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angryschnauzer · 3 years ago

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The Watched

Summary; sequel to The Watcher. Now in a relationship with Vampire Sherlock, you attend the town council meeting at which he chairs. With growing unrest in the town he calls upon an old friend and town elder; Geralt. As the grey haired Werewolf/Vampire hybrid whisks your man off to investigate, they soon return and Sherlock needs to feed from you to heal from his injuries. The foe is bigger than you all thought, but in preparation for the fight they fill you in on your own nature, and how you may not be 100% human either.

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Enola Holmes, The Witcher

Wordcount: 4794

Relationship: Vampire!Sherlock x Reader x Vampire/Werewolf!Geralt (No body type or race is described for the reader, however some poetic licence may be needed with regards to where everyone’s heads are if all their naughty bits are connected in case of height differences)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Voyeurism, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Threesome, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Neck Biting, Vampires, arguments.

Manips in the moodboard are by @nixakimbo on instagram.

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You will then get an alert whenever i post a new story. Masterlist can be found on AO3 as it got too large for tumblr.

The Watched

Sitting in the town council meeting you cracked your neck side to side, hearing the bones click and let out a quiet satisfied grunt as the tension that had been building at the base of your skull dissipated. Your eyes travelled to the council sitting behind the long table on the raised stage, suppressing a smile as your gaze landed on the man responsible for your spine being out of alignment.

As if on cue, Sherlock caught your gaze, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he composed himself and returned his attention back to the Mayor and the rest of the town council as they discussed the growing unrest and situation within the area.

“The factions are growing further apart!” the mayor argued, frustrated that the vampires and other non-humans were rejecting Watcher rule.

A murmur of agreement stirred around the room, you became aware of the seat next to you being taken, but didn’t pay it any attention as at the moment Sherlock cleared his throat and started to speak;

“Mr Mayor” the room silenced almost immediately, Sherlock had that type of commanding tone; “This council has always been in place to ensure the town works together, your grandfather appointed me to the council…”

“Yes we all know you’re old Mr Holmes” the Mayor interrupted

“Then perhaps you should actually listen to your elders” Sherlock snapped back, his tone immediately darker. A few hushed mutters sounded in the room where it had surprised and added a little fear into some of the attendee’s, however it had sent a delicious shiver through your body, and you fought to hide the moan that threatened to quietly escape from your throat.

As Sherlock continued and started to explain how he had called upon other elders to return to the town, the person next to you leant in close and whispered in your ear;

“He gets off on bossing people around, doesn’t he?”

Turning quickly, you took in the owner of the deep voice; how you hadn’t spotted the behemoth of a man entering the room or even noticed him once he’d been in his seat surprised you, and even sitting he towered over you. Skin as pale as fresh cut pine, eyes as yellow as citrine. His black leather biker jacket did little to hide the powerful muscles beneath, and the tiniest curl of grey hair peeked out from beneath the black woolen hat he wore. He grinned at you and you saw his teeth, elongated canines flanked by undescended fangs. There was only one person this could be. Sure he could sense your nervousness at being so close, you swallowed the saliva that had gathered on your tongue before holding your hand out, which he grasped firmly as you spoke;

“Pleased to finally meet you Geralt”

You didn’t fail to notice the edge of the tattoo on the back of his wrist, the inked wolf a warning that should be heeded.

The bar was noisy, and yet Sherlock had somehow managed to find a curved booth at the back where the three of you had squeezed in and were able to have a conversation. Flanked on both sides by these huge men, Sherlock properly introduced you to Geralt, someone who up until then you had only known of from stories you’d heard.

Half Vampire, Half Werewolf, Geralt was older than anyone in the town, and where Sherlock commanded respect with his seniority, Geralt was feared. He came from a time before the factions were civil, when other now long gone creatures roamed the darkness looking for a meal that would fail to run fast enough.

The waitress set the drinks onto the table; large Scotch for Sherlock, a pint of Guinness for Geralt, and a Irish cream hot cocoa for yourself. Wrapping your hands around the warm glass you let the heat soothe your aching hands, letting out a hum of comfort. Geralt leaned in close and spoke quietly, but ensured that Sherlock could hear;

“Tell him you need a leather padded grip on the headboard, it’ll be easier on your hands the next time”

“Geralt” Sherlock warned

“Oh shut up Sherlock, i know you two are fucking, i can smell you on her”

Geralt's words surprised you, causing you to knock your drink over. A sudden click of fingers from Geralt had your booth going silent, the drink being held mid air like a resin sculpture, before with a slow flick of his wrist Geralt righted the glass and the drink retracted back into its vessel.

Sherlock cleared his throat;

“If you’re done with the parlour tricks Geralt? We both know you could level this building with a simple wriggle of your nose”

The grey haired man laughed quietly, before taking a drink of his beer;

“Ok, I'll stop scaring your pet. Although it is a lot of fun…” he paused; “I can see why you chose her”

The conversation calmed after that point, the two men discussing how factions were unrestful and anxious, how there was something disrupting the natural order of things and it seemed to be both ancient and new from the energies they could pick up.

As the evening grew later your tiredness increased, what started with Sherlock’s arm around your shoulder, ending with you quietly snoring against his chest, a small patch of drool growing on his polo shirt.

“Come on Darling” Sherlocks deep voice pulled you from your sleep; “I’ll get you back to your apartment before i venture out to investigate with Geralt”

At your doorway you clung to Sherlock’s jacket, his goodnight kiss turning you weak at the knees;

“Are you sure you need to go do stuff with Geralt?” you whined, tired and slightly drunk

With a low laugh Sherlock swatted at your ass, glancing to the corner of the street where Geralt was impatiently waiting for him to see you inside so they could get on their way;

“Yes, I'm sure, Darling. Now be a good girl and get inside”

With one last kiss you turned and made your way up the steps to your front door, giving him a wave before stepping inside.

Geralt was standing next to Sherlock in an instant, silent on his feet and quicker than the eye could see;

“I’m surprised you haven’t fed from her yet”

They started along the alleyway as Sherlock smirked and threw a side glance to Geralt;

“Oh, i have”

Geralt stopped and rested a hand on Sherlocks forearm;

“From the neck?”

“Of course… well, some other places too, but yes from the neck”

“She… she shows no signs. Watchers, Acceptors, any humans, they’ll show signs, scars”

“I know”

Geralt raised an eyebrow;

“Does she know?”

Sherlock shook his head;

“She’s unaware of the power she holds. She’s convinced she heals so quickly because of me”

“Sherlock… she’s not human”

By now they’d crested the hill the town sat on, the old city wall now artfully ruined with ivy growing up it;

“She’s half human. Her mother never told her father that she isn’t his”

“What is she?”

Sherlock took a deep breath;

“She’s what’s going to save us”

You woke with a sudden jump, the night still dark as you clung to your pillow, confused as to what had woken you. That was until you heard the clumsy dragging of footsteps in your hallway. You were on your feet and scrambling for the metal trunk under your bed, finding the gun you’d been charged with as a Watcher, the one that held mahogany wood bullets infused with silver nitrite. No matter what they hit, they’d harm if not kill the intended target. On bare feet you silently stepped into the wallway, your toe coming into contact with a thick warm liquid on the floor. You bent down to inspect it as the kitchen light was switched on, and a familiar bulk formed a shadow in the doorway;

“You need to come quickly, he needs you” Geralt’s words were urgent, tinged with an undercurrent of what could only be described as fear.

In an instant you were in the kitchen, your hand flying to your mouth when you saw Sherlock slumped on the small wooden chair that sat at the equally small table. He held his arm across his chest, a wound bleeding just short of profusely on his shoulder;

“Sherlock! What happened?!”

He winced as you ran to him, your hands grabbing the fresh dish towel you’d laid out that day and pressing it to his wound, before Geralt appeared beside you and gently teased the gun from your free hand;

“Let's set this aside, shall we?” he flicked on the safety and returned to your side; “We found what was causing the unrest”

“What was it?”

“An abomination”

“Did you kill it?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and let out a shaky breath;

“No”

You pressed the towel to his shoulder, yet it didn’t seem to be stemming the flow.

“He’s weak” Geralt explained; “He lost a lot of blood. He needs you”

Nodding you moved, straddling Sherlock's lap and moving your head so his face was near your neck. Cradling the back of his head you helped him, but he let out a whine;

“I can’t… my teeth won’t descend”

Geralt stooped down behind you, his face close to yours;

“This can happen when a vampire has lost too much blood, if you want to help me save him, you need to let me open a wound”

Nodding you turned, but Geralt caught your head and moved you to look away from him. You heard the growl and out of the corner of your eyes you could see Geralt’s mouth, a sea of sharp white points, before you screwed your eyes shut and felt him pierce your skin. It hurt so much more than Sherlock’s bite did.

The pain lasted just a few seconds, yet felt like an eternity before Geralt pulled away with a growl and pushed you towards Sherlock, his other hand gripping the back of Sherlock’s head and pushing the two of you together, as if he was trying to get an infant to latch onto its mothers breast, but in this instance it was to save a life rather than simply for sustenance. As Sherlock started to feed you gripped onto his shoulders, and the more he drank the slower his shoulder bled, until you could see the wound starting to heal.

He pulled away with a gasp, a little more colour in his cheeks, his hand gripping your hip now rather than just resting on it;

“That’s enough for now”

“I agree” Geralt added; “You both need your rest”

Climbing off of Sherlock’s lap, you watched as Geralt helped him to his feet, wrapping his arm around his massive shoulders;

“Bedroom?” he questioned

“Follow me”

As you made your way along the hallway you slipped in the blood that was on the floor, Geralt quickly shooting his other arm out and catching you before you fell on your ass;

“I’ll get that before i leave”

Hopping through the doorway you grabbed a towel to clean your foot as Geralt helped his friend to lay on your bed, Sherlock settling with a grunt before turning back to you;

“I’ll be back in the morning, keep him safe”

You climbed onto your bed beside Sherlock and sat with your back to the headboard, Sherlock curling up against you with his head on your lap. As you ran your fingers through his hair he was asleep within seconds, but your mind continued to race long after you’d heard Geralt leave; What was going on? Why had Geralts bite hurt so much more than Sherlock’s did? And why was your neck still healing? These questions plagued your mind until the sky started to lighten, and it was only then that sleep finally took you.

The sound of your door clicking shut startled you awake, before a deep voice reassured you;

“It’s only me, don’t bother with the gun” Geralt appeared at the doorway to your bedroom, a large paper bag under his arm bearing the name of the patisserie that made the sweetest delights; “I brought you breakfast… and we need to talk… all three of us”

Sherlock murmured as he rolled onto his back, letting out a huff of pain as he rested on his shoulder.

By the time you got to your kitchen Geralt had made a pot of coffee and was opening cupboards blindly;

“Mugs?”

“Bottom left” you replied as you peered into bag he’d left on the table

“Hey, keep your nose out of there” Geralt instructed firmly, to which you jumped back.

Sitting quietly on one of the chairs, Sherlock sat next to you;

“What’s going on Geralt?” he questioned as the grey haired man set three mugs of coffee down in front of you.

“We need to have a talk about your girl here”

“Me?!”

Geralt pulled up the small three step and sat on it in the absence of a third chair;

“So you come from a family of Watchers, right?”

“Yes”

“Okay, so some of these questions are going to be very personal, but whatever you say stays in this room”

“Geralt, what’s going on?” Sherlock questioned, but Geralt just glanced at him before continuing to question you.

“Sherlock is your first non-human lover you’ve had, correct?”

“Yes”

“And past human lovers left you unsatisfied?”

“Yes, I don't see where…”

“It’ll all make sense soon” he interrupted; “And you’re the kind of person to enjoy a party or celebration? With lots of happy people in the same room?”

“Yes, of course, doesn’t everyone like parties?”

“Not everyone, but that’s not the point. When you were a child, if you injured yourself, do you have any scars from that?”

“No, i always healed really well”

“And no scars or marks from Sherlock’s bites?”

“No, but that’s his saliva, it helps heal me”

Geralt sat back, his hands on his knees;

“Vampires can do that, but not to the extent of zero scars”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something about you, and this may be hard to accept, but you’re not fully human”

“What?”

Finally Sherlock spoke;

“I’ve never spoken about how i knew your parents before you were born, but almost a year before your mother gave birth to you, there was another presence in the town”

“What? What was it?”

“An Incubus”

A silence fell over the room where you tried to take in what Geralt had just said before you tried to make sense of it;

“I�� What… How… So you're saying my father isn’t my father? That my mother cheated?”

“No, not cheated”

“So I'm the product of…”

“NO. When Incubi end up breeding, it's completely by accident, usually because they have felt a connection with the human they are visiting. The human is usually lonely, in an unhappy situation. But they can cloud judgement because of the pleasure they give out as well”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent” Geralt confirmed.

Sherlock cleared his throat;

“The year you were born, your father was in active service, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he was on his last tour”

“And when were you born?”

“New Years Eve”

“And when did his tour end?”

“He was there for the entire pregnancy, from Easter”

“Which was mid April” Geralt added; “8 Months… a human pregnancy is…”

“9 Months… unless a child comes premature”

“You were full term, weren’t you?”

“I… i believe so” you stood up quickly; “Listen, pregnancies aren’t an exact science! Sure, I didn't get on with my Dad, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t father me!”

Geralt sat back as did Sherlock, but it was Sherlock that spoke;

“The wound on your neck, from Geralt’s bite, it still hasn’t healed yet has it?”

You reached to your neck and touched the tender wound;

“No, but he’s not fully a vampire, right?”

“That doesn’t matter” Sherlock stood, wincing as he did before he stood in front of you; “Every time i’ve bitten you, fed from you, its been during sex, hasn’t it?”

You nodded as he continued

“And you’ve always orgasmed”

“Yes”

“And i bet you rarely did with your human lovers”

You glared at Sherlock;

“What are you saying?”

“You heal when you are able to pull energy from other people. Not just me, you would heal from anyone giving you pleasure”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Then tell me why you haven’t healed since last night? There’s no difference between my bite and Geralt’s bite”

“I would disagree… he has a whole lot more teeth”

At that Geralt flashed a dark smile, but Sherlock continued;

“Its not my saliva that completely heals you to the point of no scarring. You’ve seen the skin of Acceptors, they have scars once they are fully healed. The saliva only closes the wound. You haven’t healed because we didn’t make love last night”

“Sherlock that’s complete bullshit”

Sherlock’s expression turned dark, his nostrils flared. This was the first disagreement you’d had and the tension in the room was palatable. It broke when Geralt spoke;

“I know how to prove this” you both turned to him; “Make her cum whilst she watches her wound in a mirror”

“Good idea”

Sherlock grabbed your arm and winced, pulling his hand back and glaring at the bruises that still patterned it from the events of the previous night, before turning to Geralt;

“C’mon, you’re helping, both my hands are out of action until i feed some more and heal”

Geralt stood and somehow ushered you into your bedroom until you were standing in front of the long mirror. The man dwarfed you, standing at your back he shrugged off his jacket and revealed a sleeveless white t-shirt underneath, his enormous arms patterned with intricate tattoos. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush with his chest, however the other sat on the front of your hip, drawing circles against the lace trim of your panties that were just visible beneath the t-shirt you wore to bed.

You glanced to Sherlock who was standing next to the mirror, one arm cradled in another and a dark look on his face;

“Sherlock?”

“Let Geralt do it, you’re obviously still pissed at me”

Glaring at him you were interrupted by cool fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, and your attention was rapidly brought back to your reflection in the mirror. You were unable to look away as you watched Geralt reach further and seek out your folds, running his finger through the natural slick that had gathered there, before rubbing harsh circles against your clit;

“Oh fuck…”

Where Sherlock was a firm but gentle lover, it would seem Geralt went for the rougher approach, going straight for the prize. In the mirror you looked up and saw that his eyes were now dark, almost black, and a wicked grin spread over his face as he saw you watching him;

“Keep your eyes on the prize little Succubus, i’m gonna make you cum so hard i might tempt you away from your boyfriend there”

You looked at Sherlock who simply cocked an eyebrow as he continued to watch, a smirk threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth but he fought it and remained neutral.

As if annoyed by the fact your attention had been drawn away from him, Geralt increased his efforts, this time letting his mouth trace patterns over the side of your neck that was without injury, grazing the tips of his teeth against your shoulder as his fingers so expertly worked against your clit until you started to shake;

“G-Geralt…”

“Keep your eyes open”

“Its too… it’s too good…”

“EYES OPEN” he snapped; “Or i stop…”

“NO, don’t stop” your hips were bucking in time to his fingers, you could feel the orgasm building before it finally crested. Your eyes were so close to shutting but suddenly Geralt’s other hand moved from your waist to your jaw, holding your head to the side so you could see your neck and how his bite from the night before started to heal completely. You stood limp in Geralt’s arms, his own breathing laboured as you realised you had been feeding off of his energy too. You hadn’t noticed Sherlock move until he was starting to lift your leg as he knelt in front of you, hooking your knee over his uninjured shoulder.

Resting back against Geralt’s solid chest you watched as Sherlock ripped your panties from you, never taking into account how suddenly he had the power to do so when just ten minutes before he hadn’t been able to touch you, no, that thought was lost in the fog as you felt his tongue run a thick stripe through your folds, his beard rubbing against your inner thighs as he drank your essence.

“What? What’s going on?” You murmured

“Shhh, let him do it” Geralt reassured you; “You need to be stronger so he can feed from you and heal”

This time you did close your eyes, your head rolling back against Geralt’s shoulder as Sherlock ate you out, driving you wild with his skilled tongue and that tantalizing touch of sharp teeth against your softest flesh. Still sensitive from the orgasm Geralt gave you, it didn’t take you long to reach your peak again, crying out your release against Sherlock’s mouth as your head swam from the energy flowing into you.

Sherlock quickly pulled away, his voice deep and hoarse;

“Hold her up” he commanded and you felt Geralt’s strong arms wrap around your torso as Sherlock stood and undid his jeans, his hardness springing free as he wrapped your legs around his waist and thrust into you.

“OH�� fuck…” you cursed. Even after two orgasm’s Sherlock’s size was still a shock, thrusting in quickly until he was fully sheathed within you, before he set off at a brutal pace, fucking into your plyable body as his oldest friend held you immobile like a fuck doll for Sherlock to use for his own pleasure.

Sherlock had a dark smile on his face, his hips pistoning to fill you repeatedly, and even though you’d just had two intense orgasm’s you could feel a third starting to build;

“That’s it my Darling, cum for me so i can feed from you”

His smirk now showed his pearl white fangs, dipping your head to the side you could feel your body aching for its final release, and as he pierced the flesh of your neck you screamed out your release whilst he drank from you.

In the moments afterwards the pair of you were breathless, before he pulled his mouth from you and pressed a single kiss to your lips, your bodies still joined elsewhere. You felt the pair of arms holding you arm start to pull away, before Sherlock reached out and grabbed the front of Geralt’s t-shirt;

“You’re not going anywhere”

A quiet chuckle could be heard behind you but you were confused;

“Sherlock? What’s going on?”

“We need you for this fight, and we need you stronger than ever. This isn’t over yet” he paused before looking over your shoulder to his friend; “Plus he’s been hiding his injury from last night well, but Geralt need’s to feed too”

Nodding you found yourself being literally man handled to the bed, now two mouths finding soft parts of your body to press kisses to as more clothing was discarded across the floor.

Geralt landed on your bed with a low laugh, and you let out a squeal as Sherlock turned and lifted you to straddle his friend’s lap. Geralt wrapped his large palm around the back of your neck and pulled you down for a fierce kiss, before his other hand gripped onto your hip and he thrust into you. Your hole was no doubt well lubricated thank’s to Sherlock’s spend, and it didn’t seem to matter what so ever to Geralt he was fucking into you where his friend had been just minutes before, in fact any rational thought was gone from your own mind too as Geralt didn’t hold back and defiled your body in the most pleasurable of ways.

You broke the kiss and pushed yourself up to ride him, working your hips as he grabbed at your breasts, his thumbs working over your hardened nipples as you cried out in pleasure. Suddenly you became aware of Sherlock behind you, his firm chest pressing to your back as you slowed your ride, his hand dipping between your thighs;

“Ride him slowly my Darling”

Putting a roll into your hips you let out a cry of surprise when Sherlock was able to slide two fingers inside you alongside Geralt’s throbbing shaft, massaging your perineum. For a long few minutes the three of you grunted and sighed between the tightness and the stretch, before Sherlock deemed you ready and withdrew his fingers. You felt him rest the tip of his cock at your stretched entrance and you looked over your shoulder;

“Sherlock? Are you sure you won’t hurt me?”

“I’m sure. We’ve done this before”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, but his dark grin told you that you were in safe hands. Geralt gripped your shoulder and pulled you down to his lips, kissing you deeply as Sherlock slowly pushed in beside Geralt who swallowed your scream.

For the longest moment the two men simply held you as your body fought then accepted their dual presence, and then they started to fluidly move. The stimulation was incredible, the stretch and rub inside you, filled with these two virle men’s cocks at the same time you were floating on a euphoria that couldn’t be replicated. As thrusts got harder and deeper everyone was chasing their release, and as you felt your orgasm approaching you were lost in the moment until you heard both men roar, Geralt baring his fangs and canines, his eyes black as he sank his teeth into your neck, before seconds later Sherlock doing the same with the other side of your neck. As the free of you reached your peak together you fed off of each other, the two monsters of men that surrounded you drinking your blood as you in turn fed from their energy before the world went black around you.

“Darling?” Sherlock’s voice was soft, caring, and it brought you from the fog of your euphoria.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming

“Oh good, we didn’t kill you” Geralt commented, before pressing a kiss to your naked breast.

You were still sandwiched between these two huge men; your boyfriend and his best friend. Sherlock was the first to move, carefully pulling out of you and you could feel the first wave of spend run from your used hole, he in turn helping you off Geralt before laying you on the bed between them.

“Wow” you muttered, staring up at the ceiling. You felt energised and ready to take on the world.

“Are you ok my Darling?”

You turned to Sherlock and smiled;

“It's been an intense morning”

Geralt let out a low belly laugh;

“You could say that”

As if on cue your stomach rumbled;

“Didn’t you bring pastries?”

Geralt swung his legs over the side of the bed;

“I did. I’ll put a new pot of coffee on too”

You both watched Geralt’s naked ass as he left the room, before you hooked a thumb at him as you spoke to Sherlock;

“You know, he can come visit any time he likes” you said with a grin

Sherlock laughed;

“You think that was all Geralt could give? Darling, you don’t even get all i can give, you couldn’t handle Geralt”

He pulled you to his chest and moments later Geralt appeared with three mugs of coffee and the bag of pastries dangling from his mouth. Handing them out you and Sherlock leant against the headboard as Geralt sat at the foot of the bed, the bag of pastries discreetly placed between his legs as you all ate in silence.

“So, what exactly did you two go up against last night? What is this creature that’s threatening the town?”

Sherlock looked at Geralt who swallowed and finally spoke;

“A dragon kraken”

“A what what?”

“Dragon kraken. Lives in the network of caves beneath the town. Tentacles, scales, breathes fire”

“Oh. Oh great” you said sarcastically; “Gonna have to build up my energy for that then”

Sherlock and Geralt shared a glance, dark smiles tugging at their mouths;

“Good,” they said in unison. The shiver then ran down your spine signaling that you would be gaining a lot more energy, very very soon.

Part 3 >>>

#vampire!Sherlock #vampire!geralt #sherlock holmes x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #sherlock x reader x geralt #sherlock holmes smut #geralt of rivia smut #henry cavill

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senseless-writing · 3 years ago

Text

A Chance

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x child!reader (oc)

Request: Ooooo what about geralt tackling taking care of a poor Orion with a cold?🥺

Summary: Orion has a cold. Or, at least, that’s how it started. But when things take an unexpected turn down a dangerous road, Geralt questions if he really has what it takes to care for a human child

Warnings: A crap ton of angst. But don’t worry, I’m a sucker for happy ending and tooth rotting fluff :)

A/N: I tagged everyone from “Something New.” But if you want to be removed or added, please let me know!

Masterlist

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

The first time Orion ever looked death in the eyes, she was only eight years old.

And for the first time since Geralt took her in on that cold winter's day, nearly two years past, he wondered if his life was on track to reverting back to how it used to be. How it was before, when the only person he had to care for was himself. When things were easier, simpler, and a hell of a lot quieter.

Back to a life without Orion.

It scared the shit out of him.

Geralt tried to find an inn as soon as he heard her cough. They’d been on Roach when it happened, and it was quickly followed by a round of pitiful sniffs as she rubbed her button nose on the cloak he bought her six months ago. And then, of course, she’d flopped herself back against his chest and whined.

“I’m dyingggg,” she drawled, coughing once more.

The right corner of Geralt’s lips lifted in a smile. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I am. Can’t you see? I’m clearly in pain here.”

“Hm. What I see is a little girl with a cold and an imagination too big for her head.”

Almost immediately, Geralt laughed at his own joke, because he could see the tips of Orion’s ears flushing red in anger. Or, perhaps, annoyance.

“Oh, ha ha,” she sniffed, and the witcher could practically hear the scowl on her face. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you? You wouldn’t if you knew what it actually felt like to be sick.”

Geralt let go of Roach’s reins, then, to wrap his arms around her and squeeze until she whined and pushed at his arms. “You poor little human child. Doomed to a life of misery with no one who understands you.”

Orion huffed, and made a whole show of slumping over in defeat. “Fine, clearly you don’t care. I guess I’ll just suffer in silence.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.”

And he was right, at least for a while. She whined and coughed and sneezed loud enough for the whole forest to hear. But eventually, her coughs became more rough, and her sullen complaints fell silent. That’s when Geralt knew it was time to be concerned.

He could feel her whole body shudder against his chest when she coughed. And her skin, despite the chill, was warm to the touch. Perhaps she really was as sick as she said she was. His first thought, then, was to change their route in favor of the closest inn. Sure, there wasn’t any snow on the ground, but winter weather could be brutal, and it was easy for a witcher to forget that a few nights in the cold was enough for a human to feel the effect.

But hours later, still on horseback, it was clear that they wouldn’t be making it to any inn on that night. They’d been too deep into the woods by the time Geralt decided to change their course, and with the sun setting steadily, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck wandering in the dark with a miserable child. He had to set up camp, and he had to do it there.

She’ll live, he thought idly. There was a bit of guilt, sure, but not much. She’ll make it one more night, roughing it out here with me. We’ll get to the inn by tomorrow for sure.

So he found a spot he liked and dismounted from Roach, helping a grumpy Orion down with him. She sulked away to sit under a nearby tree as soon as her feet hit the floor.

“Another night on the forest floor,” she groaned. “I thought you said we’d get to sleep in a bed tonight.”

Geralt, still un-tacking Roach and pulling their stuff from his bag, let out a sigh. “I can make you a bed of grass to sleep on if you’d like.”

“I didn’t know witchers had a sense of humor.”

“I didn’t know stuffy noses made little girls turn bratty.”

“I’m not a brat, Geralt,” she whined, and he turned to give her a sharp look. Orion returned it with a pitiful one of her own. “I really don’t feel well.”

The witcher’s eyes softened as he walked over, tossing a blanket and water pouch into her lap. “I know you don’t. Put that on, and drink some water. Are you hungry?”

“No,” Orion grumbled in between small sips.

“Alright. I’m going to work on building this fire, and you’re going to close your eyes and try to get some rest. How does that sound?”

The raven haired girl didn’t respond, instead tucking herself deep into the sheepskin Geralt gave her. But the witcher took that as an agreement, and gently patted her head, before turning to continue his nightly routine.

Lay out the blankets, brush down the horse, set up the fire. It was at least an hour before he could finally sit down and check on Orion again. She looked alright, albeit still a little warm, but nonetheless sound asleep. He wasn’t sure if whatever she had would clear out by tomorrow, but doubted it would last more than a day or two.

Either way, he’d done everything right. She was hydrated and resting, and as warm as he could possibly make her. With her head resting on his lap as he leaned against a tree, and his eyes closed for the night, Geralt was sure that today was a success for him as a make-shift guardian.

Things weren’t meant to go the way they did.

But when he awoke in the middle of the night, he immediately knew that something was wrong. At first, he couldn’t figure out what it was. In fact, he wasn't even sure what woke him. So he did what Vesemir taught him to do: sit still, listen, and observe.

The fire had died down hours ago, as he could just barely smell the smoke in the air. Roach was standing off a few feet away, but he knew she was sleeping from the rhythm of her heart. And there wasn’t a monster nearby, that much Geralt was certain of. His senses were too trained to miss such a thing.

It was like a flash going off in his brain. Some sort of sixth sense that manifested before he even knew it was there. A sense that only a guardian, a father, could experience.

Because Orion—small, headstrong, and cute as a button Orion—was trembling in his arms. And apparently, his subconscious knew it long before he did.

“Orion?” he sat up at once, cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her face was hot, red hot, and flushed of all color entirely. Sweat pressed her raven curls to her forehead, her chest shuddered with every breath she took, and Geralt’s cat eyes allowed him to see the light tint of blue on her lips, even if the stars were the only thing lighting the night sky.

He pulled her completely into his lap with frantic hands, holding her close to his chest. “Hey,” he shook her, tapping her cheeks to get her to look at him. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Her eyes opened slowly, uncertainly. She looked at him without seeing, and her shaky hands raised to cling to the wrists that held her face. They felt like icicles against Geralt’s skin.

“I know, I know,” he shushed her when she moaned in pain. She tried to tuck her face to his neck, but he wouldn’t let her. Not until he knew what she needed. “What hurts? Tell me what hurts so I can fix it.”

“Everything,” she cried, but it came out more as a hoarse whisper than anything else. “Everything hurts.”

Geralt fished out the water pouch from between the blankets underneath them, quickly unscrewing the cap and holding it to her shaking lips. Orion tilted her head away in distaste.

“Cmon, Orion, you have to let me help.”

She coughed again, a dry, hollow sound. It rattled her lungs so deeply that she lurched forward in Geralt’s arms to try and ease the pain in her chest. The witcher helped her sit up, patting her back in the hopes of making it stop, but nothing seemed to work. She just kept coughing, coughing until she was blue in the face and the only thing he could do was pull her close and pray to whatever gods that were out there to let her breathe.

“Slowly,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re alright, just breathe slowly.”

But she wasn’t alright, and she couldn’t breathe, and Geralt didn’t know what to do. Orion was sick, sicker than he’d initially thought. And the guilt of doing nothing about it, of spending another night in the cold while he sat on his ass and did nothing, was enough to drive him mad.

He wouldn’t allow himself to do it a moment longer.

“Alright,” he let out a frantic sigh. With a grunt of exhaustion, he stood with Orion still in his arms. He held her close to his chest, with one arm wrapped around her back while the other cradled her head to his shoulder. “We’re gonna go, alright? We’re gonna go, and I’m gonna find you someone who will make it better.”

The little girl groaned in pain as he bent down to throw their stuff into bags. Roach, having been rudely awakened, huffed and stomped her hooves as Geralt struggled to tack her up with one hand. His hands were shaking—with adrenaline, rage, or fear, he wasn’t sure—but not as bad as Orion’s were. He could feel them wrapped around his neck, frail and shaky and struggling to hold on.

How could she have become this ill in only a matter of hours? How could he have not noticed?

He’s never disassembled a camp so quickly in his life. Within minutes, the only evidence of them being there was the remains of their burnt out fire. Quickly, Geralt found a way to mount Roach with Orion still in his arms. It was awkward, and uncomfortable, but necessary. She couldn’t even hold herself up anymore, and the witcher resorted to cradling her in his arms as he urged the mare forwards.

Even wrapped in all the blankets they had, Geralt could still feel Orion trembling as they rode. He simultaneously tucked her in tighter and kicked Roach to move faster. He didn’t like how far they were from the nearest town (which is why he hadn’t made the journey there in the first place.)

But there wasn’t much of an option now.

-----------

They rode until dawn, and they rode in relative silence. Geralt wanted to say something, wanted to apologize or sooth her or…something. But he couldn’t. Partially because he didn’t know what to say, and partially because he was too busy listening to her breaths.

They were unsteady and muffled. Erratic, even.

And even if he could find the words to say, it’s not like she would hear them. By this point in their ride, Orion was delirious with fever. Sweating through her blankets, trembling in the cold, and mumbling words Geralt couldn’t understand, even with his sensitive hearing.

By the time he finally reached the small town he knew would be waiting for them, Geralt wasn’t sure if Orion was with him anymore. And the people of the town, they watched him. They watched as a white haired witcher carrying a bundle of death rode through their streets, frantically searching for someone to fix the mistake he’d made.

The residents of this town took pity on the poor witcher. An old man, probably half Geralt’s age, approached Roach with a soft face and raised hands.

“Excuse me, sir, but can I assume you’re looking for a doctor?”

Geralt’s whole body deflated at the man's kind-hearted concern. “Yes. Yes, you can.”

“Well our doctor, Lana, she never sleeps. I can take you to her home, if you’d like.”

The witcher nodded once, a desperate “please,” falling from his lips before the man was mounting his horse and leading them forward. The two rode as swiftly as the streets would allow, dodging the few shop owners who rose with the sun to start their days.

In less than a minute, they arrived at a house that Geralt assumed to be Lana’s. It was an old stone cottage, covered in vines and seemingly tilted on its side. In fact, the whole house seemed as if it was seconds away from collapsing, but that didn’t stop him from kicking the door in with all the strength he had.

“Help, please! I need some help here!”

A small woman rushed in at once. Geralt didn’t notice any of her features, didn’t even notice she was there at first. Not until her pale hands were pulling at the girl in his arms.

At once, the witcher was pulling away, clinging to Orion in a desperate manner. That’s what he’s been doing for the past three hours, and he wasn’t prepared to stop now.

“You have to let me take her,” the woman, Lana, said in a soft voice. Her hazel eyes met his own, tinted gold, and she gave him an encouraging look. “If you want me to make her better, you have to let me work.”

Geralt relented his grip on the girl after a moment's hesitation. He watched Lana take her and lay her on a nearby table. “Please be gentle,” he muttered, almost as an afterthought.

“I promise I will be.”

And she was. Geralt made sure of it. He sat by Orion’s side with eyes like a hawk, carefully monitoring Lana as she assessed her. He couldn’t find the words to ask what she was doing when she jogged across the room to her cabinets, pulling out herbs and oils and other things he didn’t recognize. Vesemir would be embarrassed by his lack of understanding about herbal medicines, and maybe he knew more than he was letting on. But in that moment, Geralt had never felt more clueless.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Lana asked him, her eyes focused on the bowl of ingredients in front of her.

“She had a cold. It was—I thought it was a cold. But when I woke up about three hours ago, she was like this.”

The doctor raised her eyes to meet his own for a moment. “Three hours ago?”

Geralt’s whole face sharpened until his gaze was dark enough to frighten the bravest of souls. He knew what she was implying. “I had to get us here,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You’re a witcher, yes? Can I assume you two have spent the last few nights on a forest floor?”

A fire crawled through Geralt’s veins. “If you have something you’d like to say to me—”

“I don’t,” Lana paused again to look at him with an understanding expression. “I don’t presume to know better than the guardians of my patients. I just need to know all the facts so I can treat her properly.”

“The facts are that she had a cold. It was a cold that turned into a cough, that turned into…this. She became delirious about an hour ago and hasn’t been lucid since.”

“Alright, then, our focus is on breaking the fever. This should help,” she motioned towards the concoction she’d made. Geralt flinched as he watched her tilt Orion’s head back, pinching her nose and forcing the mixture down her throat.

“That’s it?” he asked, gripping Orion’s hand like it was his only lifeline. Perhaps it was. “That’s all you’re going to do?”

Lana didn’t look the slightest bit offended at his tone. “That’s all I can do. The herbs I gave her should attack the fever while simultaneously clearing the congestion in her lungs. I’d like to get some cool rags on her pressure points to aid them in that process. But other than that, all we can do is wait.”

Geralt could hardly focus on her words. The whole waiting thing, it wasn't really his style. Especially not when it came to Orion. He was meant to be her caretaker. He was meant to keep her safe, keep her happy. But he’d failed today. He could only hope, with the grace of destiny, that he’d be given another chance to make this right.

That he’d be given another chance to care for her, and to not fail at it.

They spent another 30 minutes in that tense limbo of confusion and discomfort. Geralt watched as the doctor laid wet rags across the eight-year-old’s forehead, wrists, and back of her neck. The panic he felt as he sat there was unmatched. No monster of any fang or claw, no drunken mercenary with something to prove. Nothing compared to sitting still and waiting for his little one to hurry up and get better or die.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the stiff silence in the air, or the burning hole of Lana’s gaze on his back. Geralt suggested that she get some rest, offering to stay awake and change Orion’s rags periodically, and to watch her breaths for any signs of change. It was a desperate move to finally be alone again, and it worked. Within ten minutes, the doctor had retired for the night, and the witcher was once again alone.

Alone with Orion, and alone with his mistakes.

-----------

Geralt spent 12 hours contemplating what his new life without Orion would look like.

12 hours picturing his life without her smile. Without ever seeing the way it took over her whole face, or the way her eyes crinkled into nothing at all because her smile was just that big. Or without teasing her for the missing teeth that were still struggling to grow in.

And he thought about how rarely he would laugh once she was gone. Before Orion, he could go weeks without authentically letting out a laugh. But now, he couldn’t count how many times he did it in a day. She was constantly helping him find the joy in things, even if he pretended the opposite was true.

He was going to miss everything about her. The big things, the small things, and everything in between. That’s what he thought about for 12 hours in the tilted doctor's hut as he dressed and redressed her damp rags.

But when Orion shifted underneath his gentle hands, successfully snapping him from his spiral of self pity, Geralt nearly felt his heart crack under the pressure he’s been forcing himself to carry.

“Orion?” he called to her softly. Her face had gained back most of its color, without even a hint of blue in sight. He hadn’t noticed that before, having been too immersed in his grief. “Can you hear me? Go on, open your eyes sweetheart, I’m right here.”

She flinched away from his voice at first. From that, and the soft candle light coming from her bedside. Her senses seemed to be on overdrive, and every little thing sent a wave of pain washing over her. But she could feel the gentle hands caressing wisps of hair from her forehead, could recognize who’s hands they were in an instant, and she knew she wasn’t alone.

Geralt was there for her like he always was. Like he promised he always would be.

“Geralt,” she sighed, her obsidian eyes meeting his.

Once again, words were beyond him. Really, what was there to say? What could he possibly come up with that would make up for the past 24 hours?

But Orion, ever the wordsmith, wasn’t content with sitting in silence. “Gods, my chest hurts,” she groaned, giving him the best smirk she could manage. Her eyes quickly flashed across the room in confusion. “Wait, where are we? I thought we slept outside last night.”

Geralt stuttered, cleared his throat, and tried again. “We, uh—we did. You don’t remember anything after falling asleep?”

Her eyes fluttered in thought, before looking back at him. “Not really, no.”

“You got worse. Much worse. I thought…it was touch and go for a while.”

Orion seemed to contemplate what he said for a moment, with furrowed brows and thoughtful eyes. A moment passed, and then another, before she looked at him with a glint in her eyes that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

“I guess I got to spend the night in a bed after all.”

Geralt nearly blew a fuse. “You’re not funny, Orion. Not even in the slightest.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” she defended herself, but an amused chuckle slipped from her lips anyway. It got stuck somewhere in her throat, though, as it was still sore from the hours she’d spent struggling to breathe. She coughed to try and clear it out, and a surprisingly panicked expression fell across her face.

Orion opened her mouth to say something; to call out for Geralt, maybe. Or perhaps to apologize for being stupid and making jokes after being told she’d almost died. But nothing came out, because she was too busy trying to catch her breath. Still, her witcher knew what she needed.

“It’s alright,” he cooed, moving to support the back of her head. “Take it easy, it’ll come back. Just relax.”

She tucked herself tighter in his arms, leaning at an awkward angle to press her ear to his chest. Geralt tried to speed up his breaths to match that of a normal human’s, though it didn’t really work. His heart still beat slower, and although Orion couldn’t exactly match her rhythm to his own, it still helped calm her down.

They stayed that way for minutes on end. Orion taking in Geralt’s warmth, and Geralt running his hands through her unruly curls while trying to remind himself that she was alright.

“I’m sorry for almost dying,” she said at last. It was merely a whisper, but Geralt heard it anyway. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed.

“I’m sorry for almost letting you.”

“But you didn’t. If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I almost didn’t get you here in time.”

“But it’s all okay now, right?” she looked up at him with wide eyes. “We’re here, I’m gonna get better, and everything’s gonna go back to normal. Right?”

It was then, in that moment, that Geralt was reminded of the most important lesson of all. The greatest thing Orion had ever taught him during their time together, something you must know if you ever stood a chance of being a parent worth having.

And that was to always, always, put your child’s needs before your own. To be selfless, even when it feels impossible to do so. It was something he’d struggled with at first, having lived a whole life caring for no one’s needs but his own. But now, with her under his care, Geralt had learned what needed to be done to make sure Orion was happy.

So that’s why when she looked at him like that, as if he single handedly hung the stars in the night sky, he knew what he needed to do. He needed to put his feelings aside, to swallow his grief and self pity and deal with it on his own time, because reassuring her had to be his first priority.

That’s what she needed from him.

“That’s right. Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

He could feel her deflate in his arms at those words. And with that came his own relief. Because for once in what felt like a very long 24 hours, the two of them were finally both at ease.

“Geralt?” she asked again, and he hummed at her in response. “Can we spend another night here, or at an inn? With a bed?”

The witcher chuckled and let her slip from his arms, lying her back down and resting a hand on her forehead. She was still warm, but not alarmingly so. “All the nights in our future are going to be spent at an inn. With fire, clean water, and everything else we need.”

She looked slightly alarmed. “Well, I don’t want to stop sleeping outside altogether. That’s how life is on the path.”

“On the path, hm?” his left eyebrow raised. “How about this. Once you’re better, things can go back to how they were. Except, I work on finding you a warm place to sleep more often than I do now. How does that sound, oh mighty witcher?”

Orion’s whole face broke into a smile, like the one he’d been missing so dearly while she slept. A wide, toothy grin with squinted eyes and crooked lips.

“That sounds good,” she sighed, before relaxing her face entirely. Her eyes slipped closed, and Geralt leaned forward to press a soothing kiss to her temple.

“Sleep, Orion,” he whispered in her ear. “And when you wake, everything will be better.”

And it was. When Orion woke, everything was better, and Geralt was grateful for the chance he’d been given.

A chance to learn, and a chance to do better.

Tags: @risenqueen-1521 @antisocial-thing @nayderz @yamihere004 @dreamy-caramel @planet-ashtroid @the-sky-writes @firexfate @yorkeylover @britty443 @gluepoo @jakeyjellybean

#the white wolf #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x daughter!reader #the witcher x oc #Geralt #geralt of rivia #orion #reader fic #OC fic #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x daughter!reader #geralt of rivia x daughter!reader #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x oc #the witcher x child!reader #Geralt of rivia x child!reader

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confused-red-head · 2 years ago

Text

Dragon!Jotaro x Fem!reader

Masterlist

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Chapter 3: "Family Reunions"

Warnings: fantasy au, dragon!jotaro, violence, implied/mentioned minor character death, fem!reader, breaking and entering, cursing, yelling

Thank you to @helpimhyperfixating for beta reading for me and getting me into jjba! Please go check out her fics!❤️

Thank you to @ahoge-fish for allowing me to use some art from her Witcher!Jotaro AU as a reference for Jotaro's sword here! Please go check her out! She makes AMAZING art and hilarious scenerio comics between Jotaro and her adorable OC!

If you would like to see the art of Jotaro's sword, it's here!

Taglist: Open

Let me know if you want to be added to taglist!

I awoke to a tickle in my nose. Crinkling my face, I attempted to dispel the feeling and return to the land of dreams. Unfortunately, more sleep was not in the cards for me.

AAAAACHOO!

I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand as sleep seemed to wander further and further away, much to my disappointment.

Upon the realization that the room was much too quiet. Instead of chattering children, I hear the chirping of birds. I pry open my tired eyes, only to find myself in a bare, dust-filled room.

I racked my groggy mind, trying to recall where I am and how I got here. Thankfully, clarity soon made itself known as the memories of last night resurfaced.

I recalled escaping the orphanage. Found the hunters and freed a dragon. Learned that said dragon could talk, shape-shift into a man, and was named Jotaro. Traveled to the house with said Dragon. Lastly, I collapsed into this dusty, old bed as all of the exhaustion from the night finally caught up to me.

It all felt surreal. For a moment, I almost believed it was all a dream, but the memories were all too real.

I swung my legs off of the rickety, old bed, stretching a bit before slipping on my boots. Leaving the room, I spied Jotaro slouched over in a chair next to the front door with his hat tipped forward. Squinting a bit, I noticed his breathing was regular

A mischievous smile grew onto my face as I quietly strode over to the dragon-man's large figure. Once by his side, I leaned over to his eye level.

"It's about damn time you woke up.", I spoke, trying to mimic the man's own baritone voice.

I heard a groan as Jotaro lifted his head, clearly unhappy with the disturbance.

"Don't you know never to wake a sleeping dragon?"

"I do, in fact, but you were either already waking up or never slept in the first place. Am I correct?"

Jotaro narrowed his eyes at my small deduction, clearly disgruntled at the fact I could easily read the situation.

"Forgive me, but you clearly aren't someone to easily let your guard down. Leading me to believe you were guarding the door the whole night. With each snap of a twig and the cry of an animal would have left you alert all night, wouldn't it?"

Jotaro only grunted in response, which I took as confirmation. I turn around with a nod.

"Well, since I'm no longer on the brink of collapsing, I'm going to grab what I came here for."

I approach a writing desk nestled next to a large bookshelf and a landscape painting hanging above. I clamber onto the desk and lift the painting from off the wall to reveal a hole in the wall. Within the hole held a few large leather bound books, a pouch of coins, and various other seeming useless nicknacks.

"What the hell is this place?", the male's question sounded more like a demand as I heard his footsteps from behind me.

"My childhood home... or one of them at least. My father and I moved around a lot. For what reason, I do not know. This house was the last one we resided in, until he whisked me off to the orphanage." I reached for one one of the books and dust off the cover, skimming the contents.

The dragon-man only grunted as I took the coin pouch and five books out of the hidey-hole, the fifth containing a singular loose ribbon, seemingly used as a bookmark. I pluck the ribbon from its place, thinking of another use for the strip of fabric.

I climbed down from the table's surface, having gathered what I was looking for.

I could practically feel Jotaro's sharp eyes digging into my back with intense curiosity and wariness.

"If you're so curious you can just ask. They were written by my father." Without looking, I picked up one book and handed it to Jotaro.

He took the book with a wary look.

"Avalon?"

Jotaro flipped through the book, reading excerpts about Avalon: The City of Legend. Avalon itself was supposedly a symbol of unity between man and dragon. The city was believed to simply be a myth, just another fairytale told to children. After years of war and hatred, the tale fell into obscurity.

"Hm? Oh yeah. He was uh... kinda obsessed.", I kept my response relatively short, not wanting to talk about it.

Jotaro only grunted in response. I appreciated that he kept it at that. Most would be asking many questions or spewing criticisms.

"Right...", I cleared my throat in an attempt to disperse the uncomfortable air. "Well, I got what I got what I came here fo-"

"Shut up"

"What are you-"

"I said shut up.", Jotaro growled a bit and latched his gloved hand over my mouth.

I was baffled by his sudden interruption, but realized his focus wasn't on me, it was on the front door.

"I hear voices.", he spoke in a hushed tone.

I didn't hear anything myself just yet. He took his hand off my mouth and set it onto my shoulder, urging me to move to the side of the door. He drew his sword and pressed his ear to the wall.

I stepped back to give him some more room, when I heard the floorboard creak under my weight. I quietly lean down to lift the floorboard to find a small cache of weapons.

'I guess hiding things beneath the floorboards is a family trait...'

All the while I begin to hear muffled voices approaching the house.

"This is it."

"Are you sure?"

"It has to be."

Jotaro stiffened hearing two gruff male voices. He tightened his grip on the blade as the door jiggle.

"Damn it! It's locked."

"Allow me."

Clicking noises were heard coming from the lock, Jotaro took this moment to adjust himself into a defensive position. Then... the clicking halts.

The door swings open and Jotaro lifts his blade in case of attack as a figure crosses the threshold.

...

"JOTARO?!"

"Gramps?"

Both males stood there frozen in shock. Jotaro lowered his blade, recognizing the stranger as his grandfather. The man had slightly tanned pale skin, trimmed, gray hair and surprisingly vibrant green eyes. He wore a brown doublet with a cream undershirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His tan pants were tucked into brown boots he wore.

"Aren't you supposed to be on another continent?"

"Now, Jotaro, that's no way to greet your grandfather!"

PEW

CRACK

Suddenly, a bolt shoots out, headed directly toward "Gramps", before it was caught mid-air by a ghostly purple hand and snapped in two.

The bewildered men's eyes snapped towards me and I looked down equally shocked... to the rusted crossbow I was holding.

"Why the hell do you have a goddamn crossbow?!", Jotaro growled low and threateningly.

"Uhhh.... better yet, why don't YOU have a crossbow, Jotaro!"

Jotaro's eyes narrowed and his scowl deepened. I quickly broke under his glare.

"Look! I'm sorry the stupid, fucking latch broke, but I wasn't going to just sit here with nothing to defend myself with! I'm not just going to depend on you for everything!", I threw the now broken crossbow to the side as a small sign of submission.

"You could have killed someone with that thing, you dumb bitch!"

"THAT'S THE POINT OF A CROSSBOW, YOU FUCKING ASSHAT!"

Jotaro and I glared at each other when the tension was suddenly broken with a boisterous laugh.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Ahhh... Jotaro, your mother never told me you had a beloved! You two almost remind me of my wife and I when we were young!", the old man strode over to us.

"HEH?!"

"It's not like that, you senile old man.", Jotaro gave an irritated grunt. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

I practically saw the gears turning in his head.

"Ah! That's right! Avdol! The coast is clear! Come on in!"

At that, a dark-skinned man entered the house. He wore a long, orange robe with a thin, beige doublet, similarly colored pants and short brown boots. Although, what stood out most was the large, golden earrings that connected into a single piece that could easily be mistaken for a necklace at first glance.

Avdol strode over to the three of us as Jotaro's grandfather began introductions.

"Avdol, this is my grandson, Jotaro, and his... companion... excuse me I don't think I ever got a name, young lady."

"Oh uh... it's... it's Y/n.", I stumbled over my words, still reeling over the previous tense situation.

"It's good to meet you! I'm Joseph Joestar! Jotaro's grandfather!"

Jotaro pinched his hat, tipping it forward and muttering a 'good grief' under his breath. Ignoring his grandson's reaction, Mr.Joestar turned to Avdol.

"And this is a friend of mine I met in my travels."

The man in orange robe steps up to introduce himself, "I'm Muhammad Avdol, It's a pleasure to meet you."

Avdol gave you both a polite bow as a greeting.

I straightened up a bit, feeling a tad more confident.

"It's nice to meet you both! I um... I'm sorry about the crossbow... I thought you were hunters..."

A confused look crossed Mr.Joestar's face, "Hunters?! You were being hunted down?"

"We'll get to that. Why are you here?", Jotaro wasted no time in getting back to the conversation at hand.

"Right..." Mr. Joestar's suddenly became much more serious. "I have reason to believe we are all in serious danger. Our family, especially."

"What the hell do you mean by that?", Jotaro tensed up and spoke lowly.

Mr. Joestar closed his eyes in thought.

"To explain, I'll have to start from the beginning. Take a look.", he pulled out an old, waterlogged journal and handed it to Jotaro, who took it in return.

I peeked at the journal the best I can, only catching a glimpse of drawings and script.

"That is a record of a hollow coffin found aboard an empty vessel floating amongst the sea, not far from where my grandfather was killed defeating his nemesis and evil incarnate, Dio.", as Mr.Joestar's speech went on, the more furious he sounded. "Or so we thought. We fear Dio has returned, and not only that...", he reached into his pocket to pull out a small book. He flipped open the book to show the blank pages and tore a page from the book. For a moment the page remained blank but soon an image appeared. The page presented a drawing of a sinister looking man with his back turned and a star mark on his shoulder.

"He's stolen the body of my grandfather! Jonathan Joestar!"

I was in disbelief. This all sounded as if it came out of an epic tale. Never in my wildest dreams would expect myself to even have a minor role in. I found myself lost in my own thoughts as I heard only snippets of Mr.Joestar's speech. Some things about "stands", "dio", and "birthmarks". I almost felt like I had never woken up in the first place and this was all some sort of strange dream.

'This... is turning out to be an incredibly strange turn of events...'

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up to lock eyes with Avdol as he smiled gently.

"It's alright if you don't understand, Y/n. It can be quite confusing at first."

I felt my head clear a bit as I took in a breath and sighed.

"Thank you... Mr. Avdol, was it?"

Avdol nodded in confirmation.

"Avdol, is just fine. Would you like a ride to town? It wouldn't sit well leaving a young girl here, so far out in the woods."

Before I could even answer, another voice spoke up.

"She's coming with us to the haven."

Both men were surprised at Jotaro's statement.

"She has a dragon's oath. It would be dangerous to let her stay here, so I intend to return her to whoever she belongs to.", Jotaro elaborated, allowing the two older men's faces to fall from surprise to something of understanding.

"You talk like I'm some lost child..."

"If you don't want to be seen as a lost child, then don't act like one."

Mr.Joestar held a fist to his lips in an attempt to stifle a chuckle, while Avdol turned to me again.

"Are you alright with this?", Avdol's eyes showed concern, looking for confirmation in mine.

"Yes, this is fine. I didn't have much else planned after coming here. Besides... I have a lot of questions and if I can find who gave away this dragon's oath, perhaps I can get some answers.", I smiled in an attempt to ease Avdol's concern.

Avdol nodded and smiled in return.

"Alright! Well since that's dealt with, we need to head out. I suggest you gather all you need as quickly as possible and we'll meet you by the wagon.", Mr.Joestar announced as he turned to leave the household, both Jotaro and Avdol following suit.

I grab my pack and satchel from the bedroom, remembering one thing I wanted to do before leaving.

"If you don't mind just... just give me a moment. I have to do one last thing before we go...", I compiled the books and coin purse into my pack, slipping it onto my back.

I leave the building, turning the corner and make my way to the back of the house. I traversed through some thicket to an alcove of trees, plucking a bouquet of wildflowers along the way. I binded the wildflower bouquet with the ribbon I obtained and approached a lone stone slab.

"It's been a while..." I lower myself to sit on my knees before the slab and rest the bouquet down on the ground. " I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but they would never let me leave the town let alone the orphanage. I'm sure you know... sometimes it felt like you were there. But... I'm here now. Although, I'm sorry I can't stay long. I promise I'll come back to visit after I get some answers. I just wanted to visit you while I had the chance... I hope you like the flowers."

I sat there for a few more minutes as l felt eyes boring holes into my back. I finally stand and dust off my dress.

"... Goodbye, Mother."

I turned back to the way I came from and saw a familiar, dark figure leaning against a tree. I began trudging toward the figure, making my way through the thicket once again.

"I know you don't trust me, but I just want to remind you I want to know whose oath this is just as much as you do."

Jotaro didn't say anything as I walked past him. He just stared at the eroded stone slab with my mother's name carved into it. I ignored his lack of response and continued towards the wagon.

'Things just keep getting stranger and stranger...'

Author's note: So this chapter took a bit longer than the first two. I didn't exactly have a clear image for what I wanted. I had to take breaks from it multiple times in order to figure out what I wanted and because of that I fear that this chapter might be a tad choppy. Choppy Chapter. Fortunately, after finishing this I have a clear image for chapter 4!

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x fem!reader #fem!reader #dragon!jotaro kujo #jjba #jjba fantasy au #jjba dragon au #jojo's bizarrre adventure #dragon!au #slowburn #old joseph joestar #joseph joestar #jjba jotaro #jjba joseph #jotaro kujo #muhammad avdol #jjba avdol #bound by oath

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writersblockedx · 3 years ago

Text

A Runaway, Chapter Five

Pairing - Geralt x Reader, Jaskier x Reader Summary - Together the three (along with the company of Yennefer) weasel their way through Aretuza's games. Warnings - Mentions of death Words - 1.5K

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Y/n could never know how long she had been waiting for Yennefer to return, only that she had been pacing the little length of this room for awhile now. Her thoughts were chaos and her patience was nothing but thin. And when her door finally rattled opened, it wasn't Yennefer on the other side of it.

A much older women stood there. She seemed much more put together than Yennefer and held much less emotion within her expression. Though, Y/n wasn't sure whether that was because she was hiding said emotion or didn't care for any of this at all. "Put this on." The women, who she assumed was a mage as well, threw an item of clothing at Y/n.

It wasn't until she rolled it out and let it hang from her fingers, that the girl realised what it was. "A dress?" She asked.

The women gave nothing in return other than saying that, "Someone will collect you soon." And with that, she both left and locked the room. Had it maybe been Yennefer, Y/n would have questioned more, would have asked for some answers. But whoever that mage had been, she certainly didn't trust her like she did Yennefer. If she could say she even trusted Yennefer.

But still, Y/n did as the women had instructed and slipped into the silk dress which felt foreign after days of being on the run. Still, it filled her with a glimpse of her home. The feeling of delicacy and royalty that came with the dresses and the gold and the large halls which were fit for hundreds of lords and ladies. Yet, as she stood in that room, it had filled her with nothing but horror.

Not another moment went by before the door rattled opened once more. Y/n jumped slightly as she turned around, having no idea who was to be standing on the other side. Maybe Yennefer, maybe the women from before or, as she prayed, either Geralt or Jaskier. Instead, two guards stood at the door. They said nothing. "What?" Y/n had asked aloud as if urging them to actually tell her what was going on - something that everybody had failed at so far.

Still, neither of the guards said a word. They only spun on their heals as to insinuate that she were to follow them out of the room. And the girl did so. One guard at each side of her as they led her the same way they had come in until the girl ended up at that same golden, grand hall she had entered through. Only now, the hall was filled with guests, mages possibly. All of them painted in elegant gowns as Y/n was or rich suits that were matched with the delicate interior.

For a second, Y/n did all but watch. She scanned the crowd, scanned for the danger and safety in this situation. But, no matter how hard she tried, she didn't know whether these people were going to help her or kill her.

It wasn't until her eyes landed on the familiar yellow gaze of a Witcher, that a part of her seemed to relax. Just a little. Before anyone could stop her, Y/n spirited from her feet. Something of which happened to catch the attention of the man. And just like that, she hit him, her body engulfing itself within the safety of his hold.

Geralt was never a hugger, but while stuck in a possible death trap, he supposed he would make an exception.

He didn't let go straight away. No, while devoured by affection, Geralt saw a chance to speak words which wouldn't be analysed from afar. "Is everything alright?" He asked, quiet as he was able.

"I think so." She couldn't be sure yet.

"You can trust Yennefer."

And with that said, the two pulled away and the other piece of trio came wondering over. "Oh, good! You're not dead." Jaskier grinned. Though, his words had barely left his mouth before he as well was taken in a tightly knit embrace.

"It's good to see you still breathing as well." Y/n added as she pulled from the boy. There was a moment as she spoke when Jaskier felt caught, as if he wasn't to move his gaze from her own. But it was just a moment, life was full of them. She then turned back to Geralt, "Is there anyway out of this alive?"

"Were in a building filled with some of the most powerful mages, we don't get out alive." Geralt stated, abolishing all hope that might have been lingering around.

Y/n became stern in her eyes as she stared at the Witcher, "You promised my safety." She reminded him. "Or does that promise mean nothing now that things are tricky?"

"You're safety won't matter if your dead." Supposed he made a point there.

The girl paused at that, giving time for a certain 'trusting' mage to make an appearance. "Good to see you haven't fought off any more guards." Yennefer started, words directed at Geralt. Something of which had been news to Y/n, not that it had been much of a surprise.

"Yeah, you're welcome." Geralt rushed out. "Do you know anything more now?"

Yennefer looked between the two boys before finding her gaze landing on Y/n. "Less than a week ago, you made an appearance. Every mage and sorceress could feel it. Something off, something wrong. Some had visions of you, dreams which told them what to do with you. The botherhood met up, discussed it and came to the conclusion to find you and go from there." Yennefer went on explaining.

Geralt met Y/n's eyes in a realisation. "They know less than us." Yes, neither of them knew much, but they knew Y/n certainly wasn't from this world and they were beginning to figure out the bigger picture.

"Well you might want to share the rest of this story; some of the botherhood think Y/n should be killed and then they can be done with the whole thing." That was certainly assuring. "The only reason you're not dead was because Tissaia-" Yennefer nodded over to the witch which had given her the dress not long ago, "convinced them not to."

The girl glanced to Geralt and the bard before returning her gaze to Yennefer. "And there's no way we can run out of this?" If they were to get out this, then the three could go back to figuring out how to get Y/n home. It seemed like none of these powerful mages actually knew how to.

"No way out alive." At least that's how Yennefer saw it. Which was a good way of seeing things. Statically, the chance of a group of criminals getting out of Aretuza alive were low, possibly none at all. But Y/n would rather try than let them kill her.

Suddenly, the group were pulled from their conversation as a loud band began to play their music. The witches and the wizards took to the dance floor in twos. They danced as one. The music whimsical and urging more pairs onto the floor. "Try to at least look like I didn't just tell you that you're all going to die." Kind words, Y/n thought.

Jaskier huffed and swallowed the fear that came with the chaos which trapped him. He held out his hand to the girl and smiled, "Dance?" He offered. In only a death threating situation would Jaskier be the one to offer to dance.

Yet still, Y/n glanced around the hall and took him up on the offer, leaving Geralt and Yennefer to scan for any dangers which might show themselves.

And so Y/n's palm slipped into Jaskier's and the two swayed, her head falling to his chest. "Do this often?" She joked.

"What? Dance in a room filled with mages who want us dead? Can't say I do." The boy laughed, once again, only something Jaskier would do in a situation like this. "We'll get out of this." Another thing that sounded like a promise that couldn't be fulfilled. "Some way or other."

Y/n lifted her head from the boy's chest, his blue pupils seeming to stare back at her. "One wrong move tonight and we're dead." She wasn't wrong there.

Any one here could snap their finger and the three would drop dead. The only reason that hadn't yet was due to an agreement made between them. Something of which not all of them were so fond off.

It was thin ice, of which was cracking already.

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sleep-i-ness · 3 years ago

Text

Guest Professor (Jaskier x reader)

Summary: You keep bumping into the guest professor, and you're not sure it's just a coincedence anymore.

Warnings: alcohol

Pairings: Jaskier x reader

Square Filled: Age Gap

A/N: @thewitcherbingo

THE WITCHER BINGO MASTERLIST | THE WITCHER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

You clutched your books to your chest, half-empty bag slung over your shoulder as you hauled your stuff to class. The clock chimed and you swore loudly, drawing scandalous looks from some old birds having a brisk morning walk before knitting or whatever else old people did in Oxenfurt. The looming university building seemed ever further away as the chiming bells reminded you just how late you would be.

You gulped down your panting as you tried to compose yourself before entering the lecture hall, forehead beaded with sweat. The door creaked open, warning of your presence, and you winced. It was already packed full of students in there, eyes watching your every move as you tried to slip in silently.

Filia waved at you, movements exuberant as your own mood gradually deteriorated. Why had she chosen the middle row? You pushed past your peers, a grimace firmly etched onto your face as you murmured Sorry repeatedly. This was mortifying. Dumping your stuff down onto the table, you dropped into your seat. The pile of books in front of you was looking like a great place to bury your head in at this point.

“Isn’t this so exciting!?” She started off whispering, voice too eager to be kept quiet for long.

You frowned. “What is?”

“We’ve got a guest lecturer today.”

You peered over the pile of your stuff at the man, who was wearing a pressed silk doublet and had a very nice lute slung over his shoulder. You wrinkled your nose. “Another man? And looks like he comes from nobility as well.”

“It’s better than Schneider droning on about iambic pentameter and rhyming couplets again.”

You swept off the books into your bag, clearing the desk to leave room for your writing utensils. If the speaker actually made any points of use you wanted to note them down. “Yes, well anything is better than that.”

The lecture was surprisingly good; the man clearly knew his stuff, and had an attitude – you hesitated to call it arrogance but that did seem to fit best – that added an element of humour to the otherwise dry technicalities. And it was nice to have a younger lecturer for once. Schneider must have been reaching seventy or so years at least.

“Oh, wasn’t he dreamy.” Filia mock-swooned, pressing a hand to her forehead. You shook your head, continuing to pack your bag as a small smile played at your lips. His looks had played a small part in your enrapturement, but you preferred to say it was because of the quality of the lecture.

“Mhm,” you slung your bag onto your shoulder, “do you mind holding back for a moment? I have a question I wanted to ask.”

The man looked up as you descended the stairs towards him, boots a little too clunky for the narrow steps so you gripped the hand rail tightly. He broke away from Geert and Schneider, the latter of which continued talking without really noticing his disappearance.

“We really enjoyed the talk,” Filia gushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in that way you knew all too well from drunken nights out where she was soon surrounded by adoring fans.

He raised an eyebrow, gaze drifting over to you in a way that made heat crawl up the back of your neck. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I… I had a question, sir.” You clutched your bag a little closer to your chest, unnerved by the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Oh, please, not sir, call me Jaskier.” Jaskier. Oh and of course he had to go have a name that you could imagine moaning. No. These were bad thoughts. Heat crept up the back of your neck. “And you are?”

You frowned slightly, mind still very much focused on his name. Oh. Fuck. You blurted out your name, eyes widening at your too loud voice.

Jaskier took a step closer, eyes afire with something you didn’t quite recognise. “Go on then, what’s your question?”

You gulped, mind wiping blank before you steeled yourself against whatever this infatuation was. “You mentioned the importance of sound within poetry, the use of sibilance, plosives, to drive dramatic effect. On the flipside, do you think that these could be used to create almost an irony within the poem?”

He tilted his head. “That’s an interesting question. Is this irony for the purpose of humour? Or more to jar the audience?”

“Oh, um, either I guess.” You scratched the back of your neck, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You hadn’t been expecting to be probed on the exact meaning of your question; wasn’t he meant to be the one answering them?

“Well, I think it would work well for creating tension by unsettling or offsetting the tone – I’m not sure about humour. How about I get back to you on that?”

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good.” You tripped over your words as he maintained that deep eye contact, brain suddenly melting to thick slush. This was embarrassing.

Filia tugged you out of the room, your feet having lost the ability to move of their own volition, and you sighed at the smug grin on her face. She spun on you as soon as the door slammed shut behind you.

“You two seemed very friendly.”

You frowned. “He was just being professional.”

“The look he was giving you was anything butprofessional.”

The pages were smooth under your fingers, a simple pleasure in the torture of writing yet another essay. Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever actually get on to writing poetry, instead of just analysing it. Schneider was very much a by-the-book professor.

You skim read the page, eyes flitting over the words as you sought out anything to do with ‘metre’ or ‘pace’ or ‘rhythm’. But yet again it was useless. More of the same old drivel that really told you nothing. You thumped the book shut, dust particles flying into the air, and you sneezed.

A harsh shh came from the librarian’s desk and you winced.

Grabbing the next heavy tome from your pile, you placed this one down a little more gently. Your finger trailed along the contents page, scanning the chapter headings for something a little more insightful into the “importance of metre”. Anything other than how it characterises a poem’s mood would be helpful really.

Cough. You ignored the gentle noise, huffing frustratedly as this book yielded nothing. By this rate, you were going to have read half of the books in the library and still not finished your essay.

Cough. The cough was louder this time, more insistent and purposeful. You glanced up, perfectly ready to berate whoever had decided to interrupt your studying.

He made eye contact with you, smirking. Oh Melitele, smirking. Your mouth stayed open, words caught in the back of your throat.

“Need any help?” Jaskier slipped into the seat next to you, somehow aware that you weren’t going to be the first one to say something. Well, it wasn’t that surprising; you had just stared at him like a brainless goldfish for about half a minute.

You hesitated, umming and ahhing a little as your gaze flitted between your book pile. You really ought to do this one by yourself, but when he was practically offering you a good grade, it would be self-sabotage not to accept.

Deciding on just redirecting the topic, you settled on an easy question. “What’s a guest professor like you doing in the student library this late?”

He sighed wistfully, gazing out of the large glass windows at the stars shimmering in the night sky.

“Reminiscing about the god-awful hours I spent in here over essays that took far too long.” His gaze sharpened. “Which reminds me, did you want some help?”

You pursed your lips, before groaning in resignation. “Yeah, these books are useless.”

He chuckled, sidling a little closer so your shoulders were brushing. You froze, mentally berating yourself and desperately hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Mhm, I felt the exact same thing when I was in your place.” He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek and the warmth of a body just a little too far away. “They’re all far too old and stuck in the past. We need to forget tradition. Forget all the rules. Switch it up!”

He had summarised very succinctly what every single one of your frustrations with this essay boiled down to.

You grinned. “I swear some of these were written when you must’ve been a student.”

Jaskier gasped, looking very much like you had just slapped him with a rotten fish. He stuttered, utter horror destroying his ability to speak. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”

“Oh, well, ancient.”

He scoffed, outrage soon dissipating into chuckles as you grinned at him. You really hoped that this sick soppy feeling wasn’t translating onto your features.

“So…” You paused, glancing back down at your unblemished parchment. “What do I do?”

Jaskier’s blue eyes met yours, so unforgettably and unabashedly close. Your breath stuttered in your throat.

“Make your own tradition.”

Pelagius whooped loudly, clanking his tankard against yours and spilling ale everywhere as the rest of the group burst into laughter. You’d all come for your morning pick me up, a half pint of ale (or pint if it was a really tough day) but as a rule you tended to avoid any more just to be able to get through your lectures.

You groaned. “Pel, it’s only the morning, why are you already pissed?”

“Hair of the dog? It is your fault.” He shook his pint at you, more droplets splattering the table, and you winced. Alright, you also had a dire headache and were desperate for a little more sleep, but you weren’t quite at the point of drowning your stress in ale.

Filia cackled at the two of you, smug grin twitching at her lips as you wrinkled your nose. She had been the one egging you on last night, and seemed right as rain. Back to her usual chipper self.

The rest had refused to come out last night, citing Schneider’s second essay of the week as a need to stay in, and therefore were eagerly participating in Filia’s mocking. After the third snide remark about your foul stare and dark under eyes, you pushed out your chair and stood up.

“More drinks?” Suddenly, all teasing was forgotten as you received a chorus of Yeses. You shook your head, smug grin tugging at your lips. “And you say I’m the one with an alcohol problem.”

You slipped into the seat next to some poor patron who was brooding over his beer, no doubt regretting his night just as much as you were. The barkeeper chucked a filthy rag over his shoulder, giving you his most lascivious smile, and you returned one, although rather more politely.

“6 pints please. For that lot over there.” He nodded. He was a silent fellow, much more of a man for grunting, which is why this was your favourite place to chase off a hangover at. “Oh, and make sure the blond drunk one doesn’t get any more.”

At the sound of your voice, the poor bastard to your right’s head shot up. You glanced over, eyes flickering over him before back to the barkeeper as you dropped a handful of coins on the counter. Hang on. You looked at the man again out of the corner of your eye, turning your head over so slowly as your face fell.

“Jaskier…” Your false enthusiasm trailed off as you simply ran out of the energy, eyes wide and mortified.

“Wow, I can tell you’re barely hiding your excitement to see me,” he grouched, taking another large swig of his drink.

“Well, I think we’ve both had an equally awful wake-up, so I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Oh,” he chuckled slightly, “I’m not sure yours was quite as bad as mine. I’ve lost my favourite doublet in Lady Wendelbalda’s chambers as her husband chased me out.”

You grimaced. Yeah. You couldn’t really compare with that. Rubbing the back of your neck, you nodded a thanks to the barkeeper as he delivered the pints to your friends. But all you could think of was Jaskier’s… sexual adventures, and the deep prickle in your heart.

Were you jealous?

“I hope you get it back.”

He harrumphed. “I seriously doubt it. Her husband is a very volatile man, and I’m not risking my balls being cut off.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, yes, well that would be a serious loss to the population of Oxenfurt.”

Jaskier spun on you, raising an eyebrow. He leant forward, breath stinking of stale ale, and you pulled a face. “I’m sure it would be a serious loss to you.”

Your eyes widened. Was he allowed to say things like that to you? He was technically a professor… but it wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it. And it made you clench your thighs a little tighter together.

“I…” You stuttered, tongue tripping over itself as you tried to come across as cool and aloof. You failed miserably. “I ought to get back to my friends.”

You escaped to the group, who hadn’t noticed your extended period at the bar, and rejoined the conversation almost seamlessly. When you glanced up again, his blue eyes (Melitele, those eyes) were still firmly fixed on you.

Turning over the apple, you peered at its skin for any marks of insects or damage. It was costly enough without extra bruises and protein. You wrinkled your nose at the concept of eating bugs. All the instability had worn the import and export market down, and the produce at the market was becoming less and less diverse every day.

“I’ll take 5 of these apples and about 2 pounds worth of your leeks.” You paused, scanning the stall. “They’re in season right?”

The shopkeeper perked up at the sound of your order, nodding fervently. “Ay, the leeks are best this time of year. We’ve had a good crop as well, nice and sweet. Anything else?”

You eyed the strawberries, mouth twisting as you quickly rattled through your shopping list in your head. You couldn’t afford them on your measly student budget, but maybe one day. “Uh, no, I don’t-”

A voice cut you off. “And a pound of your juiciest strawberries. I’ll pay for the poor student’s shopping.”

You spun around, protesting as Jaskier brushed you aside, already chucking the shopkeeper a couple of gold coins and grabbing your produce. He ignored your squawking and pushed away your purse as you desperately tried to reimburse him.

“Oh, just let me do something nice, will you?”

Your brow furrowed. Jaskier slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you towards the butcher’s with a smug grin on his face. He clearly thought he had won this argument.

“Jaskier, no!” You pushed him off, finally managing to open your purse without him batting your hands away. “I don’t need your pity money. I appreciate it, I really do. But, um, it’s just not right.”

He refused your coins, tucking them back into your purse and that back into your belt. “When was the last time you had strawberries? I saw you looking at them, it was a nice gesture, okay?”

“You’re still my professor.”

Jaskier pulled a face.

“Not really. It was one guest lecture, so this,” he waved his hands in the air, “is all okay.”

One lecture? Oh. Oh.

“How come you’re still in Oxenfurt then?”

“I promised an old friend that I would perform at his tavern for free in return for never paying back the money I still owe him.” He scratched his neck, suddenly bashful. “It’s tomorrow night, at the Old Bull’s Head Inn. Come along?”

“I… Sure.”

You had told Filia about the performance, trying to remain nonchalant as you floated the possibility of going. Despite a little teasing, she had managed to wrangle a few of you, including Pelagius, to come along, You just hoped that Pelagius wouldn’t get you onto the stronger stuff again. You weren’t made for it.

The tavern was packed; inhabitants and students alike had come from all over Oxenfurt to see the renowned bard. Pelagius had managed to grab you all a table, a mean feat considering the size of the crowd already gathered. But, knowing him, he had been here since noon.

Gentle strumming broke you away from the conversation, hush settling in the room. Even just a few notes was spellbinding, a promise of the music to come.

Jaskier was a master of the crowd, weaving emotion and eliciting cheers with every plucked note and repeated refrain. You watched, jaw clenched, as some of the girls from down at the brothel giggled as he came close. He winked, revelling in their attention, and you returned your gaze back to the bottom of your pint.

It was only your first of the night, but you had promised yourself that there would be no more drunken antics for the rest of the week. And you were determined to stick to it.

As the night drew to its close, the hubbub died down, some already having headed off. The pace of his songs also eased, a softening for the end of a triumphant performance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that this will be my last song.” Cries of disappointment and ‘Encore’ echoed throughout the audience, and a smug grin twitched at his lips. “But you have been the most wonderful audience.”

He strummed a slow chord, the melancholic minor key striking you by surprise. Usually bards ending the night with a rousing tune, designed to get the innkeeper more orders for pints, but considering the size of the crowd, you doubted he had struggled much tonight.

O'er glistening roofs you float,

A love ballad. Interesting choice.

Through lily-strewn rivers you dive

Jaskier’s eyes met yours, your lips slowly parting as your mouth dried. Melitele, this wasn’t just an infatuation anymore.

Yet one day I will know your truths

His lips curled into a sincere smile as he leant forward, eyes never leaving yours. Was he singing it to you?

If only I am still alive

The song ended to raucous applause with drunkards attempting to stagger to their feet for a standing ovation.

“Thank you, please remember to toss a coin! If you need anything, I’ll be by the bar.”

Emboldened by your single pint, you headed over, needing little more than Filia’s encouraging glance. His serenade, or at least you hoped he had been serenading you, was enough motivation by itself, really.

“Jaskier.”

He spun around, grin widening at the sight of you. “Well if it isn’t my favourite fan.”

You rolled your eyes, raising an eyebrow as he chuckled at your disapproval. His fingers danced against the side of his tankard, the only giveaway of his restless energy. The noise of the inn was dying down as people felt that their night had drawn to its end, and drunkards started to stumble out the door.

“What did you think of the performance?” His eyes searched your face as you hesitated, reformulating a thousand responses in your head before settling on a simple “It was incredible”.

A slight pout settled onto his lips, your gaze flickering down and back up again, and his eyes lit up in a way that let you know he had caught you.

“Just incredible?”

“Well, you tell me the meaning of your final song, and I’ll give you my full review.”

“It’s a love ballad, as I’m sure you know, dedicated to the most beautiful woman in the room.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Mm, it was my favourite part of the night.”

His eyes took on an impish gleam as he sipped at his pint. You ran your finger along the grooves in the bar as you waited for his response. “I’ve got a suggestion on how we can top it.”

Your head shot up. So much for cool, calm and collected. “We?”

“Come back to my room tonight.”

Pretended to hesitate, you stroked your chin thoughtfully. But any pretence was mitigated by the smile playing at your lips. “How could I ever refuse?”

join my taglist

#jaskier x reader #dandelion x reader #jaskier #the witcher imagine #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n #jaskier/reader

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shylemon0 · 2 years ago

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Actor Masterlist

Here a Masterlist for when I hyperfixate on a specific actor and start to write from multiple of characters all in different movies/series (I know you have seen something like this but for Paul Dano specifically, I know I’m not the only one lol) -

Charlie Tahan

Scarecrow / Jonathan crane (Gotham)

“What scares you the most?” (Gotham!Jonathan Crane x Reader)

Knitted Mittens (Gotham!Jonathan Crane x Reader)

Dating Jonathan Crane would include (Headcanons)

Jonathan Crane Dating an Autistic!Reader would include (Headcanons)

Jonathan Crane with a S/O who’s his Partner in Crime (Headcanons)

Jonathan Crane with a Witch!S/O who’s his Partner in Crime (Headcanons)

Jonathan Crane comforting his S/O would include (Headcanons)

Being Jonathan Crane’s best friend would include (Headcanons)

Living with Jonathan Crane would include (Headcanons)

Scarecrow dating one of his goons would include (Headcanons)

DC Character’s dating a scavenger who makes art out of the trinkets they find (Headcanons)

Wyatt Langmore (Ozark)

(probably won’t write much for this character)

Dating Wyatt Langmore Would Include (Headcanons)

Josh Templeton (Super Dark Times)

(Coming soon)

Paul Dano

The Riddler / Edward Nashton (The Batman 2022)

Wrong Place Wrong Time (Edward Nashton x Reader)

DC Character’s dating a scavenger who makes art out of the trinkets they find (Headcanons)

Jay (Okja)

(Coming soon)

Dwayne Hoover (Little Miss Sunshine)

(Coming soon)

Calvin Weir-Fields (Ruby Sparks)

(Coming soon)

Henry Cavill

Clark Kent / Superman (DCEU)

Clark Kent dating an Autistic!Reader would include (Headcanons)

Clark Kent dating a reader that can’t sleep without a stuffed animal (Headcanons)

Geralt (Witcher)

Geralt dating an Autistic!Reader would include (Headcanons)

(More actors too be added..)

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year ago

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The Witcher Masterlist

my requests for the Witcher are currently OPEN!! i'm partial to eskel, and love writing imagines/talking about my headcanons, but open to pretty much any character!!

message me/hmu to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

Geralt of Rivia

r o m a n t i c

A Quiet Moment - relationship: geralt x reader | summary: based on some prompt that asked you to write a scene between two characters just being around each other with no dialogue. Immediately thought of Geralt. | tags: fluff, angst

Extraordinarily normal - coming soon...

Scales Unbalanced - coming soon...

Geralt of Rivia NSFW Alphabet | tags: fluff, smut

p l a t o n i c

Stern - coming soon...

Eskel

A Hero from the Songs - coming soon...

Ribs - relationship: eskel x reader | summary: You're not from the world where the Witcher takes place. So, to stay alive, you stay glued to your witcher - Eskel. Catching feelings for him was bound to happen anyway. Right? Maybe a tiny, life-threatening encounter with a leshy is just the little push the both of you need. | tags: fluff, angst

Witchers

Witchers + stressed singlemom!reader - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: fluff, angst

Geralt, Lambert, Eskel + drunk!so - characters: geralt, lambert, eskel | tags: fluff

Witchers + someone making their s/o uncomfortable - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: slight angst, fluff

Imagines + headcanons (various)

How The Witcher characters would react to someone from our world falling into theirs - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, triss, eskel, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

Modern!Human in Kaer Morhen - characters: geralt, yen, triss, jaskier, eskel, coen, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

How The Witcher characters would react to Lambert’s child surprise - characters: geralt, yen, ciri, triss, eskel, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + monstertamer!reader - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + maleficent/fae!reader - characters: geralt, jaskier, yennefer, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

#geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #eskel #eskel x reader #lambert #lambert x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #cirilla of cintra #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher

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gatefleet · 3 years ago

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Gatefleet PSA

*** newly added***

Masterlist -------- Prompt List

^ updated as fics are posted or soon after.

Taglist is open via inbox/PM/GoogleDoc.

FIXED THE GOOGLEDOC!#partay

Requests for One Shots, Head-canons, Reader Inserts and Tag Lists are currently open for the shows below;

DC/Vertigo Comics

~Legends of Tomorrow

~The Flash

~Constantine

~Lucifer

~Titans (Netflix)

~ The Sandman

Marvel

~Daredevil (Not Karen Page)

~Iron Fist

~The Avengers

~X-Men

~Captain America

Supernatural ~ Fantasy shows

~Penny Dreadful

~Supernatural

~Librarians (series)

~Sanctuary (Amanda Tapping's 2008 show)

~Umbrella Academy (Not 5)

~The Witcher

Sci-Fi shows

~Stargate {Not Vala or MacKay}

~Star Trek

Crime shows

~NCIS (NOLA, LA, Hawai'i, Sydney)

~Law & Order SVU

~Criminal Minds ( Suspect Behaviour)

~MacGyver (Not Desi Nguyen/Samantha Cage)

~Leverage (Redemption)

~FBI: Most Wanted and International

~Crossing Lines

~Scorpion

~ Yellowstone

OC's

~Malkira Morningstar (DC)

~Riley Fitzgerald (Law & Order SVU/Blue Bloods)

~Artemis Archer (Star Trek AOS)

~Deanna Brooks (White Collar/Leverage)

~Nikki Tesla (Sanctuary)

~Remi 'ColdWave' Rory (DC)

#psa #requests open #writing #writeblr #fandom #reader inserts

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years ago

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The Bard’s Sister

Geralt X Reader

Part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place Geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadn't seen since she was 5. The journey is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. This is still part of our introduction to the main characters and their personalities in this story. Next chapter will be more about (Y/N) and Geralt. I know I am trash at summaries.

I would like to state that I do plan on adding a pregnancy in the future to this story. (I know Geralt is steril. Just bare with me and the story line I’ve created) I just wanted to let eveyone know because I would hate for someone to get attached to the character and story only to have a plot line they do not like for themselves. I know not everyone like pregnancy plot lines but I’m such a sucker for dad!Geralt.

Trigger warnings: Cursing

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,369

(Changed from 3rd to 1st person)

The sun was high in the sky, it was nearly two in the afternoon. The garden below the large windows of the castle was shining brightly. The birds chirping, children playing in the river that ran through the center of the city. Life was good. The sun was shining a little brighter today. It was because Jaskier was finally home.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed him till he was back. After breakfast, we walked around the castle’s courtyard. He and Geralt introduced me to their horses. To my pleasant surprise, Roach took a particular liking to me, as did her owner. He was nothing like the rumors. There were many times that I traveled out of our borders into the western part of the continent, and every time people had nothing but cruel fowl things to say about the poor witcher. Sure he wasn't perfect, but no one was.

“Would you like to see my studies?” I asked as we walked down the long corridors that lead to three separate staircases. I glanced between the two men that were on either side of me.

“Your studies?” Jaskier asked looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile.

“I told you in my letter that I’ve been working with a man over the last couple of years. He has trained me well. But I have many books, drawings notes all sorts of stuff that I’ve written about the world outside of our home.” We approached the base of the three staircases.

“I’ve never seen a castle so big in my life.” Geralt’s sultry voice flooded my ears once again. I couldn’t help but smile up at him. He was so polite. He never turned his nose at us. I knew he didn’t have a very positive history with others like us. Yet he sent no judgment towards myself or my parents. He just listened, followed, and learned. I had never met someone so open to the world yet so closed off that the same time, and we’ve barely even begun to get o know each other.

“Our mines are some of the richest you’d ever see in your life. From coal to diamonds. Nearly 85% of all ores get mined and sent out to the rest of the continent.” I started walking up the staircase on the far left, the stairs led up a long corridor that was open and bright, the mountains that shielded us from the rest of the world in perfect view. Both were still by my side. I stopped at the first picture that hung on the wall.

“That’s my great-great-grandfather, he only recently passed but he started all of this.” I looked towards Geralt. He was listing intently, his eyes on me as soon as I looked in his direction. I knew Jaskier knew our history so I wasn't too worried if he was paying attention or not.

“He came here from Termieria with his 6 younger brothers. The mines here had been closed for many many years. The town was completely deserted. There was a serious necrophage problem that no one wanted to deal with, so they just up and left. Leaving the plentiful mines full for someone else.”

“Necrophages?” Geralt questioned his eyebrow tiling in curiosity.

“The people who inhabited the lands before we did, had not known of the creatures. Didn’t properly bury the dead. My grandfather wrote in his journal that when they got here the streets were lined with bodies that had been drug out of their shallow graves, crypts had been broken into. His best guess is that a flue came before the people fled, killing many in a short period.” I started walking ahead of the two men, down the hall towards my room. I pushed the door open walking in placing my books on the night table as they followed in slowly behind me. Their eyes wandered over every inch. Jaskier started wandering through the room looking at every picture on the wall. Most of them were sketches, mostly of him. Or the people he sang about in his ballads. He grabbed one off the wall and laughed softly.

“Who is this supposed to be?” I walked over to him and laughed softly, my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“That, that uh was my first sketch of Geralt.” The sound of his name got his attention, he was trying to be polite and not snoop. Although I didn't care if he wanted to look around. He walked away from the door over to Jaskier and me. He lingered behind me, very close behind me. I could feel his body heat on my back and his warm breath on my face as he peered over my shoulder at the parchment Jaskier was holding.

“How old were you when you did this?” Jaskier asked.

“Eighteen, maybe nineteen. It was after your first balled about your adventures with Geralt that started to spread like wildfire. I went to a tavern one night with a friend and someone was singing it. I was intrigued by the song and asked them who they sang about. I was told they didn't write the song, our very own Prince had. So I listened to them play it over and over. I asked around the and so see if people knew what the famed witcher looked like. I got conflicting answers from nearly everyone I asked.” Geralt reached his arm over me, his hand gently brushing my arm, sending chills down my spine. His hand grasped the paper as he looked at it closely.

“They got the hair color right. That was about all. Some people have some very wild depictions that I drew, but none in any seriousness.” The particular one they were examining was nothing like Geralt. They got everything wrong but his hair color. Many people said he was a scrawny young lad with the strength of thousands of men, making him easier to blend in with the crowds. Granted this was very early on in my brother and the Witcher’s adventures together so not many people had paid close attention to the witcher.

“You drew what people described?” Geralt asked.

“Yes, some people tried to pay me but I told them to give it to the needy. I traveled with Serena for a couple of weeks right after I turned nineteen, we didn't venture far past the mountains but it was enough.” I couldn't help but frown at the memories of the people in the towns scowling and sticking their noses in the air when I asked about the Witcher and my brother.

“Can I see the other ones?” Geralt’s question took me by surprise.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh come on, you're very talented (Y/N), let him see them,” Jaskier said and shoved my shoulder playfully. I smiled softly at him but shook my head.

“It is not that I’m self-conscious of my work, it’s the depictions of Geralt outside of our Kingdom, for the most part, were cruel and inaccurate beyond belief. I only drew them because I was wasting their time asking questions. I honestly don't know why I kept them.” I nervously rubbed the back of my neck, the idea of Geralt seeing those ugly, horrendous, depictions of himself made my stomach turn. He didn’t deserve the hate he received. I never understood why people despised Witchers the way they did. I only experienced it outside of our kingdom. For some reason, whether it be our pure lack of monsters or the abundance of sunshine, my people seemed happier. Less judgmental than the outside world. I was grateful to live in such a kind and caring place, but it does get rather dull after a while.

“I’d still like to see them.” Geralt said softly as he handed the parchment back to me. I sighed slightly uncomfortable with the idea, I took the parchment and hung it back up on the wall.

“Let’s make a deal,” I said turning to them both.

“Oh boy.” Jaskier teased.

“I’ll show you the drawings if you let me paint you now, so I have an accurate model. Not just words.” Geralt’s eyes looked over me, his arms crossing over his chest. A small smirk formed over his lips as he watched me intently.

“If you want to draw me so bad, just ask dove.” The nickname nearly threw me off my feet. My heartbeat quickened at a rapid pace and I couldn't even look him in the eye. Jaskier snickered and pulled out a chair by my desk. He was enjoying this way too much. I cleared my throat swelling thickly.

“T-that I uh..” I had never been one to not have words. According to my parents, I talked too much. Just like my brother. Yet here I was gobsmacked and wordless. I grumbled under my breath moving to the desk Jaskier was sat at and made him move. He got up and I sat down. I opened the top hatch of the desk, lifting out folders and files of archives. Some containing spells, some more drawing, history of the continent, and even monster facts that I knew I wouldn’t ever need. I placed the folders on the floor. Jaskier grabbed a few and moved to my bed plopping himself down kicking his feet up. My head snapped over to him as he put his dirty boots all over my fresh linens.

“Jaskier. If you don't get your boots off my bed, I will castrate you.” I warned turning back around rummaging some more. I heard him kick off his shoes. Geralt chuckled behind me.

“Fiery are we.” He teased but I ignored him. Finally, at the bottom of all my work, I found the folder. I held it up to him, not wanting to watch his face as he looked at the disgusting depictions of himself.

“Thank you, dove.” His lip was right next to my ear. I felt frozen.

I couldn't tell if it was genuinely just a flirt or if this was directed to me. Sure I had heard the rumors of the witcher and his many women of the night, including the sorceress Yennefer. But this seemed different. I snapped back to reality when he let out a low chuckle. I turned around and stood up, peering over his arm to see what one he was looking at. This one was particularly nasty. His eyes were slanted like snake eyes, large fangs protruded out of his mouth, and his hair was a crazy mess. His eyes were blood red, his nose crooked from supposedly being punched so many times. His face was littered with so many scars he had scale-like skin. I remembered the man who gave me that description.

“I met this man in a tavern in Solveiga, it’s the furthest I've ever been from home.” Jaskier stood up walking over and looking at the drawing Geralt was studying carefully. I didn't know why he was spending so much time on such a cruel piece.

“He said you came through a few winters prior, he and a bunch of the townsmen had gathered some coins so you'd get rid of a Striga. I knew was lying the moment he opened his mouth.” Geralt looked up from the payment, his eyes meeting mine.

“Why do you think he's lying?” I took the folder from him, and just as I expected the parchment below the picture he was looking at was full of my notes. Every time I traveled and spoke to people about it. My brother or his companions took incredibly detailed notes, I never wanted to forget anything. I took the parchment out before handing him the folder back. I began to read the notes:

“This man takes me for a fool. No more than some silly girl. While he sits here and tells the tale of the Wolf he seems to be forgetting the incredibly important fact about Strigas, they only hunt during a full moon. He keeps saying that the beast was hunting their people every single night, slashing children, men, women, animals, every night for months. He’s using it to fuel the people's hatred of the witcher. He’s attempting to claim that they sent for him as soon as they knew of her presence. Claiming the witcher waited nearly three months before coming to discard the beast.” I flipped the page over scanning the meticulous notes.

“He said the beast was killed on a new moon, he said he remembers it so vividly because of the lack of moonlight while he escorted the witcher to her crypt. I may not be a witcher, but I am not stupid. The man is trying to make matters worse by lying through his crooked yellow teeth. How dare he tarnish a name for the sake of his prosperity.” Geralt chuckled at the last part making me look up at him, he had an amused smile on his face, his eyes twinkled as he looked at me.

“Why are you laughing?” I tilted my head to the side slightly and he just shook his head, putting the folder of parchment into the desk. He knelt and began picking up the rest of the folders neatly placing them inside the desk where they came from.

“Because you got so mad that someone lied about me, yet you at the time were not even sure I was a real thing-“

“Person.” I quickly corrected him. His eyes glanced at me, he didn't move his head as he continued placing my papers where they belonged.

“What?” He asked.

“You called yourself a thing, you're not a thing Geralt. You're a real living breathing person.” His eyes found my own again. My heart raced as he studied my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful. His eyes were like hot pools of gold and honey. The complexity of the colors was mesmerizing.

“And I wasn't only mad that he was lying about you, I was mad that he was lying in general. About something anyone could disprove if they just picked up a book on monsters.” I noticed the parchment with the drawing he was just looking at was on my bed. I grabbed it to put it back on the desk. Geralt's strong hand gently grasped my wrist stopping me. His other hand gently grabbed the parchment from my hand.

“I’d like to keep this one if you don't mind.” I looked at him shocked.

“Why that one?? Of all the ones I've done you choose one of the most inaccurate and the crudest?” It made no sense to me. Why did he want that? Was it some fun game of his to think he was just some stupid monster?

“Because it shows your talent in a way the others don't. And besides, you got my nose perfectly. No one can do that.” I sighed heavily not liking the idea of him possessing such a cured drawing that was drawn purely on lies.

“Fine. Keep it.” He smiled vicariously. I’d let him keep every single one if he smiled like that all the time. The smile quickly vanished when Jaskier came back over with the first file he took. The one he had been studying was full of my notes on herbology and alchemy.

“You are incredibly smart (Y/N), I felt as though I was reading Yennefer’s notes.” A huge smile spread across my face at his compliment.

“Thank you, Jax.” Geralt was now walking around my room, hands tucked under his arms as he studied the drawing and notes hanging on the walls. Some drawings were of monsters, some of the random people I’d met on my short travels, some maps I’d drawn up so I’d remember where I wanted to go when I had the chance.

“Your talent is very wide-ranging, little dove. I have to say I’m very impressed with your knowledge.” That blasted nickname nearly kicked me off my feet again.

I looked out my window noticing the sun was getting lower in the sky.

“If you'd like to get new clothes I’d suggest we do it now, it’ll be dark soon and the shops close earlier in the week.” Gertrude turned to me, nodding his head.

“Please. These pants are so tight I’m afraid I may lose my legs.”

We walked down the street. The sun was close to setting in the sky. The cool air kissed my bare chest as we walked. It was a comfortable silence between the three of us. For the first time in my life, I felt comfortable in silence. I hated the quiet with most people, it left room for negative thoughts, negative energies. Most times when it was unbearably quiet when I was present was because I was shut down from talking by the people around me. I know they meant no harm, I knew I had a lot to handle at times. I was just lonely. Board. I only had a few true friends. Most of the people I grew up with were married and with children now. I spent a lot of time alone, I liked being alone. It gave me space to think about the world. The world outside my small one.

We approached the seamstress, walking through the wood door. A small bell rang in as we entered. Hildi walked out from the back, a bright smile on her face. She was a sweet older woman, not much older than my mum. She had been running this shop for as long as I could remember. She was the best seamstress in the country in my opinion.

“Princess (Y/N)!! What a lovely surprise!” She walked around the counter and hugged me softly. Her hands-on the sweater I was in. She made it for me many years back for a birthday gift. She always had the best gifts. Full of love. I did adore the woman. Her attention turned to the men next to me. Her eyes grew bigger, her hand gently coming up to her chest.

“My gods. The rumors were true. Jaskier!! How wonderful it is to see you again!!” Her hands wrapped around my brother who hugged her back. I couldn't tell if he remembered her or if he was just being nice. As she released him she looked at Geralt who was visibly tense, scared that she may try and hug him.

“You must be Geralt of Rivia!” He nodded.

“Rain!! Get out here!! And bring me my Witcher’s guide!!” Geralt's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the book. He shot me a glance and I just smiled. A few moments later Hildi’s daughter Rain appeared. She was my age. We knew each other in school. She was never nice to me. Picked on me. Would make jokes about Jaskier not being around. I never told anyone, in fear people would think I was nothing but a stuck up princess. Her presence made me uneasy. I slowly took a small step back, inching closer to my brother. Rain’s eyes landed on Geralt. I could practically see the drool pooling in her mouth.

“Gods save me.” She moaned out. I had to fight off the urge to cringe at her outward burst.

“The tales are true then?” She looked directly at me.

“So maybe you weren’t lying all these years.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

Hildi was very blind to her daughter's cruelness. After her husband passed away it was just her and Rain. She’d do anything for her. I understood that. She was a devoted mother and wife. I knew how heartbroken she was. She walked to Rain and took the book from her hand and grabbed a quill that had been dipped in ink. She turned to Geralt, a very soft smile on her face.

“Would you sign this for me?” His eyes bulged out of his head.

“Y-you want me to sight your book?” I held back a giggle at his shock. He truly wasn't used to being appreciated.

“Yes, please. If it is not too much to ask. Your stories were what got me through my husband’s death. Had it not been for the ballads and tales of your great bravery I may have not made it through.” Geralt’s shoulders softened at her words. He nodded his head and walked over to the counter. She opened the book to the first page and he scribbled down his name before giving her a soft smile. She gently placed her hand on his arm and squeezed.

“You are truly a great hero here Geralt. If our country had a mascot, you'd be it.” Jaskier chucked lowly at her comment making me swat the back of his he’d. He hissed in pain and looked at me. I glared at him.

“Do not ruin this for him,” I whispered.

Hildi turned her attention back to me and smiled.

“What can I do for you today my dear?”

“Well as you can see, Jaskier has a sore taste in fashion and also doesn’t understand sizing. I was hoping you could fit them in some better, more comfortable garments. Maybe a set of nice clothes for my party as well?” She gleamed. She hurried around her counter, grabbing a piece of parchment and measuring tape. She came back around and wasted no time in messing the two men. I sat down at a table by the window and watched as she rummaged through somethings in the back of her store.

“So you're like a real witcher?” Rain’s voice caught my attention. She was leaning over the counter, her dress pulled down, the cleavage of her breasts on clear display as she dumbly curled her blond hair in her fingers.

“No. I'm a fake one.” Geralt said back unamused.

“But like are the rumors true?” She asked leaning even further over the counter. She was trying so desperately hard to get him to look down her dress. But he was simply uninterested. I felt my heartburn with envy. I hated that it did. He wasn't mine, he was nowhere near it. But the thought of him looking at her like that made my blood boil.

“Rumors about what?” He took a step back from the counter slowly making his way over to where Jaskier and I were.

“Ya know. About your huge cock.” Jaskier and I both choked on our spit. My hand flew over my mouth to keep my laugh in. It was a good thing her mother’s hearing wasn't all that great. Geralt looked visibly uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair next to me, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Jaskier and I were both trying to get ourselves under control after her question. She was completely unfazed. She thought she was hot shit.

“Common witcher. Tear me apart. Show me the real monster you can be.” That sentence made my grip on the chair so tight I thought I could’ve broken the arm in half. I probably could have if I did not have any self-control. I’m much stronger than I look.

“Do not call him that.” I hissed. My teeth were clenched so hard I was sure I was breaking them. Her eyes flicked over to me. She looked me up and down trying to size me up.

“Call him what? A witcher. Honey are you dumb. That’s what he is.” In a second I was inches from her face. I could feel my blood pumping thru my veins.

“Do not ever call him a monster again.” I was a bit shocked at how mean I sounded. I had never been this angry with her before. I wanted to punch her stupid smile in more than anything.

“(Y/N)..” I heard Jaskier’s voice behind me. He was very close to me. My hands were balled in fists at my sides. My knuckles were turning white with how angry I was.

“I promise you, studying princess, he's been called worse.” She smiled cheekily at me and her hand came up and she attempted to pat my face like I was a dog. My reflexes were much faster than she realizes. I grabbed ahold of her wrist in an intron grip. I began to squeeze and bend her wrist back away from my face. Her face contorted in pain. She wasn't expecting me to be as strong as I was.

“I said-'' I squeezed harder, and she gasped slightly as she tried to pull her hand away. “Do not call him that.” I threw her hand away from me before turning around and walking by the window. I hadn't realized both Jaskier and Geralt were standing behind me.

Moments later Hildi came out completely oblivious to the scene that just took place. She had a cloth sack filled with clothes and placed them on the counter.

“Alright, dearly that’ll be 45 coins.” She said as she wrote down the total in her book. I stood quickly pulling the amount from my coin purse and putting it in her hand. I smiled at her as best I could, Jaskier grabbed the bag of clothes.

“If something doesn’t go right, bring them back.”

“Thank you Hildi, very much.” Geralt said a charming smile on his lip. He gently shook her hand kissing the top of it.

“Thank you, Geralt. It was a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger.” She patted his cheek as a mum does. I turned on my heels and walked out of the shop. The cold air hit my hot face. My blood pumped slow and hard through my veins as the anger disappeared from my body. Jaskier came out of the shop and threw his arm over my shoulders leaning into me.

“Thank you.” He whispered lowly, Great not being very far behind us as we walked to the castle.

“For?”

“Defending him. Many people don’t realize how much he’s heard throughout his lifetime. I’m glad I’m not the only one who wants to help.” I turned to him and smiled. I leaned into his side hugging him gently before, turning around walking backward as I looked at Geralt.

“If you would like, I’ll show you both to your rooms, and you can change. We can then have tea in the garden and I can draw you.” A soft smile graced his lips, his eyebrow rising softly.

“You seriously want to draw me?” I nodded my head and stopped walking, but he didn’t. He kept getting closer and closer till he was a few inches from me.

“Yes, Geralt I do. You have a special spot in my heart, not just because I believe you are a true knight. And many people are just too scared to admit that, but also for keeping my brother safe all these years. You deserve to feel appreciated.” His features softened as his eyes searched my face before settling on my own eyes. His hand gently came up and he moved a small piece of hair from my face.

“A deal is a deal, little dove.” I felt as though my soul was being sucked out through his hand. Every fiber in my body wanted to pull him closer to me, to show him love, and tenderness. Something I knew he never actually had.

“Good, follow me,” I said with a smile.

After I showed them to their rooms; my brother’s old room not far from my own, and Geralt’s which shared a wall with my room, I went down to the garden. My easel, charcoals, and paints were set up on the table as they came down from changing and freshening up. Geralt looked more beautiful in clothes he could breathe in. his attire was so simple yet he made it look like the finest silks and jewels. It was a soft cotton button-down, it was loos on him, his pants were tight, but in a way that allowed him to move and feel free. I could tell by the way he walked he felt much more comfortable and in his element.

“You look like you feel better,” I said with a smile. Even Jaskier changed. A white shirt. And some black pants. He looked as he always did when I was a kid. The obscene choices in fashion were only adopted after he left home.

“I do.” I plainly said, a small smile on his lips. He and Jaskier sat down and I poured them tea. They both snacked on a few fruit tarts while I began sketching the background of the garden. allowing them to eat and not have to sit still just yet.

“So...while I draw maybe you could both share a story?” I glanced behind my paper and looked at the two. Jaskier smiled and leaned back into his chair fixing his hair and popping open a few buttons for the portrait.

“What story do you want to hear?” Geralt asked. Leaning back, his shoulders relaxing, a small piece of hair fell from the bit that he had tied back. It looked deliciously messy. It made him look disheveled, nearly like he was right out of bed.

“Wait!” I yelled and grabbed his hand gently, pulling his hand back softly.

“I like it. Keep it.” his hand went back down to his leg to rest. His eyes watched me for a few minutes. I studied their faces beginning my base sketches.

“What story shall we tell her Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the sky, the last of the light kissing his skin.

“We could tell her about the Djinn?” Geralt said back, glancing at Jaskier before looking back at me, a coy smile on his face.

“A Djinn?? I’ve only ever read myths about them. You encountered one?” My curiosity was blossoming, the urge to get more details about the creatures I had been taught about.

“Geralt here was going onto day gods knows what on no sleep. He was beyond grumpy.” Jaskier tilted his head back up and looked at me with a smirk.

“The git said my singing was like a pie with no filling!!” I couldn’t hold back my laugh. It was much louder than I wanted, not very ladylike at all.

“Oh… I may have to steal that one.” I said in between giggles, whipping my eyes.

“I was hoping to use a wish from the Djinn to help me sleep. But unfortunately, your brother got in the way.” As Geralt spoke I moved into his details on his face, my eyes traveling all over his beautiful face. From the way, his brows arched to the cute little dimple on his chin. His face was beautiful. Some scares were prominent enough that I could see them if I looked hard enough he had one on his cheek, it looked newer than all the others, the skin being a bit lighter than the rest of his skin.

“What did he do this time?”

“He decided that because I told him I no longer appreciated his singing that he would take the Djinn away from me till I took back what I said.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t take it back?” I glanced at him from behind my easel, he was watching me closely, his eyes slanted like he was studying a pray.

“No. No, he didn’t. And I almost died!” Jaskier shouted dramatically causing my eyes to drift from Geralt over to him.

“Don’t be dramatic Jaskier,” I mumbled, putting down the charcoal I had been using. Now turning my attention to the paints I had in front of me. I started mixing the colors Id need for Geralt’s skin tone.

“No, this time he’s right. He did almost die. Unfortunately for Jaskier, he refused to let go of the vase the Djinn was in. While we tugged on it, the lid came off. Maybe the Djinn knew I was a witcher and its curse wouldn’t work on me, or maybe it was just annoyed at Jaskier. Either way, it attacked him.” My eyes were focused on the painting, brows furrowed as he spoke. I waited a moment for him to continue but he didn’t.

“I’m listing Geralt, please continue,” I said my eyes moving to his, the colores pooling in my head as I prepared for what pigments id be using to paint them.

“I don’t want to interrupt.” I shook my head a soft smile on my face.

“I will,” Jaskier said as he sipped his tea, looking at me.

“The Djinn attacked my throat. Made it swell, I was coughing up blood.” My painting stopped as I looked at him. My stomach sank a little as he spoke. I knew Jaskier had been put in harm’s way before but hearing the first-hand accounts made my stomach ache.

“Geralt took me to an elven healer that wasn’t too far from where the river bed was. Unfortunately for me, he couldn’t help me. But he knew of a mage that could help.” My hand started to paint again, filling in the sketch with colors on Jaskier’s face as he spoke.

“We can skip over those details Jaskier.” Geralt huffed crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why? Don’t want my baby sister knowing that we had to sit threw an entier orgey just for you to speak to the mage?” Jaskier snickered looking away from me to his friend,

“Jaskier, shut up.” Geralt grumbled. His eyes avoided my own when I went to look at him.

“An orgey?” I had heard the word but hadn’t ever fully understood what it was.

“What’s that?” I questioned looking at my brother. His head fell back as he cackled.

“Oh dear sister how you’ve been so sheltered from the world.” My cheeks flushed red at his words.

“Jaskier don’t be rude,” I mumbled grabbing a fine liner brush from my pile. Adding some final detail into Jaskier’s blue eyes.

“It’s when a very large group of people get together in one room and have sex.” The blood rushed to my head at his words. I could feel my ears turning red. My brother was right. I had been sheltered about sex in my family. I didn’t have friends who I could talk to it about, and never really had anyone in my life I was willing to have sex with.

Unlike many women my age I never viewed my virginity like a sacred rose that no one could touch, I just wanted it to be lost to someone who deserved it. No someone I was forced to allow to deserve it.

“Oh look at how red she is.” Jaskier snickered standing up and poking my sides. I smacked his hands away glaring at him. He was now able to see the nearly completed painting. All I had left was my Geralt’s eyes and some details in his hair.

“Gods (Y/N), this is amazing.” He whispered his hand on my shoulder. I smiled softly, swallowing the spit that had gathered in my throat thickly.

“Thank you, please sit down and continue your story.” Jaskier did as I asked.

“The mage was Yennefer. She helped me. Saved my life. The mage and I may not get along, but I do owe her my life.” I smiled softly as he spoke of the mage I had heard so much about.

“I’ll be sure to thank her myself if I ever come across her,” I said with a smile. My attention turned back to Geralt who didn’t look please at the topic of our conversation. His eyes were on his leg that bounced slightly. He was anxious.

“Geralt love, I cannot see your eyes. That’s nearly all I have left.” At the sound of my voice, his head tilted up so he could look at me in the eye.

I smiled sweetly at him. I broke eye contact as I added in the different hues of orange and a bit of red. Some gold flecks showed themselves in his inner iris. The depth of the color was so enchanting. I could paint just his eyes forever. I finished with his hair after a few minutes of silence. Both men just enjoying the warm afternoon air. They both looked relaxed, peaceful, safe even.

“I’ve finished, boys,” I said whipping my hands on my apron. I stood up and turned the easel around to the two. They both sat up straight, eyes wandering all over the painting.

“You, my dear sister are beyond talented.” Jaskier mused looking at me, a bright smile on his face.

“We both are.” I smiled at him. Geralt was still examining the painting, his eyes flicking over every inch of himself. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. It made me nervous.

“I know the hair isn’t perfect. I’m still trying to get the brush technique down-”

“It is perfect.” Geralt interrupted me, a smile on his face as he looked at me.

I smiled back at him, my heart beating a little quicker.

“Can I keep it?” Geralt asked.

“Seriously?” I asked him.

“Well, actually it’s probably best you keep it. I don’t have a home, so I wouldn’t want to ruin it…” I smiled softly, taking a step closer to him.

“I’ll keep it safe but if you ever have a place that you want to keep it, ill get it to you,” I said, softly stroking the stray strand of hair behind his ear. His face tilted up as he looked at me.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night boys,” I said gathering my items in my hands.

“What about dinner?” Jaskier asked.

“I’ll grab something from the kitchen, I’m quite tired. I need a bath. I’ll see you both in the morning.” I said hugging Jaskier goodnight. I turned to Geralt, courage surging through my veins. I bent down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Geralt.” His cheeks turned a very, very soft shade of pink, but only for a moment. Our eyes locked again.

“Good night, dove.”

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Return

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request: [ Hey Erica 👋 How are you? I hope you don't mind me dropping an ask here, I saw your fic requests are open. I've had a terrible time lately, I'm stuck in another country unable to go back home. My flights home have been cancelled twice already and it's really bumming me out. I love your stories, though. They bring me joy. Could I request a fluffy Eskel x reader where they're reunited after months apart? You can make it smutty or not it's up to you. Thank you, I love you ❤️] Love, I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to write this prompt. I have been in such an odd writing headspace lately, but i finally was struck with inspiration and knocked this out. sending you love, and I hope that if you’re not already home, you will be soon <3 (also, i 110% used the scene from Narcos season 2 episode 3 at the very end as reference O.O)

As always, thanks to @sometimesiwrite for beta’ing <3

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: smut, oh my god the smut, unprotected sex, eskel can be tender and a fucking beast at the same time, get you a man that can do both

After a long year, Eskel once again finds himself at your door.

You shivered as a burst of wind slithered in from a crack in the wood of the door. The soft wool of your shawl tightened around your shoulders as you stepped from behind the bar, ready to slip the key in to lock up for the evening. The three rooms that you had available were sold for the night and you were ready to tuck in for the evening.

But something made you stick your head out into the evening air, your nose reddening in the sudden chill. You glanced around and shook your head, retreating back into the warmth of your inn. Wait, was that-

Emerging from the fog was a strong, dark warhorse, rising tall under the moonlight. You swung open the door fully and bounded into the road in front of his rider, your breath coming in gasps that swam in the cold air in front of your face.

Eskel lowered his riding hood and smiled down at you, relief and longing tinging those sweet summer gold eyes. “Ah,” he rumbled, straight into your bones, “just the woman I was hoping to find.”

“I’ve been looking out for you, you’re late this year,” you said, willing your teeth to not chatter. Eskel had always been observant though, so he shook his head with a little grin.

“Get yourself back inside before you freeze. I’ll be in shortly.”

You nodded and turned back to your doorway just as you heard his boots hit the ground with a damp splash. “That is...if you’ll still have me?”

You furrowed your brow and glanced over your shoulder, finding him fiddling with the hem of his cloak and tilting his head towards you. “Eskel,” you close the distance between you, resting your hands on his chest, “you stop here every year. I always have, and always will, be more than ecstatic to have you come rest with me.”

Eskel breathed deeply and bent down, pressing his lips softly to the apple of your cheek. “Then I’ll be just behind you.”

You scurried inside and left the door unlocked as Eskel let himself into your stables at the rear of your inn. At the beginning of every spring and the end of every fall, he stumbled onto your doorstep, sometimes much too thin, others warm and full of life. But always loving, always reaching for the parts inside of you that you tried so hard to hide away.

And he always found them.

You busied yourself as you waited for him, readjusting how your tankards were set beneath the counter and checking your stores of ale. Again. You didn’t end up needing to wait terribly long, for Eskel let himself in and shut the heavy wooden door behind him. You tossed him the key and he flipped the lock, cocking his head as the bolt fell into place.

“You’ve got yourself a draft, love.” Eskel’s cheek came into view as he glanced back at you, a smirk turning up his already scarred lip.

You sighed and blew a strand of hair away from your face. “So I’ve noticed. But there hasn’t really been enough coin lately to justify replacing the damned thing, so...draft.”

Eskel hummed contemplatively and ran his fingers delicately over down the knots and grains. “Maybe I’ll see if I can fix it before I leave…”

“I would appreciate it, but if you can’t fix it, it won’t be the end of me.”

Eskel turned fully to you now and walked to your side, wrapping his arm comfortably around your waist. “I would hope not. Then I’d have to find a new spot to stop on the way home.”

“Besides,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head, “there’s not anyone on this continent who could replace you.”

You closed your eyes and sank into him, letting him guide you back into your bedroom at the rear of the inn. He toed the door shut behind him and carefully began to slide your shawl down your shoulders. Eskel’s lips peppered your neck and up behind your ear before you spun around in his grasp.

“You’ve still got your traveling clothes on, dear,” you chide with a smile, reaching for the knot on Eskel’s cloak. He tilted his head up, baring his neck to you as you felt the knot give way and his cloak spill onto the floor. You let your shawl join it before trailing back towards the bed.

Light from the moon danced over Eskel’s cheeks and down the arch of his nose, and you just couldn’t resist reaching up on your tiptoes and placing a little kiss right to the tip. You felt his chuckle under your hands before he pushed your hips backwards. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fell onto it, resting on your elbows and looking up at your Witcher.

Eskel slid his swords off of his back and rested them at the bedside, just within reach. He pulled and tugged at the straps of his armor, letting his jerkin and pauldrons hit the floor beneath him and tugging off his boots in one swift motion. You reached for the buttons on your blouse, but his hand shot out and caught your wrist, his face before yours impossibly fast. He was kneeling over you now, smelling of the road and pine and the spice of the chaos that flows in his blood.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, a low growl torn from the depths of his lungs, “I want to do that.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, lowering your hand back down to rest at your side. Eskel hummed and pushed himself up, still kneeling, his legs straddling one of yours. You could feel his arousal pushing into your thigh and though you wanted nothing more than to reach out and take him in your hand, you just...waited.

Eskel smiled down at you and resumed undressing himself, lifting his linen shirt up over his head, baring his chest to you. You raised a brow and held up your hand, reaching out to him. He carefully captured your fingers and trailed them up his stomach, over the soft stomach dusted with dark hair that led down below his trousers. There had been one winter he had come to you bare as bones, as if a stiff gust of wind would threaten to carry him away. Most springs when he came he was soft and warm after a few months of good eating and safety.

“A sign of a good year,” you whispered, pressing your fingertips gently into the cushion of his stomach.

“I spent some time in Skellige this year,” he said, running his thumb over the back of your knuckles, “tends to be a little more dangerous, but they always pay fairly.”

You bit your lip and teased the edge of his trousers, barely dipping into the warmth there before he pushed your hand away. You pouted as he reached for the ties himself.

Eskel leaned down and pressed his lips to the furrow in your brow, “Don’t give me that look. Patience, you.”

You huffed good-naturedly, watching the dark curls of hair be slowly revealed as his trousers loosened. The tanned skin of his inner thighs found its way into the air and your tongue darted out to wet your lip, just waiting for the glorious moment that his cock will leap from the confines of his trousers.

And then, you fucking shiver. The cold air had seeped far enough into your skin to bring goosebumps to the surface and it was only in the blink of an eye that your body tried to warm itself, but it was too late. Eskel noticed every little thing, there was no scenario in which he would overlook your chill and take off his gods-be-damned pants.

“Shit, you stubborn woman, why didn’t you say you were cold?” Eskel laughed and pushed himself up and away from you, sauntering over to the dark fireplace. You threw your arm over your eyes and groaned as he flicked his fingers, letting the fire bloom and blossom in the room.

“I was fine, I just want you nake-”

“I know what you want. But you also need to not freeze before I even get you naked.” Eskel shook his head and stood between your legs at the edge of the bed. You peered out from beneath your elbow as he slipped his hands into the band of his trousers and slid them down, finally releasing his hips and thighs and the fucking delicious cock nestled away. He was already hard, straining up towards his stomach and flushed ruddy at the tip.

“See?” Eskel smirked, giving himself a few long, slow strokes over you, “Sometimes it’s best to be patient…”

“Eskel,” you sighed, feeling your underclothes grow wet as your eyes raked down his shoulders and chest, over his powerful thighs and the little swells of his hips that just begged for your fingers, the fire raging in the fireplace having nothing to do with the heat roaring under your skin, “p-please, will you-”

“Will I what, love?” He smiled, his fingers leaving his length and reaching for the ties at the side of your skirt, but not yet touching.

You arched your back up off the bed and keened, your voice high and thin. “Eskel, don’t tease, please just touch me…”

“Since you asked so nicely, sweet woman,” Eskel finally ran his hand up your thigh and you could feel the heat of him even through your skirt. Your head hit the bed beneath you as you felt him quickly undo the tie of your skirt. You lifted your hips and he pulled the soft fabric from beneath you, leaving you in your blouse and smallthings.

Eskel crawled atop you, straddling your hips. His hands were firm as he smoothed them up your stomach, bunching your blouse in his fingers before reaching the button at your collar. He reached into the gap in the fabric and pulled, the button slipping free of its hold and revealing the barest glimpse of the smooth skin of your breasts.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your chest as he quickly continued undoing the buttons. You reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders as he finally pushed the shirt open, freeing you to his burning gaze. Eskel took one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked lightly, wrapping his arm around your back when you arched up to meet him.

He reached down with his other hand and ran his fingers up your clothed slit, feeling the warm wetness that had seeped into the delicate cotton. “Gods, woman,” he breathed, grazing his teeth over the tender flesh of your breast, “so good for me…”

“Always a pleasure,” you moaned as he slipped your smalls to the side, sliding his finger through your folds and circling the little bud of nerves at your core. He chuckled and pushed his finger down, dipping slowly inside of you. Your walls fluttered around him like flowers first opening for spring, something innate and easy, as if Eskel belonged just as he was.

Eskel shifted off of the bed, yanking your delicates down your legs and tossing them away. His eyes were dark with lust as he climbed atop you once more, bruising your lips with his own and rolling the two of you over. You rested atop him now, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and your breasts pushed flush against the fluff of his chest. You pushed yourself up with a grin, rising to your knees and hovering over his arousal.

“Go on, pleas-” Eskel’s words were cut off with a groan as you sank onto him, soaking him in your folds as he pushed into you. Your head fell back, baring your throat to him as you were filled to the brim. Your hips met flush against each other and your hand reached out to brace on Eskel’s chest. His muscles, corded and powerful, lay tense beneath your fingers, his own fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“Eskel,” you breathed, peering down at him through heavily-lidded eyes, “fuck, I’ve missed you so much…”

You raised your hips and lowered them, feeling the stretch of his cock along your walls and impossibly deep in your core. Eskel already looks wrecked, his teeth bared and cheeks flushed, the veins in his neck taut as he attempted to wrangle his control.

The sounds your hips made as they met over and over again were lewd in the dark evening, and they kept coming quicker and quicker. You bounced in his lap, slamming down onto him as if trying to fuck away all of the yearning, all of the worry from the last year of not having Eskel in your bed. He seemed just as eager, meeting your every move with thrusts of his own.

Suddenly though, his hands grasped your hips harshly, stilling you in his lap. “C-can I move you?” He asked, his chest heaving under your hand.

You nodded and he moved like a whip, whirling you around and under him, on your hands and knees facing away from him. He ran his hand up your back and into your hair, his touch suddenly tender. Eskel kissed the space nestled between your shoulder blades and lined himself up, sliding through your folds and smearing the slick onto his length.

He pushed back into you slowly, letting the new angle do the work. A gutteral noise fell between your teeth as he bottomed out, allowing you to adjust. “My love?”

“Yes?” You moaned, flexing your walls around him.

“I-I can’t be gentle right now, I...I need-”

“Go on, Eskel,” you reach back, grasping onto his hand, “I trust you.”

And with that, Eskel seemingly just...allowed himself to let go.

He rocked his hips back and then slammed into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. Your breath was torn from you as you saw stars behind your eyes, holding onto the sheets beneath you for some sort of tether to reality. Every thrust he was hitting something devastating inside of you and you thought you may have been crying out, but you weren’t really sure.

Eskel was grunting and groaning as he ploughed into you, his hands gripping hard into your hips, pulling you in for every thrust so that he just hit deeper and deeper. You were so warm and wet and fucking perfect around him and his mind was finally...quiet.

Your toes tingled and you felt that familiar build up of pressure in your core, everything very quickly amplifying towards the end of a tunnel. Eskel felt the shift, everything getting slicker and your walls fluttering desperately around his cock, so he sped up and just kept hitting harder.

You hung in the balance for a moment, teetering on the edge as you felt him hit that spot over and over again and you finally fell, crying out for him as your climax overtook you. It was a blinding white light in a pitch black night, all desperate hands and clawing moans. Eskel’s voice turned breathy and strained as he rode through your high, his own approaching mind bendingly fast.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and hauled you up, pressing your back flush against his chest. Eskel’s hands held on for dear life as he gave one, two, three final thrusts up into you before his own peak washed over him. He gasped and his mind blanked as he spilled within you, his breath hot on your ear as he gave stunted thrusts into your core. You reached up and stroked through his hair as his orgasm faded into the background, leaving the two of you wrapped in each other with the evidence of your arousals seeping down your thighs.

Eskel latched his lips to your neck, feeling your pulse slow and calm under his touch. He shifted and let his softening cock slip from you, leaving you oddly empty before you turned around in his arms.

You met his lips, slow and loving, pushing him gently back to lay in the bed. His bones felt like jelly and his mind was thick as molasses in winter, and it was precisely what he needed. You weren’t terribly far behind him, just reaching for a spare rag to clean up a bit before climbing into his arms.

He was warm and soft beneath you, his breathing slow and steady as your head rested on his chest. You could have sworn he was already sleeping, but as always, he surprised you.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, kissing your head lightly. You sank into him, content to rest in his arms as long as you could before he had to leave. Or maybe, you thought as the last threads of consciousness fell away, I could get him to stay all winter.

Just maybe.

#eskel x reader #smut #hes just #the best

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 3- The Ends Beginning

Summary: You and Geralt travel to Blaviken in search of more coin, though you’re wary of getting into trouble. Unsurprisingly you do in fact, get into trouble.

Warnings: long chapter, ya know gore and such, Geralt just being a babe and reader dealing with the shit she gets into for this man

Masterlist

You looked up to the dreary sunless sky, not a single speck of blue to give you a hopeful sign that the world is not as unhappy as the swamp you're currently standing in. Your surroundings disgustingly emit the gnarly stench of shit and death, seeping into your nostrils against your will as you stand idly by the waters grimy edge with your silver weapon unsheathed in your right hand.

Roach patiently keeps her distance by the leafless trees as she waits for her master who's currently under the water fighting a very pissed off kikimora. Geralt insisted that he would be the one to get into harms way and lure the ugly fucker out from it's hiding place. You, not wanting to get your clothes wet, agreed to his proclamation.

Although right now, with no visible signs of life from beneath the murky waters, you're wondering if letting him handle it all alone was the best course of action. Soon your worrisome thoughts evade you once Geralt and the screaming kikimora burst forth from the inky pond. He's lifted out of the air with a grunt as the beast plunges him back down into the depths. You shake your head and turn to Roach who takes a single step back.

Rolling your eyes you let out a sigh, "Fine. I'll help him." You exclaim to the mare with a wave of your large dagger, she simple snorts in reply.

As you approach the water you can hear the guttural muffled sounds from the battle beneath the surface. You had not anticipated on getting soaked today and you're not about to now. With a swift jump you launch yourself over the submerged kikimora and with the power only gifted by your vampirian mother, you float above the beast.

Begrudgingly you reach your hand down into a couple inches of murky water, grasping the creature by its slimy neck, once your fingers have clawed into its flesh do you then pull up. The bastard screeching in pain as it breaks the surface, greeted by a quick slice to one of its protruding arms that hastily reaches for your body. You let go and glide back over to the bank as Geralt emerges from the water to curtly stab the monster through its mouth, the beast instantly going limp.

He turns a pale face to you, his eyes an obsidian shade of pure shining black as he breaths heavily from the messy battle fought only moments ago. Sloshing through the swamp water, he makes his way onto the shore to stand next to your smirking face.

"Yeah you really had that under control, I could tell from the way you were slowly getting turned into a drowner." You can't see it but you can practically feel his eye roll.

"And you didn't want to get a little wet." He mutters between heavy breaths while you flick water off of your hand.

You smile, sticking your dagger back into its leather sheath, "The only way I'm getting a little wet is by watching you stand naked in front of me as you sensually clean your sword." He laughs at your sarcastic remark, an odd but pleasant contrast to the dull bubbling of the swamp.

He then walks back into the water to cut a large piece off of the dead kikimora, hopefully it's enough to pay for some new clothes for your smelly Witcher. Once the beast is set and tied do you wait for him to mount Roach before he lets a hand out for you to take. Pulling you up into his lap, he slings his arms around your sides to better hold onto the leather reigns.

The ride to the gloomy village of Blaviken is a short one, but nonetheless enjoyable as you lean yourself into his warm body. Finally do you reach the wooden gates where Roach continues her trek into the town. As Geralt does, you keep your hood up, doing your best to hide behind your disheveled hair. No one bothers to look at you and Geralt when Roach comes to a stop, the two of you getting down, Geralt tying her up before you both head into the closest tavern for something to drink on this dreary morning.

As expected, you can feel the distrustful gazes from the tavern goers as they watch you and Geralt walk up to the bar. Ignoring their wary eyes, you take a seat as the lady bartender asks what you'd like to drink, seemingly uncaring or oblivious to the strangeness of you two. Geralt sets some coin onto the table getting straight down to business, as per usual.

"Point us to the alderman's house." He abruptly asks, she kindly answers him while pointing in the direction of the desired residence before she's cut off by a greasy slightly heavy looking man who shoos her away. He quickly steps behind the bar, glancing warily between the two of you.

"We don't want your kind here, Witcher." He states, only the tiniest bit of fear flashing through his grey eyes, but that's gone quickly as he glares over at you, "Or yours, daughter of demons." Spits the bearded man at you this time. Apparently your kinds reputation precedes you still, no matter, he is of little concern at the moment.

"The alderman, tell me where he is and we'll be on our way." Asks Geralt once again, nothing sinister lacing his words, although you're becoming irritated knowing that a group is forming behind you. And right on cue does a smiling bulldog of a man appear before you, snapping at Geralt about how he doesn't give the orders around here, adding in another insult to perhaps feel more superior. Geralt simply hums in response, turning his head to you in a silent plead for you to behave.

You begrudgingly listen and keep your head down as the bearded man orders you two to leave or face a rope around your necks. Geralt stands up and yet again is taunted and challenged by this snarky little man, who then promptly insults the both of you before calling to his men to stand ready. Oh can nothing ever be easy?

Suddenly a woman's voice speaks out among the crowd like a spark in the darkness, you quickly turn your cloaked head to face this mystery woman. Her short brunette hair is messy as her dark eyes scan over the three of you, curiosity in her calculated gaze. She wears an all red top, two black leather gauntlets embroidered in gold protect her lower forearms, and a single golden broach sits pinned above her left breast. She snaps at the bearded man to stay quiet as her eyes find your shadowed ones.

She gifts a mutual nod of respect before politely apologizing for her men's rudeness as she then askes them to leave, to your surprise, the bulldog-like man listens and they all leave without another word. For the next however long, she kindly buys you both a drink as she wonders of your whereabouts and the agreeable need for Geralt and some new clothes. When suddenly a random girl appears asking about the kikimora, Geralt turns to you and with a nod to Renfri, the both of you are off.

You lead the way to Roach as Geralt silently follows, the girl rambling on about nothing interesting but her own personal troubles and little adventures. Until her eyes light up once they find the bloody leg of the dead kikimora hidden under a bag atop Roach's back. To yours and Geralt's disappointment she claims that her father, the alderman, will have no use for the swamp beast. But as you both turn to leave she announces that instead you should speak to Master Irion, the village wizard, insisting he will pay for ingredients for elixers. With an annoyed roll of your eyes do you turn to follow the girl, Geralt smiling at your irritated face. Now you're going to meet a fucking wizard, just what you wanted.

The alderman's daughter leads you and Geralt down a gravely dirt road as Geralt holds onto Roach's leather reigns, the three of you walking past vendors and fresh produce stalls, "Have you ever killed a succubus? A striga? Werewolf? She-wolf?" Pries the smiling girl as she walks in between you and Geralt.

"That's not a thing." He replies bluntly.

"Okay then...a dhampir?" She questions, glancing at you for a split second.

You kick a small rock that lays in your path before answering, "You're more insightful then you look." She smiles sweetly at you, giving you a knowing glance, so she's aware of what you are, interesting.

"Well, I think all that monster killing makes you two heroes." She cheerfully boasts as her attention falls upon Geralt, "My mother says you're the offspring of foul sorcery, a diabolic creation, a filthy degenerate born of Hell." She exclaims before turning to look at you, "She thinks even less of your kind, told me you're a rarity or maybe the only one, a princess of darkness...heir to the black throne, or maybe it was the blood throne? Can't remember....you two ever been to Hell? I've never even left Blaviken. Because my mothers never left Blaviken and if it's good enough for Libushe, then it's good enough for Marilka. That's my name. Marilka, like milk." She says while turning her curious gaze over to Geralt, then back to you, "What's your guys' names?"

"Geralt."

Marilka's face shifts from satisfaction for learning of your Witchers name, back to curiosity in a split second, "Like garroter? Nice...where are you from Geralt?" She wonders.

"Rivia."

Marilka nods in understanding as she focuses her attention back to you, "What's your name?"

"Y/N....of Alkatraz." You tell her, giving her the name of your homeland so she won't ask you another question, cause lets be honest this kid doesn't need to know anything else about you. It may give her nightmares.

"I don't know where either of those places are, but I could learn, if you two'd let me." She inquires, hopeful that she may get something out of her questioning.

"No." Replies Geralt to her utter disappointment.

"Because I'm a girl and girls can't become Witchers. Which is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She sasses, earning a smile from both yours and Geralt's dirty faces. "I want more...I have to be more, because I don't know what to do in Blaviken for the rest of my life, except go to the boring old market."

"And kill rats." Replies Geralt with a tiny amused grin as he shares a glance with you.

"And dogs." You add, causing Marilka to laugh as a large smile appears onto her young beaming face.

——

"Here we are." She announces once the three of you make it to the looming tower of grey stone, the house of the wizard. Geralt gives Marilka the reigns to Roach as you walk closer under the brick archway where giant wooden doors await. Even before Geralt is able to reach for the doors do you touch his arm, a wary expression clear on your face, you can see the way that the doors shimmer with magic. Something unseen to the eyes of men, or even a Witcher for that matter.

"An illusion." You explain, not wanting to go any further but also not wanting to miss out on what alluring mystery lays hidden behind the enchanted doors.

"I can hold your hand." He teases.

"You can kiss my arse."

"I can do that too." Whispers Geralt while you let out a breathy laugh.

Letting go of his arm, you both enter at the same time to a bright vibrant wall of enticing rainbows that dances across your vision as your gaze adjusts to the view. Your scarlet eyes going wide, first in awe of the spirited beauty of the gardens before a shocked laugh escapes your mouth once you see the naked women tending to the trees. Oh.

You turn to find Geralt seemingly quite disinterested and looking rather cleaner then he once was, his white hair much snowier then a moment ago, his black cloak gone from his shoulders, as well as your own. The both of you look upon a great floating tree in the center of the sun kissed courtyard, your ears suddenly pricking to the sound of closely approaching footsteps to your right. You snap your head over to the sight of a richly dressed man holding a wooden staff.

"Greetings. I am Stregobor....Master Stregobor. Sorcerer." Announces the greying bearded man who holds an oaken staff with a white crystal encircled at the top by the bending wood holding it prisoner. Why does he look oddly familiar?

"We have a kikimora for Master Irion." Mutters Geralt bluntly, Stregobor flashing a tiny grin in curiosity for the random presence of yourself and Geralt.

"Yes, well, forgive the confusion. Irion created this tower, but he's been dead 200 years. So, in order to honor him, I've taken his name as my...personal sobriquet." Explains Stregobor, Geralt simply hums in reply as you put a hand on your hip. Wizards and their deceitful tricks.

Scoffing, you glance around your current setting, "He create this illusion, too?" You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, the wizard turns with an unabashed smile to look at his pleasurable surroundings.

"No, his is, uh...this is my own creation. Helps pass time more delightfully." Answers Stregobor with a telling half grin upon his aging face, Geralt watches the irritation grow onto your clean dirt-less face as you shake your head.

Crossing your arms over your chest you eye up the old wizard, "Because you're in hiding, Stregobor." His demeanor immediately changes at your blunt reply, he didn't anticipate you'd figure him out so quickly. Why else would a renowned mage flee to this horseshit of a town and change his name to the long dead wizard?

He ever-so-slightly turns his head to the side, eyeing you distrustfully, "How very clever of you...princess, of night." States the annoyed wizard who hands you a glare, Geralt smirks as he watches this small tension filled interaction between the two of you. In all honesty, you're not surprised that this wizard knows who you are. You've been around for quite some time on this Continent, and anyways, you are the only dhampir known to exist who also happens to be a princess to the true Vampire Queen of the Northern Kingdoms.

With a curt turn of his body does Stregobor retain his once lost, now more welcoming demeanor as he nods for yourself and your Witcher to follow. He leads you two down an open hallway, where naked ladies and fruit filled trees remain on either side minding their business. They aren't real after all.

"Not often do we see the likeness of you two here in Blaviken." Admits the wizard, his fancy robes swishing as he walks.

"Not many of our likeness left." Replies Geralt as you walk down the stone hallway by his side, your eyes still wandering over the strange beauty of this pleasant illusion in contrast to the gloominess of Blaviken.

"Hm. Well Witcher I'd offer you my condolences, but...I seem to remember that Witchers don't feel...anything." You keep your eyes ahead of you, he doesn't know you and Geralt are most definitely a thing, "I'm grateful destiny brought you two to me."

"Marilka brought us to you." Inquires Geralt as he averts his golden eyes from the bareness of the magical women, a grim expression lingering onto your features the longer you stay in this dreadful palace of lies. Suddenly Stregobor walks in front of the both of you, stopping you from walking any further.

"Oh, Marilka. Marilka works for me. Now and then. On matters of great importance." Reveals Stregobor as he glances between you and Geralt, of course the little shit was a simple messenger, you should have known a wizard would want to see the only Witcher and dhampir within a two-hundred mile radius who happen to be in town.

Geralt lets out an annoyed sigh as you lean against a white marble pillar, "A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher and one of the only known dhampirs. You don't want our monster. You want us to kill yours." Declares Geralt calmly as the old wizard stands with a satisfied smirk upon his face. Your head tilts as you cross your arms over your chest, giving Stregobor a judgmental look.

"Very clever. Indeed." Muses the wizard with a knowing squint of his blue eyes.

"What kind?" You wonder, intrigued with this new information that could possibly result in much needed coin.

Stregobor goes quiet for a second as his voice goes hushed, "The worst kind." His look turns wary, as you notice the concealed fear that flashes across his face, "The human kind." He moves in closer, like if he speaks too loud this human will hear his treachery and slay him on the spot, "Its name is Renfri." He whispers before abruptly turning and walking down the short stone steps to the gardens. You turn to give Geralt a quizzical look, he simply hums with a small shrug, so instead you decide to follow Stregobor to find the reasoning behind his assumptions about Renfri.

She doesn't appear to look like the worst kind of human. Now you've personally seen the worst kinds of humans in your travels, this all intrigues you so.

"Destiny has many faces, Witcher. Mine for example, is beautiful on the outside, but...hideous on the inside." Explains Stregobor as he holds a perfectly red apple in his right hand while Geralt leans his muscular arm against a stone fountain while you stand next to him. "She has stretched her bloody talons towards me." He claims, not a hint of falseness lacing his words, but you're not convinced of his rambling quite yet.

Fumbling with the leather gauntlets on your forearms do you look up at him, "Wizards are all the same. You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces." You growl, "Don't waste our time." Stregobor ceases the illusion of the red apple in his hand, giving you a humored half smile, knowing he's been seen through for his vagueness.

"Have you ever heard of the....Curse of the Black Sun?" Starts the wizard as his eyes dart between you and Geralt, who's not particularly keen on learning about more mysterious history that this strange old man may have possibly been involved in.

"Yes. Although I'm assuming you'd like to tell it." You sass, the wizard ignores your remark as he turns back to Geralt, explaining further.

"First full eclipse in 1,200 years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by 60 women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood." You watch as Geralt hums in response to the wizards superstitious nonsense.

"Doesn't rhyme. All good predictions rhyme." Replies Geralt unimpressed.

"I studied the girls born around the Black Sun, and I found horrendous internal mutations among them. I tried to cure them, locked them in towers for safekeeping, but the girls always died." Your face twists in disgust at the atrocious proclamations Stregobor is freely giving you. No shit they died, who wants to be locked away?

"Internal mutations?" Pries Geralt.

"They were autopsied, of course, to confirm my suspicions. But eliminating these women was the lesser evil. They could have drowned entire kingdoms in blood." He states confidently, sure of his actions, "If you'd been alive during Falks's Rebellion, seen what I saw..."

"Innocent women are dead." Mutters Geralt, anger low in his gravely voice as you stare daggers in Stregobor's direction, what was this mans deal with hurting these poor women, how did he know if these princess' would have actually have done what was supposedly said?

"But not Renfri, the dark eyed one." You add, the wizard looks away knowing he's been caught for his interior motives, "She's after you, can't imagine why." You jab with a smirk as he walks around the fountain.

"Daughter of King Fredefalk of Creyden. I delivered the princess myself in the middle of the afternoon in pitch black." He says while keeping his gaze onto something nearby as he remembers his past dealings.

"Under the Black Sun, so....she's cursed." Muses Geralt as he throws his arms to his sides, not believing in this ridiculous story one bit, Stregobor whips around, an offended look upon his face.

"Do you consider me a fool, Witcher?" He snaps.

"Very much." His blue eyes glare at you with malice as you smile a sweet fangy grin back at him before continuing his explanation, still agitated that he's not getting any help from either of you.

"Do you think I did not conduct research? Renfri was acutely affected. Her stepmother, Aridea, told me she tortured a canary, strangled two puppies, even gouged out her maid's eye with a comb."

"She would have fit right in with my family then." You whisper with a light chuckle, he simply ignores you, a small smile flashing onto Geralt's face.

"I admit what happened next was not ideal, but...with the lives of Adrea's own children on the line, we had to act. So I dispatched someone to follow Renfri into the woods. We found him in the brush, Renfri's antique brooch jammed into his ear. After that, I organized a manhunt to find the princess, but...eh...she was gone." He rambles with a dismissive wave of his hands as he turns away from you both once again, remembering aged memories, "Two years. Until she reappeared, robbing and murdering merchants on the roads of Mahakam. Impaled them on sticks at first, but soon, she picked up sword skills. And now no man can defy her, it's said." Inquires Stregobor with a troubled look in Geralt's direction.

"You're not a man. You're a magician." States Geralt, implying that Stregobor should be able to handle this shit himself, considering he's an actual wizard and all.

"She's resistant to magic." Reveals Stregobor dismally.

Your face turns to a mix of confusion and curiosity, "That's impossible in humans." You add, never had you heard of something like this before.

"Not...mutated ones. She's chased me for years, bent on revenge. And now she attacked me here, just as you two have arrived." Declares the wizard in a hushed voice as he glances from you to Geralt, "Destiny." He whispers dramatically, "Kill her. I'll pay whoever lands the fatal blow, anything."

Geralt lets out a sigh, "We kill monsters."

"The kikimora kills because it's hungry. Renfri kills for pleasure. She is a monster. She is the last of Lilit's women. And she possess the power to destroy us all." Insists Stregobor as he leans in closer to Geralt who does not look pleased.

"If she's the last, this demon goddess cannot return considering you killed them all."

The old wizard gives you a look, "I did what was necessary for the survival of the human race, she is after me. I would rather keep my life and keep her from murdering anyone else just because she can. She has the power to bring forth unspeakable calamity."

"I don't believe anyone has that power." You reply, gifting this nutcase a less then friendly expression as you turn to leave without another word.

"You will sorely regret this." Calls out Stregobor.

"Will we?" Speaks your Witcher before turning and walking over to the small staircase leading away from the gardens. You leave Geralt on the steps, not caring for him and this wizards small exchange of words dealing with choosing between the lesser evils. You walk down the short sunny stone hallway, past more naked women and plant life as you make your way for the enchanted doors.

Enough with this mess.

——

After the events of earlier, consisting of an info dump of unneeded disturbing knowledge thrust upon you and Geralt by a rightfully paranoid old wizard, you and your silver haired man made sure to find a place in the nearby forest to camp for the night away from the village, and it's watchful residents. He grinds up some type of healing herb as you pet Roach, feeding her a well deserved carrot that you stole from the market.

Suddenly your nose catches the scent of Stregobor's worst fears, you turn in the direction of the approaching woman, a protective hand still on the mane of Roach. Renfri silently nods to you as you glance down to where Geralt is crouched, wordlessly implying for her to leave you alone and to discuss her intentions with the Witcher instead. Renfri accepts your soundless order without a word, turning she walks towards Geralt where she squats down just the same.

While petting Roach, you can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. Renfri explains in dreadful first hand detail of what Stregobor's men really did to her in the woods before letting her live, those sick bastards. She then explains her reasoning that led her to where she is now, on her bloody war path of revenge and that now she wants you two to kill Stregobor in place of herself. Exclaiming it's the lesser evil, something you've heard too much of today which has you wondering what destiny has in store.

Geralt brushes her off as he stands up and walks over to you and Roach, Renfri following.

"I could have become so many things." She says longingly, a small smile upon her lips, "Queen Calanthe of Cintra, she just won her first battle at Hochebuz. But here I am, trying to convince you I'm not.."

"A monster." You interrupt as her gaze locks onto you.

"How am I to know?" She asks, "When I cut my finger I bleed...That's human right? When I overeat, my stomach aches. When I'm happy, I laugh. When I'm upset, I swear. And when I hate someone for stealing my whole life away from me, I kill him."

Geralt hums in thought as you purse your lips together at her truthful words before walking a couple feet away from them, her dark eyes flicker from you to Geralt, "People call you a monster too."

"A mutant." He corrects.

She smiles knowingly as her gaze settles onto your face, "You're more monster then the two of us. What if they come after you? Attack you? Why not kill them?"

"Because then I am what they say I am." You share a glance with Geralt, "We both are."

"If I tell you, Witcher..." Eyes set over to you, "..fellow princess, that I can neither forgive Stregobor nor renounce my revenge, it that it? I admit I'm a monster?"

"Yes." You add before taking a step closer to Renfri, "Or you can leave Blaviken and finally live. You choose, princess."

Geralt leads Roach up the small hill as you walk past Renfri to follow, she stands there a moment in defeat before turning her head to face your retreating forms, "What if that's not my final choice? What if I want more? What if I deserve it?"

Geralt halts as you pause your movement to face Renfri, "Then what? Kill him and be done with it? You deserve your wrath, but he deserves lasting fear for his own crimes. Maybe that old fuck was right and the daughters born under the Black Sun would bring chaos to this world...however that time is long done with. Lilit isn't coming, and you can choose to be free."

"He deserves death."

"He does, but if you kill him. You will always be hunted for this." You explain truthfully, "Renfri, you could leave this all behind and know he will always fear you for the rest of your days, is that not enough? Must you murder and be prosecuted for it too? Never free, never to travel in peace again? Is that what you want?"

Her scowl begins to slowly turn into a deep frown at your insightful words of wisdom. She knows you're right but cannot stop how her heart and soul feels towards everything she's ever set her mind to in regards to this wizard. She glares at the ground while you turn to travel elsewhere at last, the both of you leaving Renfri by the stream to deal with her own conflicted thoughts.

——

"Are you talking to Roach again about your monster slaying?" You quip as a smirk dances across your face. He looks up at you from petting Roach to shake his head with an embarrassed smile as he promptly walks over to sit upon a log and continue his grinding of that healing herb from earlier.

He glances up at you as you approach him, "Oh how I've missed your witty mouth." Muses Geralt with a half smile as you take off your cloak and go to sit down next to him.

"I just went to take a piss, calm your thoughts." He chuckles in amusement as your eyes find his hand, watching intently a he focuses his attention onto the boring task, "What hurts now?"

"Nothing. This is for when I actually get injured." You click your tongue in reply, an appealing idea popping into your mind while you silently move your hand, letting your fingers lightly touch his thigh.

Biting your lip you try and watch for a sign, "Why don't you use those strong hands of yours for something less, tedious." He immediately halts his actions, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he slowly turns his head to you. Raising an eyebrow at your more sensual implications.

"If the lady insists." He mutters, setting the bowl onto the leafy forest floor as he leans in closer to you, your lips making heated contact.

Under the cover of darkness, with only the small burning of the dwindling firelight do you make love to your Witcher until the moon sits high into the night sky. He feels amazing and works as a much needed distraction from the tiresome events of the day, you being the same for him.

You wake up with a start as Geralt mumbles Renfri's name, waking himself up in the process from whatever strange dream he must have been having. Suddenly your eyes go wide in realization, Renfri had claimed she would leave Blaviken in the morning, but you think otherwise.

"The market."

——

You and Geralt walk through the dreary village, no cloaks or thick leather armor adorning either one of your bodies except for your gauntlets and the thicker laced material around your torso. He carries his silver sword in his right hand, holding the blade upwards as to conceal it better from anyone directly in front of him. You walk steadily by his side, your dagger sheathed at your hip, you haven't come here to shed blood. But you know better then to assume otherwise, your suspicions further coming to light when your crimson eyes lock onto the balding bulldog looking man from yesterday in the tavern. One of Renfri's men, he looks ready to fight, with a smirk upon his smug face and a strange weapon clutched in his right hand, more of Renfri's men gathering behind him.

He spits at your feet, "She knew you two'd come." Assures the man, stopping a small distance away from you and Geralt, about five more of her followers spread about behind him.

"Where's Renfri?" Grumbles Geralt calmly, not particularly fond of what may follow.

"She's at the tower with your little friend, Marilka." The bald one sneers, a grim smile still holding onto his lips. A dark haired man in dirty faded green clothing with soot smeared about his lean face steps forward, standing next to the bald one.

"She gave us a message to pass on to you both. You have to choose the lesser evil." Challenges the dark haired man. The lesser evil, hmm.

A slightly fatter man steps forth, "It's an ultimatum." He insists while pulling out his sword from its sheath, "Get it?"

Half of them are giving you nasty smirks as they bare their own weapons, sure of themselves in how things are about to turn out for them, they have no idea just how fucked they truly are. Though you'd rather not begin this insignificant battle considering they're just men who have been blinded and manipulated by a rightfully furious princess. Why can't they just all fuck off to the woods and maybe fall down a hill?

They move in place, all ready to do some damage when another one spits at the ground. "Fuck." Mutters Geralt as he shares a dismal glance with you. No sooner does this happen do your ears prick at the familiar sound of a crossbow trigger being pressed, thus launching an arrow that slices through the air with a distinctive sing.

Time slows and you watch as a sharp arrow follows its masters path straight for Geralt's chest, in an instant he cuts it down from its path with a swift ploy of his sword. The arrow falls to the muddy ground, forgotten as soon as another man charges him, yelling out a battle cry as he ignores you, heading directly for Geralt with a quick swing of his sword. A man with an axe catches your gaze, rage in his grey eyes as he gives you an ugly smile before making a heated dash in your direction.

He swings his axe up in preparation for the death blow he's about to give, in the precious seconds that he takes to keep his arms up, you take this opportunity to unsheathe your dagger and drive it straight through his vulnerable skull. Pulling it out he instantly falls to the ground with a hard thud, blood spurting everywhere; another man throws his sword at you while admitting his own battle cry.

You skillfully duck under his powerful swing, bringing your dagger up to slice open his torso in the process, his screams filling the morning air as his insides fall out of him, you don't look back to watch as he falls, dying in the mud. You race past the crossbowman who's still frantically loading in another bolt, Geralt taking care of the dark haired man in the background.

Four more of Renfri's men charge at you, swords in one hand and shields in the other. A large man screams at you as he throws his heavy sword towards your shoulder, you quickly manifest yourself into a pack of screeching black bats. Flying yourself past the surprised man and his other friends before shifting back into your original form. They turn towards you in frightful bewildered confusion, completely taken aback by your unexpected display of abilities. In this time you quickly jab your dagger through the throat of the last man closest to you. Blood spurts out of his fresh wound as you take a step back, suddenly the other three are thrust backwards by the force of Geralt's magic. One of them quickly recovers and launches himself in your direction, leaving his two other companions to die at the hands of the Witcher.

He smartly keeps his shield in front of him for protection as he swings his sword at you. You turn to your right and jump up onto the wooden wall of someone's house as the man slashes at you, missing his target. You jump down behind him and in one swift motion pull his head back, slitting a deep cut into his throat. He falls to the ground, choking on his own blood as he bleeds out into the dirty streets of the market. In an instant Geralt is at your side when you hear the terrified shrieks of Marilka, who's trapped in the deadly clutches of Renfri, a silver blade pressed against her neck.

You stay where you are as Geralt slowly approaches Renfri, he keeps his sword lowered to the ground as she watches wide eyed and fuming.

"You chose." She whispers, shocked at how fast everything went to shit, her plans now ruined.

"Let the girl go." He pleads, Renfri looks down at Marilka in disgust, blade still closely pressed against her neck.

She scoffs, "I will kill her. I will kill everyone here until Stregobor comes down." She hisses, venom practically dripping off of her tongue.

"Leave Blaviken." Inquires Geralt as he pinches his fingers together, ready to use destructive magic on her, "It's not to late."

"Magic doesn't work on me." Fumes Renfri as Marilka whimpers beneath her arms, "Silver does, though." She adds softly, a look of pure hate upon her dirt smudged features.

"Silver is for monsters."

Renfri suddenly shoves Marilka to the side as she throws her blade upon her left arm, the fight of a lioness coursing through her veins.

"If we cross swords..." States Geralt cautiously as he begins to back up.

"I won't be able to stop." Breaths Renfri while advancing forward towards Geralt.

You watch as she skillfully lays into him, blocking his swings as he does the same with each of her deadly hits. He suddenly gains the upper hand and pins her against a wall, a second later she stabs him in the abdomen with her hidden dagger. He pulls back as she slashes at him once again, rage fueling her motives, they dance in the marketplace. The clashing of silver on silver and their heavy breathing is all that you can hear besides the beating of their hearts as blood pumps through them, adrenaline coursing throughout their systems.

You want to stop her, but this is their fight. Honor among warriors keeps you to the sidelines, this would be unfair of you to join him.

Without warning she slashes Geralt's muscular thigh, sending him to the ground with a grunt from the quick pain, in an instant she's thrusting her dagger towards his throat. But before she has a chance to lay anymore life threatening damage you swiftly block her small blade with your own weapon. Time to intervene apparently. Her face glares at you as she pulls back, your body hastily stepping in front of Geralt as he tries to gather himself, his leg throbbing in pain.

You carefully eye up the princess, "You should have left Blaviken." She smirks at your remark before swinging her sword at you. Quickly dodging her blow you shift to the side as she advances forward, launching more attacks left and right, you're able to block them with your dagger as this weapon's large enough to clash with hers. It doing enough damage on its own, even against her sword.

"No man can kill me." She hisses breathlessly as you clash your silver dagger against her shinning sword, she moves to the side as you skillfully thwart another one of her deadly assaults.

You lightly chuckle at her proclamation, "I am no man." You snap, whipping your body around to block another heated blow, she simply sneers at you, her eyes flashing with hatred.

Another slash of her sword sends you reeling backwards, your dangerous waltzing taking you and her between two houses and into another courtyard. When she brings her sword towards your stomach you quickly grab the hilt right out of her hand, taking her by surprise at your abrupt strength and inhuman reflexes. You point the ruthless silver at her jugular, your eyes two glowing rubies staring into her black stormy irises. She stares you down defiantly, nothing in her cold dark eyes but rage, you almost pity her.

Breathing heavily, you cautiously twist her sword in your hand so that your grip is holding it easier, keeping it close to her skin the whole time. You throw your large dagger to the ground, pulling away her sword from her throat and bringing it down to your side. Her brows furrow but only for a moment before she thrusts her dagger en route for your own windpipe. Dropping your sword, you quickly catch her hands clutched around her weapon with incredible speed as you then turn it around to face her. The blade pushes soundlessly into her flesh as you step closer, your blood spotted sweaty faces inches apart as her eyes go wide in realization.

You blink, pulling the dagger out with a shling sound in its wake, blood seeps out of it in a shiny tide of crimson enough to match the color of your saddened eyes. You hold her in your left arm, sword in your right, she stares up at you with nothing. You suddenly feel dreadful.

"The girl in the woods will be with near you always. She is his destiny." Gasps Renfri quietly as she searches for your eyes as something to hold onto before she's gone from this world. She didn't want this and neither did you, but she chose.

You can't help but feel horrible at what you've just done, none of this shit should have ever happened to her, she could of had a wonderful life with happy days and laughter. Instead she got betrayal and blood from the hands of a wicked wizard and his ill intent. You slowly lower her dying body onto the soft ground as shaky breaths rush from your lips. She's growing paler as a river of blood runs out of her wounds, dripping onto the mud.

Your expression contorts into a conflicted frown, you feel unbelievably terrible. "Rest now." You softly speak a last kindness, a pained expression painted across your face as you watch the light from her eyes dissipate away. When you rise from the ground Geralt stands quietly before you, a soft gaze lingering with your somber one.

"Why does it always end this way?" You wonder, anger rising into your words. Geralt lowers his head, reaching down to pick up your discarded dagger. He hands it to you, blood smeared over the hilt and blade. You walk away from the dead laying in the dry mud, Geralt following you.

—-

"Incredible. Marilka. Marilka? Marilka! Get me a cart." Demands Stregobor as he turns his head away from an approaching Geralt, "We'll take her to the tower for an autopsy."

He holds his sword up to the old wizards neck, "If you touch a single hair on her head, yours will be on the ground next." Growls Geralt, not an ounce of falsehood lacing his words. Stregobor gives him a quizzical look as you step closer to the two of them, irritation glaring back at him through eyes of crimson.

"Have you gone mad? Her mutation, it influences people. That's how she got these men to follow her. We need to take it." Insists the wizard, pausing for a moment to study Geralt's face, he tilts his head knowingly, "She got to you too, didn't she? That's why your beast had to slay her, jealousy perhaps." He concludes, glancing to you for a split second with a punchable smirk upon his aging features.

"Do not...touch her." Hisses Geralt in a low and menacing tone, Stregobor seemingly unaffected by his threats.

"Witcher." He states in the tone of a disappointed father, "You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken, with the princess of night at your side, killing at your command." He rules out, a crowd of shocked villagers gathering close by, sending angry looks your way.

"You're a beast." Shouts one man.

"You've both endangered the girl." Cries a woman.

"Beast!"

"She'll turn us into night creatures next.."

"Killers!"

Stregobor simply half smiles, "You took the law into your own hands." More insults are screamed and yelled at by the growing crowd of displeased rowdy villagers, "You both made a choice. And you'll never know if it was the right one." He whispers, pleased with how things have turned out for him.

Suddenly a rock cracks you in the side of your temple, another one catching Geralt on the side of his head as people from the crowd shout more insults and heated threats. He kneels to the ground, picking up Renfri's brooch as more rocks bounce off of his back. You keep onto your feet, glaring at Stregobor from the hood of your eyes as you tilt your head down, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides while more rocks are being thrown at you. Marilka walks in front of the two of you, a pitifully disappointed look upon her young face.

Her lip trembles, "Get out of Blaviken, the both of you. Don't ever come back." She warns as tears well up in the corners of her hazel eyes, Geralt slowly stands as he turns a downcast look in your direction. You give a small nod in mutual understanding, it's time to go. As you turn on your heel and take a step forward, the people of Blaviken immediately go silent as they watch your every move.

They back away as you and Geralt pass through the dreary streets on your way out of the village, soon they gain their confidence back as they scream and curse, clenching their fists. A couple bold teenagers chucking more stones, aiming to shed blood. Aiming to feel strong.

You and your Witcher keep your heads down, eyes upon the dirt as they scream and harass you both all the way to the gates. You make your way for the woods, dirt and blood marking unkindly upon your dispirited features.

Everything feels so wrong, and your head feels cloudy with troubled thoughts and dismal images. You just wanted to travel to Blaviken to get Geralt some new clothes, this is not how you intended for things to go.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher #falcor the luck dragon stories #Of monsters and men fic

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 years ago

Text

company ~ geralt of rivia;the witcher

part one

word count: 1896

request?: no

description: after slaying a monster all on her own, geralt decides to help the run away princess in cleaning the blood from her body

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: smut, swearing

masterlist

The bar fell silent as the woman walked in, covered in blood, carrying a sword nearly twice her size that was dripping in blood. She looked around before approaching a table where the Witcher and his Bard were sat. Jaskier looked up in shock and fear as she stood before them, while Geralt took a sip of his beer, almost ignoring her presence.

A smirk came across her face as she declared, “I win.”

Geralt lowered his glass and raised an eyebrow at her. “Where’s the proof?”

Jaskier yelped as she tossed the head of a monster onto the table, its glazed over eyes staring at the two men. Geralt let out a chuckle as he shoved his hand into his pocket and put a bag of silver onto the table. The former princess took her winnings and shoved them into her pocket.

“What the bloody hell is happening here?!” Jaskier exclaimed as he scooted as far away from the head as he possibly could.

“Geralt has been training me in fighting,” (Y/N) responded. “I told him I thought I had a handle on it, he told me he was sure I didn’t. So we made a bet; I said I could kill the first monster I found. He told me I’d crack under pressure, or die.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt in shock. “So you sent her out there by herself?!”

“She’s a commoner now, Jaskier, she doesn't need any bodyguards anymore,” Geralt responded in a matter of fact voice.

It had been months since (Y/N) had ran away from her responsibilities as a future queen and joined Geralt and Jaskier on their adventures. It had taken her court just a month to find her, and when they did she promptly told them where they could stick their royalty. The next day, the news that (Y/N) had been stripped of her royal title and banned from the Northseed kingdom travelled so fast that it got to the trio in no time.

(Y/N) was definitely not upset over this. If anything, she was overjoyed. When they heard she literally jumped and exclaimed with excitement to be free. Geralt found himself also relieved. He was getting used to having the beautiful former princess joining him on his travels.

With this burden off her shoulders, (Y/N) started begging Geralt to teach her how to fight monsters. She wanted to know how to defend herself, whether she continued to travel with Geralt or not. She finally managed to break him down and he trained her in simple battle, something easy for someone who had never even picked up a sword before, but still effective should she find herself needing to defend herself.

(Y/N) smiled at the two triumphantly before declaring, “I’m going to go wash myself off. If you boys are looking for me, I’ll be in my room upstairs.”

Geralt watched as she walked off, her new, leathery clothes so heavy with blood that it stuck to her body, showing off her every curve. Geralt had to reposition himself so that Jaskier didn’t see the lump growing in his pants.

“Go after her, dummy,” Jaskier told him.

Geralt looked at him with his usual stony face. “What?”

“Please, I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know that you want her. She’s about to be alone, and naked, in her room. Go after her, conveniently walk in, or something like that.”

Geralt scoffed. "I’m not going to walk into her room in the hopes that she’ll let me fuck her. She is former royalty, Jaskier, she was definitely raised to wait until she is to be wed.”

“She most definitely was, but that is so she would bare a child whose blood is so noble he would be declared a gentleman right out of the womb. She is free of all of that now, she can fuck whoever she wants. And I see the look in her eye, too, so I know it is you she wants.”

Geralt thought over what Jaskier was saying. He was still of the mindset that he would never defile (Y/N). She may not be a princess anymore, but she was still a lady. Then again, if the lady wished for Geralt to defile her, who was he to say no?

Geralt ignored the exclaims of encouragement from Jaskier as he raised from his seat and made his way up the stairs to where the rooms the three of them had taken for the night were located. The hallway was dimly lit, but Geralt could still make out the faded numbers on the doors. He stopped outside of the one (Y/N) was in, his hand raised to knock. Before he could think against it, he knocked on the old, wooden door.

“Who is it?” came the singsong voice of (Y/N).

“It’s Geralt,” he responded.

There was a pause before (Y/N) told him, “Come in.”

When he walked in, she was laying neck deep in the water. Her bloody clothes were discarded all over the floor. Her face and hair were now clean of the blood, and through the dimly lit room Geralt could just make out the look on her face; it was one of seduction.

“I was hoping you’d follow me,” she told him.

“Did you?” Geralt asked, deciding to play coy. “And why is that?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “It’s scary having to slay a monster on your own. I was frightened to be alone. I was hoping for some company. You know, to help me feel safe.”

“I suppose I could help with that,” Geralt responded. “How would you like me to protect you, my lady?”

(Y/N) put on a face as if she were thinking before responding, “You could always get in with me. I’d like to have you close just in case something comes to attack me.”

Geralt smirked as he began to strip himself of his clothing. (Y/N)’s eyes lingered on his muscular torso before following his hands to watch him strip his pants off. She felt a tingling sensation growing between her legs and had to clench her thighs together to relieve it some.

Once Geralt was completely naked, (Y/N) leaned forward so that he could climb into the bath behind her. When he was sat comfortably behind her, she leaned back against his chest.

“Feel more safe now?” he asked her.

“I feel very safe, thank you,” she responded.

She was pressing back against him. She could feel his manhood against her back. She nearly smirked to herself as she felt it twitch against her.

“So, how does monster hunting live up to the royal life?” he asked her. “Are you missing sitting up in your safe palace with nothing to worry about besides who you were going to be betrothed to?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Never. That place was more like a prison than a palace. I could not be more happy to be free of that place.” She paused then added, “Well, I suppose there is one thing that is making me happier than that.”

She turned suddenly to face him. Before he could understand what was happening, she was straddling him. “You.”

She was kissing him then. It was different than the last time they had kissed. This one was more passionate, more hungry. She really did want Geralt, and Geralt wanted her more than anything.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against him. She moaned as she felt him rubbing against her, feeling more needy with every passing second.

“Have you ever been made love to before, (Y/N)?” Geralt asked her. The question alone, especially hearing it in Geralt’s husky voice, drove her wild.

“A few times,” she admitted. “I romanced a few of my guards, another way to rebel against my forth coming ruling of the kingdom.”

Geralt chuckled at her defiance. She kissed him again as she lowered herself down onto him. They both groaned together in pleasure. Geralt caught her lips again, biting at her bottom lip. (Y/N) giggled as she kissed him deeply and began to roll her hips against him.

(Y/N)’s head rolled back in pleasure, and Geralt took it as his opportunity to kiss her neck. She let out a gasp in pleasure as his lips found her sweet spot, and he continued to kiss and suck on the spot until he knew he was leaving marks. His marks, so that any man they passed while travelling knew that she was spoken for.

(Y/N) was in ecstasy. She felt so much pleasure that she almost cried out. She had been with men before, but they were never this good. Maybe because she only used them for passion and for her own version of rebellion. With Geralt it was more than that. They had built a connection in the passing months, one that went far beyond just travelling mates, or even beyond friends. There was something there between them, whether either of them (namely Geralt) wanted to admit it or not.

(Y/N)’s hands were tangled in Geralt’s hair. Her grip tightened suddenly and Geralt knew that meant she was close to her climax. He moved his lips close to her ear to tell her, “I want to feel you tighten around me, (Y/N). I want to feel you finish with me inside you.”

The words were enough to push her over the edge. (Y/N)’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she let out one last loud moan as she hit her climax. Feeling her walls tighten around him pushed Geralt over the edge as well and he grunted as he let go inside of her.

(Y/N) collapsed against Geralt, breathing heavily to catch her breath. She noticed how much of the water from the tub they had splashed onto the floor. She chuckled to herself.

“I hope we didn’t ruin the nice gentleman’s floor. I would hate to cause any trouble for him.”

Geralt lazily looked over at the floor and shrugged. “We’ll leave him a fine tip for his troubles.”

After regaining themselves, Geralt wrapped an arm around (Y/N) and stood from the tub, lifting her with him. He placed her on her bed and laid down next to her. She rolled onto her side to look at him.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” she asked him.

A small smile came across Geralt’s lips. “Since the night we met.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Me too. I thought it wouldn’t be very lady like of me to jump on you the night of our meeting.”

They laughed together. (Y/N)’s eyes began to grow heavy and soon she found herself starting to drift off to sleep. Geralt wrapped the blanket around the both of them and pulled her body close to his. She buried her head in his chest, taking in the warmth of his body against her cool, damp skin.

“How often can we do that?” she asked him. “If you would like to do it again, I mean.”

“As often as the lady desires.”

(Y/N) smiled to herself as she told Geralt, “Then you best get your rest, because when I awake again I’d like to do it again.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #the witcher #the witcher imagine #geralt x reader smut #henry cavill smut #imagine #smut #one shot #netflix

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