#yen is my other purple eyed sorceress

[wildskissed]

Nexus said: Yennefer hair? I said: You know my weakness... Eve said: Slay.

[imnotwolverine]

The Last Wish

Geralt of Rivia drabble

Listen to: Vaughan Williams - The Lark Ascending

Author’s note: I finished the Witcher 3 and now I feel both happy..and sad. So have some sad fluff on this dreary Sunday  ❤️*dreams of living in a vineyard with Geralt* 

Word count: 1.650

‘So what do you want?’

He shrugged at the sorceress, golden eyes slowly fluttering shut. ‘It doesn’t matter what I want, Yen.’

‘Oh come on.’ Her elegant finger poked into his side before she flopped onto his chest, that same finger now tracing over his stubble.

Grinning, a low purr escaped his lips. But he didn’t answer. ‘And you?’

‘Hmm.’ She lowered her head to listen to his slow and steady heartbeat. ‘I want everything.’

—

A bird watched the Witcher as he heard the slow rumble of hooves in the distance, their eyes meeting in shared curiosity. The bird being curious for this strange white haired man that had taken residence just weeks earlier. And the Witcher for the clatter of hooves.

Her tiny head tilted sideways as she studied him better. A sweaty brow, disheveled hair, marred and scarred skin that belied his long and lonely life before he settled down here. Her master now.

‘You gonna help me?’ His low voice asked kindly - for such a large man he seemed gentle enough.

The bird remained a moment longer as her head now tilted the other way.

‘Hmm.’ His lips curled in a careful smile. Perhaps he had just made a friend.  

‘Milord!’

Nope. There she went, off again, like they always do. The voice calling for him circled in the hot wind as he raised to his feet, finding that it was one of his staff members; the skinny man who had kept up this estate before he had arrived. A good man. But he was obviously not used to a lord like Geralt, his nervous eyes flying over Geralt’s soiled clothing and sweaty brow.

‘Eh..there’s a..visitor, my lord.’

‘A visitor?’ The Witcher wiped his brow as he walked back out of the long green rows, shovel in hand.

‘Aherm..Yes.’ The man eyed his lord’s clothing again. ‘..a lady..’

—

I want everything.

—

A lady. Ciri? Triss? Yen? ..Yen…

His calm Witcher-heart jumped with a dizzying mix of hurt and hope. Could it be? Could it be?! Hastily he peeled off his shirt, throwing it in the general direction of the laundry room before he skid up the steps to his rooms.

‘I’ll be a minute.’ He called over his shoulder, the stairs creaking beneath his heavy footfall.  

The stately house was still in dire need of repair, walls brittle and cracks everywhere. But; it was a home. And after long, long years of living in the bitter and gritty conditions of the outdoors, every crumbling wall was more of an opportunity than a problem.

Quickly, the Witcher retrieved some fresh clothing, his rough hands pushing back the loosened strands of hair in his face. Could it be her?

—

‘You are my everything, Yen.’  He whispered, sleep carrying him off after months of insomnia.

—

It had been months, nearly a year, since he had last seen any of them. So, when the hooded figure stepped away from her regal looking horse, Geralt knew none the better who stood here before him.

Could it be her?

‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ Her sarcastic tongue cut through the silence and thrilled his heart, two violet eyes finding his from behind her richly decorated hood, lips curling into a mischievous smile.

‘Yen.’ He breathed, catching her frame in a perhaps too enthusiastic hug, her mouth letting out a shrill squeak.

For a long moment he just focused on the soft hum of her heart and the scent of lilac and gooseberries. For a moment he had everything, all his wishes fulfilled.

‘Is it okay if I..Geralt! Stop that. If I stay for the night?’ She swatted his arm as a toothy grin stretched on his face.

‘You know you don’t have to ask.’

‘I’m asking you anyways.’ She shrugged, stepping out of the stables and into the sun, her dark tresses dancing in the soft wind, carrying with it that scent. 

—

Everything. 

—

Darkness caressed them, but he couldn’t sleep. His honeyed eyes watched, lingered, burned. Hoped that if he didn’t blink, she wouldn’t leave. But much too soon birds started to twitter and life as usual returned. Without her, probably. They always leave.

‘Morning.’ A dreamy finger caressed his chest before her eyes cracked open. Enchantingly purple in the low light. ‘You look terrible.’

Ever truthful, this sorceress.

Humming, Geralt shifted somewhat, relieving the ache in his sleeping limbs.

‘You didn’t sleep, hmm?’

He shook his head, refusing to address reality just a moment longer, his eyes just watching her. 

The sorceress propped herself up and let that same finger now travel underneath the sheets, following the trail of hair that covered his pale chest. ‘I dreamt of us.’ Her voice was still low and husky.

‘Mmm.’ The Witcher’s tired eyes near skittishly found her gaze, her brows furrowing with a teasing pout.

‘Do you really hate being a lord so much that all you can do is scowl?’ She playfully tilted her head. Like that bird, eyes studying him, while all he did was listen, his ears pricking at the expected sound of horse hooves in the distance. This time not coming, but going, taking with them her. Yen.

But no, she was still here, beneath his fingertips. Just don’t blink, Geralt, don’t blink. 

‘I don’t.’ He finally sighed, wrapping her in his arms once more, detesting the thought of her leaving.  

Without protest her soft form snuggled back into his embrace, her black curls being twirled between his fingers. Her scent enchanted him and her lips peppered a few airy kisses onto his chest. Like she always did. But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. She’d always leave. 

‘You know, I like it here.’ She decided in between soft kisses, her legs now moving to straddle his hip, the sheets sliding down to reveal more olive skin. He burned the beautiful image into his eyes, keeping it locked in his heart, for safe-keeping. 

‘You do?’ Geralt muttered, her lips now travelling up, offering him a soft and gentle kiss. So much unlike her spunky character.

‘Perhaps I could stay a while longer..’ Her voice drifted off as she looked into his eyes, those long fingers of her now brushing aside his hair - even though it wasn’t really in the way.

‘I’d like that.’ The Witcher admitted, a hand catching hers so he could kiss her palm.

‘Hmm.’ It was her moment to turn quiet for a moment, both their eyes just gazing, relearning the shapes and lines of each others’ faces. ‘You know what I dreamt about?’

He shook his head, a slow smile finally crawling back up his lips. She was staying a little while longer.

‘I was a bird, drifting in the winds. Until finally I found a vineyard. A little haunted, but it was nothing a Witcher couldn’t fix.’ Her lips also curled into a smile mimicking his. ‘And then I decided it’d make for a nice place to nest.. Even birds need a home you see.’ They both chuckled. 

‘A nest? With all your clothes? Must’a been a big one.’ The Witcher teased, earning himself a poke to the chest before the sorceress melted back into his chest, his arms wrapping safely around her, keeping her close. ‘And then what happened?’

‘Then I woke up in a vineyard, with a Witcher in my arms.’

‘Lucky man.’

‘Indeed. And I’m a very lucky woman.’ Her long fingers raked a ticklish path up his ribs, making him sniffle. The quiet morning breezed in through the window, the soft twitter of birds reaching their ears.

A new day was here. And at least for today she’d stay. 

Listening to the Witcher’s heartbeat, the sorceress hesitated. ‘I’ve been thinking. Since the djinn was chased off and all...’ The Witcher didn’t respond, though his heart seemed to jump in his chest. 

She continued: ‘I still feel it you know.’

‘The djinn?’

‘Ugh. No you silly!’ She settled back up, ‘Us.’  

—

‘Do you still feel it?’ The Witcher eyed the sorceress, her eyes gazing out over the snow-covered valley, the icy winds spewing around them.

‘Maybe we should..’ She shrugged and eyed him for a moment. ‘..kiss? To see if it’s..different?’

‘We could do that.’ He already settled closer before the words left his mouth.

The abandoned boat atop these mountains made for an unlikely place of romance and first kisses. But the two lovers didn’t care much. With the winds howling and magic crackling, two hesitant pairs of lips tasted change. It was both different, but also the same, their destinies no longer entwined by the force of Djinns. Just simple, unbridled love. 

..Right? 

—

‘You mean that?’ His brows furrowed. 

‘I do, Geralt. And I’m sorry for leaving you after...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I would have given you my last wish too you see....Had I owned one.’ She shrugged lightly. Geralt smiled. Oh, she sure had WANTED to have that last wish. It had been a long obsession to get a child of her own someday. The more silly it was that it was the Witcher who had not only taken the Last Wish, but also got to take care of one white haired princess; Ciri. A surprise, indeed. 

Now, with Ciri grown, the Djinn gone and the of them both looking back at well lived lives, one question remained. 

‘So what do you want?’ Her question was the same, but his answer different. The sorceresses hands entangled with his as she smiled down at him and the Witcher smiled back. He had thought of her question often, but life didn’t seemed to offer many re-do’s. Especially in love. The more happy he was that she was here and there was no Djinn to mess with them. Him and Yen. The Witcher and the sorceress. His smile grew. 

‘You.’ 

--

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Bard in Kaer Morhen

Chapter 1: All Party Members are Here!

Find it in AO3!

Summary: After the battle of Soddon Hill and finding his surprise child, Geralt goes to Kaer Morhen to spend the winter and protect his company. What a surprise is he going to get when he finds he is not the only witcher who picked up strays and brought them to safety from the on-going war. Or that said person is so being so praised and spoilt by his brothers. He does care. He is happy for him. He is. ... ... Hm.

Notes: Hey! This is my first Witcher fic, so please be nice! I never had enough money to buy the games (I still don't) but I really got into the fandom when I watched the series! I re-visited it a few days ago and I couldn't get this idea out of my head! I doubt I will write another fic, not until I get enough to buy the book or the game, (probably the book, tho) or until the next season comes out. Sorry if this is too OCC, I tried to do my best!

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The scenery had turned into an icy and snowy deadland in what seemed like a blink of an eye. The travellers, a man with hair as white as the snow surrounding them, a girl who had been through hell and was still standing and two mages, one hurt and the other healing them. They had all come from a worse place though.

Sodden Hill had become a graveyard after the battle between Nilfgard and the mages. The reinforcements of king Foltest were keeping the attacking kingdom at bay, but it wouldn't last for long. People would say it was destiny that Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, was near to help the last surviving mages of the battle, but he only called it luck. Whether it was good or bad was yet to be decided. He had only been travelling with his Surprise child for less than 48hs when he came across a middle-aged woman and the mage from Temeria carrying an unconscious Yennifer.

Triss was wounded too, but it wasn't fatal, and while the two looked as if they were seconds from dropping to the ground, they were still holding on. The middle-aged woman, Tissaia de Vries, explained everything that was going on once they were on safer grounds.

She told him about the war and the decision The Chapter had come upon, along with their little resistance and then asked for him to take the two younger mages with him. She had clearly noticed the girl with him was Princess Cirila, the lioness cub of Cintra, and that he was protecting her. He accepted, but only because he didn't have a choice. Even if Yennifer had left him, the two were still bonded thanks to the Djinn and Triss had saved his life back on Temeria. He owned them both.

The rectress didn't join them. (Not that he would let her). She said something about drawing the attention away from her pupils. Since they were more powerful and younger than her, and therefore played a more important role in the war than her, she would sacrifice being followed and found (and whatever came after that) to give them more time to escape the war. Geralt suspected there was more to it than that, but it didn't seem to be his place to say that.

After farewells' were said between Triss and the rectress (and the unconscious Yennifer), the four made their way towards Kaer Morhen. Yennifer rode on top of Roach, Ciri and Tress by her side and him at the front, leading and protecting at the same time. Yennifer didn't wake up until a week after they set off and it took them another two weeks to arrive at witcher school.

When she woke up, both Tris and him had to physically stop her from going back to Tissaia's side. They were setting camp in the woods when she sat up from the floor with a start. Ciri, who was closest to her, got quite a fright and a scratch, when she tried to calm the sorceress. They somehow got her soothed enough to listen to them and explain the plan for the time being. The kingdoms of the country that weren't below in Nilfgards' reign were holding their attack back, so until she and Triss were ready to join the battlefield once more, they were to stay with the witcher. He would take them to Kaer Morhen, a place filled with witcher during the winter, a place which Nilfgard would have to be crazy to attack. Once the two mages were fine, they were free to leave. Cirila would stay with him up in the north until there wasn't a bounty on her head anymore or she could protect herself, whichever happened first.

They continued their journey the next day, although the air around them a little tense. The first-week Ciri and Triss had talked lightly about trivial things, but with Yen now awake things had turned awkward. It surprised Geralt that the purple-eyed woman was not angry at him, or at least not showing it. After the disastrous Dragon hunt, he imagined the next time they saw each other, she would try to slit his throat. But, alas, she still hadn't tried. Maybe she was too drained to be bothered by it.

He was too in some way. Finding the little princess had drained in ways he never experienced before, and the silence of the journey was weighing on him, strangely. It had never bothered him before, the quiet. But even when the tension between the three women dissipated and the three chattered normally, the feeling was still there. As if something was missing. He didn't understand it. When Jaskier talked and composed whenever they had travelled, he never felt this way.

As they made their way towards his home, the three females got better acquainted. They would trade who would ride on Roach, though Ciri spent more time there. She was still gaining her strength back and this way, they moved quickly. The two mages didn't seem to mind, as they told her stories and fables of magic and spells, the girl opened up to them, even confessing that she believes to have magic of her own. Geralt already suspected it and was planning to bring it up with her once they were in Kaer Morhen, but Yen and Triss beat him to it. They taught her how to hide it and control it so that it didn't explode, but nothing more. Magic lessons were hard when you were on the run.

Unfortunately, when the three ran out of things about themselves to talk about they moved on to talk about him. Ciri was naturally curious about the man who was now her... protector? (Yes, let's go with that. Protector) And her curiosity wasn't satisfied with his grunts and one-word responses, so when he proved fruitless, she asked the two mages. Who was too damn happy about answering her, even if it was the correct answer or not. Besides, he was less than 2 feet away from them, they could at least pretend he was there, right?

By the time they arrived at the snow-covered mountains, he was all too happy to end their little journey.

"Well, look who it is, Geralt of Rivia," Vesemir greeted him with an embrace and a few strong pats in his back when they reached the gate to the fortress. "You know, for a loner, you have the most company this year," the old man jokes as he turns to his companions.

Vesemir welcomes the three females and they go inside. They make a small stop at the stables where they leave Roach before Vesemir shows them to their rooms. Geralt can see they are not the first ones to arrive, other horses have already been left there.

"So, is this where you were born?" Ciri asks as they walk through the old stone hallways.

"No," Geralt grunts. "This is where I was taught how to be a witcher,"

"Am I going to be taught how to be a witcher too?"

"No," he responds too fast. "You'll learn how to protect yourself, in case you need to," he says sternly. He should be more considerate with her, after everything that's been going on, but he can't help it.

"Don't worry, little one," Vesemir tells her. "You'll probably be able to do anything a witcher can. And with good timing, business has never been better for witchers!"

"Hmmm?"

"But I people hate witchers?" Triss asks as confused as the rest of them.

"Well, yes, they do," Vesemir agrees. "But compared to the last century, these two last decades have been wonderful for us. Ever since the great Epic Hymns about The White Wolf, The Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia have been going around more and more people are requesting our services. Your tales are painting us in a better light. Your little bard is making our lives easier, you should really thank that little dandelion of yours," Vesemir tells them.

"Hmmm." if only he could. He hadn't seen or heard about Jaskier since the dragon fiasco. He had been busy, though. And after everything that had happened and had been said, he doubted his the bard would be happy to see him.

"Alright, this is your room ladies, right next to Geralt's," they finally arrive. "I will see if we have anything for you to wear and I'll make sure one of the boys brings you another bed. That thing might be big, but I doubt you three would be able to sleep comfortably," Vesemir tells them as they enter the chambers.

"Oh, no, please, that won't be necessary!" Triss tells the older man.

"We won't be here long," Yenn adds after Triss.

"Nonsense! It might not be as fancy here as a royal court or some other bullshit like that, but you are guest here! If my boys bring somebody here, they are special and they will be treated as they deserve!" the man declares and then turns to the younger witcher. "Supper will be at 10, you might want to take a bath before that," he chuckles and leaves, patting his shoulder a few times.

"Hmmm,"

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Geralt knocks on the door next to his chambers when it's time for dinner. Triss opens the door, letting him in. She is dressed in a simple, yet nice green dress. Probably made it herself. He doubted a place full of witchers owned something like that. When he comes inside, he sees Yen (also in a dress made by herself) braiding Ciri's hair in front of a mirror in the corner of the room. The princess, unlike the two mages, was wearing the clothes they used to give the younger witchers.

"Time for dinner," he announces.

"We are almost done, be a little more patient," Yenn tells him without taking her eyes off her hair.

"Hmmm,"

"What could you be so excited about? Having dinner with more brooding tall men?" Triss chuckles at her comment as Ciri smiles humoured.

"Hmmm,"

Yennifer sighs tiredly and a few seconds later puts the hair down. "Perfect," she compliments and the three start going towards the dining hall.

Geralt, while the three mages are blissfully unaware, has been losing his mind. Coming to Kaer Morhen is supposed to be a season for him to relax and be with his brothers, but ever since he arrived he keeps getting whiffs of nostalgia. Of honey mixed with cedarwood. Of cheap fragrance and dirt. Of the sweet aroma of dandelions. It brings shivers down his spine and it makes his chest ache. It reminds him of pubs and inns and life on the Path. Of a constant melody, right by his side, commenting and praising and joking, but most importantly, never stopping.

He must be losing his mind if a place like this reminds him of the bard. The only time he had ever been here was through his words. When his brothers asked him about Toss a coin and the bard who was telling the epic stories of his adventures. He had never brought Jaskiel here. At the moment, it seemed wrong to bring him to the cold and bitter snow of Kaer Morhen. So why was he smelling the bard in here? As if he was there? As if Geralt had never pushed him away.

"Do you hear that?" Ciri interrupts his inner musing. It makes everybody stop and listen.

On the halls of what should be a cold mountain, the soft sound of strings and music catches their attention. They all rush to the source. Or Geralt rushes as the other three follow him. Because he knew that music. He had heard it be sung in pubs, heard as it manifested in a melody, heard it born from a humming. As he opens the door to the dining hall, the cold stone hallway gets filled with light and warmth. The slow singing that had once been a slight whisper, is now in full blast as his brothers, probably drunk out of their minds, sing along. Or at least try, as the only man with an instrument and tuned voice strouts on top of one of the table, strumming his lute with careful fingers as if they danced around the stings.

"Toss a coin to your witcher,

O' Valley of plenty,

O' Valley of plenty,"

"Is that... ?"

'Jaskiel... ?'

[ladyrivia]

Ascend (Yennefer x Reader)

Request: Hi! Could I possibly request a Yennefer x reader where reader is another Sorceress at Aretuza who cares about Yen before her transformation and then falls for her even more after Yen's transformation please?

Pairing: Yennefer x Reader

Authors Note: someone needs to recreate aretuza in minecraft.

-

“How’s the new batch?” You asked Tissaia, a fellow sorceress and mentor of yours. 

“They are.. Interesting. Why don’t you go introduce yourself, maybe it’ll give them motivation to learn.” Tissaia smiled at you, she was always fond of you, even before your transformation.

You nodded in agreement, getting up from your seat and walking down one of the many hallways.

‘I wonder who is staying in my old room?’ You thought as you approached the old door. 

You knocked and waited.

A shy figure answered the door, her black hair covering her bright purple eyes.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You gave her a small smile, curious of what was making her so anxious. “May I come in?”

She nodded and opened the door more so that you were able to squeeze through.

“What’s your name?” You asked the shy girl.

“Yennefer,” She eyed you curiously. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a sorceress here, I heard about the new arrivals and wanted to introduce myself.”

She opened up after that, telling you of her past and where she was from.

You began to visit her every night, tutoring her on how to ‘control chaos’ as Tissaia would put it. You fell for her, you found everything about her beautiful and unique. 

“I know you’ll do well. Good luck.” You hugged her.

Then came the day that she was supposed to ascend, you and the other soccorers sat in the circle, the topic quickly switched to Yennefer’s lineage. 

She had confided in you about this and told you the oppression she faced due to it. You promised to keep it a secret, and you kept your promise.

“Her lineage doesn’t matter, she’s a wonderful soccoress and deserves to ascend and go to where she was promised!” You argued and fought with the others, defending Yennefer’s honor, but it was of no use, they outvoted you.

You tried finding her, you ran down all the hallways and were unable to find her. You rushed back to the party, perhaps she had gone there?

She wasn’t there, you went to Tissaia to ask if she had seen her.

“Tissaia have you-” The words fell out of your mouth when your eyes laid upon Yennefer. You rushed up to her, embracing her in a big hug.

“You made it!” You gasped, holding her cheek with your hand. “You kept your eyes!” You smiled, her eyes were always your favorite.

“I knew you would love it.” She smiled back at you.

[riviia]

Title: Dexterity (Re-upload) Pairing: Geralt x Yennefer Rating: Slight M Summary: Yennefer is taken back by Geralt’s former lover. Okay, so I’m sorry it’s not as long as I wanted it to be, and I’m sorry I just suck all around, but I hope if anybody reads this that they enjoy it. I also didn’t make it as smutty as I thought because I got too deep in and it didn’t feel right. Thanks for reading ily

“And that would be twenty to four.”

Geralt of Rivia grunted in despair, throwing his pile of gwent cards down onto the wooden table as a violet eyed sorceress let a light grin touch her smooth lips. The low chords of a mandolin set itself in the background of the tavern they occupied, and Geralt drowned his annoyance of loss with the sound of the music.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser, Geralt.” Yennefer’s perfect accent tinted itself with a small chuckle. Just low enough that only Geralt could hear, and genuine enough that Geralt could tell she meant the laugh. Something that was a rarity in the sorceress.

“Are you done then?” She asked, with a raise of an eyebrow, gathering the cards and shuffling the deck neatly.

Geralt grunted. “Do you think I need my ego deflated more?”

She gave him a smile, but muttered ‘sore loser’ under her breath. She put the cards down in a shuffled pile on the table and took a small sip of her wine.

“You’ve been practicing?” He asked her, taking a large gulp of his own brown ale.

“Why Geralt! We were apart for far too long. I needed something to occupy my mind.”

“So, in technical terms, you have only mastered the art of gwent because you missed me?”

She blinked, taking another swig, shaking her head so her dark ravened curls fell upon her shoulders chaotically. “Your ego is rather big.”

Geralt laughed, but his mind wavered slowly to the sadness her had truly felt without her jests. He had missed the bickering, missed the fighting. Especially missed how sweet and passionate making up would be.

“Geralt, do control your thoughts. For heaven’s sake.”

He glared at her. “I hate it when you read my mind.”

“No, you don’t,” she said with a wink, her long lashes almost hitting the top of her cheek. “You merely hate the fact that your spontaneous romantic gestures are often obstructed.”

He shook his head, letting his lips curl upwards. It wasn’t a preposterous idea, to be spontaneous, but with Yen at his side, it was hardly a relative idea.

“Now, where were we?” She asked, shuffling the deck of cards again. “Before you lost your wits, I believe you were about to tell me something?”

His previous statement, a boast about his own gwent abilities died almost instantly. “Only how beautiful you look tonight.”

She snorted, taking another sip of her expensive drink, her eyes lifting not to his, but directly behind him. She sighed. “Well, clearly, I am not the only good looking one around here.” There was a nod of her head towards the table behind Geralt. He looked around, meeting the green eyes of a waitress. Geralt rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“I assume there is a reason for her making moon eyes at you,” Yen began again, staring the young woman down. She looked to be about 25 years of age, with red curling hair down to her waist. “Other than your complete lack of charm and good looks.”

“You flatter me.”

She laughed but choked on her drink a few moments later. “Well, looks as if she’s coming to say hello.” Her dark eyebrow rose up and her nails tapped alongside the table. Geralt tensed up, his Witcher senses hearing her footsteps as they made their way closer to the table. He didn't dare look around, but Yennefer watched carefully as the woman stopped on Geralt’s left.

“Well, well. Geralt of Rivia.” Her accent crisp and harsh. Completely opposite to Yennefer’s cool and calm.

Geralt looked towards the red-headed girl, the quickly glanced at Yennefer, who watched him with an intrigue in her purple eyes, hiding behind her wine glass.

Geralt smiled at the girl and said, “Hello Brienne.”

Yennefer almost choked again, this time on nothing but air. “Brienne?” She shot Geralt a look while keeping her face passive. But he could read her eyes so well. “Seems I may have vastly underestimated your relationship.”

“Yen…” Geralt warned, mentally begging the sorceress to keep her spite internal.

Brienne however ignored the exchanged, looking only at the white wolf. “It’s been a while Geralt. A year or so?”

Geralt nodded, clearing his throat and taking a swig of ale, clarifying her statement.  “Uh yes. I believe. In Vizima.”

The girl, Brienne, had a twinkle in her eye, a grin mismatching itself on her lips. Yennefer didn’t like it. Not at all. “I’m positive I’ll never f’rget those nights.”

Yennefer smiled in Geralt’s direction, a snake smile filled with venom. “Oh really?” Yen said, turning to the girl. “Do tell.”

A small flush of height rose on the girl’s pale cheeks and she looked at Geralt like he was dangling meat in front of a hungry bear. There was no doubt where the girls mind had gone, back to a wild night of love making underneath a raggedy broken house in Vizima Yen had no doubt.

“Geralt helped me brother out with a monster that needed killing. The poor Witcher had nowhere to stay afterwards. We o’fered him our home.”

Yen’s eyes narrowed. “Ah yes. The poor Witcher.” Yen paused, looking at how uncomfortable Geralt was, then began again. “What happened after that?”

The girl’s eyes moved to Geralt’s, ranging her vision down his neck and stopping on his covered muscles, a slow smile appearing on her face with ease. “Well the Witcher showed me a few things.”

“I bet he did.”

“Yen,” Geralt warned again.

But without the blandest regard for Yennefer, Brienne reached over to Geralt and trailed her hand under his chin. His white beard was in his fingers, brushing it with a longing that irritated Yennefer to no end. Before Geralt could react to Brienne’s hand, Yen snapped her fingers and a blue orb of heat appeared in front of the girl’s face. She yelped with the almost contact, stepping back to avoid the heat of magic.

The tavern had gone silent now, watching the sorceress control the orb with just a flick of her fingers. Brienne stared in horror, as if just noticing Geralt’s companion for the first time. Her green eyes bright with horror.  

“I know ye! Yer that sorceress! The one from the ballads!”

“Indeed,” Yen replied equably.

Brienne stayed straight up, putting on a brave face while Yen remained in her seated position, cocking her head to the right. “Ye witch! Yer nothing but ‘orrible to the Witcher. Everybody knows so.”

Geralt’s mouth twisted in anger and he opened his mouth to speak, but Yennefer beat him too it. She flicked her fingers, and the orb disappeared from view.

“I’m not in the business of fighting little girls who pine for the Witchers attention. Be gone.”

“Ye can’t cast me out. This heres my job.”

Yennefer strummed her fingers. “And you are getting on my last nerve, dear. I lightly suggest you take your leave. Now.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak again, but one look from Yen and he closed his mouth. She would handle it, clearly.

“Ye don’t frighten me, she-devil.” Brienne spat on the floor beside Yen, who took a step back in disgust. “At least I don’t have to bewitch the Witcher to warm my bed.”

That got Yen. In an instant, she was on her feet, her fingers snapping to hold a purple fire ball that rested in the palm of her hand. But Geralt was quicker than she had anticipated. Before she could throw the ball towards the barmaid, he rushed forward, picking Yennefer up by her legs and tossing the angry sorceress over his shoulder. She all but hissed at Brienne as Geralt swiftly carried her out of the tavern, careful not to alert any of the guards who needed but a reason to arrest either one of them.

“Let me down, you big oaf!” she cried as they walked down the path back to their inn. Her head hung down near his back and his hand grasped onto the back of her legs. She looked, and felt, like a rag-doll.

“Not until you calm down.”

She let out a grunt and relaxed her body into his form, allowing him to bring her up the creaky stairs and towards their second floor hostile. Once in the room, she was dropped to her feet roughly. She brushed a hand through her rumpled black hair and fixed her creased outfit, smoothing it out with her hand, clearing her throat as Geralt crossed his arms and leaned on the closed door.

“What?” She said, with an innocent candor.

Geralt blinked, his yellow eyes disappearing beneath his lids. “What? You almost just blew an innocent girl’s head off Yen.”

Yen crossed her own arms. “She was hardly innocent.” Geralt’s look made her roll her eyes. “Well, I might have overreacted. You can hardly blame me.”

“Why’s that?”

She shot him her own violent glare, her lips snarling. “Does it seem to you, sweet Geralt, that we have ostensibly met quite a lot of your conquests throughout our journeys?”

It was true, and Geralt knew that. During the time he had left Yen, and his memories along with her, there were quite a lot of female companions in which he sought comfort. Though, so did she.

“You weren’t exactly innocent between our parting either Yen.”

“Yes, and I have been blatantly honest about that. The difference is, it seems as if every tavern, every inn, every bloody damn lake is riddled with one of your former lovers. We have never had that problem with me, so you have never had to face it.”

Geralt stood straight up, taking a few steps towards his her. “Face what exactly?” His ashen eyebrow rose up, leaning in to her with curiosity.

She tightened her jaw and kept his words clamped inside. He took another step towards her, a small Witcher grin on the mounds of his face. Wicked, sensual, almost giddy.

“Could it be that Yennefer of Vengerberg, the great sorceress from the Kingdom of Aedirn, is…jealous?”

Yennefer’s face compressed, her jaw tightened and her fists clenched. “Jealous of your inadequate, wenches and whores?”

Geralt wiggled his eyebrows in a quip, taking another step closer. “Jealous Yen. I haven’t had the pleasure in quite some time. Welcome back.”

“Oh, you are insufferable.”

There was a pause and quick change in tone. “And you are very beautiful.”

The rapid alteration of his words caused the sorceress to glance up, into his cat-like eyes. The trace of laughter was gone from his face, leaving only a set of serious looking iris’ that built on sincerity.

“You think to coin me with compliments and bedroom eyes?” She said, though her tone was lighter now, as her heart was full. She could see he meant it, for whatever reason, beyond her.

“Never. I only want to remind you that nobody’s beauty compares to you. Nobodies brain either. Or heart. Or-”

“Please stop. Before this becomes one of Dandelion’s ballads.”

He chuckled, seeing that he had lessened her mood, and took the last two steps forward to meet her in the middle of their dusty old room. She tilted her head up, to meet his eyes. His smile was so pure and she hated that it was not present on every occasion.

Geralt watched her tongue as she licked her lips, and without warning, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her up, tossing her on the bed behind them. She couldn’t help but let out a squeal of surprise, the bed of pillows catching her fall.  

He loomed over her, hooking his fingers into the bottom of his worn out white tunic and lifted it above his head. It landed on the floor and he turned to see an almost smiling Yen. Though his body was covered with malicious scars and burns, she never ceased to stare at him like he had no such markings.

“They…” Geralt began, standing on the bed, causing a dent in the mattress on either side of her, “do not have any significant influence on my life currently. Besides being a simple part of my past. You, Yennefer, are my past, present and future.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Did someone replace your ale with a love potion, Geralt? This shitty two crown romance un-becomes you.”

He laughed at her cynicism, while getting to his knees before her. She sat up on the bed, her fingers undoing the black buckles around her waist. She tossed it towards Geralt’s shirt and carefully moved her fingers to her off shoulder green feathered blouse, moving the straps till the fell away beneath her breasts.

Geralt swallowed as he watched her fingers trail softly between the mounds of her breasts, her eyes twinkling with lustful mischief. He was in trouble, that was certain.

Instead of saying another word, he grabbed her hips and pulled them forward, so she was forced to lay back down. Her hair sprawled on the pillow like a blackened halo, forming her face against the dim candled night.

She was wearing her signature outfit and with the shirt now out of the way, Geralt had only to focus on her bottom half. Her lace thigh highs hung tight against her skin, sheltered by the bottom of her black skirt. His hand was unstoppable, as he started at the base of her ankle, slowing moving the tips of his fingertips up, over her thigh and beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She shuddered underneath the playful notes of his fingers, but did not succumb enough to shut her eyes. Her vulnerability came at a price.

“You are overthinking,” Geralt claimed, keeping his hand just hovering above the place he wanted to touch. “About Brienne?”

“You’d do well not to mention her again,” Yennefer snapped.

“No, it’s not about Brienne,” The white wolf muttered, looking into the eyes of the women he loved. “Something is bothering you about what she said, isn’t it?”

“Oh for god’s sake, Geralt, will you just shut up and fuck me?”

His eyebrow raised up, his mouth turning into a grim frown. He wanted to talk about it, but she wanted to keep her words bottled up. He shook his head with disappointment, but when he rose his head up, he watched her with desire in his eyes. She could have it her way then. For now.

He moved forward on his knees, his hands working on her left boot while his mouth started a small trail on the inside of her thigh. She didn’t gasp, but her breath hitched violently at the feel of Geralt’s lips. He wrestled with both of the boots and eventually tossed them onto their building pile of belongings.

Next, he used his teeth to capture the top of the lace thigh highs, pulling them down without hands, followed by the next one. They made their home on the boots. Goosebumps filled her bare legs. Their eyes captured together and Geralt could see, from the bite of her lip, from the flush in her cheeks, what he was doing to her.

He moved his head back down again, this time from her ankle, leaving a tiny trail of licks and kisses up her bare leg. His fingers kept the other leg company and his head eventually made its way under her skirt. Her lack of undergarments was not unusual. It was one of Geralt’s favourite things about her. Spontaneity.

Geralt leaned his head forward towards the core of her, feeling her body tense up right before he put his mouth to her sensitivity. This time, she did gasp out, and her hands flew into Geralt’s white hair, pulling roughly.

“Ow Yen,” He muttered. His voice muffled by the skirt, and by her thighs, which had gathered around his waist, tightly holding him in place.

“Well you can hardly fault me. You have a devilishly proficient mouth.”

A little smug, he moved his mouth back to her. She tasted sweet, her scene of lilac and gooseberries almost overwhelming. His tongue swept out and he gave her a long strenuous lick, slow and torturous and she cried out, her knees buckling tighter.

His hands held the top of her thighs as he continued his work, only moving his fingers inside of her to manage an extra stream of pleasure. Her wetness was not the only validation. In the heave of her stomach and the trembling of her body, he knew she was close.

And he pulled away.

“WHA-” Yen’s eyes shot open, her legs clamped down to trap Geralt’s body so he couldn’t pull away. She stared down, her eyes sharp and unamused. “Are you looking to anger me further?”

He gave her a devious smile and moved his body forward slightly, so that he could match her body with his. Her legs slid down to the back of his calves but did not lessen their grasp on him.

“If you’d rather not finish what you’ve started, I can do it myself.”

“I want to talk. I had to gain your attention somehow.”

With their bodies together, they were now face to face. Though unamused, Yennefer did not seem as angry as she claimed. Perhaps disappointed in her lack of orgasm, but not mad. She had known he wasn’t going to let this go. It’s the way he was.

But not the way she was.

“Geralt,” She moved her left hand to his bare chest, following the lines of his scars so softly, so slowly, and she smiled as his breath become heavy. She felt him beneath his trousers, harder than he wanted her to know. He hissed as she cupped him through the fabric, his forehead falling onto her chest. She smiled in triumph.

“Yen,” he growled with frustration, into her skin, as she moved her hand with more determination. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Simply taking matters into my own hands. So to speak.”

She took control again, rotating their positions so she was on top of him. Her legs lay on either side of his lap. Her hair was disheveled from the pillows and Geralt reached up to brush it out of her face.

“You’re relentless,” he whispered.

“So I have been told.”

She removed the last piece of her clothing, shedding her shirt and skirt without moving from her position on him. She sat naked upon him, glorious and striking she was.

“Take off your trousers,” she whispered to him, lifting her hips so he would have no issues removing them. But he didn’t move. She sighed and fiddled with the tightened buckle, removing it swiftly and throwing it away from them.

She moved to bend down towards his chest, she knew the mutilations on his skin by heart but she took time to memorize them again. With her fingers, her mouth. He shivered under her embrace and when she came forward to touch their lips, he whispered before she could press her lips to his.

“She’s wrong you know.”

Yennefer stalled her movements, his breath brushing against her cheek as his words sunk in. She knew what he meant, and she knew he was erroneous.

“Her and everybody else?” She questioned.

“Does that matter Yen? You once told me the opinions of others were inconsequential unless it was of those you love,” He paused, then said, “You and Ciri are the most important things to me.”

“It board well not to mention Ciri when we are in such a compromising position.”

Geralt groaned, with the complete opposite of pleasure. The mention of Ciri while they were in such a compromising position was unnerving.

But Yennefer continued on. “Why are you pressing this, Geralt?”

He reached up and brushed her cheek again, her pink cheeks and violent purple eyes made her colorful and full of life, though he doubted she felt that in her soul. “Because it’s unbearably irritating that people assume the worst of our relationship. Lambert, Eskel, god knows they’ve been doing it for years. It’s only a matter of time before you start to believe it.”

“You are mistaking me for someone who’d seek council in Lambert and Eskel,” she scoffed. “I’d like to think my shrill heart is beyond even that.”

“Regardless, I need you to understand something.”

She cocked her head to the side, her hair wrapping around her neck and falling down to create a waterfall of black curls. The pendent on her neck shone when it hit the light, and sung with a silent protection. She never took it off, even during intimate moments such as this. He reached forward and brushed the necklace with his fingers lightly, looking up to meet her gaze.

“I am by your side because I want to be.”

Such a simple sentence, but so powerful beyond any means. Her eyes widened and she shifted her gaze to the floor, as if modesty was now predominant. When she looked back up, she noted the sincerity written on his face, through his scar, out of his lips and eyes and right into his soul.  

Instead of replying, because she didn’t know how, she closed the small gap between them, letting her lips mold with the familiarity of his. Soft, sweet, passionate, raw. The deeper it went, the deeper they fell. Much like after the Djinn, a different kiss for a different occasion.

He moved his head and began kissing the sensitive parts of her neck, hearing her moan with excitement caused his movements to become more frantic. In a rush, he shimmied the top of his trousers down, just enough to release himself. Yennefer took the cue and opened her legs, and slowly, painfully so, she let him fill her.

The contact was a rush of adrenaline. She placed her hand on his bicep to steady herself. His eyes closed and his head fell back, clutching her naked waist. With a roll of her hips, she began to create friction between them, sliding up and down while keeping her hands on him. He helped her through, letting her ride him fervently while meeting with her hips, thrusting up while she came down. His mouth moved to her breasts, taking a sensitive nipple between the teeth.

“Freya above,” Yen cursed with pleasure, her hips keeping pace, faster, faster, faster. She could feel Geralt throbbing inside, his quivering body beneath her. His hands on her milky thighs, leaving red marks as he clawed at her skin. It was animalistic, it was freeing. She was commanding and he loved to submit, just to watch her release.

The feeling always started in the ball of her stomach, a fluttering throb that grew and grew and grew until the fluttering became an explosion. When he was ready, so was she. She rode him until he cried out, spilling into her while grasping at her body. She felt herself let go and was shown a release unknown to man. A cry from her lips and her body dipped forward, letting Geralt’s arm’s trap her to his chest. They finished in each other’s embrace, and stayed unmoving. Eventually, Geralt’s rumbling breath returned to a normal speed and he lifted his head up to kiss the top of her raven colored hair.

“That never gets old. Not with you.”