for that now!” You scolded playfully, tugging at the strings to your corset.

 Geralt stood, dressed as before. He slung his swords over his back and had all of his things gathered. He was such an impressive man, so tall and broad in his armor. A pang of worry erupted in your gut as you looked to him, dressed and prepared to leave you. It must have spread over your face, because Geralt moved forward to embrace you.

 “I will be back for you in the morning. Wait for my signal and we will figure things out. On my word” he squeezed your hands and bent forward to kiss your lips one last time before heading to your small window.

 “Geralt, that’s such a high-” But he was gone. He maneuvered his large body through the window, lowered himself with the power of his upper body strength, and climbed to the streets below.

 You finished adjusting your dress and your hair accordingly and put yourself back into bed and under the covers quickly. Surely enough, your door was being battered at again. This time, a more familiar knock.

 “Yes, father?”

“Y/N! I’m coming in!” Your father barged into your room with an axe and two other men behind him, armed and ready.

 “What ever is the matter, father?” You asked innocently.

 “Where’s the Witcher, Y/N?” He asked impatiently.

 “I thought he was at the Rosemary and Thyme?” you responded, sitting up in bed and exaggerating pain in the wounds on your arms that was no longer existent.

 “Don’t sit up darlin’, it’s okay. Felix just said..”

 “Felix? Has he been drinking the ale again?”

 “Nay, Y/N. Felix said that Witcher was up here defilin ya and I, well-” your father seemed embarrassed, lowering his weapon and shooing off the men that flanked behind him.

 “No, father. But we must talk, I think.”

 Your father started across the room to you slowly, shaking his head, and closing the door behind him. He looked at you caring, as he always had. Since your mother died at a young age, your father became more protective of you, to a fault at times. He relied on you to help in the pub a great deal, but your safety and wellbeing was his treasure. Clearly, ignoring your wishes, Felix struck a nerve in your father. And you can hardly blame him for his prejudice, your father had always been close minded, grown up in an older world that didn’t trust magic, Witchers or mutants. You knew you had to fight through his ingrained prejudices and convince him that Geralt was different.

 The feelings that Geralt had roused in you were undeniable. You could not escape them. Even now, without his hands on you, reassuring and his soft eyes caring after you, you felt amiss. You ached for his caring and tender presence. Your heart warmed at the thought of him, and it gave you some courage for the conversation to follow. You could never have him if your father thought so ill of him.

 “What’s going on, Y/N? Is it your arms? Did that Witcher bust them up even worse?” Your father accused, looking over your arms, already upset.

 “No father, quite the opposite. I think you should reconsider your hostile feelings for Geralt. He did save me after all,” you pleaded, making yourself small and playing up your innocence. You knew your father had a soft heart for you and maybe this was the only way to get him to come around.

 “I don’t know Y/N. I don’t trust Witchers. And any simple fool could see the way he was lookin’ at ye. I did not take to likin that one bit.” He retorted seriously.

 “Well…perhaps Geralt is looking at me in a caring way. Perhaps he has good intentions for his…friendship with me” you offered, averting your eye contact and bracing for distaste.

 “Friendship? What is this you’re telling me, daughter?” your father rose, growing angry.

 “No- nothing! Well. I would just like you to back off Geralt a little bit, father! We have become..friends!” You sat up, trying to defend yourself and gather your thoughts. 

 “He didn’t..Did he? Did he bed my daughter? Did that mutant son of a whore bed my daughter?” your father grew angrier again, grabbing his axe this time.

 “You are jumping to conclusions, father! I just ask that you listen to me, your daughter, instead of Felix and have some patience for Geralt!”

 “I do not have patience for a mutant to bed my daughter, Y/N. I do not. You will never see him again, I absolutely forbid it.”

 “Father, no!” tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

 “Forbid it. For your sake, I will not go huntin’ after this mutant filth, but if I should see him again, his head is mine.”

 Your father grabbed his axe and left you in your room. You sat on the bed and the tears began to flow. You felt betrayed, Felix had blatantly lied to you, no doubt motivated by a broken heart. Your father would never understand how you and Geralt cared for one another. He wouldn’t be able to see past Geralt being a Witcher and you being his only daughter.

 ……………………

 You had spent the night alone in your room, overcome by your thoughts. You moved quickly throughout your things, packing belongings into a large leather pack. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing yet, but you knew you had to follow Geralt someway or another. You hid the pack underneath your blankets and head down the steps to assess things with your father and Felix. You kept your senses sharp, on the lookout for a signal from Geralt.

 Felix had a broom and was furiously sweeping the far corner of the pub underneath some long wooden tables. He looked up at you when you came down the stairs and you scowled at him. You conjured the daggers within you and stared him down heavy. He turned on his heel and continued his work, really driving the broom into the wooden floor. Your father was behind the bar fussing with some mugs.

 “There she is,” your father smiled at you. You felt some pain at the thought of leaving him, but you knew you had a life awaiting outside of this pub, outside of this village and with Geralt of Rivia.

 “Good morning, father” you spoke despondently to remind him of the coldness of your last interaction.

 “A young girl came by with this for ya’” your father stated, picking up on your edge and shoving over a basket brimming full of your favorite herb. The kelly green color and the striking fractal pattern brought you delight, thinking of the teas you could make. Though it reminded you of picking it before, when Geralt saved you from near death-

 Was this the sign?

 You took the basket and made yourself scarce at a far table in the pub. You dove a careful hand deep into the basket and found a piece of parchment. His handwriting was gruff and his sentiment to the point; how very like him.

 “Meet me by the gates leading out of town. I’d like to say goodbye. – Geralt”

...............................................................................

STAY TUNED FOR PART FOUR Y’ALL! If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

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[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 11

Masterpost

He blinked awake to Geralt’s “We’ll stop here for the night.” The dim haze of twilight barely poking through the sides of the bag. He stretched his wings feeling less like anxiety and exhaustion.

“Can we have a fire tonight?” Ciri asked. He stuck his beak out the side of the bag and peeped, reminding them not to dump his bag on the ground.

“No.” The saddlebags next to him unfastened and he continued peeping his impatience. “It’ll draw too much attention here.”

Geralt set his bag down gently but didn’t unclip it so he could escape.

“Alright.” Ciri said in a tone that made it clear it was not alright. “Are you going to let him out?”

“If he can’t get out on his own he needs to go back to sleep. Letting him out would just rile him up.”

He continued peeping his offense as they set up camp and Geralt set off to collect water or scout or something before he settled back in the nest disheartened.

He could shift now but he wasn’t sure he could shift back and he didn’t want to spend the night as a mouse.

“Are you really a shapeshifter?” Ciri’s voice came from right outside the bag and he startled at it.

Then he chirped an affirmative. Which probably didn’t help at all. He stuck his beak out and nodded as best he could.

“Then shift out.”

He peeped sadly.

She grumbled, frustrated. “I knew it.”

He hated that – they weren’t tricking her!

He forced himself down.

His little heart raced. Course it always raced in this form. He squeezed out of the bag and collapsed on top. Heaving chest trying to catch his breath.

Wasn’t getting back to the lark tonight that was certain.

He squeaked at her, high pitch drawing her young ears.

He heard her move closer until she came into his vision. She smelled like Geralt, which was reassuring. She should smell like him. She was his cub.

“Jaskier?” He nodded his tiny tiny head. Melitite she was large. He shouldn’t be outsized by his cub yet!

She scowled and offered her palm to him. He jumped on it and she opened the bag to search for him.

No lark.

He curled up in the palm of her warm soft hand and drifted. Exhausted again by a single shift. It was embarrassing. But the warmth of her chaos hummed in his bones, soothing the strain. So there was always that.

She abandoned the bag, hopefully convinced. She stood and flopped down in the heavy onion musk of Geralt’s bedroll.

“You’re really the bard?”

He nodded.

“I can’t see that in the dark. Move your tail for no. Head for yes.”

Okay.

“Is that your lute?”

Yes.

“I played it once. When I was bored. Just plucked strings. I’ve never seen him move so fast. Or look so devastated when he realized it was just me.” She raise her other hand to stroke the curve of his spine. “I hated you for leaving him.”

I would never leave him. He wanted to tell her. Not willingly. Not really. And never for so long.

Geralt had been true north for decades now. He could spin and fly blindly and he’d always find his way back to Geralt. Bond or no it seemed.

But there wasn’t really a yes or no way to respond to that. So he waited enjoying the way Ciri’s song spun warmth out into the universe, like the first true day of spring.

“If you ever hurt him like that again. I’ll.” She grumbled indistinctly. “You’ll wish you had died got it?”

Good cub. Yes. Good cub.

Still cub. The Griffin still had him. Hopefully it would pass soon enough.

“He’s my destiny.” She curled tighter in the bedroll. “Mine.” She said, like that was the only thing she had left.

No. He was her choice. She alone could defy destiny. She alone could reject the law of surprise. Geralt was her choice.

But at this point what choice was it really?

Yes. Yours.

They were hers. Always.

He would hold her soon. In the keep probably, after a bath and a shave and a haircut. So he didn’t horrify her with his mangy appearance. That was Geralt’s job. He’d hold her and tell her that no matter what she choose, they would always be hers. And if she wanted, she could be theirs.

She shivered curling up tightly in the bedroll.

Her song hummed in the air and she shivered and his bones ached with exhaustion but that was no excuse to let your cub go cold.

The white wolf is your destiny.

It was hard and easy. Easy to want to be what she needed. Harder to be it. But he answered her song and her plea because she was his cub and he always wanted to be what she needed.

He wouldn’t- couldn’t always be what she needed. But damnit if he wasn’t going to try.

It hurt. Shifting on empty. Tearing magic from Geralt and her song and his very bones. Shifting by sheer force of will.

It was worth the deep ache in his bones when she gasped. Staring up at his large white form. Worth everything when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to lie next to her.

He nosed her and pretended to try and lick her face until she was giggling and he settled against her. Her hands sinking into the depths of his fur. Her nose burying in his neck.

Within minutes she was asleep.

And then Geralt was there. Clutching his chest as he desperately surveyed them and the area for-

Danger.

He smiled and wagged his tail. Ease Geralt. We’re safe.

Geralt collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around his head, pulling his muzzle against Geralt’s chest and burying his nose in the fur of his neck where Ciri slumbered.

“I thought something happened. I thought you were dying Jaskier.” He hissed into his ears, just barely loud enough to hear. “Don’t do that to me.”

A quiet whine escaped him. She was cold.

Which was probably not a good enough reason. Since he’d hurt Geralt too.

“You’re so stupid Jaskier.” He certainly could be. He stayed in Geralt’s uncomfortable grip and tried to radiate peace. Contentment. Geralt could get drunk on those smells alone.

He listened to Geralt’s slow heartbeat steady to its terrifyingly slow beat. Lifetimes stretched in the space between a moment of Geralt’s. Would his life be just a moment between the beats of Geralts?

“You’re white. Why are you white? Your wolf form is brown.”

He shoved his nose into his chest forcing Geralt off him. Geralt’s eyes reflected back at him in the dark and he nodded to Ciri.

“She asked you to?” He wobbled his head.

Yes and no. She hadn’t asked but he’d heard. She needed him to be someone she could trust. She trusted the white wolf. She trusted Geralt.

It wasn’t that easy. Trust wasn’t that easy. But it had felt so important. She had been cold.

He doubted Geralt got any of that from the wide sad eyes he sent or the apologetic tilt to his ears.

Geralt scratched them so he counted himself forgiven. His tail wagged behind him.

Geralt smiled, soft and radiant before it twisted into a grin. “Not going to check my condition packmate?”

His ears folded back and his face grew very hot – which he didn’t think was normal for wolves, blushing that is but that didn’t stop him.

He’d met Geralt several times after running with the Oxenfurt pack. Shifted and greeted him as packmates would after time apart.

With kisses and tongue. Lots and lots of tongue.

He wasn’t lying but that didn’t stop the embarrassment of knowing he’d made out with Geralt multiple times without permission.

Geralt had never objected so long as he’d been human at the time when he did it but still. He tried to hide his face under his paws.

“But you weren’t a wolf this morning where you?” Geralt shifted, preparing to lay down behind Ciri. Still holding his eye with that dangerous grin. “You were a Griffin.”

Geralt laid down and rested a hand on his shoulder blades. He stared up at the sky trying not to shift under the weight of Geralt’s gaze.

“Is it accurate?” He glanced over at Geralt trying to judge what he meant by that. By the small strain of unsure in his voice. “Griffins and their mates?”

Griffins mate for life. Geralt had told him once. Probably more than once if he was being honest.

He remembered how words had spilled out around short panicked breaths earlier. Mate. Cub. Ours. Mine.

Geralt knew he’d bound them together. He’d let him bind them together again. Geralt had taken his lute from Oxenfurt and he’d been devastated when Ciri had played it and he’d realized it’d not been Jaskier. Had remade the nest in his saddlebag for him.

Geralt had let him kiss him. After the Griffin, after the wolves. Let him hold his hand while they slept on rocks so they wouldn’t drift apart and allowed him to cuddle into his chest or side or neck every night they spent together for over two decades now.

He owed Geralt that didn’t he? Honesty. About what he had done and what he had chosen. What Geralt had agreed to without knowing what he’d agreed to.

About how Griffins did mate for life. And it seemed that Jaskiers did too.

His mate wanted him but that didn’t mean Geralt wanted to be his mate.

But he deserved to know that he was. That he always would be. Always be Geralts.

He nodded.

“Good.” There was gentle pressure in the space between his ear and his eye and Geralt pulled back and his lips moved again. “Good.”

Good? It was good? His mate wanted him and it was good?

It was good.

“You’ll wake Ciri.” Geralt shushed. He noticed the wiggles and intense tail wag that had begun to shake his body. He tried to clamp down on it. On the physical reaction to the swelling of joy in his chest.

He didn’t want to wake their cub.

I love you – don’t wake the cub – I love you – don’t wake the cub – I love you both so much. Don’t wake the cub.

“Go to sleep Jaskier.” Geralt’s hand ran down his spine. Safe. Loved. The white wolf if your destiny. Ciri sung in her slumber.

He closed his eyes and the next moment all he knew was peaceful slumber.

[aspiring-ginger]

Forget-Me-Not Ch.1 (Jaskier x Reader)

Summary: Y/n is a college student who stumbles into the world of the witcher. Part 1 of ???

Warnings: Depression, mental illness, swearing

Word count: 2,823

Pairing(s): Jaskier x fem!reader, platonic Geralt x fem!reader

A/N: Hi guys!! I’ve recently fallen deep into the witcher hell! Having read many modern girl in Thedas fics for dragon age, I figured I’d try my hand at a modern girl in the continent sort of fic! This is my first fic so I apologize for any errors. Feedback always appreciated! Enjoy!

Masterlist I Next I

You stood up from your spot on the bed with a stretch, wondering how long you’ve been caught up in your work this time. Final exams were coming up and you knew you needed to study quite a bit for that one damned class where the professor just hated your guts. You scoffed at your understatement.

“Hates the whole world and the concept of fun itself, more like”, you grumbled to yourself as you collected various notes and papers strewn about the blankets.

It was nearing the end of fall semester of your second year of college, so time was quickly ticking by until the time came for you to choose your major. You opted to go in undecided, with a plan to get as many generic classes over with first. Frankly, you still had no idea what to choose, and you thought it was ridiculous that you were expected to decide the fate of your whole adult career just based on a few classes. 

You checked the time, 1:47 am. Stuffing everything back into your backpack, you debated whether you should just call it a night and go to bed, or stay up for just a little bit longer doing something you enjoy before bed. You knew it was probably a good idea to go to sleep but you just couldn’t help that itch in your brain that needed some fun. Netflix released their newest series The Witcher which you were very excited for, and had gone and played all of the games in preparation and to get a feel for the world. Obviously you fell in love with the story and you couldn’t wait to watch the show, but you had shown some restraint and restricted yourself from watching any of it until after finals were done because, let’s be honest, you knew you would get sucked in and binge the whole entire thing instead of studying.

It wasn’t too late at night, there have definitely been much later nights this week, plus you had done such a good job actually studying instead of putting everything off until the last minute….. it wouldn’t hurt to watch just one episode, would it? You glanced around the room, noting that your roommate wasn’t there. Right. She said she was studying with her boyfriend and wouldn’t be home that night. “Studying”. You shrugged and changed into your pajamas, then hopped back into bed with a laugh. All your friends had been talking about this show and now you could actually participate in their conversations! You quickly settled in, switched on your tv, and started the first episode.

Your mind was absolutely racing. What a great way to end the season!! You’d been on the edge of your seat waiting to see what would happen to Tissaia and Yennefer, and your heart just melted at the sight of Geralt and Ciri finally meeting. You grabbed your phone to text your best friend all about it when- 

“Oh FUCK,” Your lock screen showed the time, 10:03 am. You missed your fucking 8 am class, the one you had just spent all that time studying for, because you did the exact fucking thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do. Thankfully it was only a review day before the final, but it was the last review day before the final, and you still had questions on the material. You groaned and slumped down in your bed, burying your face into your pillow. 

’Such a fucking idiot, I cant believe this is fucking happening,’ you thought, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes, ’of course I would do this, this is just so me. Fucking stupid and dumb and worthless and-’

Your spiraling thoughts of self loathing were interrupted by your roommate opening the door and slipping into your shared room. You reluctantly picked up your head when you heard her call out your name with a sigh.

“Really (y/n)? You fall asleep studying again? You really should set an alarm or something, didn’t you miss your early class or whatever?” She asked as she plopped down on her bed, kicking off her shoes. “I know you were super stressed about studying this year but jeez- oh come on. Netflix? Really? What happened to ms ’I’m going to do such a good job studying this semester and kissing professor what’s his face’s ass so I get a good grade’?” She mocked.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to subtly wipe off the tears streaked down your face “Look I actually have been doing a better job at keeping up with my work and everything this semester, so I can stand to take a fucking break every once and awhile!” You huffed

Your roommate rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Seriously? Haven’t you missed like 15 classes or something? Just stop kidding yourself and accept that you’re just not going to get that good of a grade, dude. Plus can’t you just play the whole depression card and get like, an extended deadline or something? Pft, I wish I could have something like that. My life would be sooo much easier. Ugh. Whatever. I’m going to take a nap, I’m tired. If you need to cry go do it somewhere else or I will throw a pillow at you," 

You flipped her off and got out of bed. You still had 2 more classes to go to, and those review packets weren’t going to do themselves. You got ready with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

You sat down on a bench outside, having just finished your last class of the day. It had been pretty miserable as you predicted, your brain just absolute mush after staying awake for so long. Your temper was definitely shorter, and you had snapped at your friends way more than you should have. You had just paused to take out your earbuds and put on some music for the walk back to your dorm, when you felt a pit settle at the bottom of your stomach. You knew you definitely needed sleep, but that wouldn’t explain your sudden feeling of unease. You sat up and glanced around you, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was only late afternoon but already dark out, and there weren’t many students around. You put your headphones in and adjusted your coat, trying to ignore that feeling and started your walk back home.

As you walked, you could have sworn you saw someone following you out of the corner of your eye, but each time you turned around there was nothing but the usual barren trees and dull leaves covering the sidewalk. You reassured yourself that if somebody actually was following you, you’d be able to hear them crunching the leaves behind you. Even though you were listening to your music. Right. Everything was fine.

You nervously fiddled with the straps of your backpack as you paused to double check behind you. Again, there was nothing there, but you still had that sinking feeling in your stomach and it had only been getting worse as you kept going. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you could’ve sworn you heard something rustle the leaves behind you- you whipped your head back around and there was still nothing. It then crossed your mind that even though it was dark, there definitely should be people around. Classes should be ending and students should be walking home, but there was no one. You began to pick up your pace, going into a nervous jog. Your building was almost in sight, just a few more minutes and then you’d be safe- a hot bolt of terror hit and you broke into a sprint. You didn’t dare look behind you as you ran, you didn’t even know why you were running but you had a feeling that you should. You felt hot breath against the back of your neck and something claw against your back. You pushed yourself to run faster, your blood pounding in your ears along with your music. 

Your feet stomped across the sidewalk, almost there you could almost see your dorm! These damn leaves were everywhere, so many that you couldn’t even make out where the sidewalk ended and the grass began. Your foot slipped, ankle rolling as you fell face first into the leaves. You scrambled back up and continued running, your headphones now hanging around your neck. You spat out leaves as you cursed, weaving between trees that began to slow you down. Wait. Trees? You glanced to where various classrooms and dorms should’ve been, now replaced with thick, dense trees on all sides. You still heard the- the thing, whatever it was, behind you. You felt it’s hot sickly breath on your neck. You could smell the rotting stench of decay and blood. You heard it’s ragged panting and inhuman whine. It’s claws swiped at your back once more, and you seethed in pain. Your ankle was on fire and you didn’t know how much further you could run. 

Suddenly you heard the distinct sound of metal clanging behind you, followed by a wet squelch. You turned your head to look, still running forward, daring to get a glimpse of what possibly could be chasing you. You caught a flash of silver and black and brown before you collided into a tree and everything went black.

You heard muffled conversation when you briefly regained consciousness. It was loud and rushed and sounded like arguing? You couldn’t make out any words so you tried to turn your head in the direction of the noise, but found that task much more difficult than you thought. You huffed at the fogginess of your mind and the shouting came to an abrupt stop. Though you couldn’t open your eyes, you felt the presence of someone in front of you. You heard a murmur of something you couldn’t quite catch- and you slipped back into a deeper sleep.

When you woke for the second time it was a lot quieter than the first. You could hear the crackle of a fire and the wind rustling through leaves above, and smell the smoke from the fire and the damp earth below. There was also a soft melody coming from somewhere to your left, chords plucked out on an instrument you couldn’t quite recognize. You could also hear the grating sound of metal on metal. Was someone sharpening a blade? You groaned as you tried to sit up. Though your body felt stiff and your head full of cotton balls, your muscles responded accordingly. The music came to a stop as you blinked awake.

"Uhh, Geralt? I think she’s awake now, for real. Could you please not use your witchery magic on our mysterious guest so we can actually, I dunno, talk to her? Ask her some questions? Instead of just rushing ahead with your steel or silver- oh alright then,” A voice called out, and you heard the crunch of footsteps coming towards you.

You looked to the source of the voice and found a brown haired man holding a funny looking guitar standing in front of a log near a campfire. You rubbed your eyes and realized no, that wasn’t a guitar but a mandolin? Lute? Some weird instrument, so he must’ve been the source of the music. He was dressed in a dark blue matching set of… some sort of renaissance costume? His jacket was undone and he wore a plain white shirt underneath, the top of which was unlaced so a few strands of chest hair poked out. His loose yet tight fitting pants were tucked into a pair of tall leather boots. He sure looked committed to his costume, even holding a quill in his other hand.

Your attention was quickly turned to the man approaching you. He had long silver hair, half pulled back, and was dressed in all black. His outfit matched the same renaissance theme as his friend, though less showy and more practical. His tight leather pants, rolled up sleeves, and very realistic looking sword were certainly eye catching, but what drew you in the most were his eyes. They were a bright golden color, and his irises had a slight curve to them that almost reminded you of a cat’s. You realized that they must be cosplayers who already have costumes from the new show. They were both very high quality, and the special attention to detail was amazing.

The Geralt cosplayer knelt down in front of you, his hand gripping your shoulder tight.

“Who are you and where did you come from?” He demanded with a very accurate impression of the Geralt voice.

“I-I uh,” you cleared your voice “My name is (y/n) and I’m from (hometown). I was just walking back from class to my dorm when this thing started chasing me and I was running and- wait, what happened to it? Where am I? And why the hell are you guys dressed like that what’s going on?! Is this some sort of prank or something? Or- or a photoshoot? I don’t understand,”

You tried to scooch back away from the strange man, but his grip stayed strong and he just narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh the Ekimmara? Geralt already delt with it, my lady, don’t you fret. You’re safe now with us,” The Jaskier lookalike piped up from his log.

The Geralt sighed, “Yes, the Ekimmara is dead. You reek of magic and your clothes are strange, yet I can sense that you’re not a mage. Who are you?”

You had to admit, their costumes were amazing and their impressions were flawless. They even looked strikingly similar to the real actors.

“Look I already told you. I was at school, something chased me, and I woke up here. I’m already having a shitty day with my classes and college bullshit, and I just want to go home. Your cosplays are very nice, but I really don’t have time for this,”

“College? As in Oxenfurt University? I’ll have you know I just graduated from there before running into Geralt here, but I can’t say I recognize you. Are you perhaps in more art and painting classes? Although I am, of course, a master of the seven arts- poetry and song are much more my strong suit,” The Jaskier said, walking up.

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned with a glare, removing his hand from your shoulder.

“Look I get it! You really have the characters down. Can I please just go home now?” You shifted away from Geralt. You realized you weren’t wearing your coat, instead it had been draped across you acting as a makeshift blanket as you sat on a bed roll.

“Characters? My lady, are you alright? See, Geralt? I told you to go easy with the axii nonsense, now she’s confused.” Jaskier exclaimed with a scoff.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at you and put his sword down. 

“What? I’m not confused!” You protested “You even have the Jaskier attitude down perfect. Can I go now? Or you at least tell me where we are?”

“You know my name? How do you know who I am, I haven’t even introduced myself yet! I know I’ve played at many of the local taverns, but I would’ve recognized a face so lovely as yours,” Jaskier tried to mask his unease with his usual flirtatious remarks.

Geralt held a hand up for Jaskier to stop talking “Who do you think we are, and what do you know of us?”

“Well that’s easy,” you scoffed. “You’re dressing up as Geralt of Rivia. You know witcher, white wolf, travelling with your best friend Jaskier. And then you would be Jaskier-or Dandelion but I think you’re aiming for more Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked stunned, while Geralt pressed further “Dressing up as?”

“Yes. Cosplaying, whatever term you want to use. And you’re doing a great job acting like them too, but you can cut it out now. It was cool, but now it’s just getting old." 

"So…you think we’re acting? Playing the roles of Geralt and myself? We’re not characters, we’re real. And I’m not his best friend. A friend definitely, but he would never admit it. What do you know us from?”

“The Witcher. The show, the games, the books. They’re super popular again. I think it’s even back on the charts for top selling fantasy or something." 

Geralt and Jaskier exchanged looks.

"Geralt, why don’t you show her something to prove that you’re the real deal. Something only a witcher could do?”

Geralt raised his hand and traced a symbol in the air. A small ball of flame appeared in his hand, which he stretched out towards you. You could feel the heat from the fire against your skin and you looked at the two men in shock.

“What the fuck?!”

[henryobsessed]

The Widow and The Witcher - Chapter 29

A/N Picture from https://healthskillet.com/the-truth-behind-this-white-haired-baby/5/

Summary: Trust is reformed, Geralt and Ciri are enjoying being with a pregnant Julia.

Word Count: 2170

A/N Sorry this has taken a bit longer, Epilogue will be posted tomorrow :(  

The sun streamed through the window as Julia roused from a deep sleep. Conversations from the night before rang in her head, "Can you forgive me for not believing you, for pushing you away?" his eyes held hers, unwavering in his resolve to claw back what they once had. "I can forgive you Geralt, Can you forgive me for also pushing you away in my grief and fear" he had rested his head against hers at the sound of her request. Pulling her into his arms and breathing in the honeysuckle of her hair he had whispered: "Yes my love, I forgive you."

They had fallen asleep in that position snuggled into each other both finally able to get some true sleep. Now she could hear his gentle snores beside her, a sound that filled her with calm. It had been all too quiet in their room when he was gone. Getting up she moved to the bathroom, the morning sickness had lingered well into the middle of her second trimester and now instead of the need to be sick waking her, it was her need to relieve herself that was a constant wake up call.  After freshening up she walked back into her room. There she found Geralt sitting up resting against the headboard and looking out at the garden. At her entrance, he turned towards her a small smile gracing his lips. He gestured for her to come back and join him which she did wholeheartedly.

Once in his arms, she wondered at his silence. He moved his hand to lay on her now protruding belly. The contact created a warmth that spread across her abdomen. Looking into his eyes she saw a sparkle of hope and look of amazement crossed his features. "what Geralt? What is it?" He chuckled "He can sense me....... when I place my hand on your stomach his heartrate increased but not in a distressing way. It's almost like it's his way of showing me he knows I'm here." At the sound of his voice, Julia felt a kick. It was not the first but it was stronger than the others had been.  

Moving his hand to where the kick had happened they waited. Geralt looked at her furrowing his brow "Why did you move my hand?" as he spoke he felt the small movement under his palm and a surprising look broke out on his face. Julia laughed, in fact, she laughed so much that Geralt could not help join her as they shed the weeks of tension and fear that had been weighing heavy on their shoulders. The sound must have carried down the hall as a knock was heard as they settled. Making sure they were covered she called "Come in" still in her bedclothes Ciri entered the room. Seeing the smiles on her parent's faces and Julia's open-armed invitation she ran to the bed and joined her family.

Ciri snuggled into Julia's arm, father and daughter now cocooning Julia. Laughing Geralt pulled Ciri's hand and placed it on the same spot his hand had just been "say something Ciri" at the sound of his voice another kick was given and Ciri laughed in response "Is that our little guy?" Julia sighed at that comment "Ok are you both conspiring or do you both truly believe our little one is a boy?" Geralt's face softened, as he questioned: "what do you think it will be?" She stilled for a moment. For the first time since she had told Geralt her mind was quiet enough to truly rest and feel. Her mind filled with images, finally resting on a picture of a white-haired little boy with eyes a vibrant blue staring back at her. "Ohhhh" she looked at Geralt then Ciri, "I think your right"

That morning at breakfast the rest of the family could not believe the transformation in Geralt. It wasn't that he had returned to his old self. Instead, he was laughing, bubbling with excitement that affected everyone at the table. During the meal, Lambert leaned over to Ciri and whispered knowing that all the Witcher's could hear, "tell me did you put a spell on him?" eyebrow raised in astonishment. Ciri chuckled and she could see the twinkle in her dad's eye at the question. Responding she whispered back "No, but I think his eyes have finally been opened to the possibility this is the real deal"

More weeks passed and the estate finally settled into a good routine. Geralt made sure Julia was looked after as he now took full responsibility for her care. Ciri had insisted that she help in her care as well as claiming a vested interest in the baby's welfare.

For the last few nights, Julia had been restless. Her back ached and her mind was filled with images of her little boy. Tossing again to find a comfortable position she heard Geralt's deep voice whisper "Having trouble sleeping?" frustrated now that she had woken him she said in exasperation "I just can't get comfortable, every time I think he has settled he moves and ......" her voice broke as Geralt began to massage the tighter muscles in her back.  Gratitude filled her at his touch "mmm thank you Geralt that helps but I think I will go float in the spring it might help."

Quietly She moved down the hall and entered the healing room. Slipping off her robe she stepped into the spring its warmth easing her tired muscles.  As she floated her belly protruding from the water she felt a ripple in the water. Standing up she watched with a smile as Geralt moved towards her. His features were soft and relaxed as a groan left his mouth, "These waters always make me feel so good. After you left I couldn't fall back asleep I hope you don't mind me joining you." He smirked a bit as he finally reached her wrapping her up in his arms. Leaning down he kissed her softly on the lips. She smiled as he rested his head on her hers "No my love I don't mind."

The waters felt so good, but having Julia in his arms was what he had truly sort out. After tossing and turning for a few minutes he had decided to join her in the spring. Walking into the healing rooms the sight that beheld him was beautiful. Her body floating, face, breasts, and belly like a cluster of islands surrounded by water. Shedding his own robe near hers he entered the spring. He could hear the two heartbeats one fast one slowly speeding up at his intrusion. As she stood his arms ached to hold her to shower her with kisses. Which he was now enjoying as they lazily enjoyed each other. His head rested into the crook of her neck breathing in the smell of honeysuckle when he heard the sound of his little one's heartbeat increase.

Geralt felt Julia's body stiffen and breathing increase as panic filled her face, "what's wrong Julia" He felt her fingers gripping into his shoulders with surprising strength. A moment later her breathing settled and she looked into his eyes "I think its started."

A pounding began breaking through Renee's happy dream. Knowing that Tobias had been awake late into the night with the twins she swung her legs out of the bed. Wrapping her robe about her she heard the pounding continue. Opening the door she was met with a sight she never hoped to see again. A large wet naked white-haired Witcher, eyes wild as he breathes "It's Julia, The baby, started, Spring " Deciphering the coded message she smiled, closing the door she walked quickly to be in front of her father in law so as not to see anything more. She could hear the gentle moans as she walked into the healing room. Julia gripping onto the edge of the spring. Mind changing to that of a healer she moved to where she was gripping "Julia, are they coming quickly?" Pain filled eyes looked into hers as she nodded.

Not wanting to move her out of the warm spring she instructed Geralt to go to her. Grateful that now he was covered under the water she took off her robe and moved towards Julia her nightgown getting wet but all she had on her mind was Julia.  Ideas ran through her mind until it settled on one. Ready to be the midwife she needed to be she instructed Geralt to sit on the bench seat and pull Julia up to rest her back on his chest. He placed his hands around her waist and pulled her in gently massaging her sides as he did. Now Renee was able to check her belly it was tight and thankfully felt like the baby was nestled in the right position low into her pelvis. They stayed like that for some time as each wave of contraction pulled on Julia's body, she squeezed Geralt's hands pushing back into him as each wave passes.

Finally, two hours later Renee could feel the soft hair at the top of the baby head. "Ok Julia, where almost there, you need to push on the next contraction ok?" She looked up into the tired face of her mother in law, her hair was matted around her face. Her cheeks were red from the exertion. Behind her, Geralt's head rested next to her head whispering words of love and encouragement as another contraction hit. Bearing down with all her might Renee watched as the little body slipped from its mother. Lifting the babe quickly out of the water, she cleared his little mouth and not long after a lusty cry was heard.

Geralt's heart raced as all at once Julia slumped against him and in front of him, he watched Renee lift the child out of the water.  Tears sprung to his eyes as he saw first the white tufts of curly hair slick to the child's head, then the cry that sprung from its lips. Renee moved the child up to Julia's chest as both mother and father wrapped their arms around the crying babe. Geralt could not believe his eyes, his little boy now snuggling into his mother's chest. Moments moved slowly, he could sense Renee moving quickly around the room gathering who knows what. It wasn't till he saw her lay a small blanked over the child and step back into the water with cutting utensils in hand that he knew. Moments later Julia tensed up in his arms again as Renee encouraged her to push. This time it was the placenta that was expelled from her body.

Julia was tired, every muscle in her body ached but through the weariness, she felt also elation. Behind her was her strong warrior, who was now weeping into her neck, in front of her the caring face of her daughter in law tears cascading down her face now her job was over. And in her arms the small body of her baby boy who had managed to find his way to her breast and was suckling taking his first drink of her milk. Unable to fathom this little miracle she looked down at his tiny face. The soft down of his white hair now sticking up as the curls had dried. His little lips moving in the sucking motion as he drank, she lifted her hand to caress his cheek. "Geralt, he's so perfect" she felt Geralt's lips move on her shoulder as he looked down at his son, "He is perfect my beloved, and so are you. I am so proud of how strong you were today." Her heart burst with the love she felt for both her men as she rested her head into Geralt's shoulder.      

Her chambers had never been so full of people, Julia continued to rest against Geralt however this time it was against there the headboard of there bed. Their tiny little boy was resting in her arms, Geralt's arms encircling them both. So much love was felt, both Amelia and Wilfred sat at the end of the bed hoping to get a glimpse of the baby. Around the room, there was no one missing even Yen had come back from Aretuza to see the miracle child.

Ciri came close to the bed to see her brother. If his soft white hair and pale ash skin was not a clear indication that he was his father's son then the clincher was his eyes. Peering up at her she could not help but catch her breath as his soft blue eyes caught hers. It was not the colour of blue that was so beguiling but the small patch of yellow in the top of his right eye that helped everyone know. Smiling up at Julia and Geralt she asked "So what are you going to name him? Husband and wife looked at each other with soft looks in their eyes as they said "Caleb"

Previous Chapter Twenty Eight                                              Epilogue                      

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[crowleyellestair]

Hey dear!! How are you doing? Are you feeling any pain? I had all my wisdom teeth removed last year and the first day wasn’t good, but after that it was okay, but my jaw was swollen for a while tho. I wish you a smooth recovery!! You asked for requests, so I was thinking about this: reader travels with geralt and jaskier. Mutual pining between she and geralt, but they still haven’t confessed their feelings. They go to a ball and Yen is there (1/2)

AN/// Sorry this is so late; I have a post explaining everything and how it wasn’t as smooth as both of us hoped. This is a great prompt, and thank you so much for the kind words. I was excited to write this! It’s a little longer, but I hope that makes up for the wait.

  Lights blurred together and she didn’t try to blink them into focus, her mind too busy in stealing itself. Y/n was well aware Yen could read her mind at any moment, and she could let herself wander into emotional territory. Instead, she focused on how loud the room was, and how it made her head pound. Voices mixed together, none distinguishable at this point. She was sure that if she focused, she could make out the conversation between Yen and Geralt that unfolded right in front of her, but that was risky business. She could never look at the witcher without her heart racing, love grasping every part of her being.

Feet stomped across the dancefloor, drowning out her friend’s playing, though if the small trio they sported wasn’t at the other end of the room, she might be able to hear it better. The room was hot, despite the cool night. She struggled to keep the empty glass clinched between her fingers as she started to sweat. It had been years since she had worn a dress, the extra fabric not helping. Y/n tried not to sway as the heels of her shoes started to make her feet hurt. Jaskier had helped her create the outfit, and she started to regret not insisting the flat shoes she had mentioned at the beginning of the process.

People moved around them, their figures blurring along with the lights. Their forms making the room even louder, warmer. Her knees were locked, but she could only focus on keeping her mind shut. Yen was a powerful woman, and it is intimidating- you’d be a fool to think otherwise. It was hard for the woman not to compare herself to the sorceress in the moment, especially since she’d been doing it since they first met years ago.

“Y/n?” Her eyes snapped into focus as her name was called. She looked between the two sets of eyes staring at her. Violet ones, filled with amusement, and molten gold, filled with what she could only hope was concern. She cleared her throat, looking down to her glass.

“I’m… going to get fresh air.” The woman gave a curt nod, mainly for herself in agreement, and walked away, still feeling both gazes on her back. Everything continued to blend together until she finally made it onto the balcony. Y/n started to gasp, a hand going to the tightened bodice. The other grasped the railing and her eyes had to blink away tears.

There was so much hope built for the night. After Jaskier was asked to play at the party, the two spent the whole day preparing. Jaskier for his show, and Y/n had prepared to simply ride along until the bard insisted tonight was the night. He had been along for the ride for half a decade in the adventure that was her infatuation with the witcher. Everything from her hair to the dress was tailored special, all with the help of the bard. While at first she had been against it, not wanting to risk years of friendship, she had caved. Though, it had all been thrown away once golden eyes found violet. Geralt had been what she could only call giddy, and he’d been posted by the sorceress’s side since. And it hurt.

Y/n was the one who was always there, defending him, representing him and loving him. Of course, he had never asked for any of that, but she had given it. It was only three nights ago where they had sat in comfortable silence under the same stars she looked to now. It was a normalcy for them, as she always stayed up when he woke from nightmares. It had been a busy day then, filled with brewing potions and decoctions, as Geralt trusted her with certain recipes to help out. The woman could remember the first time he taught them to her, and the small, timid smile he gave. He mentioned how his teacher would be furious if he found out Geralt gave away ‘witcher secrets’, but he knew the knowledge would be safe with her. It was small moments like that that made her fall for him, and had her convinced he felt the same.

But it always comes down to Yen. Y/n always convinces herself once more that he feels the same until the sorceress glides back into their lives. Y/n never spoke of Yen and her assumptions or questions, though she knew Jaskier caught on to her envy. Anytime the bard would try and sooth her worries, she would change the subject, the would-be truth too hard to face. However, tonight was the night. It was all or nothing. The trio had travelled close enough to her hometown, so if he had rejected her, she would be able to slip away easily. She felt somewhat guilty about planning to leave. She hadn’t told Jaskier about her plan upon rejection, and she knew Roach would be raw about it too. The witcher once had said how frustrating it was, knowing Roach loved her more. The mare would always take her side when fights happened, never letting her usual rider on, no matter how frustrating it was for him. Geralt was particular, however, and she wouldn’t dare overuse her stay among the party if he didn’t feel the same.

Y/n was lost in thought, even as someone approached, which was uncommon for her. She was on autopilot when she responded to the thrown-out phrase,

“Doth my eyes deceive me?”

“Probably, I’m blind.” Her tone was quiet compared to the excited baritone who initiated, though excitement flooded through her as realization dawned. She turned around quickly, a smile gracing her for the first time since arriving at the party. Before her was her childhood friend, who stayed by her side until she left with the witcher and bard. “Felix!” He gave a smile in return, giving a sarcastic bow before opening his arms. The embrace was warm and a great change of pace. They parted, though he kept an olive toned hand on her shoulder.

“Y/n, it’s great to see you. It’s been, what, half a decade? At some point I started to wonder if you were simply an imaginary friend.” She laughed, and his smile grew.

“Well, you are crazy enough for that to be in the realm of possibility.”

“Exactly, that’s why I was worried.” Again, they both laughed, making their way to the balcony. His hand dropped, though his arm rubbed against hers as they stared out into the night sky. “I’m surprised you’re back. And at a party, no less.” The woman shrugged, trusting him, though not wanting to give too much away.

“The entertainment tonight is a good friend. We travel together, and I came to support him.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but too much time has passed to tell the whole truth. While Felix had been supportive of her leaving, she remembers how warry he was of the witcher.

“Well, I’m glad. It’s great to see you.” There was no response, though there was something she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize for leaving him, knowing he wanted to break out of the town just as much as she had. But he was a noble’s son, he couldn’t come with.

“How’s the family,” was all she could come up with. Y/n practically flinched at her own inquiry, knowing that everything was muddled with her at the moment. They were close, though she never felt how she did with Geralt. She was never in love. Childhood infatuation, maybe, but she knew she couldn’t be with Felix. Everyone in town knew the brunette next to her wanted to ask for her hand, but she left the first moment she could.

“Fine. Can’t complain, I guess. The estate is good too. I should be taking over in the next year or so.” She nodded, not really knowing how to get out what she wanted to say. Her mind kept reeling back to Geralt and Yen, and what they would be up to, and it ate away at her. “Are you staying or passing through?”

“Oh, uh…just passing. Or maybe staying. I’m not entirely sure yet.” They stood in silence for a moment before Felix knocked against the railing. He turned to face her, giving a small smile.

“Well, could I ask for a dance?” Y/n opened her mouth to decline before he dropped his head, peering at her through thick lashes. “Just as a farewell dance. Or maybe a welcome back dance, if you do decide to stay.” Her mouth shut, and she looked to her hands. The only people she’d be hurting by saying no where Felix and herself. Geralt seemed pretty preoccupied at the moment anyways. She looked back up with a smile, agreeing.

Arm and arm they moved to the dance floor, Y/n trying to block out years of secret smiles the witcher had given her. The sharing of warmth at night when it was only a little chilly. The brushed knuckles as they walked side by side. Mornings and nights spent attached at the hips in perfect contentment. His broken compliments given to her, and his flustered brooding that followed. Fingers lingering a little too long on skin when tending to injured areas. Personal secrets shared over liters of ale. All of it had to be steeled away.

Hands found hands, shoulders and hips. Her eyes found Jaskier’s confused gaze, but she brushed him off, trying to make Felix the subject of the moment. And after a while, he was. After stepping on his feet, and bumping into other couples, the two lost time, smiling and laughing the whole way. Felix had asked for one dance, but they spent more than three together. All of them were upbeat, and they both were out of breath. It seemed Jaskier finally needed a break, slower strums filling the air. Felix stared down at his old friend; a large smile spread over his visage. He started to lean in, when a low gruff was heard behind her. Y/n’s eyes widened, knowing the huff anywhere, turning in Felix’s arms to find Geralt, standing very uncomfortably in the middle of the floor. If Y/n wasn’t so engrossed in the amber eyes in front of her, she would have noted that Jaskier’s lyrics were supposed to come in two measures ago. Th bard seemingly also entranced by the scene before him. Blue eyes found violet, and she gave a smirk, suggesting this was her idea.

“Geralt, what are you doing here?” He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment before looking at her skirt.

“We came here together.” It took a moment, but Y/n let out a small snort, something she only did with him. Usually she kept up appearances, even with her laugh, though she always herself with him. Even now, she couldn’t think of Yen or Felix. Only the witcher she adored.

“I meant on the dance floor.” HE gave a curt nod, closing his eyes, almost as if readying himself.

“To ask you to dance.” The witcher glared at the ceiling when she took a moment to process what he had just said.

“Me? To…dance? What about Yennefer?” Geralt’s brow raised as his eyes met hers.

“What about Yen?”

“Well… weren’t you two conversing? You seemed pretty engrossed.” His eyes flew over her shoulder to find said woman smiling. The sorceress had said Y/n would say something like that. It was among the many things she said would be spoken, among things like a confession, to which he had scoffed at. Though Yen was heavy set on Geralt asking her to dance. The two had a relationship once, though it turned to an easy friendship after realizing it wouldn’t work out. Mainly because, despite the djinn entangling their futures, Geralt’s heart belonged to Y/n. The wolf shrugged, not knowing how to continue. Though he started to glare once more, and Y/n followed his glare over her shoulder to Felix. Guilt started to eat away, but he spoke up before she could say anything.

“It was great to see you again, Y/n.” He bowed his head before disappearing into the crowd. He turned back to the witcher, who looked more uncomfortable than when he arrived. His jaw was tight, but he stepped closer, eyes still looking to where Felix disappeared before seemingly scolding himself.

“I’m sorry.” Her heart dropped, thinking he already knew of her affections. That he would reject her before she could even ask. She too cleared her throat, not being able to meet his gaze either.

“For what?”

“He seemed nice.” Her brow raised before she met amber again.

“Felix was a childhood friend. He holds title at an estate not too far from here. It was nice to see him again, though he surely has other people to rub elbows with here.” They stood in silence as couples floated around them.

“So…dance?” Y/n perked up, stumbling over herself.

“Yes! Dance. Love to dance. I mean- I would love to dance. With you.” His hands found her hips and her hands found his shoulders. His eyes couldn’t stop roaming over her face, and a flush broke over her cheeks. “I have to admit though, I don’t really know how to dance. No matter how slow.” He nodded for a moment before looking into her eyes.

“Stand on my feet.” Her brow rose, and again his gaze found the floor. “Dancing was apart of training. You need to be able to be as graceful as the creature you’re going against.” Tepidly, she stood on his boots, and he started to flow with the music. She didn’t realize it, but her hands had curled into the white locks that rested over the back of his neck. His thumbs pressed into her waist, and they got lost in each other’s gazes. Jaskier must have been keeping a watchful eye as he played a second slow song. This was it. Now or never.

“Geralt, I… We’ve… wow, this was way better when I practiced earlier.”

“I remember you saying that you never practice.”

“Yes, well,” a small smile broke out on her face. “This was something that I thought needed it. It’s very important.” She took a long inhale before looking to the neck that was straight in front of her. Maybe if she isn’t looking into those intense eyes, it would make things easier. “Geralt, you are important. To me. You have been for the past five years. But, more than a friend. I know that this jeopardize everything, and I’ll leave if you want me to but-.”

“I’d never ask you to leave. Do you want to leave?” Her eyes found his again, and sadness turned the amber to liquid.

“N-no! I meant that if you’re uncomfortable with my affections towards you, that I would leave. I wouldn’t want to make you suffer with someone you don’t want to be around.”

“Your affections towards me?”

“Yeah. I… Geralt, I have come to love you.” Y/n let her eyes close, and her head fall. Geralt’s movements had stopped, except for his hand that cupped the joint of her neck.

“I can’t promise to know what love is, but I’m certain that this is what I think it feels like. I know I can’t… express things, but I know that I care for you more than I’ve cared for anyone before.” Wide eyes met his own, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. “If you would have me.”

“Yes. Yes, of course I would.” He started to lean down, trying to give her time to back out, despite professing her own love. Geralt was aware how difficult he was at times, but he also knew that she was a rare happiness in his life. His heart seemed to be at a normal human rate whenever she’s near. Her scent had become something he was addicted to. Waking up without her aroma became foreign, and unwelcome. Her soft, caring gaze was something he saw whenever his eyes closed.

Their lips connected, noses brushing against each other. The witcher seemed timid, Y/n pushing into it further to show she wanted it. Wanted him. To have and to hold, till death do they part.

[tarithenurse]

If I succeed - 3

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader (eventually/sorta/you’ll see) Content: Jealousy, pining, mentions of sexy times, stubborn people, feels. A/N: If I ever advertise for a new slowburn: hit me hard with a chair or something, ‘cause I’m testing my own patience despite knowing what’s going to happen. Want a tag? Send an ask or reblog! I’d love comments and feedback – even if it’s corrections on language or whatever - I’m not picky as long as I know my work brings joy too.

3 – You won’t change

...  Reader  ...

Even with Geralt of Rivia to explain the severity of the situation, and Jaskier to serve as witness, very few of the villagers are willing to abandon their homes at the potential threat.

“You’re the Witcher,” they object, “the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken. Can’t you do something?”

Probably better than the man in question, you understand their reasoning: this is their home. The only safe place they have. Furthermore, if it was just a single person leaving (maybe to pursue their fate in the capital) it would not be a problem whereas an entire village on the run would be met with hostility anywhere they were to go. The summer is drawing to an end and with autumn, the cold days will come with rain, sleet, and eventually snow. How would they feed so many? What would happen to them?

“Witcher or not, I’m just one person.”

You know Geralt well enough to see the frustration hidden in the tight draw of the lips. He is not as callous as he pretends, often forfeiting payment by sending a saved person home rather than follow them and claim what was promised. It is only because of Jaskier that they have money to spend on shelter.

Speaking of the bard, you glimpse a shimmer of his blue doublet in a corner where several young women are gathered, undoubtedly to shower him with attention in the hopes of wooing him – a fate he will bravely accept.

“Some of you have horses,” you pipe up, focus once more back on the attending villagers, “ride to Beauclair. Warn them!”

But already, the audience is turning away, tired of the meddling outsiders and a woman’s views on the problem. Most of them have little respect for the Ducal Guard who is supposed to protect the borders and roads, finding that the men sporting the Toussaint colours rarely bother about the well being of the common folk.

“Don’t waste your breath on them, [Y/N].” Geralt’s heavy hand squeezes your shoulder softly, sending shivers racing. “They’ll talk, then they’ll come to offer me money to sort it. They all do.”

He is tired, the venom still potent in his blood though the fever has diminished somewhat. With only a grunt as thanks, he takes the tankard of ale offered by a pretty blonde before reclaiming his seat with a sigh. Though the wench's job is done, she hovers nearby with a hungry look in her eyes that sends your skin crawling and your brain reeling for something to distract the swell of unwelcome emotions.

“What if they do? You’re still just one man...and you’re recovering.”

He has the gall to roll his eyes. “At least I can get proof, seeing the carcass of a monster sends most running.”

“So?” Anger is rising rapidly in your chest even if this is not the time nor the place to let it out. “We’ve seen wyverns before...know they’re th-”

“Who’s talking about the wyverns?” Half the sentence is spoken into the wooden tankard, only loud enough for you to hear. “There’s...something else.”

Oh, the anger is gone immediately all right, replaced by a new, creeping unrest. The people capturing the wyverns...aren’t people?

Looking around the place, you see familiar faces who now are in danger. Friends who have helped you, whose kids you have taught or family members you have tended to during illness or labour. When you and your parents first arrived, it took a while before you were no longer treated as the strange city-girl but once people did accept you...you have never felt alone since. You see the smith and his apprentice by the bar, and over by the window is Audette (seamstress who worked with your mother before eventually taking over) with her gossiping friends, two tables are filled with sons and daughters strong enough to work at the biggest vineyard in the valley. You could go on, naming each and every single person. Then again, there’s less than hundred in the village.

There are more than usual at the small inn. Undoubtedly, the rumour of the Witcher being in attendance has spread like wildfire thanks to Jaskier’s strumming on the walk here. Jaskier. He, however, is nowhere to be found. Where he was, some of the hopeful women are sitting with disappointed pouts. He’ll be back for breakfast.

You turn back to continue the conversation only to find the annoying barmaid nearly crawling onto the White Wolf’s lap without any complaints from him. Biting back curses, it is all you manage to hiss at Geralt to deal with the villagers’ threat as he sees fit before you march out.

Pebbles crunch under your boots. A newly waning moon bathes the bumpy road and the path leading off towards your cottage in a blueish glow, the inky shadows beneath any obstacle the better how late the hour is. Gonna go home, clean up, go to sleep. In my OWN bed! Though the air is cool and soothing, it is unable to dull the rage boiling your blood. An inner dialog plays in your head with alternating reasons for and against your reaction: you have no claim; the Witcher can make (or choose) his own bed and lie in it, yes sir; typical men!

On and on, your mind protests, until a dry crack snaps you back to the present. Nothing is in sight, though it is uncannily difficult to ascertain whether something is hiding in the underbrush of the glade to your right. If only you had paused to bring and light the little lantern – a lantern which is standing by the seat Geralt had claimed – then you could have seen more. Even such a little light would be useful for you in other ways, keeping you safer than most would think. All you have is the glow of the moon so you wait and listen. As no other sounds disturb the silence, you deem it wiser to continue home. Hurrying slightly.

Once indoors, a shaky breath wriggles past teeth worrying into the bottom lip. Silly me. It was probably just a critter too focused on you to watch its step.

You sense it rather than hear it, a presence nearing from behind like a thunderstorm crawling over the mountains. There is barely time to reach towards your father’s old walking staff, less so to turn and raise it before your wrists are pinned on either side of your head against the closed door and the Witcher is looming over you with his broad shoulders. At least he does not have to tell you to drop the staff with a clatter (what good would it do, anyway?). He is so close! The formidable chest rising as he attempts to regain his breath. Did he run here? Brows are knitted as those magical eyes sweep over your form once before scrutinizing every detail of your face. I’m pissed at him, yet the reminder does little else than school your features. Within this proximity, it is possible to smell the musk and the bitterness from the venom-laced sweat – the last inkling of honeyed soap would be unnoticeable for anyone but those who knew of it. The heat. By the Prophet! The heat emanating from the man can only be compared to the smith’s furnace...or the sinful need in your core.

“I believe we were talking, [Y/N].”

“Your attention was elsewhere so I decided we were done,” you bite back.

Tearing yourself free (or rather: he lets you free), you slide past him to reclaim your own alcove. Seeing as Jaskier undoubtedly will be gone all night, it makes sense for Geralt to sleep there instead...and if not, then the two guys will have to bunk up.

“[Y/N]...” His voice is softer now.

Yours is not. “What?”

There is no answer, merely a thud and a slight quiver in the floorboards prompting you to whip around. Geralt lies in a heap on the floor. Fuck. Undoubtedly, his rush to reach home before you has pumped the venom through his body at a quicker pace than even he can withstand, pushing his recovery back and draining what little energy he still had left.

You act swiftly, finding the last of the old vials of antidote as well as one of the new ones you have prepared during the day – they aught to settle before administration, but you might not have a choice now. Then (less swiftly), you drag blankets onto the floor near the fireplace and roll the meat mountain onto them before swathing him almost like a child and dragging his shoulders and head onto your lap. Embers are still crackling, casting a red glow onto the chiselled face to soften the edges.

“Come on,” you coo, knowing full well that he cannot hear you, “open your mouth.”

It is relatively simple to gain access to pour the remedy into him. Pushing the jaw up, you pinch his nose shut and pray that his body will react accordingly. Under the black shirt and leather, his chest stutters in protest for a moment longer than you like. Come now. Miraculously, you hear him swallow, clearing the liquid away to free the airways, gasping hungrily but never once regaining consciousness.

He is handsome, the White Wolf, though few see past the fierce facade to discover the gentle strokes in his appearance. As the dim glow flickers and sends the shadows dancing and jumping, you find yourself staring at the femininely long lashes, and the perfect curve of his lips that you once had the joy of claiming.

But the weight of the man is impressive too, quickly robbing any feeling from your legs. Pushing Geralt, with little remorse as to the harshness, you regain freedom and rub your limbs to get life back into them. What to do? Peeling off boots and, well, anything but his breeches is done quickly despite the dead weight because years of dealing with injured and sick people have proved to be a one-person-task most of the time. So far, so good, idle fingers ghost through the hairs on his chest.

And now...though he probably would not care, you do not like the idea of leaving him on the floor and so retort once more to dragging him towards the nearest bed – you own. Once at there, a cold cloth wakes him up enough to get him onto his feet and you are able to pull him up after crawling into the alcove first, reaching over and pulling him by the waist of his breeches.

By the time Geralt passes out again, he is sprawled diagonally across the bed with you pinned under his arm. Trying to move only results in him subconsciously dragging you into a tight embrace with your back against his chest. Fuck!

[fromkaermorhentolettenhove]

Frozen In Time

Summary: Jaskier helps Geralt during a job and ends up in a predicament of sorts

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Stun Spore Made Them Do It, Outside Sex, Bottom!Geralt

Words: 1960

-

AO3

or

Geralt no longer tells Jaskier to stay behind. 

With enough pestering, making sure Jaskier has the proper gear, Geralt now heads off on a contract, knowing quite well that Jaskier is a few steps behind. 

Today’s job is as standard as any – kill the monster terrorizing the village, collect the coin and stay in the local inn for a night or two. A small camp has been set up in a clearing in the woods, not too far from the last known sighting of the monster. Once Geralt is armored up, he marches to where his senses lead him, into the thickest part of the forest. 

Jaskier keeps his words few and far between and Geralt almost forgets Jaskier is with him until he lets a branch go and hears a thwack followed by upset sputtering. 

“Really, Geralt,” Jaskier scolds under his breath. “I thought we were well past this.”

Geralt only shrugs, gives Jaskier a pat on the cheek before focusing back on his target. There is a distant growl and both men freez as Geralt searches the trees and foliage for any sudden movements. 

His ears catch a distant rustling and Geralt races off, sword already drawn. Crashing through the brush, Geralt finds himself face to face with a large beast with vines and mushrooms sprouting from its back. Its black beady eyes glare at Geralt and it stomps a heavy hoof on the ground. 

Vines shoot out and Geralt dodges them with ease, slicing a few in the process. The monster howls before it charges at Geralt with its hardened head. The monster is fueled by pure rage and Geralt’s logic should make this an easy battle. That is, until a vine grabs him by the ankle while he is distracted. Geralt is slammed to the ground and when he tries to slice at the monster, his sword is knocked from his hand. 

Geralt’s mind scrambles and then a yell echoes in his ears. Jaskier is charging at the monster, his sword slicing through the air with heated precision. Jaskier’s aim is true and the monster recoils with a grating howl, blood gushing from the slash across its eye.  The vines pull away from Geralt, the focus now on Jaskier before yellow dust sprays Jaskier in the face. Not leaving any time for hesitation, Geralt slices the monster until it is twitching on the ground and he gives it a final stab for good measure. 

Catching his breath, Geralt finds the forest too quiet. His heart begins to race again, his head whipping around to find Jaskier. When he sees Jaskier’s form, unmoving and facedown in the dirt, Geralt scrambles over, panic rising in his chest.

“Jaskier? Jaskier!” Geralt turns him over, grabbing hold of his arms.

Jaskier coughs, spits out the dirt in his mouth and stares up at Geralt. Before he can say anything, Geralt lets out a sigh of relief, shifting Jaskier up into a seated position.

“Thank you. That was foolish, but thank you.”

“Sweetheart,” Jaskier edges in, his expression shifting between a grimace and a grin. “I mean, you’re welcome, but, Geralt, I can’t seem to move.”

Without meaning to, Geralt lets go of Jaskier, who falls back with a very hard thud. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier winces. “I felt that.”

“Try moving your fingers,” Geralt searches Jaskier for any wounds, but then he sees the remaining yellow dust that clings to Jaskier’s face. “Did you breathe that in?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Didn’t really have a choice, darling. It sprayed me directly in the face.”

“This isn’t permanent,” Geralt reassures as he wipes away the dust, careful to keep it away from his own face. “Just a few hours of paralysis unless…”

“Unless what?” Jaskier furrows his brows. 

Geralt coughs, unable to think of any other way to say this. “Unless we get your heart rate up. Might make the toxins leave your body faster.”

“You mean sex?” Jaskier helpfully supplies, a small grin forming on his face. 

Rolling his eyes, Geralt collects their weapons and picks Jaskier up, draping him over his shoulder. There are a few noises of complaints from Jaskier, but with his body unable to do anything, Jaskier hangs like a rag doll.

“Careful of my face,” Jaskier warns. “I can’t push myself away from you if we get too close.” 

“That’s never been an issue before,” Geralt jokes and he can feel the punch Jaskier would’ve given him. 

Instead, Jaskier tsks and continues chatting on, occasionally scolding Geralt when his nose smashes into Geralt’s armor. At last they reach their camp and Geralt lays Jaskier down, shooing Roach away as she checks on Jaskier. 

“At least someone cares about me,” Jaskier bemoans and Geralt snorts. 

“We’re about to have sex, Jaskier,” Geralt says as he strips himself of his armor and then his clothing. “That’s not caring about you?”

Jaskier laughs a little, his eyes darting around to catch some sight of Geralt. “Stop prancing about. I can’t stare at you.”

Geralt settles himself on top of Jaskier, sitting so that his cock rubs up against Jaskier’s clothed erection. 

“Too bad your mouth wasn’t stunned,” Geralt leans down, hovering so their lips are barely touching. 

“Oh, you’d miss hearing me talk,” Jaskier breathes. 

Geralt crashes their mouths together, relishes in the moan that leaves Jaskier. As their tongues tangle, Geralt starts making quick work of Jaskier’s shirt and chemise. He’s careful with twisting Jaskier’s arms, making sure he’s not bent in unnatural ways as his upper layers are thrown to the side. 

“Not being able to touch you is torture,” Jaskier sighs while Geralt makes his way lower. 

“You’ve been tied up before. Just imagine it’s like that.” Geralt unties the laces on Jaskiers trousers, pulls them swiftly down with his smallclothes. 

Jaskier’s cock springs free and he groans as Geralt moves back up, stroking his hand lazily up the length. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, “This isn’t fair.”

Geralt flashes one of his rare grins and captures Jaskier’s mouth with his own again, pumping Jaskier’s cock with slow, even strokes. He can feel the rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest underneath his other hand and that’s when a thought strikes him. 

He pulls away from the kiss, tugging a little on Jaskier’s bottom lip with his teeth before sitting up and grabbing Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier watches with curious eyes, his gaze melting when Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand over his heart. Geralt moves Jaskier’s hand in small circles, imitating the gentle touches they so often share when they need a tender moment.

Jaskier’s lips part, a small sigh leaving him with his gaze never straying from Geralt’s face. Geralt can feel Jaskier’s muscles tense, his need to curl his fingers and Geralt shivers as he imagines what the situation would be like if their roles were reversed. Perhaps another time. 

Geralt pulls Jaskier’s hand up to his mouth, brushes his lips across his knuckles as he tugs on Jaskier’s cock. It’s beautiful, really, watching Jaskier’s eyes roll up, listening to the gasp that leaves him. Geralt tends to each finger, sucking on them diligently as if they were Jaskier’s cock. The groans and pleads from Jaskier fill Geralt’s ears and he fades into the sound for just a moment. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice is just above a whisper, but it’s enough of a warning. 

“Patience, love,” Geralt teases. 

He slides away from Jaskier, quick to find the vial in their packs before he’s crawling back up to Jaskier, slicking his fingers as he kneels above him. Jaskier’s eyes are filled with lust and frustration, igniting a fire within Geralt. He presses his forehead against Jaskier’s as he pushes a finger inside, a short breath leaving him and mixing with Jaskier’s own shallow breathing. 

“When you can move again, I want you to stretch me properly,” Geralt grunts as he steadies himself.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you fall to pieces,” Jaskier promises. 

Geralt keens, adding a second finger as he imagines Jaskier taking his time, soothing and gentle as he prepares Geralt. Geralt enjoys roughness, sex that is needy, but when Jaskier is caring, it sends Geralt to a whole other place. 

He tries to copy what Jaskier would do, but his fingers are larger, rougher and Geralt is pulled out from the fantasy more than once. 

“Can you add another finger for me, Geralt?” Jaskier coaxes. “You’re doing so well. You look beautiful.”

The encouragement is all Geralt needs and he is soon stuffed with three fingers, the tips curling and searching for that spot inside of him. 

“Deeper,” Jaskier commands and Geralt does what is asked of him. 

It’s enough, a jolt of pleasure shooting up Geralt’s spine. He lets out a heavy moan and Jaskier hums with appreciation. 

“A few more times, then you can ride me.”

Geralt wants nothing more and he thrusts his fingers inside himself in rapid succession before dragging them out. With a shaky hand, he pours oil over Jaskier’s erection, slicking it up before positioning the tip at his hole. 

“Oh, Geralt, yes, please,” Jaskier breathes, staring at Geralt with all the love in the world. 

As Geralt sinks down on Jaskier’s length, both men moan and Geralt braces a hand on Jaskier’s chest. He can see the impatience in Jaskier’s eyes, feels the tensing muscles, and he grabs Jaskier’s hands, wrapping the fingers around his own erection. When Geralt is fully seated, he strokes himself with Jaskier’s hand and a small whine leaves Jaskier. 

“You feel so good,” Jaskier sighs. “I will never get enough of you.”

Geralt smiles a little as he moves his hips, begins to slide up and down Jaskier’s length. The fullness is intoxicating and Geralt throws his head back as he embraces the thick cock inside of him, the calloused fingers that run along his length. 

“Geralt, Geralt,” Jaskier begins repeating as Geralt speeds up. 

Each hit on his prostate takes Geralt’s breath away and he stares down at Jaskier, fading into those blue eyes. Geralt is consumed by love and lust in a tangled web as he grabs hold of Jaskier’s other hand and positions it at his hip. He imagines the bruises Jaskier would etch into his skin and his moans grow louder with every thrust. 

“I’m–I’m close,” Jaskier gasps, eyebrows furrowing, bottom lip red and abused with how hard Jaskier bites down on it.

Geralt has no intention of slowing down and he rides Jaskier as if their lives depend on it. His prostate is bruised at this point, but it feels too good. If Jaskier asked him, Geralt would push himself to his limits and beyond. Squeezing Jaskier’s fingers around his cock is all it takes and Geralt spills across Jaskier’s stomach. His thighs ache, but Geralt doesn’t stop, not until he hears Jaskier’s shout, feels the warm cum fill up his hole. 

The two are breathless and Geralt sets Jaskier’s hands back down at his sides. He holds Jaskier’s face, kisses him deeply as he wishes this to never end. Until Jaskier makes a noise. 

Pulling back, Geralt’s mind jumps to concern but then he sees the smile on Jaskier’s face. 

“I can move my thumb!” Jaskier’s eyes sparkle. “It’s working!”

Geralt could watch Jaskier smile all day and he can’t help but match the expression as he brushes some hair away from Jaskier’s sweat-slicked forehead. 

“Perhaps we should go again?” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. 

With the roll of his eyes, Geralt grabs a discarded piece of clothing and wipes them off. Even with his years on Jaskier, he’s sure he’ll never have the libido Jaskier does and in a way, it’s very endearing. 

“How would you like me this time?” Geralt asks and the grin on Jaskier’s face is absolutely sinful.