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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

Text

Snowed In p 4

AN: What are study breaks for, if not to post fic you forgot to post last week? I promise there’s more plot to this coming up. I just couldn’t resist this idea? Also I kinda needed this to bridge into what I wanna do with it so don’t come for me plz. I’m milking this for all the serotonin it’s worth.

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: fuckin yearning. whats new?

Summary: Geralt cannot handle sharing clothes or casual intimacy.

Part 3 here!

__________

Geralt was cold, sure, but you looked like you were absolutely frozen. He wanted to pick you up and carry you up the stairs, but he waited patiently while the two of you walked side by side, with your arms tightly wrapped around him, up to the door to your room. He'd grown bolder over the last week, just not that bold.

He mumbled something about drawing a bath to thaw you out when you’d made it in the room but you waved him off, "Bartender said the pipes are frozen. Don't bother."

Something in him was disappointed, something he'd have to think about later, for right now, you were quite unceremoniously stripping down to almost nothing.

He swallowed hard, turning to draw the curtains in the window, "Pity."

Pity? The fuck are you saying?

When he turned back you'd pulled on a dry pair of breeches and as of yet, no shirt.

You folded your arms over your chest and huffed in annoyance, “Fuck.”

“Lose something?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, “Uhm… no. I just gave all my shirts to the launder yesterday. Would you mind?”

Would he mind? Well yes. He would mind very much. He kept quiet though, just shrugging and waving a hand toward his bags next to yours. You mumbled a quick thanks and immediately snagged the shirt he’d slept in.

He’d never realized just how much smaller you were than him. Sure you were roughly the same height, but you were nearly swimming in the extra fabric, fumbling with the sleeves as you tried to roll them up. That same something from earlier started whispering thoughts in his ear that he’d done his best to ignore. Thoughts about breathless kisses and how your hands might feel tangled in his hair. Beyond that, he wondered if you’d be the kind of lover that mapped out his scars, or if you’d trace the high points of his cheeks with the softest touch.

It’s just a fucking shirt.

“Geralt? Aren’t you cold?” You asked, snapping him out of whatever this was.

“Hmm?”

You cracked a smile as you moved a chair closer to the fireplace, “You’ve got bits of snow still stuck in your hair. Aren’t you cold?”

He frowned, running his hands through his hair to find that you were correct, "Right. Snow."

You snickered and turned your focus to stoking the fire as he changed. The dry clothes seemed to remind his body what warmth really was as he settled on the floor in front of you, his back to the fire. He closed his eyes and did his best to think of anything other than you in his clothing. Your hands raking through his hair were making that increasingly difficult.

As if you heard his thoughts you offered an explanation, "If you let this mess dry you'll never get the knots out. Here," you patted your knee, "back to me."

He obeyed without hesitation, wondering if he'd jump off a cliff if you asked. When he was properly situated with his shoulders resting against your shins you untied his hair and handed him the strip of fabric.

You tapped his shoulder and pointed past him, "Hand me that comb, yeah?"

When you had all your equipment you began picking through his hair in sections, holding bits of ice between your palms until it melted.

Geralt wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. Should he lean back like you had? Should he grab that book just within reach and pretend your soft touches weren't driving him near tears? Should he just sit as he was and enjoy it?

Once again you answered for him, a little of your own uneasiness floating on your voice, "Relax Geralt. I won't pull your hair out I promise."

He smiled, huffing in amusement, letting his muscles slowly unclench. You shifted your feet just a bit so your shins supported his whole back and he sighed in content. If you heard him, you didn't let on, working away at the tangled mess of his hair and occasionally running your nails from his hairline all the way back. He bit his cheek, not wanting to growl and scare you.

That's really what brought him to reality. As you began braiding his hair into a loose plait all he could think about was how much you trusted him, how you never flinched at his touch and insisted he take better care of himself. Biting down a little harder, he remembered why he couldn't jeopardize this friendship. You were too vital to his well-being. If by some miracle you wanted him too, he knew himself well enough to know he'd drive you away. You'd say something kind, he'd balk, you'd be confused, and he'd let his anger with himself boil over on you. Then you'd be gone. He couldn't let that happen.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked, taking out the braid and starting over for whatever reason.

"How we've had a few quiet nights from the neighbors." He lied so easily he almost felt dirty.

You hummed, "I heard them bickering in the lobby yesterday. Nasty stuff too."

"Good. They're annoying."

You laughed as you patted his shoulder again, this time holding out your hand for the tie you'd given him earlier.

This was easy. This was comfortable. It didn't need to be more.

You stood, shoving the chair back to make room on the floor near the now rather lively fire, "Move over, I'm chilly."

He tried scooting closer to the wall but it was hopeless, the room was just too small. Instead he backed up against the bed and pulled his knees up so he was resting his elbows on them. You scooped up the book on the floor and settled in between his thighs, facing the flames.

Friends can hold each other for warmth... Right? Yes. No... Fuck it.

He shifted just a bit, wrapping an arm around your waist and ever so gently and cautiously pulling you to lean against his chest. Your pulse picked up and he immediately dropped his hand to the floor. There was a brief moment where he thought he might have crossed a line, but you leaned all the way back against him, resting your elbows on his thighs to hold the book open. He snaked his arms under yours and clasped his hands together over your navel, placing his chin on the crown of your head as he stared into the flames.

Maybe it could be different. Maybe I could be different… Don't be selfish.

Geralt could have stayed there for an eternity, breathing in your scent and holding you close, committing the moments to memory as best he could. The two of you stayed like this most of the day, only the flipping of pages and the dying fire to show that time was passing.

__________

Part 5 here!

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andsheloved · 3 years ago

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petal

pairing ~ geralt of rivia x f!reader

word count ~ 5.2k

summary ~ geralt was never a man of many words, so he does what he can to show how he feels for you.

warnings ~ fluff!! mild language, gross man tries some verbal harrasment, intimidation & unwanted touching, (geralt saves the day!), hurt/comfort, mention of reader wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury, mutual pining but they're idiots, minor angst, not good self talk, mention of feelings of worthlessness

a/n ~ uh oh friends i accidentally opened a doc and this happened, i am an absolute sap for pet names and goodness gracious writing a fic about a geralt giving a pet name escalated into this, so i hope you all enjoy!! mwauh!!

Petal.

A delicate, weak thing that floats away on the breeze at the mere mention of any danger.

Even when you had tried to prove yourself time and time again that you were certainly not either of those things

It was still what he called you.

"I don't need anything, especially not from you" He had huffed at you during your initial meeting

You tried not to be taken aback but his gruffness, you had been told of Witcher's harsh nature's your entire life, hearing the stories and songs of their exploits throughout your village since you were small, but still, you had never expected to meet one, nor had you expected for any of them to be quite so large.

When he finally stood to his full height, you had to actively make sure to keep your mouth closed in fear it might fall to the floor if you let it act on it's own accord.

Though he was much taller than you, you refused to be intimidated by him, still standing your ground before him, thankful your dress covered your legs, less anyone see your trembling knees.

The brunette beside you still persisted. "She's perfect, I promise, and we'll never have to see her again afterwards, hm?" He turned to you with a smile, and you shook your head earnestly, though you couldn't deny how some part of you longed to stay with the pair longer than for just this.

The white haired man took you in once again, his heated gaze traveling from your slightly worn shoes to your hair as if he were appraising you like a cow from market. He finally sighed, "Fine." He grumbled, almost slamming his mug down on the wooden bar.

"I think he likes you" The other man commented, gently placing his hand on your lower back as the both of you followed the Witcher out the front door.

It was surely an unconventional way of meeting, but there seemed to be nothing truly conventional about either of the pair, Jaskier and Geralt as you later learned. You would have expected such a harsh man would have taken up more, like-minded companions, but the more you witnessed Jaskier's sunny disposition combating with Geralt's brash nature, the more you felt that this pairing was one that was always meant to be.

Though your addition to the group was quite unexpected.

You were only supposed to be nothing more than midnight Striga bait, something to lure it out into the forest, only to be hopefully saved at the last second by Geralt's skill. That was all you were supposed to be, but as your heart raced that night, feelings of both fear and excitement pulsing through your veins, as shadows cast by the full moon danced around you, you knew you couldn't go back to your village. How could you? All your life, you had only ever known muddy streets and market barkers and clouds that never seemed to allow the sunshine to peak through. How could you ever return to any of that, when just these few moments in darkness gave you more adventure than in any of your years of living in the light of your town.

Jaskier seemed to notice that particular glint in your eye once the deed had been done.

"Wasn't she helpful?" He smirked, "Maybe we should keep bringing her along?"

Geralt only grunted in response as he looked upon the now deceased creature.

You tried your best to hide the smile that threatened to split your cheeks at the thought, you could only imagine what a week with them would be like if this was just one night.

"I mean..." Jaskier sauntered slowly over to him, "She did catch us this Stri-"

Geralt turned to him in an instant, a wordless, piercing snarl plastered on his face, and you felt a slight twinge of disappointment at his obvious disdain at the thought of you joining them.

"It would take us another three days to bring her back, it would just make things quicker if she stayed with us, and, no offense" He quickly turned to you, "I'd rather continue on, than have to travel three extra days back to that shit hole."

Geralt hummed, turning to you now, and in the pale light of the moon that shown through the trees, you swore you saw him appraising you once again just as he had when he first met you.

"We're taking you back as soon as this is over." He spat as he walked towards you, shouldering past you as he stomped through the woods.

Jaskier flashed a quick smile at you, "He'll come 'round, he always does."

One week turned to two, two turned to three, weeks turned to months, and you still continued to be brought along on adventures with the two, experiences that you never could have imagined partaking in, in even your wildest dreams, were now things that you experienced on a fairly regular basis.

You saw kingdoms, glittering castles, and kindhearted princesses. You witnessed the fiercest monsters and the most entrancing magic, the adventures you had always been warned to stay away from, you found yourself right in the middle of all of them.

Though as thrilling as your new life was, sometimes you would miss your somewhat-soft bed and the comfort of knowing you would always have some place warm to stay, but you made the most of what you had, savoring the creature comforts you came across as much as you could when you did gather enough coin for a night or two stay at a local inn.

It was on one of these particular nights when he had first called you that.

Petal.

Geralt had sent you in with a small satchel to pay for the rooms while he hitched Roach on one of the posts outside of the inn.

It was an infrequent occasion when you had enough to rent three separate rooms for yourselves, but monsters were not an infrequent occurrence around these parts, and the influx in beasts also meant a slight raise in pay.

"Three rooms, please" You spoke softly, stifling a yawn with your hand as you did. It had been a long journey, and both you and Jaskier knew no one but Geralt was allowed to even touch Roach, so walking long distances was something you had gotten used to, though getting accustomed to the walking didn't mean you had grown to be any less exhausted after the lengthy journeys.

"One room." The main replied sharply, snapping you from you exhaustion almost immediately. "I only see one of ya. One room."

"Sir-"

"One room." He looked you over, a sort of repugnant heat in his gaze that you didn't quite care for. "One room... For the pretty lady all alone at night... Not very proper of ya" He scoffed.

Your stomach turned at the man's words as he circled around the desk, only pausing when he stood directly beside you.

"My friends are right outside. They'll be here in a minute." You hastily replied, not bothering to make eye contact with the man.

You visibly recoiled when you felt his hot breath suddenly fan across your cheek. "Y'er friends aren't here now are they? One. Room."

You quickly jumped from the mans touch on your waist, and finally turning fully towards him, you saw how his smile was a nauseating mix of yellows and greens as he sneered at you, creeping closer to you as you now felt yourself being cornered in between the corner of the small desk and the wall opposite.

"Well, if y'er gonna be so impolite, no room then." The man towered over you, and although you tried to keep calm, you couldn't help the way your breath shook as you stared up at the man.

The sudden sound of the swinging front doors slamming against the walls made you jump, "Petal!" You heard Geralt call.

The man almost instantly stepped away from you, his gaze now pointing to the floor. You turned to Geralt, your eyes wide with confusion and shock.

"Was wondering if you had gotten our rooms" He added, calmly sauntering over to you and gently placing a firm hand on your lower back, pushing you quickly out of the corner and into his side.

Your mind was racing, both from the shock of the inn keeper's advances and Geralt's sudden entrance and even more sudden touches. It wasn't like he hadn't ever touched you before, it was only that this felt different. Other times, he had just aimlessly grabbed at you, quickly pulling you away and out of reach from whatever creature you found yourselves up against, those touches were rough and almost meaningless, he was only saving you because he had to. You knew you were nothing but another burden for him to worry about on those hunts.

This was different. This was soft, protective, and for a moment, you even thought it was something akin to caring.

You could hear the door shudder behind you again and you could tell it was Jaskier, a soft 'oh' coming from behind you as he watched the situation unfold.

"I was just tellin' her we got three rooms just for ya right next to each other, down that hall" The man rushed, pointing down the dimly lit hallway with shaky fingers, "Just straight to the left."

Geralt took the small bag from you, reaching into it and placing a handful of coins on the counter. "Thank you" He mumbled, an intimidating glare on his face before he led you off.

You noticed how few coins he had given the man as you passed the counter and knew it was nowhere near the actual cost for three rooms, yet the man still didn't dare to say a thing as you three walked off.

Probably a matter of self preservation more than anything.

You opened the door to your room, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as you felt the warmth of the small bedroom already begin to flood your shaken senses.

"Are you alright?"

Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected voice that came from behind you, turning quickly to see that Geralt still lingered in the doorway.

"Fine," You sputtered, "Just a little shaken, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

You had never seen him so concerned, his brows were furrowed as he looked at you, his lips drawn into a thin line of concern.

You smiled softly at him, "I'm fine, I promise, just need some rest." You threw your arms above your head as you yawned once again.

"That's... Good." The words seemed to almost pain Geralt to say, like he was confessing something to you he hadn't even confessed to himself yet.

"Thank you, though, for your help." You smiled, a foreign heat blooming in your chest as you uttered the words.

Geralt didn't respond at first, his head tilting to the floor, though you swore you watched the beginnings of a smile begin to turn the corners of his lips. He mumbled a quiet "Goodnight", as his eyes flickered to you form, quickly looking you up and down again before shutting the door behind him, leaving you no less astonished then you were before.

The morning came all too quickly, after a rather sleepless night, you felt yourself longing for another night's stay, and if it weren't for the previous night's events, you thought that maybe you would have been able to convince Geralt to stay one more night, but you knew neither him, nor you would want to stay another evening under the same roof with that man.

You weren't sure if you would have gotten much sleep regardless.

The word echoed through your fatigue-addled mind, even as you felt yourself slowly pulled to consciousness by the slivers of sunlight that peaked through the thin curtains in the bedroom.

Petal.

He could have just called you by your name, it wasn't like he didn't know it by now. But Geralt was strategic, he never did anything without a reason, so maybe it was just a tactic to get the man away from you? Imply that the two of you were a bit more familiar to scare the man off?

"How are you faring?" Jaskier asked, tearing you from your thoughts as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

"I'm fine" You replied, staring to feel like a broken record, "I am, Geralt seemed to come in just in time though" You chuckled lightly, both watching him as Geralt readied Roach

"He always has a way of knowing when you're in trouble" Jaskier mumbled

"What-" You were quickly cut off by the familiar whinny of Roach, the both of you instinctively aligning yourselves on the side of her as she made her way through the town.

Jaskier only let out a smug, self satisfied hum, continuing to look forward and leaving you to torture yourself with your own thoughts.

You couldn't tell how long it had been since you left the inn, it could have been days since and you probably wouldn't have noticed, your brain only occupied by the teasing phrase Jaskier had spoken to you.

"Are you alright?" You heard Geralt's coarse voice utter once again, you huffed in frustration, how many times must everyone ask you that?

"Yes." You answered sharply, though a strange, pained feeling washed over you at your tone towards him, you chose not to think too much on it now. You finally turned up to him, noticing how he had suddenly stopped, the abrupt pause had Jaskier also now looking to him, his head tilted in confusion.

If you had blinked, you would have missed it at the speed at which Geralt dismounted, but he now stood directly in front of you, his face only inches from your own, and your chest filled with that unfamiliar, warm feeling from before.

"You can ride... If you'd like..." He finally spoke, his eyes never meeting your own as he did.

You had to stifle the scoff that threatened to leave your lips, for a moment you wondered if some Doppler had snuck into his room at night and taken his place, but then you looked into his eyes, that same unintelligible bashfulness when he stood in your doorway had appeared in his eyes once again.

"That would be nice... Thank you" You would have been a fool to say no, this would surely be the only time he would ever offer for anyone to take his place on Roach. Not only that, but you felt yourself thinking of how his face would possibly fall if you denied him, and you almost winced at the thought.

With just as much suddenness as the night before, his large hands wrapped around your waist, "May I?" He asked, a surprisingly timid smile appearing on his face.

You nodded softly, your eyes growing wide when he lifted you onto the horse as if you weighed nothing. You swallowed thickly as you adjusted yourself on Roach, nodding again as Geralt began to pull on her reigns to continue the journey.

You looked around you, sighing as you admired the new view from atop the horse, but even as you admired your surroundings, you still heard the soft grumble that came from the man.

"Petal"

You were too stunned to say anything, you almost thought you had imagined it, but the annoyed groan from Jaskier beside you only confirmed what you now knew to be true, he had said it again.

There was a long journey ahead, but you noticed how you seemed to dread it a little bit less.

You weren't even supposed to be there.

Both you and Jaskier had initially stayed back at the small camp you had set up that morning, peacefully enjoying some tea you had managed to make after several failed attempts of starting a fire.

Geralt said it was to be simple, nothing he hadn't done before, but something about the deafening silence you both heard when the lake was so close, had something uneasy settle in your stomachs.

"Geralt?" Jaskier called, the both of you now sitting in anxious silence as you awaited for some sign of life.

Though nothing came.

Jasker called his name again, his cries once more met with the same blaring quietness.

It was as if your legs moved on their own accord as you carelessly threw your small cup down, starting in the direction of the lake, ignoring the concerned yells from Jaskier as you did.

You weren't the monster hunting type, that's not what they had brought you on for in the first place.

You were bait at most, and someone to make tea at the least.

You didn't kill monsters.

You felt a fearful shudder run through you at the idea that you may actually have to fight something, this was nothing anyone had ever prepared you for, but you supposed there was a first for everything.

The foul smell of the bubbling water filled your nose first before you even began to see the lake, though still, you heard nothing.

You continued to sprint as fast as your legs could take you, silently praying to hear some sound, any sound, as you got closer.

A yell, a grunt, a whisper even, you'd take anything.

But still, the silence persisted.

You couldn't quiet the shocked yell that ripped through your lungs at the sight when you finally reached the body of water.

The monster was dead, and somewhat guiltily, you felt your shoulders sag in relief as you observed how it's limbs had been haphazardly thrown in all directions, and the familiar sword nestled within the top of it's skull. But laying along the muddy bank was Geralt, both hands pressing firmly on his side, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched.

You called his name, rushing to his side, almost sliding across the ooze-covered ground as you knelt beside him.

As if he sensed your presence, he moaned, sluggishly turning his head to you.

"What happened?" You asked frantically, he only moaned again in response and you huffed, distraught and almost delirious as your eyes scanned him.

As you sat beside him and got a closer look at his form, you could tell he was bleeding, a dark, crimson liquid leaking between fingers he pressed so snugly against his side. You tried to calm yourself as your frenzied hands wandered his chest and torso, searching for any other injuries, you knew he had to be taken back to the camp, but you were also certain you wouldn't be able to drag him back there on your own, nor did you think that even with you and Jaskier's strength combined you would be able to do so, leaving you with only one other option.

"Geralt?" He groaned, his eyes now blinking open, "Geralt?" You grabbed both his shoulders, briskly shaking them before you called his name again. After a moment, his eyes finally fully opened, a soft smile appearing on his features as he slowly began to gain his full consciousness.

"Petal..." He hummed, his eyes almost fluttering closed again before you shook him a second time.

"Can you do something for me? Geralt?" Your voice was almost hysterical as you spoke, "Can you do me one favor?"

Geralt continued to smile gingerly as he nodded his head.

"Okay, could you get up for me? Could you stand?"

His face immediately dropped into a pout as he shook his head, a deep rumble of a chuckle escaping him as he did.

You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself. You didn't know as much as Geralt, but you knew enough to know that this was not good.

He was delirious.

You internally cursed yourself for not listening to him more in those quiet moments he would talk to Roach about the other monsters he had dealt with.

You had no idea what you were dealing with.

"Camp..." He finally mumbled, his voice was weak, not like his usually commanding tone.

"Yes, we have to get you-"

He almost knocked you over at the force at which he abruptly stood, his legs trembled as he took slow steps, and you shot up beside him, lifting his arm and placing it around your shoulders to balance him as much as you could.

"C'mon-" You strained as he leaned all of his weight on you for a moment, "Let's get you back"

The rest of the dawdling journey was spent in the company of ditzy hiccups and laughs, you would imagine what a handful he would be if he ever got drunk, but your mind was too preoccupied with the still-bleeding wound Geralt covered with his other hand on his side.

"Oh my Gods" Jaskier murmured the moment he saw you appear from beyond the brush, rushing to Geralt's other side to assist you.

"What happened?" He inquired, tone almost just as frantic as yours

"I don't know."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know." You hated how your voice shook as you spoke, if your voice was stronger, maybe you would have yelled at Jaskier for his insistent line of questioning, but your only focus was now on Geralt.

You both grunted as you layed him down on the thin cot in his tent, Jaskier turned to look through the bag that was placed in the corner, anxiously tossing bottles and small pouches to the side.

Geralt grumbled once again, turning again to his side to look at you. "Petal..." He groaned, and you found yourself nodding.

"I'm right here" You sighed, your eyes now brimming with tears. "We're going to take care of you, okay? Like you've always taken care of us. You're going to be okay, promise?"

His delusional smile faded for a moment, before he shook his head.

"No, no, don't do that, you are going to be okay... Jaskier!"

"I'm doing my best!" He scrambled, "It's usually Geralt doing this-"

Geralt's left hand suddenly fell from his side, fingers weakly pointing to a rounder, black bottle that had been tossed aside in Jaskier's initial panic.

Jaskier clumsily placed the bottle in his hand, your shoulders sagged in relief when Geralt swiftly removed the cork from the bottle, drinking its contents in a single swig. His breathing seemed to even in mere seconds as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Well," Jaskier sighed, "He's not dead."

You couldn't recall a time when you had seen him sleep for this long, in fact, you couldn't seem to recall a night where you had seen him sleep at all.

Even as you turned his body and adjusted his limbs so you could properly bandage and clean the deep slash on his side, his light snoring continued.

Jaskier had left the tent hours ago, adamantly saying how he needed to rest after such a stressful event, even though you could still here the soft strumming of a lute and quiet humming just outside the tent long after he had left the two of you.

The world was quiet once Jaskier had officially retired, Geralt's breathing and the muted crackling of a slowly dying fire being the only sounds that surrounded you as you worked.

Though Geralt was never the most talkative travel companion, it was still strange for him to be completely silent, not even a grunt or hushed 'hmm' to break the reticence.

"You worried us, you know? I know you hate that, people worrying over you, but you scared us" You whispered, trailing your fingers along the injury, now completely covered by beige cloths and hidden underneath his shirt. "You scared me, I thought I was going to have to kill a monster" You chuckled to yourself, "I wasn't sure how that was going to go, maybe you should show me... At some point... Maybe" Your voice was wistful as you spoke, wondering if he would ever take you up on that offer once he finally awoke, most likely not.

He had always made it a point to never put you in any real danger, even though sometimes you'd find yourself standing directly in front of jaws that would surely eat you alive in seconds, Geralt would always assure you that you were safe, that he would kill the beast before it ever got close enough to truly hurt you.

Every time you had asked him for any sort of training so you could defend yourself if anything went wrong, he'd only scoff at you "I don't need you hurting yourself, or worse." He would always say, "I'll handle it, Petal."

"Why do you call me that?" The words tumbled from you before you could even think about them, "I do have a name you know," You smiled "I've never understood why you call me that." Maybe you didn't mind it so much.

"Soft."

You froze, unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you in the silence, or if Geralt had actually spoke.

"It's because you're soft."

Yes, he was definitely speaking to you.

You chose to ignore him completely at fist, looking forward as if he wasn't laying directly below of you as you sat on the small log you had turned into a makeshift seat. He's just waking up from a dream, you thought, he's still recovering

You heard a deep chuckle before he spoke again, "You wanted to know, and now you're ignoring me."

"Geralt? You're awake?" You asked, finally facing him.

"Clearly."

"How are you feeling?" You stammered, your breaths becoming shallower as you wondered if he had heard all of what you had said.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"I'm glad" You sighed, "I'll leave you then." You added abruptly, your only thought being of leaving the situation as quickly as possible. Though just as you began to stand, a firm hand gripped your wrist.

"No, stay." He grumbled, his eyes blinking away the remainder of his fatigue. "Please."

You returned to your place and he slowly released you, his fingers softly lingering on your hand before it dropped to his side again. Geralt groaned as he attempted to sit up, almost wincing as he finally straightened himself.

"You should res-"

"I'm fine." He grumbled, "Thank you, for... This" Geralt gestured to his side as you nodded.

"No need to thank me," You did your best to hide the twinge of anxiety in your faintly trembling voice as you spoke, but you were certain you'd already been found out regardless. "It's the least I could do after all you've done-"

His rough hand had found yours again, the pad of his thumb tracing over your knuckles as he listened to you.

"For me..." You managed to continue, your eyes focusing on the abrupt, calming touches from the man in front of you.

You could almost swear there was the beginning of a soft smile on his lips as his eyes followed his fingers, lightly tracing the ridges of the top of your hand. "It's because you're soft, Petal" He finally stated, "I never meant anything by it."

"No it's nice-" You faltered, "I just never thought it was because you liked something about me" Your voice was thick with weariness and confession as you spoke. It wasn't that Geralt hadn't shown you any ounce of caring or friendliness during the time you had known him, it was only the fact that you never thought that a man so blunt and threatening would ever give you an epithet based off of something as gentle as the softness of your touch.

Your eyes finally flickered to his and you almost instantly wanted to return your gaze to your lap. His stare was too sharp, too intense, for you to even handle without having to look away for a moment.

You had to think that he was still feeling the effects of whatever venom or blood loss - induced haze that had gotten you into his tent in the first place.

He couldn't be looking at you like that.

Like he wanted to smother you alive.

Like he wanted to keep you all to himself in this small space forever.

Like he wanted to love you.

A contemplative 'hmm' was all you received in response at first, though still tracing over your hand, he continued "And why do you think that?" He questioned.

"You never wanted me to join you in the first place."

His movements stilled, you found yourself even shocked by your own words. You had never spoke to him so plainly about your feelings, perhaps it was something about being so close to him that made it so difficult to hide.

"That's true." He acknowledged, and you felt a dull, thrumming ache of discontent bloom in your chest at his admission.

"I was only ever bait for you to use to get you monsters" You added, feeling an unexpected rush of tears flood your eyelids.

There was a brief pause before he responded again, "That's true."

"And when I ask for you to train me, to show me something that could be more useful than just standing and waiting for something to kill me, you refuse." You felt helpless as you spoke, feeling like you were finally admitting things to yourself you had pushed to the very corner of your mind for so long. You felt disposable, and it hurt to watch as he mindlessly agreed to all of your concerns. "I want to be something more..."

You meant to say something else, something quick and biting so he understood that you weren't to be taken advantage of anymore, but you weren't sure that even if you opened your mouth a single sound would even escape. You felt your cheeks begin to dampen as your teeth pulled at your quivering bottom lip.

Through the heart beat thundering in your ears, you heard Geralt murmur your name, nevertheless, you refused to look at him, your gaze still fixed on the soil under your feet as you tried to stifle your own whimpers.

Your breath hitched in your lungs when two fingers grabbed your chin, tilting your head upwards. You hadn't noticed how he had shifted, now kneeling in front of you, his face level with your own.

He stated your name again, this time with more certainty as he stared back at you, his brow lightly furrowed as his hand shifted to cup your face, his thumb whipping the tear that rolled down your cheek. "But so much has changed since I've begun to know you..." He whispered, "You are more to me."

You didn't have a moment to respond before his lips crashed into yours, his other hand creeping up to your neck as he pulled you closer. His kiss was bruising, though it still remained a gentle mess of passion and tears as he cradled you between his palms, holding you with a tenderness as if he held the entire planet within his hands. He groaned into you when your hands found purchase on the collar of his black tunic, your senses completely surrounded with nothing but him as he slanted his lips across yours.

"You are more to me than that" He spoke breathlessly, his lips still continuing to chase your own between words, "I care for you, and I know that I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you."

"Geralt-"

"Please, I can't lose you because of this. You mean too much to me." His breathing was shallow as he pulled away from you, hands still cupping your cheeks as he did.

You could only nod at first before finally gathering yourself enough to speak, "I care for you, Geralt..." Your smile was weak and tearful as you replied. "Too much to leave now."

"Stay?" He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as you nodded softly once again.

Geralt let out a pained moan as he adjusted himself on the cot, slowly lowering himself on the linen and shifting himself just enough to allow you room to lay beside him.

You smiled as you pressed against him, the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around your waist already beginning to push you into sleep.

Before the exhaustion of the day could finally pull you under, you felt the delicate press of Geralt's lips against your forehead, the quiet rumble of his voice finally lulling you to sleep.

"Soft."

oh my goodness gracious, my heart, i am actually kind of super excited about how this turned out surprisingly!! i do love some hurt/comfort, and i've been feeling slightly e h about myself, so i hope this does bring some comfort to anyone feeling that way!! or just some comfort to you all in general!! i hope you are all doing so well!! mwauh!!

want more geralt? check out my masterlist!!

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greatfandom · 2 years ago

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More fandoms?

Hey guys, are there any more fandom’s you all might be interested in me making a Masterlist for?

So far these are all of I have but I am open to expanding...

ya know as I said above lol

The walking dead -

Mostly Daryl Dixon, but I am willing to start Masterlist for other characters if that's something you guys want.

The Witcher -

I probably won’t be doing a Masterlist as of now, when I learned Henry Cavill won’t be returning for season 4 I Kinda took it as shock and I'm still wrapping my head around it.

The Vampire Diaries -

I have only relogged Klaus at the moment but I am willing to do more characters, just a warning I’m not a big fan of the actor that plays Kol, just google his scandals.

If yall want any more fandoms either comment below/ though I won’t be able to reply, or there's the inbox or you can submit a post

Love you guys!

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cardierreh15 · 1 year ago

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… I want them to smash… should they smash y’all? 👀🫢

Knight in Shining Leather

Warning 18+: Violence , Cursing , Attempted SA , Blood , Gore .

Pairing: Geralt Of Rivia(modern) x Nessa (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: Geralt being a knight in shining armor.

Word Count:

One shot

It was a beautiful autumn night. The night’s air smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin. With it being just cool enough for her to wear a cardigan over her shoulders. Pretty soon, she would get too warm to even rock it.

It was roughly 9:45pm and she had come from a night out with the girls. Her best friend insisted that she drive her home since she stayed so close by. But Nessa was too hardheaded to let her do that. Besides, the walk wasn’t even 20 minutes away.

But a lot can happen in 20 minutes can it?

Her thick heeled boots clicked loudly on the asphalt, echoing throughout the street and bouncing off of the other buildings. She lived in a small town, so it was no surprise that almost everyone was in the house by now.

Nessa had her hands tucked in her pockets, at this point walking absentmindedly. She didn’t even realize there were two men walking about a few yards behind her. She didn’t think much of it, perhaps they were trying to make it to their destination too.

But their footsteps grew a little impatient.

This caused her to take further strides; holding her purse tightly in her arm as she tried to sneak her hand into it to retrieve her pepper spray.

‘Get her!’ One of the males exclaimed.

A panicked gasp escaped her lips as she did her best to take off but they were close enough to snatch her up by her cardigan. ‘HELP!’ She exclaimed before a man placed his large hand over her mouth and held a butterfly blade against her face. ‘Shhhh, shhh. Now, just be a good girl.’ He whispered against her ear.

She then bit down into his fingers and stepped on his foot. The criminal yelped out in agonizing pain.

‘Fuck you!’ She exclaimed before she was instantly grabbed by another male.

‘Get the bitch into the alley!’

‘No! No! Stop!’ Nessa begged and pleaded as she tried her best to fight back. But they weren’t having it.

They slammed her against the wall and she whimpered out in pain. ‘Urgh!’ She fell to her hands and knees. ‘Please— take whatever I have… it’s all material— I don’t want it! Please.’ She insisted, sobbing as she held her chest.

The bald headed guy began to dump out all of the contents in her purse and searched through it. ‘Awww, the bitch ain’t got nothin’. Lipstick, tampons, some other make up, — a wallet…’ he then looked at her name and then started going through her wallet where he snatched out $500. ‘I found a jackpot…’ then he walked over to the the ginger haired gentleman who towered above her.

‘How much ya find?’

‘$500. And It’s a Chanel wallet, taking that too.’ The male chuckled.

Nessa was on her knees before them as if she were praying to her God. Her hands shook as if her bones were chilling in the Arctic.

‘Nice,’ the ginger chuckled as the bald guy passed him some cash. ‘Now, the question is… what do we do with you?’

‘Hmmm. She’s pretty cute. She’s thicker than the rest of em. And you know I looove when they fight.’ He said as he shoved the wallet and the cash in his back pocket.

She instantly knew what baldy meant, and it caused her to panic a bit more. Until suddenly, the ginger just happened to step out of the way, and the bright LED street light caused a thick shard of glass to glisten in her eye.

Carefully leaning down as the two men bickered about who were going to have their turn with her first, she then grabbed the glass in her hand and waited.

The ginger sighed and rolled his eyes, ‘whatever. Fuck it. I’ll hold her still.’ He then squat down before her, ‘Alright sweet heart, you’re gonna—‘

Nessa instantly swiped the glass upward, aiming to stab him beneath his chin but instead, slicing his cheek.

‘AUGH!’ He practically jumped back; feeling the stinging pain at his cheek. Ginger grabbed the gasp and looked at the bright red blood in his palm. ‘You fucking bitch!’

His partner instantly brought her up to her feet, disarmed her and slapped her across her face so hard, he split the inside of her cheek.

She fell to the ground, her mind spinning as if she had swallowed a whole bottle of tequila. She could only hear the sound of their voices. They were so loud in her ears.

‘Kill that bitch! Kill her!’

She didn’t even know who was saying, all she knew was that she was pretty sure she was going to die in this filthy ass alley. And it would probably take her loved ones days to find her knowing these fools.

The ginger some how had the strength to pull her up to her feet. ‘You fucking— BITCH!’ And he kneed her in the stomach before she fell back down to the ground again. He kicked her, several times in the ribs.

Nessa whimpered out, choking on the air that was fighting so hard to come into her lungs. She lifted her hand up, in a “I surrender” kind of way, ‘please. Stop.’ She was too weak to scream for hell at this point.

‘Stop? Haha… oh wait til we’re done with you… get her up.’ Ginger said to Baldy.

Suddenly, everything felt like it was moving much slower than she was. Between the two antagonists, was a pair of bright golden eyes that reflected in the shadows. She thought she was hallucinating so she just laid there, accepting her fate that was to come.

When Baldy lifted her up to her feet, her head rest back against the brick wall. ‘Come on… make it quick.’ She breathed out tiredly.

Ginger chuckled and then Baldy chimed in. ‘Suit yourself.’

Suddenly, a bright flash whipped through the air like something out of a supernatural movie.

Nessa felt Baldy’s grip on her grow weaker and she noticed a thin line across his neck. A dribble of blood came leaking from his lips and his nose. She then noticed the sunken glare in his eyes.

His neck became a waterfall of his blood and a millisecond later, his head fell to wet the concrete and his body followed.

Nessa felt her stomach turn at the sight. She stumbled backwards in fear; immediately covering her lips to hold back the throw up that tried to fight its way out.

Ginger let out a scream as he saw his buddy’s head roll at his feet.

She felt too damn sick and scared to move really. Also, she couldn’t get over — how could someone be that talented with a blade that:

A.) No blood had spilled on her.

And

B.) None of them were able to see or hear him coming.

Ginger instantly pulled his gun out and walked over towards Nessa. ‘Whose there!? Come out!’ He snatched her up and pointed the gun at her head. ‘Come out! Or I swear to God, I will blow this bitch’s brains out!’

‘Please—‘ she started as she held her hands up.

‘SHUT UP!’ Ginger yelled as he looked all around. ‘Alright,’ he then clicked off the safety, ‘I’ll give you to the count of 3… come out— with your hands up… and I won’t kill her…’

‘Why would you think they’d come out for me?! I-I don’t even know what’s going on!’ She said out as she wiped her bloodied nose.

‘Shut. The fuck. Up. I swear you’re making this so much easier!’ He said as he continued to look around, ‘ONE! …. TWO!….’ He pressed the barrel against the back of her skull.

On three, a white haired male stepped from out of the shadows; those damn golden eyes making an appearance before he did. He wore black leather, and held a huge sword in his right hand. He had a scowl on his face that could kill instantly.

Ginger’s mouth fell slightly as he watched the tall, unearthly being approach the both of them. He stepped back, ‘Y—you… it can’t be. B-BACK UP!’

He just kept walking towards them. The sound of metal clinked with each step.

Ginger had finally hit the wall and Nessa looked back at the both of them.

‘Y—you’re dead! Y-you’re suppose to be dead!’

‘Says who?’ The white haired male asked, ‘You?’ His head fell to the side. Then he looked behind him, noticing the women who still stood there. He then looked back towards Ginger, ‘Go ahead… shoot her.’

Nessa’s eyebrows tugged into one in confusion. She wanted to impose on this reunion but she was hurting too bad to talk.

Ginger’s bottom lip trembled as much as his wrist did when he held that gun.

‘Go ahead…’

Ginger swallowed his spit, glancing over at the beautiful woman. He just didn’t have the guts.

The white haired male let out a sigh, ‘I knew it,’ and stabbed Ginger in his abdomen with the shiny sword.

Ginger began to choke. Wheezing as if he’d punctured his lung.

Nessa let out a harsh gasp and covered her lips in shock.

‘You’re… a coward.’ He twisted the blade to open the gaping wound more, ‘You pray on the weak… women and children… you and your friend don’t deserve to breathe for another second.’

He then snatched out the sword from Ginger’s abdomen and the male fell forward.

Nessa just stood in her spot, watching the man who just tried to kill her moments before, choke on his own blood and eventually took his last breath as the rest of him seeped into the cracks and crannies of the destroyed asphalt.

She was too frightened to scream, to run but also… her body was riddled with pain. Anything extreme would’ve probably caused her to pass out. So instead she asked, ‘A-are you gonna kill me next?’

The being then pulled out a dark cloth and wiped his shiny sword off in one swipe, ‘If I wanted … you’d be dead already.’

Well that was quite evident. She took in a deep breath as she just watched him sheath his sword and bend down to go in Ginger’s pocket.

She peaked over, ‘… he-he said you were suppose to be dead… are you like someone important?’

He didn’t say anything, instead he retrieved her money from the corpse and then ventured to the next.

‘Could I at least— know your name?’ She asked as she began to pick up her purse and the rest of her belongings. ‘You did save me after all, I would like to know who you are… In case I don’t ever see you again.’

He smirked as he grabbed her wallet out of the headless corpse and looked at her ID. She had a glorious smile. A smile that could turn any rainy day into sunshine.

Vanessa Hodge, December 18th, 1997, Address…

He took a mental note of her address before slowly rising to his feet and walked over to her.

She looked from his hands to his chest, that donned a silver necklace with a wolf engraved in it. She wondered what that meant.

‘Here,’ His voice brought her out of her thinking trance, ‘Your things.’ He looked down at her as she rose to her feet and threw her purse over her shoulder.

‘Thank you.’ She said softly before wincing at the pain in her cheek.

He lifted her chin to examine her.

Nessa hissed at the sudden, searing pain.

‘They most certainly did a number on you…’ he said as he looked at her split eyebrow. ‘Come. Let’s get you fixed up.’

‘Alright… only— if you do me a tiny favor?’

‘Hmm.’ A mere stranger, asking him for favors? He wasn’t the type to be handing those out. Especially without pay.

Yeah, she had no idea who he was.

‘You tell me your name…’

Was that it? She wanted to know his name? She almost got taken advantage of, got her shit pushed in and almost got her brains blown out but — she wanted to know his name?

‘I-I think it’s fair… I’d like to know who my knight in … shiny leather is.’

It grew quiet once more before he rested his hand on the handle of his sword and lifted his head with a gentle smirk.

‘I mean I think it’s also fair because you’re still a complete stranger and—‘

‘For someone who is in a lot of pain, you sure do talk a lot.’ He said as he shifted his weight and folded his massive arms across his chest.

Nessa felt the heat rise to her neck, her cheeks and then her ears. She looked off to the side, trying to avoid eye contact for a moment.

God you’re gonna blow this.

‘My name is Geralt. Now, if that is all you request, we should leave now.’

She let out a gentle puff of air and quickly walked towards him, ‘Lead the way.’ She shrugged.

Geralt swiftly turned around and they headed in the direction Nessa was heading.

‘So, you’re gonna tell me what you do and why you walk around with those things?’ She asked; swiping her dainty manicured finger at his silver handle.

‘No.’ He mused

‘And— Please don’t touch the swords.’ He said, hearing the cling that she left behind with her touch.

‘Oh— sorry.’

#geralt of rivia x black!female oc #geralt of rivia x black!plus size female oc #geralt of rivia x black!female reader #geralt of rivia x black!reader #geralt of rivia c black!female #modern!geralt #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fanficton #henry cavill fan fic #henry cavill fanfic #time zone reblog #reblog reblog reblog

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mel-the-fangirl · 4 years ago

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The Escort

Walter Marshall x Reader

Words: 2,064

Warnings: none

Happy super late Valentine’s, Cavillry! As usual, this is a very very late upload but in my defense, it does say in my bio that I am a procrastinator soooo... Anyway, I’m really excited about this miniseries because I love the movie (The Wedding Date, 2005) and I really wanted to write Walter, I hope I do him justice!

Feedback (good and bad!) means the world to me as rookie writer, so I hope you’ll like, reblog and leave me some replies!

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

You could not believe you were doing this. You just couldn't. But there you were doing it, even though your mind screeched at you to stop and save a little dignity for yourself.

The fact that you even considered doing this was already a serious loss of dignity points, so what the hell. People did this all the time, didn’t they? There wouldn’t be a whole network of people clumped into this app if it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

It just wasn’t a normal occurrence for you.

Once you filled your head with rationalisations to make yourself feel better, you took a deep breath and began browsing through what the great city of New York had to offer.

Z, 6’, loving hands, fit, athletic, good manners, for water sports, caramel complexion.

For water sports? What in the hell did that mean? And that single initial in place of an actual name? Serial killer vibes. No, thank you.

Lenny, 6’2”, pretty fit Italian, excellent dinner companion, all occasions catered.

Alright. Okay. Now we’re talking. Tall, European, excellent dinner companion equals to good conversationalist, accommodating. Lenny goes on the list of possibilities.

Terry, 6’, my soft voice will arouse you, my strong hands will pleasure you, let me show you how a woman should be treated, hourly/overnight rates.

Oh no no no. Major creep vibes from Terry. That ad alone had you reaching for another long swig of wine.

Joey, 5’8”, are you into champagne?, bodybuilder, will treat you like a queen.

“If you like piña coladas…” you sang in not even remotely the right key, topping off your drink

Josh, 5’9”, I can make you feel sexy and wanted. Fit, sensual, strong.

“Well!” you exclaimed drunkenly, almost spilling wine on your couch, “Tough beans, Josh! I don’t need a man to make me feel sexy and wanted!” you faltered a bit, your drunk mind still seeing the holes in your logic

“I just… Need a man to help me not look like a tragic spinster in front of my family and my ex...”

With that thought fresh in your mind, you reached for some more wine.

The ads went on and on as you scrolled through your phone, it was all a little overwhelming, how were you going to make sure you weren't hiring some psychopathic serial killing pervert to pose as your date to your sister's wedding?

The groan you let out bounced off the walls of your apartment. The reality of your situation was sinking in little by little.

Yes. You were hiring a male escort for your sister's wedding. It was your baby sister's wedding, by the way. You were a hundred percent aware that what you were doing was completely and utterly pathetic but you’ve already weighed the pros and cons in your head countless times.

Showing up alone: pitying looks, whispering behind your back, having to face ex by yourself, staggering levels of embarrassment.

Showing up with handsome -hired- date: mother can finally get off your back, date is more handsome than ex, ex will want to shrivel up and die, no one will know date is male escort except you and him.

Now, let’s break down some of the guests just for the sake of being thorough.

There’s your slightly overbearing mother (slightly meaning every call you have with her opens with the question: “how's your love life, dear?” or “I have the most amazing man to set you up with!”), all of her judgy eagle-eyed friends (mostly rich widows whose sons your mom shamelessly shoves your way), your extended family (some terrifyingly old school great aunts and uncles who will definitely ask if you’re married and smile sympathetically when you say you’re not), and last but certainly not the least, Jeffrey, your ex-fiancé (best man, but apparently not the best man for you, his words not yours).

"Lordy fuck." you exhaled hard, chugging your wine straight from the bottle

How on earth did you get here? Sitting alone in your apartment, working your way through your second bottle of wine (or third? Who was keeping count?), clicking on ads that spoke of "hot single males in your area" waiting to meet you.

Would it be fair to pin it all on the end of your engagement?

Picturing that moment, you decided that it was only fair. Those were five years of your life you would never get back, you were prepared to sign on for more but, yeah.

You were blindsided, that's the only way to describe it. All the while, you thought that you and Jeffrey were on the same page, at the same place in life. You were the golden couple, the couple that all the other couples wished they could be, when you two walked past, girlfriends would give their boyfriends a slap on the shoulder that meant, "Why can't we be more like them?"

It was so out of nowhere, one minute you were discussing wedding cake options over dinner, then suddenly you're putting the ring in his palm, completely in shock.

After that, you threw yourself into your work despite the fact that you were already a budding workaholic to begin with. That's how you ended up earning six figures a year.

Six figure salary, check. Doing pretty well in life all things considered, check.

But even with all that, there weren't any conversations over casseroles and cobblers about your many achievements. Nope, your mother and her friends would much rather discuss their worries that you would essentially, die alone.

Your little sister, Amy, getting married before you didn't exactly help to put a lid on all the chatter. And with Jeffrey being the best man? And you being maid of honour?

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make up an excuse believable enough to get you off the hook so you wouldn’t have to go?

Were you really thinking about bailing on your little sister’s wedding? If she wasn’t taking cues from your mother, it would be the only one she ever had.

Not one of your finest moments as a sibling.

With the complications of your situation fully realised, you took to reading the ads with a little more effort. Luckily, you didn’t have to look for long.

Nick, 6’, male, tall, good looking, strong build. You will not be disappointed.

The ad was considerably less flashy than the others but you supposed that’s what drew you to it in the first place. It was understated, simple, and his ad wasn’t entirely made up of overcompensating flexing pics.

Mostly because he didn’t need them.

Call off the search, send the boys home. You had a winner here!

Staring up at you from your phone screen was the most handsome man you have ever seen in your life. Literally.

A mane of thick, artfully disheveled curly hair, eyes that were a light shade of blue that had a sort of dark intensity and intelligence that you could spend days trying to understand, and a smile. Oh, that smile was absolutely suckerpunching. It was odd though, something in your head was telling you that this man did not smile often.

You couldn’t tell if the warmth blooming in your chest and creeping towards your cheeks was from all the wine or from examining this prime specimen. Jeez Louise!

“Phew!” you fanned yourself upon stumbling on a photo of him crossing his arms in a tank top. Good God, you hoped he had a license for those guns!

You had to set your phone down for a minute to think things through although it seemed absolutely nuts that you had to think twice at all. It’s just that after the initial excitement and hormones wore off, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was too good to be true.

Just look at him! Were there actually men that looked like that? And why didn’t they live closer to you? A quick sweep of his profile placed him in Minneapolis.

What were the crime rates like there? And did they have a high rate of murders relating to escort services?

Before you could even google anything related to that, you stopped yourself. If you kept at this rate, you would never get anything done! Finally, after a methodical deliberation (aka ogling the pictures on his ad), you saved Nick’s contact number to your phone.

Aaand that’s as far as you’d go for the night. You could call him tomorrow when you weren’t a floundering drunk. It was like your mother always said, “Always be sober for a business transaction, but anything else calls for a cocktail.”

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

The following morning, you sat at your little breakfast nook, eggs still piping hot and untouched, and a hangover in full effect. You’ve been staring at the phone number for so long, you could say it in your sleep.

Come on, Y/N, the wedding is five freaking days away.

What if this guy was fully booked? You didn’t want to spend five days surrounded by family with Mr. my-soft-voice-will-arouse-you, did you?

You slammed your finger down on the call icon and stuck the phone to your ear. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring and your palms became so slick with sweat that you almost dropped your phone a couple of times.

Maybe you should have taken your mother up on the multiple occasions that she wanted to set you up with someone. Alright, on second thought, you didn’t really want to be with someone who only looked good on paper but was actually an insufferable mama’s boy.

“Hello?” a male voice answered, catching you off-guard

Oh, God. Okay, you’re really doing this.

“Yes, hi! Hi. Uh, I’m looking for Nick!” you chirped, in a startled high pitched squeak you didn’t dare recognise as your own

The silence on the other end was starting to make you sweat behind the knees. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t mention any specifics.

“Uh, sorry! I got this number from the, uh, the ad. I’m looking for Nick?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right, but Nick isn’t in right now. This is his manager.”

Was that a good sign? That a male escort had a manager? Did all male escorts have managers? You clearly didn’t know enough about this stuff.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister..?”

There was another beat of silence before the person on the other line answered, you tried your hardest not to overthink about what that could have meant.

“Foley! I’m Foley, Nick’s manager.” Mr. Foley’s voice returned to your ear, sounding much too bright for your liking.

Christ, what were you, a cop? To be honest, you were exhausted. Despite all the alcohol in your system last night, you barely got any sleep. You spent the rest of the night reading through some reviews of Nick’s service as an escort.

He had a glittering five star rating.

One woman hired him to pose as her husband at a high school reunion and by the end of the night, she ended up proposing to him. He respectfully declined and even bought her dinner afterwards.

That review alone was enough to convince you that you would be in good hands. So, it was time to buckle down, swallow the nerves, and handle your business like the adult you were.

“Mr. Foley,” you shook your hair out and put on your professional voice. “I’d like to book your client for five days, give or take. I need a plus one for a wedding. Is he available to leave on the-”

“Please hold. I’ll check his schedule.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mention when I-”

“He’s available. Would you prefer to pick him up at JFK or will he meet you at your place of residence?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess I could pick him up. Do I pay for his ticket or..?” you were feeling a teensy bit of whiplash at how fast this was all going

There was some rustling on the other line and the muffled sounds of bickering. You tried not to let that concern you.

“We’ll handle that, Ms. Y/L/N. We have your number, we’ll be in touch for further details. Good bye.”

The line went dead and you were left staring at your phone in confusion. Did you tell him your name?

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #nomis #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the man from uncle #napoleon solo #cavillry #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

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rexcorvinus · 3 years ago

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Be prepared Authors of The Witcher Fan Fiction and other Fandoms! On 10th of May I can finally create a Ao3-Account. My Plan is to overflow your work with kind comments and lots of Kudos (I DONT even know what Kudos are, but they seem good) again, be prepared!

- yes this is an official invitation for sending me your works so I have finally a purpose in life again

#ao3 writer #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic #ao3 works #kindness #reader #fan fic memes #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier x geralt #jaskier the bard #jaskier

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watch-that-writer-burnnn · 3 years ago

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Hey there!

I've decided to start creating fics to improve my writing, and because I'm more motivated to write fics than original stories (like I don't already have enough to do, thanks brain). I'm probably going to write a few Witcher fics to get me started, since that's my current fixation.

I'm new to this, so feel free to give any tips/advice, or correct any mistakes I might make in the warnings, tags, etc. On the other hand, please be nice! Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated - it's how I'll know if I'm doing something right.

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Snowed In pt 2

I’m SHOCKED by how well Snowed In went over with y’all... like WOW

Thank you!

Listen I was gonna go somewhere else with this (still might if anyone is interested) but I couldn’t resist getting all up in Geralt’s head.

part one right here

Warnings: None fam. idk what to even call this? does it qualify as fluff?

__________

By the time Geralt had come back from the barn you were asleep in the middle of the bed. He’d spent a little extra time talking to Roach and making sure Beau’s tail wasn’t one long dread lock but he was still surprised you had gone to sleep so quickly.

He found himself smiling in relief when he noticed your eyes darting about beneath your eyelids, a deep sleep he hadn’t seen from you in weeks. Instead of going to bed and risking waking you, he sat cross-legged in front of the fire and took a deep breath.

He could almost hear his instructor’s voice in his head even all these years later, “Sit comfortably” Impossible. “Slow your breathing” I might as well hold my breath “Let your thoughts pass without question. Even the odd ones. You can’t cease thinking, but you can tune out the nonsense.” My usual nonsense is somewhere on the other side of the pass chattering away to someone else.

Despite his newfound lack of distractions, he couldn’t quite clear his mind. He kept thinking about how you fit so comfortably against his chest as he held you; how you’d asked him to stay with you and how you leaned into his touch. Your trust in him was what confused him the most. You’d drawn every horrible detail of his wrongdoings out of him, every last shameful word, some he hadn't even told Jaskier, yet you still let his hands near your neck.

He took another deep breath, focusing on the pace instead of his thoughts. In, two, three, four, five, six. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…

Then there was the way your face had melted in concern at his words as he left. Your innocence and empathy never failed to surprise him, even after months of traveling and hunting. You had no reason, no right to treat him with the softness you did, even if it was thinly veiled in hostility. He had tried to push you away, but you had wormed your way under his armor and made a home there.

Stop it. Breathe.

But you wouldn’t let him be, or he wouldn’t let you be. He couldn’t tell anymore. You, the gritty, brave, and ever so vulnerable human ruled his thoughts and it terrified him.

For fuck’s sake. Let it go already.

The frustrated air he forced from his nostrils blew bits of ash and coal back into the fire, causing sparks to fly and the logs to shift.

“Geralt?” your voice was soft, lowered with sleep.

He turned to see if you were really speaking or if he’d just imagined it, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and squinted to see in the low light, "What are you doing on the floor?”

“Meditating,” he grumbled, “...or trying to.”

You let loose a puff of air in amusement, “Well how about you stop being pretentious and try sleeping?”

He sighed, pretending, as he always did, to take slight offence rather than let on he heard the tenderness there.

He didn’t notice the troubled look in your eyes as you watched him ready for bed, “You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

He laid down next to you, choosing not to tell you that he was always making an effort to be more careful with you, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You nodded, shifting onto your back in your usual spot pressed against the wall and tugging at the laces of the nightshirt you’d chosen. The two of you laid in silence for a while, the pace of your heartbeat being the only sign you hadn't slipped back into unconsciousness.

He shifted to lay on his side facing you, tucking his arm up under his pillow. You spared him a glance before going back to staring at the ceiling, leaving him to wonder what was on your mind. He thought maybe your worry had crept back in your sleep, taking hold when he wasn't here to talk you back from the ledge of panic. Not that it would have helped anyway, he clearly was no wordsmith. Maybe you'd simply realized how odd it was that you slept soundly next to a man literally designed to kill as efficiently as possible.

He hoped that wasn't it as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing yet again in vain. He smelled nothing but the soap and oils in your hair that lay damp beside your head on the pillow. The combination of scents was comforting to him, as much as he wished it wasn't, and he found his thoughts revisiting the soft sighs that escaped your lips at his touch. Never in his life had he been so mystified. His mind reeled just thinking about it, someone he trusted and cared for enjoyed his touch. Not tolerated, not lusted after, not flinched at, but naively enjoyed.

You shifted to face him, the dip in the mattress pulling you closer to him, "Geralt?"

"Hmm?"

He heard you take in a breath, let it out again, take in another, preparing to say something, then fall silent. He opened his eyes, analyzing the curve of your brow and the way your lips pursed as if you were holding a question between your teeth. You were never hesitant like this, he was sure you'd chew out the gods if they gave you opportunity, but your face was unreadable.

"What is it?" He whispered.

You reached across the bed to trace a scar on the back of his hand pressed into the blankets. A scar you had given him when you first met, he liked to think it made him yours when he had the courage to daydream. The sensation was always odd, the dull hint of touch over the scarred tissue and the overreaction of the nerves next to it sent alarm bells off in the back of his mind.

You kept your eyes on the vague forms of your hands, "You said you owed me more… what could you possibly owe me?"

"Y/N," your eyes snapped up to meet his, making it all the more difficult for him to think through his answer, "I… I don't know that I could put it into words."

The words felt hollow as they left his lips, the victory of keeping his emotions safe tainted by the look of disappointment and resignation in your eyes.

You nodded, patting the back of his hand, "You owe me nothing. Call it even, let's say?"

This was worse than what he'd imagined, the mental floundering and looking for a way to fix what he'd done was foreign and confusing. You'd let him off the hook, as you always did, and accepted that his answer would have to be enough. The difference this time was that he didn't want to be let off the hook.

"But I do." He argued, trapping your hand under his as you moved to pull it away, words barely escaping his lips, "I owe you, at the very least, a worthy answer." He turned your hand over, skimming his thumb over your palm as he whispered, "You hold my life in your hands and instead of doing what you should… tossing me by the wayside, you treat me with gentleness and… acceptance that I don't deserve. I at least owe you the same in return."

Had he the courage to look you in the eyes he would have had time to be shocked and confused by the anger reflected in them, "Don't you dare tell me how I should or shouldn't treat you ever again. I get to decide that, not anyone else, least of all you."

The change in tone nearly gave him whiplash, but all he could do was stare at you with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"You say I'm not used to people accommodating my emotions, but you don't give anyone the chance to get close enough to know what you're feeling." You continued, voice softening on seeing him balk, "I decide you owe me nothing. Feel guilty about it if that makes it easier, but don't mistake my affections for pity." You tugged your hand free of his and gently laid it over his jaw as you spoke.

He barely registered your pulse quickening, his whole body nearly going numb with shock at your words.

You rubbed your thumb over his temple and smiled, "Let's go to sleep, yeah?"

He nodded, laying his hand over yours with a smirk, "Yes ma'am…"

You snorted and kicked at his shin under the blankets, "Ew don't call me ma'am."

Almost without thinking he trapped your knee under his own, paying close attention to your response. When you blushed and bit your lip he thought you might just be the death of him. You gently pulled your hand back, sending a pang of doubt down his spine before you tugged at his wrist and laced your fingers through his, your palm covering his scar.

You squeezed his hand and smiled before closing your eyes and sighing in content.

He lay there for a long while after you'd fallen back asleep, slowly but surely putting the pieces of the day together. He was almost ashamed how distracted he was by your skin on his, soft and warm and unfamiliar. Your touch was so foreign in it's innocence that he almost felt guilty, almost.

It was beginning to grow light out when his mind finally slowed enough to let him sleep. His last thought before peace was that it might be nice to lay next to you just like this, well into the morning.

Part 3 here!

#listen I just wanna cuddle geralt #is it bc im lonely or bc i just want him to be happy? no one knows #its both #geralt x reader #geralt x reader fic #geralt x reader fan fic #geralt x reader oneshot #geralt one shot #geralt fluff #geralt pov fic #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher one shot #the witcher netflix #the witcher fluff #geralt x fem!reader #the witcher

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andsheloved · 3 years ago

Note

for drabble tuesday! i saw no.15 and immediately thought about our guys that might not be the most expressive verbally, i.e loki, geralt, or maybe bucky? and maybe they stood up for you, or acted out of character for your sake and when you ask them why this is what they say and it’s the first time you hear them say something affectionate because they’re all about the silent yearning and touches akskdjdjn if you’re interested its your choice of character, love:)!!<3

anon your mind, i need to tell you how i simply paced around my apartment for like, 15 minutes thinking of which character to pick for this becAUSE THEY ARE ALL SO GOOD FOR THIS!! i did end up going with geralt for this one because patching up wounds + geralt just makes me yearn and pine and yell and scream especially hard, and i hope that's okay!! so without further ado, i do hope you enjoy this one my dear!! mwauh!!

pairing ~ geralt of rivia x gn!reader

word count ~ 1.2k

prompt ~ #15: "why'd you do that?" "because i love you."

warnings ~ hurt/comfort, allusion to verbal abuse, mild violence (bar fight, reader isn't involved nor do they get hurt), blood, saliva, minor angst, descriptions of cleaning wounds, mutual pining,

Before you or Jaskier even had a chance to stop him, it seemed that Geralt was flying across the crowded bar, lunging at the man who had made the grave mistake of speaking to you like that.

You had initially brushed the comment off with a soft, passive smile at first. People say things, you were used to that, especially with the nature of your companions.

Though Geralt was not one to let it go so easily.

There was a shuffle of chairs and shocked gasps as he held the man by his collar, mumbling something in his ear before pulling away to see the terrified look in his eyes.

"Ah, Geralt..?" Jaskier chimed hesitantly, you both knew his interference wouldn't do much good, especially with how intently his eyes were locked on the man.

If you had blinked, you would have missed it at the speed at which Geralt's fist had collided with the mans cheek, instantly taking him to the ground as the other patrons around him parted, making way for the brawl that was quickly taking over the entire bar.

If you or Jaskier didn't know any better, you probably would have tried to stop him, try to tear Geralt's large frame off of the man, but you did know better, the both of you just watched in horror and concern as the man under Geralt pled for mercy.

You winced as he planted a particularly brutal blow to the man's right cheek, the crowd echoing your sounds of grimace.

It was when the man's mouth dribbled out a gruesome mixture of spit and blood when you finally determined you had allowed Geralt's battering to go on long enough.

His name fell from your lips like a sigh, it was a wonder he had even heard you at all over all the yelling and jeering of the rowdy group.

He finally lifted his upper body from hovering over the man, slowly turning to face you. His features softened as he looked at you, and you couldn't help the frustrated huff that escaped you when you finally were able to see the state of him.

In all the ruckus, you hadn't noticed that the offending drunkard, in all of his flailing, had apparently landed a few blows on Geralt as well, a small gash now placed just above his eyebrow.

Before you could fully appraise his injuries, he stood abruptly, leaving the man to writhe on the grime-covered floor.

"We should go." He gruffed, shouldering past the both of you as he made his way towards the door.

Jaskier quickly turned to you before facing out to the rest of the bar, offering a weak, awkward smile, "It's been a pleasure."

It was a silent trek back to the camp the three of you had set up the night before, the only sounds exchanged being ones of exasperated sighs and groans of relief when you finally reached your destination.

You anxiously fidgeted with your fingers before you finally broke the silence. "I wanted to-"

"Goodnight." Geralt suddenly interrupted, all but running into his tent before you could even stop him.

"Think it's best just to leave this one alone." Jaskier whispered, leaning into you, "You know how he gets."

"I just want to thank him." You muttered, staring thoughtlessly at the untied entrance to his tent.

"Best to leave that for tomorrow, hmm?"

Maybe in any other situation you would, allowing your sleep-addled mind to get some rest before holding any sort of discussion, but this was different.

You were no stranger to Geralt's more aggressive side, nor were you a foreigner to the occasional bar fight, but this felt so unlike him, like he wasn't just fighting to simply fight.

As if your legs moved on their own accord, you found yourself marching in the direction of Geralt's tent, much to the disappointment of Jaskier.

You were almost shocked to see him already lying down, his body taking up almost the entire space of the tent as he pressed a dirty cloth to his forehead.

Your heart sunk when you heard him groan at the sight of you, dropping his head back down to the thin cot.

"Let me help you" You whispered, kneeling beside him and beginning to reach for the browned cotton.

"I'm fine." He grumbled, flinching at the brush of your fingers against his wrist.

"It's the least I can do" Your brows furrowed, pleading with him as you watched the rusted gears turn in his mind.

He gave in with an annoyed huff, clumsily dropping the fabric to his side and allowing you to take it from him.

You watched his frown deepen as you quickly rung the rag of any remaining liquid, pouring onto it a small amount of water from the canteen laying beside him.

He hissed when you pressed it to his forehead, even as you dabbed it as gently as you could.

"Why did you do that?" You finally asked, you hated how your voice shook under the weight of your question.

"Do what?" He groaned as you pressed more weight on the cut.

You could roll your eyes at his absentminded answer, "Today, at the inn."

You washed some of the excess blood off of the rag with more water before searching through the satchel he had placed beside the cot, finding a small bottle of alcohol, you turned it over onto the cloth, letting a few drops of the liquid saturate it.

He let out a pained moan when you pressed it against is forehead, grumbling something unintelligible before he answered. "Some people just want a fight."

"You didn't have to though." You quickly replied, and you found yourself stumbling back as he shot up, his arms planted on either side of his body to balance himself.

His head tilted as he looked at you, his eyes squinting as if challenging you, daring you to continue your interrogation.

"Thank you, I just- I don't want you to get hurt because of me..."

"I'm fine," A weak half smile turned the corners of his lips, "I promise."

"Promise not to do that again then?" You smirked, thoughtlessly washing off the dried blood from the cloth.

"You know I can't do that." He grumbled, gently pressing two fingers to the now clean laceration.

"Then why'd you do it? I just don't want you putting yourself-"

"Because I love you."

A blanket of complete silence was suddenly laid over the two of you, with only the sound of your thundering heartbeat echoing in your ears.

"I can't promise you that," He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as he continued, "Because I love you." He swallowed, his mouth opening slowly, as if he were about to say something else before closing it just as languidly.

"Geralt..." Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke, "I-"

"Please, spare your pity, I never meant for this..." He continued, gesturing between the two of you. "I never meant..." He trailed off, "You don't- I don't expect you to-" He let out a discontented exhale as he gathered himself, "But it's because I love you."

You opened your mouth to speak, but at the sight of his furrowed brow, you chose not to.

Even when he wasn't sure of your answer, silence seemed to be all that he wanted from you tonight, and you would happily oblige.

You knew that morning would come, and you could finally give him the words you had longed to say to him since a day you couldn't quite recall.

But if tonight he wanted quiet, if tonight he wanted nothing more from you than your presence, if he only wanted your warmth against his chest until the morning sun finally tore you from your privacy, you'd accommodate him without a thought.

Because you loved him.

Even if the world suddenly ended and the morning never came, maybe if you held him close enough, he would feel your answer.

Though something new in his gentle smile whispered to you, maybe he already knew.

Maybe he always did.

hurt/comfort + geralt is truly one of my all time favorite pairings so thank you so much for this one my anonymous friend!! i honesty might revisit this concept later with loki or bucky at some point because holy cow, my heart!! anyways!! i do hope you enjoyed this one and i'm sending all my warmest geralt hugs your way!! mwauh!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always, always appreciated!!

want more geralt? check out my masterlist!!

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badboys-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

My neighbor

PART V

A/N : Hope you’ll like this chapter ♥ 🌝

Pairing : Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary : You move into the house of your dreams. It all seems like a fairytale, until you meet your neighbor, Mr. Cavill…

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV | PART V

The building was filled with loud voices and sounds of people frantically typing when you rushed to the Human Resources office. The door was open.

A well-built man turned to you, a folder in his hands,

"Come in, Miss Y/L/N" he mumbled, “I was finishing your evaluation."

Hair still wet and messy, you panted,

"Thank you, sir."

Raising his head from the documents, Mathias smiled,

"Call me Mat', will you ?" he chuckled softly and pointed the seat in front of his desk, "Sit."

Body still shaking, you sat into the chair and he kept gazing at you for a moment,

"Your profile is very interesting." he stated, "Need more time to get ready in the morning ?" he asked, glancing at your bun.

Oh, shit.

For a moment, you wondered which was messier, your life or your hair.

"I apologize, si...-Mat’. I had a serious issue with my new neighbor..."

"None of that with me, Y/L/N." he chuckled, "I was just joking. One thing you need to know, you can be late, work from home, the boss don’t care as long as you do your job."

Nodding quickly, you silently cursed Cavill. Damn him. Thank god, Mat’ seemed to be in a soft mood.

"Well, now you're here, we need a good article for tonight, something entertaining. Do you think you can do that ? Like a fight, a violent altercation. Anything spicy."

"Of course, I'll figure something out." you nodded with a smile.

Sighing in relief, you sat at your new desk, closing your eyes as you recollected yourself. You’d been lucky. So. Freaking. Lucky.

"Hey there !" a friendly masculine voice caused you to open your eyes, "I'm your neighbor. I mean, kind of, our desks are side by side."

Oh God, no more neighbor for today, please.

Andres was a tall, blond-haired man. It was the first time you met him. He handed you a coffee, his wide smile and happy face contagious,

"Thanks ! Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N/."

"I know, I... read your badge."

"Oh," you chuckled, "and you are... Andres." you said as you read the name on his own badge.

You both nodded and smiled awkwardly, until a tall woman walked into the room, causing everyone to look back at their screens and papers. Andres leaned in and whispered,

“This is Erin. Big boss.”

Erin scanned the room and as soon as her eyes found you, she walked in your direction.

“Hello, Y/N. Welcome to Nova Times. I’m Erin.”

There was something very sweet in her smile. It made you feel immediately at ease and you shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you. I can’t wait to start working on my first article.”

“Did Mathias give you a lead ?”

“Yes, he did. I’m sure I can finish today.”

“Great. I hope you’ll feel comfortable here.” she said, pointing your desk, “If you need anything, I’ll be in my office, alright ?”

So, yeah. It was even better than what you expected. Surprisingly, it felt way less oppressing than your previous job.

Your boss was friendly, the environment seemed nice. Plus, Andres was really hot.

When you finally left the building, it was already late and you’d been talking with him non-stop for an hour. He walked you home and you both took your time, enough for you to tell him about Mr Chaos.

“You just call him like that ?” Andres asked.

"Yeah, well that’s because he’s always acting indecently when all I’m trying to do is keep calm. It seems like his two moods are just... glitter and death, you know."

Andres laughed,

"What's his name again ?"

You hadn't told him and were about to do so, but you noticed your house in the distance,

"Oh, this is me." you smiled, stopping in front of him.

Andres plunged his eyes into yours, and you thought it was the moment when two characters kiss in books. There was a chemistry between you both, you couldn’t deny it. So when he leaned in, you glanced at his lips, willing to do it, to kiss him.

Yes, Y/N.

Do it.

But as soon as you looked at him, an image came to your mind, like a spell, something moving under your skin. Heart beating fast, you moved back.

Henry’s eyes were haunting you.

Fuck.

"I-I'm sorry." Andres stuttered, realizing his mistake, “It was so inappropriate, I thought...”

"No ! No, it wasn’t. It’s not you. You thought right." you assured him, "I guess I'm still shook by all the changes in my life. I just need some time. But I really enjoyed walking with you. You know what, how about we walk to work together, tomorrow morning ?"

Not an ounce of resentment in his eyes, Andres smiled shyly, burying his hands in his pockets,

"Tomorrow morning, then. Good night, Y/N. I'm glad we spent this moment together. If you're in trouble, just call me." he said, referring to your neighbor.

What was happening to you ? He was probably the cutest guy you’d met in years and yet... you just couldn’t take Henry out of your head.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you noticed the window was slightly open. Even though you didn't make a sound, your cat ran to you, meows and purrs breaking the silence as you entered your house.

"Oh, poor kitty, I'm sorry for this morning hon'..." you took her into your arms and made your way to the kitchen, pouring some cat food into a plate. "Here you go..."

"This cat is a liar,” you heard Henry grumble behind you, “I fed her, twice. She's going to die from a heart attack, like the average over-eating American she is." Henry glanced down at the furry ball, “I'm serious pal', you're going to die.”

Straightening up, you were now facing Henry as he brushed his fingers through his dark hair. This time though, he gave you an apologetic gaze,

"Sorry. Didn't mean that." he risked, "I just... I did feed your cat this morning. After all."

Without a word, you shrugged him off and turned your back to him to open the fridge. Here and there, you found his food and barely managed to know what was yours or his.

"What are you doing ?" he asked, his tone softer.

"Avoiding."

"Avoiding what ?"

"You. Everything."

You heard him sigh and he moved closer to you, heading toward the fridge where you were still trying to figure out what to cook. His voice echoed in your ear, so close it vibrated against your skin,

"This is mine,” he said, his arm plunging into the depths of the fridge, “this is yours... Oh, no. These are mine too." he said as he grabbed a box, causing you to gasp,

"No, the tomatoes are mine." you groaned, trying to get your food back.

Pulling hard on the package, you wouldn't surrender, but your hands slipped, letting go of the precious tomatoes and your body was thrown back. Henry caught you just in time, an arm snaking around your waist, the other still holding the vegetables. The tickling, almost stinging sensation made your skin burn again and your stomach clenched deliciously. Rather amused by your reactions, Henry gave you a questioning look,

"I thought you were avoiding."

Without hesitation, you hit his chest with the palm of your hand.

"Asshole."

"I'm getting used to this one." he uttered, releasing his embrace.

You placed a strand of your hair back behind your ear and Henry made a face,

"Let's order something."

"Yeah, let's do this."

Henry mechanically called the closest Chinese restaurant and you both moved to the living room. Sprawling on the couch, you closed your eyes for a moment. The sound of Henry’s typing on his computer lulled you and you started to drift off.

"I know you like being carried to bed, but..." he started and you opened an eye, ready to spit another homemade insult, but a knock on the door kept you from talking.

"Food's here !" you squealed.

It was still hot, and you were terribly hungry.

You sat down on the couch with your precious ramen and opened the box. This time, your stomach was twisting, because it was craving food.

Henry eventually came next to you, searching the bag. He leaned back into the couch and started eating silently. You looked up at him. Nope, you weren’t going to talk first.

"Had a good day ?" he tried, causing you to shrug. After a moment, his dark gaze settled on you and Henry grumbled, "I fed your cat, I swear to God I did. She didn’t stop cooing and purring after that."

Yeah, that sounded like your cat. And yet, you weren’t going to forgive him so easily.

"I got it. Not going to talk." he nodded and paused, "I saw you by the window, with Ken."

You flushed.

He'd seen you ?

You wanted to answer so hard, but there was plenty of food in your mouth and Henry kept going,

"Hm. Not to dictate your life, but drop the shitty boyfriend."

Choking on your noodles, you brought a hand to your mouth. Now, it didn't matter how much food was stuck between your teeth,

"Fuck you !" you mumbled, hiding your lips with your fingers, "You don't know anything about him. His name is Andres, and you're a judgmental ass."

Henry glanced at his food and took a few bites,

"Maybe, but I'm being honest with you, am I not ?"

"Honest ? You’re being a dick ! Andres is nice. This morning was terrible. I got late because of you ! You know what, Andres is the nicest person I've met so far. He's not arrogant, nor pretentious. Our little talk was relaxing." you paused, "After this evening with him, I can't stop thinking and... I'm amazed at how caring some people can be, and at how insignificant we are."

You looked away for a while, lost in your thoughts. Meanwhile, Henry raised an eyebrow and shook his head,

"Not me, I'm important."

It burst your dreamy bubble at once and you narrowed your eyes at him. This man couldn’t stop. Calmly, you put your empty box on the table.

"Henry, do you know how we make someone kind and holy, like Andres ?"

Seriousness writ on his features, a suspicious frown appeared on his forehead,

"Well, I don't know. Probably by cutting off their testicles."

Oh hell.

"You have to beat the hell out of them." you growled and suddenly, your fists hit his chest, causing him to cough in surprise.

In a desperate attempt to defend himself, Henry dropped his box and grabbed your wrists.

"Stop it Y/N !" he stifled, struggling to push you back.

Panting, you started laughing. The tension you’d kept all day long slowly faded away as you giggled, trying to reach his chest with your hands. Without warning, you pushed hard with your whole body and Henry fell on his back.

Out of breath, you plunged your eyes into his deep blue ones, hands still pressing against his strong arms,

"So, you still think Andres is a dumbass ? Because I can do this all night." you uttered.

Damn it Y/N. All night ?

Not releasing his grip around your wrists, Henry suddenly stopped putting efforts into lifting you above him. In seconds, his demeanor went from the grumpy neighbor who pissed you off, to a worked up, soft but still dominating version of himself.

Slowly, you felt your chest pressing against his torso, then your legs intertwining with his. The slight movement, paired with the fire in his eyes was making you squeeze your legs together.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You looked away for a split second, realizing your lips were only inches away from his, but then his eyes locked on yours.

The look he was giving you could have melted iron. Damn it. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Yes, just looked at you, his face emotionless but stern, studying you closely. He was driving you crazy, edging you on, and still giving you that stupid look.

This was exactly what you craved.

The way his fingers grazed lightly against your skin radiated this dominant energy despite the fact that you were on top. He had a way of making you feel like all of you couldn’t escape him. No matter what.

Heart still pounding, you blinked in confusion. You didn’t know when or how, but your mouth opened,

"You don't know anything Hen’,” you whispered, “you just act like it."

You saw his eyes flutter and his tongue slipped against his soft lips as he held your gaze, making it even more difficult to resist. His warm breath crashed near your lips and he released a low “Hm” of resignation.

The grip on your wrists loosened into a soft touch, setting you free.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

Every gear started turning into your head and you forced yourself to come back to your senses,

"If you ever feel stupid, or powerless..." you whispered, still hovering over him, "Remember that I'm not."

With that, you moved back and jumped on your feet, leaving him lying here, breathless.

Henry freaking Cavill would never have you.

Little did you know that he liked challenges.

* Italic means your tag isn’t working

My Neighbor Tag list : @boiled-onionrings , @sheanaghgoldenheartblog,@allnewimaginecharliehunnam , @drewmcintyreinarefereeoutfit , @mc225g , @supernaturalvikingwhore, @the-nerdy-lock, @devilbat , @heelsamizayn , @wolfiepirate , @the-marvelatic , @holychic , @avengergirl130 , @laurakasus , @maia-hocane , @sarahdangerfieldd, @jocelynscloset, @marycampbellxxx, @kathhdd, @barikawho, @elisewithak, @redrxbel, @lazyladyworld, @the-marvelatic, @comfortingcreature, @jesseswartzwelder, @mxtchbyx, @sea-rtina, @comfortingcreature

Tag list Henry / Geralt : @d14n4ol, @alwayshave-faith, @marycampbellxxx, @wolfyandy, @dirty--heart

Tag list * Geralt of Rivia : @emmalbg , @the-nerdy-lock

Everything tag list : @darling-loki, @hufflepuff-flufflepuff, @medussaurora, @addyliners, @lokilvrr, the-marvelatic, @jesseswartzwelder

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inber · 5 years ago

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Hey, Jealousy - Geralt x Reader OS

anonymous asked: Can i ask a request where reader, geralt and jaskier find themselves at a similiar situation to that party with yennefer, where humans were all under a spell and making out/having sex with each other (djinn episode), but reader makes out with someone random or jaskier and geralt is jealous af of YN even though they're not together? Ps: love your writings

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(Sorry about that; tumblr has the stupidest editor. Had to repost to reformat.) Sure thing, Fren! Thank you for the prompt. You know I love me some uncertain, jealous Geralt. Obviously this is shaped around the Djinn episode, but without the boyes getting themselves into trouble (Jaskier probably wasn’t in a very sexy mood in that room, let’s be fair). Not my gif. Enjoy!

Summary: You’re pretty cosy with Jaskier on the road, believing Geralt to be indifferent. When you find yourself in a bit of a conundrum at Yennefer’s estate, he proves you quite wrong. Pairings: Jaskier x Reader, Geralt x Reader, Jaskier x Orgy (lol) Warnings: Adult. Smut. Dub!Con (mild, but present). Mentions of an orgy. Masturbation (F). Oral receiving (F). Overstimulation. Squirting. Bit of Geralt angst. Word Count: 4630 Tags: @persephonehemingway @xmother-mortemx @alwayshave-faith @alliyjane @stretchkingblog97 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @geeksareunique @didi0666 @tigers-pat @asgardianangelo @agniavateira @superkamigurudende @i-am-sarah @punkrogers-jerkbarnes @deansbbysblog @mary-ann84 @khaleesi-provenance @locht3ssmonster @thatonesebstanfan @afterthenightprevails @saint-hardy @ayamenimthiriel @goldensilvan @hina-chans-stuff @salaveenas-personal-blog @elsassnowflake @msmimimerton @delightfully-anonymous @uncoolcloudyhead @buggy-blogs @magic-and-the-macabre @chook007 @whatevermonkey @hermeowyn

Masterlist is here. If you’d like to support me for my time, I’d really appreciate it! Thanks for reading!

You could feel the weight of Geralt's molten gaze burning your skin from across the campfire, sharp and judgemental, although his handsome features were as impassive as ever.

When you'd met Jaskier at your town's inn and he'd discovered your skill with hand-to-hand combat – by buying you multiple cups of wine and chatting your ear off – you'd been excited to join the bard on the road as his bodyguard. You rarely had cause to travel, and Jaskier was charming, handsome, and made you laugh until you were hunched over, gasping for breath and begging for mercy. Not only was he offering coin, you strongly suspected that the offer of night company wasn't off the table. Why wouldn't you go for it? You had needs.

What you didn't need was a brooding shadow of a Witcher haunting your every footstep.

Jaskier had neglected to mention that you'd be travelling as a trio – he presumed you already knew – and the first time you'd met Geralt of Rivia in the stables, you'd made a right ass out of yourself immediately.

“Jaskier!” You'd caught the bard's attention in a stage whisper, saddling your dapple-grey mare, “That's Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf. Gods, but he's as fucking handsome as they say.” Wide-eyed, you'd watched the massive man tending to his own horse; his movements were graceful and precise. “Mmh. Don't know why he has to fuck his way through brothels. I'd pay him.”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier trilled, “That's Geralt. He doesn't say much, but he's actually quite delightful company, when it comes down to it. Hey, can I ride on your horse, too? Geralt makes me walk.”

“He-- what?” You spluttered, dropping a saddle-bag to the ground. “Fuck, Jaskier. Give a girl some warning. What if he'd heard me?”

“I heard you.” Geralt spoke; his voice was a delicious sliver of velvet, the brush of exotic danger. You felt the damnable flames of a raging embarrassment consume your entire body, and the glare you shot Jaskier was so heated that it was surprising the bard didn't simply combust under your focused disdain.

“He... has good hearing?” Jaskier shrugged, grinning boyishly, and you rubbed your face with your palm. Wonderful.

Things only got more awkward from there.

Jaskier was an affectionate travel companion, sat behind you on your patient, strong horse; he whispered silly tales into the shell of your ear, or tested the waters with a gentle hand on your waist when he pointed something out in the scenery to you. When he wasn't rebuffed, he took to casually cuddling you when you rode, and you thoroughly enjoyed the contact. You shared your own stories with him; little nothings about your clumsy youth, or why your horse was called 'Captain Chomp'. Even though he'd been warned, Jaskier insisted that he could win over any man or beast, and summarily you treated the bruised bite-mark later at camp.

Through all of this, Geralt was a silent sentinel, watching. If he was spoken to, he answered in a short grunt, or if absolutely necessary, snippets of sentences. Often, you caught him narrowing his gaze at you, and you had no idea why. After a week or so of travel in this manner, you'd approached him about it whilst watering the horses, Jaskier bathing at the far end of the lake – to 'preserve your virgin eyes', he'd said. You'd kicked him in the shin.

“It's a fine day.” You remarked, considering how to navigate a conversation with the imposing man of marble-and-gold, more lion than wolf, you'd have said.

“Hmm.” He grunted, and you wondered what you'd expected.

“Listen, Geralt...” You bit your lower lip and forced your gaze not to waver from his form, even as he apparently ignored you. He was fondly brushing Roach's mane; you thought it rather sweet. He did seem to love that horse. “I know we didn't meet, uh, in the most... respectable of fashions.” Gods, you tried not to remember what you'd said, because you did enough of that in the hours before sleep, replaying the conversation, “And I apologise for that, sincerely. It was unbecoming of me.”

He paused, and met your gaze with his; your breath caught at how truly beautiful his eyes were, even split down the centre with that feline pupil that betrayed his mutation. You thought you saw the slightest tremor of a smirk on his lips, but it was gone so quickly that you couldn't be sure.

“Don't worry about it.” He murmured, monotone.

“Well, it's just that I feel like... you aren't exactly fond of me, and I was wondering if it was because of what I'd said.” I'd pay him, your words echoed in your traitor brain, and you hoped he wasn't so endowed with sensitivity as to feel the heat of your blush.

“People have said much worse.” He picked a stray leaf from Roach's tail. “Don't worry about it.”

“I just wanted--”

A surge of water hit you from behind, completely soaking the white button-up blouse you wore, and you screamed as if you'd been stabbed. Geralt's focus was upon you instantly, looking for the threat; instead, he saw the wet curve of your breasts, and the peek of your tight nipples through the fabric. You were too shocked to register the raw lust that leapt into his vision, and you whirled on your feet to see Jaskier tugging his breeches back up, dripping wet, grinning impishly.

“Oh, oh, I'm going to fucking kill you.” You seethed, storming towards him.

He laughed, and took a few steps back. “No, no no, no you're not. Then you don't get paid.”

“I do if I loot your corpse, you louse!” You screeched, before bodily tackling him into a thicket of grass, intent on choking him out. Jaskier might have thought that you'd engage in a cute, girlish water-splashing contest, but no; he had his work cut out for him as you wrestled him, easily hooking your arm around his neck as he flailed. “Say you're fucking sorry!”

“You're... fucking... sorry.” Jaskier wheezed, grinning, even seconds away from unconsciousness.

“How attached are you to all your fingers?” You growled, “Because I'm thinking--”

“I yield!” The bard gasped, tapping your arm; you relaxed it, just a little. “Fuck, I'm sorry. You just looked a little dry, and I thought you'd look nicer wet.” The inflection in his tone was raunchy. It simply earned him a fresh round of fighting, the two of you trading pokes and slaps and twists of limb without mercy.

Geralt watched you hold your own from afar, and smiled to himself.

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“Why are we to visit this Yennefer, anyway?” You asked at the campsite, casual. You'd all finished eating, and Jaskier was cuddled at your side for warmth. You had one arm slung about his shoulders.

“She has information about something I want.” Geralt offered, and you didn't expect him to expand. You glanced at Jaskier, who shrugged.

“Gods, must I torture all information from you, Geralt?” Exasperated, you huffed. He actually laughed, and the sound was rich and throaty. Even Jaskier stared.

“I'd love to see you try to torture me.” Geralt growled, and you felt the stalk of his tone thrill up your spine. Beneath your clothes, your hair stood on end. Unable to back down from a challenge, you lifted your chin.

“I'd have you begging for mercy in ten minutes.” You promised.

“Prove it.” His teeth were a predator's porcelain in the lick of the firelight.

“Aaalright, stop fighting over me,” Jaskier interjected, “I love both of you dearly. There's enough of me for everyone. Anyway, it's late, and I'm tired.” He tugged your arm. “Come to bed?”

You glared at Geralt over the flames; he returned the look, heat-for-heat. Jaskier tugged again, and you relented.

“Fine. But sing that song I like so much?” Saccharine, you smiled. You heard Geralt's low groan of protest.

“Of course.” Jaskier rose and offered you his hand. Ladylike, you accepted it, and he pulled you to the tent you shared, beginning the verse that you knew the Witcher detested. “Wheeeen a humble bard...”

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Out of respect for Geralt, you and Jaskier never did much but cuddle and spoon at night. You didn't feel right about climbing atop the bard and sating both your desires with loud, wild abandon; not whilst the Witcher could hear a squirrel sneeze from a mile away. There was a mutual understanding, however; once you had some time alone, or entered a town with an inn room you could rent, you'd explore your friendly relationship further. You certainly didn't mind when Jaskier's warm hands cupped your breasts over your clothes as you slept, or the throb of his morning erection against the curve of your ass.

More than once you'd had to restrain yourselves; more than once, Jaskier had slipped away before breakfast 'to bathe', which also gave you time to relieve your own pent-up desire. With quick fingers on your clit, you would muffle your orgasm into the crook of your elbow as best you could, temporarily relieving the ache that was getting worse with time.

You were truly thankful when the city of Rinde came into view, not just because it meant restocking your supplies and taking a short break. An actual bed, an actual decent meal, an evening with Jaskier; there was a lot to look forward to. You urged Captain Chomp into a slightly faster trot.

“We're going straight to Yennefer, yes?” Jaskier enquired, as you rode behind Roach. Geralt grunted; you presumed that meant 'yes'.

“Why are we to go see the mage, too?” You hissed, lowly. It was getting dark, and you thought about the wasted hours spent making small-talk with the woman.

“Because I write about Geralt's conquests, dove.” Jaskier informed you, “I go where he goes. If I don't, I miss out on a story – he's not the best at recounting events. Maybe you've noticed.”

You sighed with all the drama of a horny, scored woman. “Fine. But I don't wish to linger.”

“Neither do I.” Geralt piped up, and you had to snort. At least you were all on the same page.

You saw the horses tethered at the grand manor, and you stretched your road-wearied legs, blinking up at the estate. It was well-lit, and you thought you could hear activity inside. At least she was home, you thought.

There was nobody to greet you as you entered the hallway, which was unusual. A mage of rank usually kept servants. “Hello?” Jaskier chirped, into the strangely still belly of the first floor.

You narrowed your eyes. “I don't like this.”

Geralt grunted, dismissing you, and strode forward. You followed in his wake, keeping Jaskier close behind you. The knuckle-dusters in your pocket felt heavy, and you brushed your fingers over the dagger strapped to your hip.

A peculiar fog spilled down the stairs, curling like the invitation of ghostly fingers, and your suspicion spiked. “Geralt, I--” Again, he ignored you, and forged up the steps. Gritting your teeth, you followed. The hazy smoke felt pleasant somehow, warming, and you wondered at it; perhaps the mage was testing new spells or potions. You had no idea how mages worked.

When Geralt shouldered open a massive oak door, you realised that your ignorance ran very deep, indeed.

“What the fuck?” The Witcher wondered, as you and Jaskier gaped at the scene unfolding before you.

Couples of all genders, ages, sizes – Gods, you thought you even saw elves – were twisting together in an erotic dance, in various states of undress. There were oils and candles and ropes and some things that you didn't even recognise – was that a fucking horse whip? – and you stuttered your shock. The longer you stood there, the more you breathed of that strange mist. And the more you breathed, the more normal the carnal, writhing orgy seemed to appear. You felt the tenseness of your muscles begin to uncoil, as you stumbled a few steps into the place, collapsing bewildered onto a plush cushion. Jaskier tottered over to you, and sat at your feet.

Geralt was unaffected, striding through the haze with purpose to stand before a beauty of a woman; her olive skin was rich in the low-light, and she was one of the few present who wore clothes. You thought you saw the flicker of violet in her irises. “Gods, I want her to sit on my face.” You slurred, and felt no shame at the sentiment like you should have.

She rose, examining Geralt like he was a treasure. Your attention drifted to Jaskier, who was taking in his surroundings, his warm hand on your thigh. So warm. It felt good. You shivered, and he turned to regard you; the vivid blue of his eyes was a mere sliver, consumed by his pupils. Without realising it, your hands were at the buttons of your shirt, popping them open one by one. Jaskier watched, transfixed, before he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss.

His plush lips sent a spark of lust crackling across your entire body, and you returned the embrace eagerly, abandoning your open shirt in favour of raking your hands through the chestnut of his hair. He moaned into your mouth and you licked up the sound, kittenishly nipped his lower lip, pressed your body into his. Faintly, you were aware of a blonde woman behind him, her hands on his wide shoulders as she helped him out of his doublet. You didn't care. The more the merrier, you drunkenly thought, as you breathed deeply of the lazy-hazy smoke, tilting your head back to allow Jaskier to run his mouth down your neck, to your breasts. You moaned, long and low.

“Yennefer, I just need to know if the tales of the djinn are--” Geralt was getting nowhere with the gorgeous mage, who was intent on toying with him, just as she manipulated the people in the room. He heard the sound of your voice, filled with lust, and whipped his gaze to regard you across the party. As Jaskier cupped your tits and laved your aching nipples with his tongue, Geralt growled.

“Friends, are they?” Yennefer asked, her ruby lips tugged into a smug smile. “The girl wants to fuck me, you know. I wasn't going to get involved in this nonsense, but she is so very pretty...”

The Witcher whirled again, all bared teeth. “Release them from your spell.” He demanded.

“Why would I?” She blinked, playing the part of naïve so naturally, “They are having such fun.”

At this point, you were straddling Jaskier, finding the lacings of his breeches too complicated for your dopey fingers; instead, you were taking your pleasure from the friction of his hard cock in a slow dry-fuck, the curve of your back pornographic, your fingers tangled in the hair of his chest. He was moaning into the nameless blonde's cunt as she knelt over his face, lazily eating her out as she purred encouragements.

Geralt snapped.

He stormed away from the minx of a mage, who laughed in his jealous wake, and idled by your side. “Get off him.” He ordered, “We're going.”

You paused to regard the Witcher, your kiss-swollen lips parted, eyes half-lidded; he looked magnificent. He groaned when he realised that nobody was home upstairs in your mind, not right now. You were too far into the grasp of the spell, lost to lust. So he did the only rational thing he could think of.

He picked you up and hoisted you over his enormous shoulder, considered Jaskier for a moment – another person was already taking your place – and left the room. The bard didn't even notice.

You mewled in disappointment, feeling dizzy as the floor swayed beneath you. All of you was hot, and you were no longer getting the pleasure you so desperately craved. The sounds of the slick, heady party became distant. You were faintly aware of another descent, another set of stairs, and then your feet were touching the ground in a new room.

Without a thought you turned, seeking the door, your body wanting to return to the party. It knew the way. Geralt growled again, and slammed the only exit, heaving a barrel in front of it. With a whine of protest, you shoved at the heavy object in vain, struggling, before sliding down the wood to sit, dazed.

“Fuck's sake,” Geralt growled, pacing. You were in a small cellar, lit by a torch – although you could have been on top of a mountain, for all you were aware – and your eyes tried to follow his pacing. He was blurry. Handsomely blurry. “I should have listened to you. I'm sorry I brought you here.”

Gods, but his voice was sexy. You palmed your own breasts, eager for some sensation. It wasn't enough. He glanced at you, stiffened, and resumed a faster pace. “Don't do that.” He barked.

“Mmmh.” You moaned, wriggling your undone breeches free from your hips, down the length of your legs. He could smell you before, but in this confined space it hit him like the savage slap of a merciless ocean wave, and he balled his hands into fists, pausing at a wall, pressing his forehead against it. Your cunt was aching, dripping; you ran your fingers along the slick of it and shivered.

“Stop.” He rasped, “Gods.” He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't be tempted to look, but the sounds you were making were so divine that he couldn't help but steal a peek. Your fingers were curled inside yourself as you tried to stimulate some kind of release, sweating and frustrated. It felt like you were constantly on the brink of orgasm, but unable to push over the edge into release, left in a stasis of torture.

“I can't--” Geralt snarled, “I can't do anything whilst you're... like this. Fuck knows I want to. It'll wear off soon enough, you just need to endure.” He begged you with his golden gaze, every muscle in his body coiled and corded, resisting.

You knew he was talking, but you didn't understand him. All you knew was that he sounded like sex, and you wanted him to keep doing it. “Please.” You managed, sniffling, squirming against your own hand. “Need, I need...”

“I know, sweet girl.” His voice was of an incoming storm, and the thunder of it rocked you. “I can't.”

“Keep-- please. Keep... doing that.” The sound of your own finger-fuck was an obscene thing in the shrink of the room, as you arched the small of your back. His eyes were pitch, as if he'd consumed a potion. Snatching a small pot from a shelf, he tried to keep his hands occupied.

“Keep doing what, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice a rough plea, “I don't know what to do. I can't give you what you want, I-- it wouldn't be right. I'd never--”

He was cut off when you squealed, the rawness of his voice enough to bring you to climax. Like a statue he watched your small release, the squirt of your juices, the hard pant of your breath as you shivered. He had that noise memorised from the mornings you relieved yourself when Jaskier was away, but watching it was an entirely spiritual experience. The jar in his hands shattered from the pressure he was gripping it with. “Fuck.”

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and you bucked uselessly against your own hand. “Plee-eeease.” You sobbed, bleary gaze fixed on him, tears trailing your cheeks. The ache was enough to hurt you. He could see that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chanted, dropping the remnants of the pottery to the ground. “Okay, I'll... my mouth, on you. This won't be about me, sweet girl. I'll help you, but I can't... be with you. Not like this.” His raging erection screamed at his own morals, but he fought back his selfish desire. You needed him.

His pretty voice was stroking you, that much you knew, but you were unprepared for his mouth on your cunt. Squeaking your surprise, you fisted a hand into his silvery hair and jerked your pelvis up sharply, feeling the delicious scratch of his stubble on your inner thighs. He growled into your folds, thrusting his tongue into your weeping pussy to taste you, before he replaced it with one thick, curled finger. His lips sealed over your clit and suckled. This was exactly what you needed; the pain subsided and gave way to a tsunami of pleasure. Your head thudded back against the wood of the door as he brought you to climax in less than a minute, his moans joining your own, the massage of his fingertip on your g-spot constant and firm. Throughout the firestorm of this one, you rode his face savagely and he took it, worshipping your clit, knowing when you were becoming too sensitive for the pressure and relenting, only to toy with your button in tongue-tip circles, making you crest a second time. The flex of your walls was a morse-code on his hand, every climax bringing a fresh trickle of your wetness for him to devour.

You screamed, you bucked, you panted like an animal in heat, unable to get enough of the feeling. Your hands were everywhere, scratching the door behind you, knitted into his long hair, cupping your breasts. Still he stimulated you, and still you came. There was no beginning or end; your orgasm became cyclical, a world for you to dissolve into bodily, the electric snap of your nerves a sea-storm that you joyfully weathered. Time had no meaning for you. Nothing existed except the feeling of him, the fierce sound of his growling, the constant relief he provided you selflessly, again and again.

For the better part of an hour, he had you in this state; the only times he paused were when you became hoarse from screaming, and then he fetched you a jug of water from the shelves, demanding that you drink of it. Finally, the haze began to lift; he felt it in the slackening of your fucked-out muscles, and heard it in the confused guests descending the stairs en masse. Yennefer had grown bored.

With care, he withdrew from your sore, quivering cunt, doing his best to tug your breeches back on. When that proved to be impossible, he simply slipped his own shirt off and wrapped you in it, lifting you. You were rag-doll limp, but he heard your steady breath and heartbeat. Some part of you became aware of the sound of hoofbeats, the rumble of his bare chest as he spoke, the slip of fresh cloth on your sweaty skin. But for the most part, you drifted.

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You awoke to an afternoon sun, moaning at the feeling of your aching muscles. Your mouth was dry and your throat a razor-wire slice; you fumbled sleepily for the tankard of water at the bedside and drank it all in frantic gulps. And then you became aware of a warmth behind you.

“Jaskier,” You rasped, “What the fuck happened?”

“Not Jaskier.” Geralt's voice made you turn so quickly that your entire body protested at the movement; he was tucked in beside you, shirtless. You stared at him with wide eyes; it was about then that your aching pussy made itself known, and you whimpered.

“Did... did we... fuck?” You whispered, and he frowned.

“Not... exactly.”

“Why do you have no shirt on, then? In... my bed? Is this my bed?”

“You're wearing my shirt.” He explained, and you looked down. Oh.

“Yennefer's... party.” You tried to recall, “There was...” Blinking, vague memories danced in the eye of your mind. “I think I had a really, really strange dream.”

“Wasn't a dream.” Geralt murmured, shifting slightly to face you. “She had some kind of lust spell active. Both you and Jaskier were affected.”

Faintly, you recalled kissing the bard – and also a blonde woman. Then you remembered stairs, the snarl of a beautiful voice – Gods, what a voice – and then an aggressive pleasure that had consumed you so entirely that you couldn't pinpoint how or what or why it had occurred. Recalling it made your lower body tense, and your cunt practically screamed – not for awhile, bitch!

“You were there.” You blinked, “You took me from the party.” It didn't make sense; you shook your head. “Why...?”

You'd never seen Geralt look so exposed, so contrite. So human. “I couldn't bear... to watch. It's not my business. I'm sorry. But I just-- I don't--” He struggled, “I had to get you away from it.”

You fumbled to understand. “I thought you didn't like me.”

He groaned, and rubbed a his eyes with a hand. You saw how exhausted he looked. “I tried not to. I really did. I wanted Jaskier's happiness. Fuck, I didn't know what I felt. From the first day in the stables, you... drew me in, somehow. It wasn't until Jaskier asked me if I'd be okay with you two renting a room for a few nights here in Rinde that I realised...” His eyes met yours, “I was jealous. I-I had no right. I have no right. But fuck, I was. I am.”

“Jealous?” You parroted, stupidly, disbelieving.

“Yes. But Jaskier, he's a good man. And I respect him. So I kept my distance, until I saw--” His jaw pinched tight, and his gaze fled from yours. “I didn't think, I acted. And you were in pain. I swear to you I did not take my pleasure from your flesh. I just needed you to be safe. I'm sorry.”

Whirling with this information, you stared. He could not meet your gaze. For the first time, it was you in silent judgement, and him making a fool with a stream of verbal nonsense.

“Jaskier is safe. He's in another room with two people – a woman and a man that he would not release his grip upon, even after the spell subsided. I stayed here to make sure you were okay, but if you want, I--”

“Geralt.”

“--Can go. If you wish me away, I won't seek you again. I understand if--”

“Geralt!”

Finally, he stopped, and you gently placed your fingers on the sharp line of his jaw, seeking his eyes again. They were softened and wary. “You helped me. And maybe I could not have said yes before, but if I said yes later... well, I wasn't joking about what I said when we first met. I like you, too.”

His brow rose, the lightness in his gaze reminding you of poured honey. “What... of Jaskier?”

You snorted. “You think Jaskier is monogamous? He'll probably want to join us.”

Geralt frowned. “I don't like sharing.”

Laughing, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his chastely. “I believe that has been established.” He murmured, returning the affectionate gesture. “We'll talk to him later. See, that's the thing – talking. Communication. It gets you far.”

He grunted. “I'm out of practice.”

You laid a hand on his chest, and wriggled closer to him. “Well, we have time, don't we?”

He smiled at you, placing his own large hand atop your own, squeezing your fingers. “We do. As much time as you'll give me.”

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