#ANIME GIRL GERALT

[thefigureresource]

Geralt [The Witcher] 1/7 scale from Kotobukiya coming February 2024.

[crushingjaws]

white haired pee pee poo poo boys 

reblog if agree

[podcastenthusiast]

My personal rating of jobs I've seen Geralt have in modern AU fics:

Military: 3/10 - I get it in the sense that his work is his life and he's Seen Some Shit, but I just can't picture Geralt taking orders consistently enough.

MMA Fighter/Wrestler: 5/10 - It's got the violence! I could see it. I enjoyed the fistfighting quests in the game. Just not my favorite tho.

Bodyguard: 7/10 (10/10 if he's protecting Jaskier) - He is a big tough-looking boy! Likes to keep people safe. But I think he would get bored long-term.

Personal Trainer: 7/10 - A solid choice. We know he's qualified.

Regular Office Guy: 2/10 - Very funny to imagine but I don't think he'd actually make it past the interview.

Mechanic: 6/10 - I could kinda see it if you think of a car as like a modern horse.

Criminal/Gangster: 3/10 - Admittedly I haven't read one of these but I have trouble imagining it.

Lawyer: 8/10 - Saw this once or twice and honestly I'm here for it. Geralt is a huge nerd with a strong sense of justice.

Animal Control Guy: 9/10 - I picture this like that quest in W3 where Geralt had to save that goat except it's his entire job.

Trucker: 10/10 - God tier. Got the traveling, the isolation, the way the job gets in your bones. Perfection.

Anything With Horses: 10/10 - Yes! Geralt is absolutely a horse girl in every universe.

Still A Witcher Somehow: 10/10 - Love these fics with my whole heart. Geralt probably living in his car, wandering the city with a sword and protecting people (like Jaskier) from monsters nobody knows about/believes in? Fuck yeah.

[thedemonofcat]

The name Roach is what Geralt gives to not just his horses but to every animal he has encountered.

There have been,

Goat Roach’s

Pig Roach’s

Chicken Roach’s

Cow Roach’s

Cat Roach’s

Dog Roach’s

Rabbit Roach’s

At this point, Jaskier is very glad that Geralt didnt meet Ciri and has a baby. Otherwise, the poor girl's name would have been Roach

[dapandapod]

Concept:

Geralt works in an aquarium, near the biggest fish tank.

Jaskier is a newly hired mermaid performer

Geralt was not told about this

In my dreams, it's still Mermay 2023. Husshhh time is fake. ANYWAY here it is! Thank you @magdelanesingerin helping me beta read <3 and thank you Ella-la for the prompt! It was a lot of fun! Please enjoy <3 On Ao3 here

Technically, Geralt does not work with humans. As in, he’s not there to provide care to humans.

Most of his coworkers are human, yes, but that is not the point. He did not start working here to serve people stale sandwiches and sparkling water.

Geralt knows every inch of the aquarium, knows every work position available.

He knows how to do everything, despite actually being there for the more excotic species of aquatic animals, usually with many teeth. Pros and Cons of working with the family, he supposes.

The years he has spent out in the field and all the late nights he worked with his doctor's thesis, all the scars from times he spent crawling through knee deep water that stank of sulfur and decay, only to find his arm swallowed to the elbow by something very small with big hubris-- all of that is put to perfect use as he wraps yet another dry, overpriced sandwich, or scoops yet another ice cream.

The reason he actually stays, despite the screaming children and the sweating parents and the bored teenagers and the entitled grandparents and the weird work tasks he gets assigned, is the way a young girl's face lights up when Geralt holds up a frog, big enough for him to have to use both hands.

Or the way the sullen teen beams when one of their rare giant butterflies lands on their hands. Or when he can hold an audience captive while showing them something new and exciting and incredibly nerdy about his sharks.

Geralt loves his sharks.

Due to every summer reason ever, Geralt has sadly been called away from his animal related daytime tasks to cover shifts where their usual summer employees are out sick. Which seems to be most of this month.

Where he stands right now, in the very small and very understaffed little kiosk, he has an excellent view of the shark tank, at least. As the aquarium has grown in popularity, so has their shark tank, his pride and joy.

Coën had explained to him excitedly that their new tank would have a much bigger viewing area, and seating area, almost like a little theater. To allow for future opportunities, he had said, and Geralt thought of the way he would be allowed to show off his beauties through the window and almost got excited himself.

It is unusually crowded today, and a lot of people are gathering around the viewing area and are chattering.

It's so loud, their voices bouncing around the room and amplifying, and it's hard to hear the woman in front of him inexplicably order their largest latte and a lactose free cheese sandwich.

Luckily, Milva is coming in soon to cover the rest of the shift, so Geralt can finally get back behind the tanks, out of sight of all the people.

But before he can, the clock strikes one, music blares through the speakers the speakers, and one of the employees he knows from birthday parties steps out with a microphone. It makes Geralt frown, because this is new.

Usually, the show around the big tank would involve a kid friendly lesson about the fish and aquatic animals in their tank, sometimes accompanied by a sweaty Lambert in a mascot suit.

This time, however, there is dreamy music, the lights are lowered even more, and the employee is talking about the magical beings living in the deep, out of sight of human eyes.

See, Geralt is a man of science.

He knows there are mythical and magical things in the depths, having been up close and personal with a few. But this sounds like they are setting up for some kind of misinformed children’s movie.

Which is why Geralt's jaw is somewhere around floor level, when an actual mermaid- wait no, merman, swims up to the glass, waving at the children.

Milva has to elbow him out of the way so she can serve the next customer, while Geralt stares at the Merman flitting around in his beloved shark tank.

The sharks stay clear, because even if the merman's tail is beautiful, it is still striped much like a dragon fish, warning all of them not only with his size, but also with his pattern and coloring, that he is dangerous.

Yet his smile is wide, his claws retracted to tap a smooth fingertip at the glass and wave at the crowd with a webbed hand.

His hair is chestnut brown, matching the pattern riding up along his back, with specks of gold dancing on his skin and in his blue, very blue eyes.

Geralt somehow finds himself by the rail to the seating area, and the merman's eyes lock with his.

As they do, they widen a fraction, and the smile turns into a smirk. The merman winks, and turns, swimming in a pirouetting circle as the employee narrates his movements.

As he swims, the light dances over muscle and bone and scale, the crowd around him making ‘Oooh’ and ‘Aaah’ noises. He is beautiful.

The merman keeps showing off, his many long fins twirling around him like ribbons in the calm water. It is mesmerizing, and as the show is coming to a close, Geralt hurries to the back area and towards the tank.

He gets intercepted by Lambert, of course, who steps in front of him with a shit eating grin spread wide across his smug face.

"Like the new show, did you, pretty boy?" Lambert says, sly eyes watching him.

"I didn't realize we had a new show." Geralt grumbles. "I need to-"

"-Go and ask our new pretty fish boy intrusive questions, yes I know. Just remember he is not a science project."

With a pat on Geralt's shoulder, Lambert walks past him and intothe guest area.

"Oh, and ask him for his number. Literally everybody in the room saw that wink," he throws over his shoulder as he goes.

Geralt feels his ears burn as he moves forward again, because yeah, that wink felt very... yeah. Words fail him, which is a bit unfortunate, seeing as he is just arriving at the stairs to the tank.

Climbing them, he tries to remember what he planned to do in the first place, other than, as Lambert called it, 'ask intrusive questions'.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the merman is just climbing out of the tank, assisted by Eskel. Once again, Geralt feels his jaw drop, noticing that his tail is now legs.

Long legs. Bare legs, that goes up, up, and lucky for all of them, the rest of the view is quickly hidden by a towel wrapped around a slim waist.

"Figures," he hears Eskel snort, "Jaskier, this is Geralt, our aquatic expert."

They are on separate ends of the room, the tank between them, but the world narrows down to just the two of them.

There is, and always has been, a specific mood to the rooms that houses the the big tanks.

The way the water reflects light, sending it dancing on the walls and ceiling, how it softens shadows, how it can be dark but bright at the same time; Geralt has always did found it a little romantic.

Which isn't something he would ever confess to unless he was swimming in alcohol, or so sleep deprived he didn’tt even know his own name, but it is there, simmering in the back of his mind.

Especially now as he is standing there in the soft, romantic light with a man, who was just a merman, looking back at him as if he has discovered the world anew. He can even pretend that the humming of pumps and gurgling of water filters and dripping of pipes are an orchestra, a symphony to accompany a first meeting.

Alright, that is overdoing it, but still.

Behind Jaskier, Eskel is rolling his eyes so hard his body moves with it.

"Every. Frickin. Time. Jaskier, good job, don't forget to wash off before you get dressed. Let's talk after... after. Later. I do not want to be here right now."

Eskel leaves, patting Jaskier's shoulder, who only nods and waves absently, eyes still fixed at Geralt.

When Eskel is gone, disappearing through another door leading to more, smaller tanks and the food prep area, Geralt finally finds he can move.

It is oddly silent, except for the metallic sound of his shoes hitting the maze of walkways hanging above the tank. He stops, even before he has turned the corner to the final stretch.

"Hi," he manages after a few seconds too long.

The corner of Jaskier's mouth tugs up into a smile, and he reaches for another towel hanging on a hook on the wall.

"Hi," he echoes, his voice just a little raspy. Jaskier wraps the towel around his shoulders, using a corner to dry his hair. "So, you are the Geralt that I have heard so much about."

Geralt blinks. He did not expect people to have mentioned him, but then again, they might actually have warned Jaskier of him.

"Ah. Sorry. I can be uh... less than tactful when something grabs my interest."

Jaskier tilts his head even more and takes a step closer to him.

"So did I? Grab your interest, I mean."

Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck shit.

"I have never met a merman before." Geralt says stiffly, ears burning something fierce, and Jaskier looks amused.

Jaskier steps closer; his feet probably hurt from walking barefoot on the metal grating of the walkway but he doesn't stop until he is close enough to Geralt to stretch out his hand.

"Well then. My name is Jaskier, as you might have gathered. Nice to meet you! Though, I am not full mer, actually."

Interesting.

Geralt shakes his hand, noticing the tips of Jaskier’s fingers are a little rough against the back of his hand.

"Is that why you have... uh..."

"Legs?" Jaskier supplies helpfully. Geralt is still shaking his hand. "In part, yes. Some Mer have a splash of elven blood, granting them the ability to choose."

Geralt should stop shaking his hand. He really should. Their eyes are still locked, and Jaskier is still giving him that amused smile.

"You can stop shaking my hand now," he reminds Geralt, but doesn’t pull his hand back.

"Right. Yes. Right. Sorry." Geralt manages to let go, and is infinitely happy Eskel has left the room, though no doubt Lambert will look at the security footage for later. Shit.

As soon as Geralt manages to break the stare into the man’s eyes, he notices the next problem. Jaskier is pretty much naked, barely covered by the towels, revealing skin, chest hair, and the hint of a tattoo along his ribs and on one thigh.

He wants to ask about that, if it transfers to his fins or not. But as he stares, he also realizes Jaskier is shivering slightly. He's an idiot.

"I uh. Should leave you to get dressed. There is a shower in the changing rooms. Uhm. Can I get you a coffee or something? Later?"

Jaskier smiles that amused smile of his while Geralt is kicking himself internally. Words never were his thing, no, but this is ridiculous.

"As in bring me a coffee, or drink a coffee together with me?"

"Whichever you are comfortable with. Sorry, I am not making a good impression here."

"You are very cute, if that helps." Jaskier says, and Geralt blinks, stunned.

When he fails to reply, Jaskier pulls his towel tighter around himself, and nods.

"Right. So, I'll go shower, and we’ll pretend I never said that. And I'll see you later. For coffee."

Jaskier’s ears are slightly red, and Geralt wants to pretend it’s from their conversation, not from being cold.

Geralt nods, and flees before he can put his foot in his mouth any further, and only after he is half way down the stairs does he realize that he forgot to ask if Eskel showed Jaskier where the changing rooms are.

Too late now, he absolutely won’t go back and risk walking in on a very naked Jaskier. Nope.

When Geralt steps into the public area again, the crowds are slowly thinning out, now that the show is over.

Parents are herding kids towards bathrooms and other viewing areas, and Geralt decides that he needs to find something just a little better than the staff room coffee machine.

It feels a little cheap to go with the aquarium café, and he realizes he doesn't even know how Jaskier likes his coffee. Geralt himself has a sweet tooth, and very few ever believe that at first sight.

He decides to stand and awkwardly waits until Jaskier comes back out.

He manages to work himself up as he waits, overthinking until he’s standing there frowning and glaring at the wall when Jaskier emerges at last.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jaskier hoists his dufflebag a bit higher on his shoulder.

"You good?"

"Hmm. What kind of coffee do you like?" Geralt asks, before he can say something dumb.

"Black as tar, so anything is good." Jaskier smiles. See? You never know what to expect, even with sunshine incarnated.

Geralt nods, and leads the way to the little kiosk where he was working just a few, life-changing minutes before. .

Milva smiles gleefully at Geralt when it's their turn, and hands them a coffee black as tar, and for Geralt, coffee with milk and three sugar cubes.

Instead of sitting down, they put away Jaskier's bag and wander around the aquarium. It turns out he never had the chance to look around before diving in for his first show.

Geralt tries to not ask all the intrusive questions bubbling up in his head, his scientific curiosity temporarily pushed down by the way Jaskier coos at tiny crabs and little fishes in weird shapes and colors.

At last, Jaskier informs him that he can't stay any longer, that he has band practice after his show, and should have gone already.

"But I'll see you again, Geralt," Jaskier promises with a smile. "Next week. Unless you want to grab a bite sometime?"

Jaskier's ears are red again, and Geralt can feel his own face getting warm.

"I'd like that," he mumble, and Jaskier beams. They exchange numbers, just in case Geralt had anything else to ask.

Not one minute after Jaskier leaves, waving over his shoulder, Lambert is on him.

"Getting some tail, are you, pretty boy?" Lambert grins, and Geralt elbows him away.

"If you say anything ever again, I'll show Aiden all your drunk texts," he threatens, which he knows will only work for a few days.

Geralt risks sending a text that same night, and Jaskier replies only a few minutes after.

They have a lunch scheduled in a few days, and Geralt doesn't dare call it a date, not yet, no matter what Eskel says.

When Geralt goes to sleep later that night, he dreams of blue eyes, of chestnut brown and gold specks glimmering in the underwater light.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Please note that a character currently needs at least 3 submissions to make it into the poll

That said:

Has 3 Submissions or more:

Aang - Avatar: The Last Airbender

Anakin Skywalker - Star Wars

Batman - DC

Bella Swan - Twilight

Bloom Peters - Fate: The Winx Saga

Bojack Horseman - Bojack Horseman

Brambleclaw - Warrior Cats

Clary Fray/Fairchild - Shadowhunters

Coriolanus Snow - The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Elsa - Frozen

Evan Hansen - Dear Evan Hansen

Frank Reagan - Blue Bloods

Gregory - FNaF Security Breach

Harry Dresden - The Dresden Files

Harry DuBois - Disco Elysium

Heywood Floyd - Space Odyssey

Holden Caulfield - The Catcher in the Rye

Kazuya Kinoshita - Rent-a-Girlfriend

Kiris - On the Emperor's Lap

Mal - Descendants

Peter Pan - Peter Pan

Rand al'Thor - Wheel of Time

Rintaro Okabe - Steins;Gate

Scott McCall - Teen Wolf

Stolas - Helluva Boss

Ted Mosby - How I Met Your Mother

Tim Jackson Drake - DC

Tony Stark - MCU

Walter White - Breaking Bad

Wanda Maximoff - MCU

Xander Harris - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Zoey Redbird - The House of Night

Has 2 Submissions:

Ash Ketchum - Pokemon

Bloom Peters - Winx Club

Claire - Ship It

Dawson Leery - Dawson’s Creek

Duck Dodgers - Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2 century

Dr Gregory House - House MD

Elizabeth - Bioshock Burial at Sea

Ezra Bridger - Star Wars Rebels

Ferris Bueller - Ferris Bueller's Day off

Feyre Archeron - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Harry Potter - Harry Potter

James Bond - James Bond

Jaune Arc - RWBY

Kyouya Sata - Ookami shoujo to kuro ouji

Netsa Archeron - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Odysseus - The Odyssey

Owen Grady - Jurassic World

Piper - Orange is the new Black

Pucca - Pucca

Quentin Coldwater - The Magicians (books)

Rey - Star Wars

Richard Rahl - Seeker of Truth/Legend of the Seeker

Riley Matthews - Girl Meets World

Robin - Teen Titans Go

Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) - Scum Villain’s Self Saving System

Tom Paris - Star Trek: vVyager

Velma - Velma

Wade Watts - Ready Player One

Has 1 Submission

Achilles - The Iliad

Akiyama Shun - Ryu Ga Gotoku/Yakuza

Alexander Hamilton - Hamilton

Animal Crossing New Horizons' Player Character - Animal Crossing New Horizons

Aquamarin Hoshino - Oshi No Ko

Aragorn - Lord of the Rings

Arek - So This Is Ever After

Artemis Fowl - Artemis Fowl

Arthur Pendragon - BBC Merlin

Ataru Moroboshi - Urusei Yatsura

August Landry - One Last Stop

Ayin - Lobotomy Corporation

Bakugou Katsuki - My Hero Academia

Betty Cooper - Riverdale

Billy Buddy/Dr. Horrible - Dr. Horrible's Sing Along

Blake - Pokemon Adventures Black 2 and White 2

Blitzo - Helluva Boss

Bubsy - Bubsy 3D

Charley Pollard - Doctor Who

Charlie Morningstar - Hazbin Hotel

Choromatsu Matsuno - Osomatsu-san

Colin Bridgerton - Bridgerton

Corrin - Fire Emblem Fates

Cory Matthews - Boy Meets World

Dal - Star Trek Prodigy

Damian Wayne - DC

Daphne Bridgerton - Bridgerton

Data - Star Trek The Next Generation

Dr. Hanna Heath - People of the Book

Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Way - My Immortal

Ellison Oswalt - Sinister

Elric of Melniborne - The Elric Saga

Emma Nelson - Degrassi: The Next Generation

Equality 7-2521 - Anthem

Eren Jaegar - Shingeki no Kyojin

Faust - Goethes Faust

Frasier Crane - Frasier

Galadriel Higgins - The Scholomance Trilogy

Geralt of Rivia - The Last Wish, The Witcher books

Go Siwon - A Guy Like You

Gray Wing - Warrior Cats

Haruyuki Arita - Accel World

Homer Simpson - The Simpson

Howard Roark - The Fountainhead

Jaypaw - Warrior Cats

Jean-Luc Picard - Star Trek The Next Generation

Jeff Winger - Community

Jim Hopper - Stranger Things

JJ - Cocomelon

Joaquin Monegro - Abel Sánchez

John Proctor - The Crucible

Jughead Jones - Riverdale

Kai - The Witch King

Kang Jinha - A Guy Like You

Katara - Avatar the Last Airbender

Katnis - Hunger Games

Khai - Theory of Love - Thai BL Show

King Arthur - King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

Korra - Avatar: Legend of Korra

Koyomi Araragi - The Monogatari series

Kun-chan - Mirai

Kvothe - The Kingkiller Chronicles

Lelouch Lamperouge - Code Geass

Leroy Jethro Gibbs - NCIS

Lionblaze - Warriors (Power of Three and Omen of the Stars)

Luna - Retro

Luffy - One Piece

Lyn - Fire Emblem

Makoto Naegi - Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Mal - Firefly

Manaow - Love Senior

Mark Watney - The Martian

Mary Poppins - Walt Disney's Mary Poppins

Meliodas - Seven Deadly Sins

Merlin - BBC Merlin

Mia - La La Land

Mike Wheeler - Stranger Things

Miyo Sasaki - A Whisker Away

Mordecai - Regular Show

Nick Carraway - The Great Gatsby

Nightheart - Warrior Cats

North Italy - Hetalia

Okajima ""Rock"" Rokuro - Black Lagoon (Anime)

Oscar - Shark Tale

Otis Milburn - Sex Education

Patrick Bateman - American Psycho

Peppa Pig - Peppa Pig

Piper McLean - Heroes of Olympus

Pippa Fitz-Amobi - A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

Rebecca Bunch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV show)

Robert Langdon - The Da Vinci Code

Rodion Raskolnikov - Crime and Punishment

Rorschach - Watchmen

Ruby - Max & Ruby

Ryo Saeba - City Hunter

Sabrina Spellman - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Satou Kazuma - Konosuba

Shiori - Six Crimson Cranes

Shiro Emiya - Fate/Stay Night

Shrek - Shrek

Skullduggery Pleasant - Skullduggery Pleasant

Snow Villiers - Final Fantasy 13

Star Butterfly - Star vs The Forces of Evil

Stiles Stilinski - Teen Wolf

Sydney Atherton - The Beetle

Tai Kamiya - Digimon Adventure

Takao - Garden of Words

Tara Webster - Dance Academy

Tarl Cabot - The Gor Chronicles

Violetta - Disney's Violetta

William Afton - FNaF Ultimate Custom Night

Yu/Ai - Final Fantasy Unlimited

Yuri Zhivago - Doctor Zhivago

Yuusaku Godai - Maison Ikkoku

Zack Morris - Saved by the Bell

Available for Resubmission (needs at least 1 resubmission to participate)

Atsuko Kagiri/Akko - Little Witch Academia

Beca Mitchell - Pitch Perfect

Elena Gilbert - Vampire Diaries

Izuku (Deku) Midoriya - Boku no Hero Academia

Katarina Claes - My Next Life as a Villainess

Scott Pilgrim - Scott Pilgrim

Sophie Foster - Keeper of the Lost Cities

The Tenth Doctor - Doctor Who

Wei (Ying) Wuxian - Mo Dao Zu Shi

Currently unavailable for a new Round:

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius/Celaena Sardothien - Throne of Glass

Alex Eagleston - YIIK

Caillou - Caillou

Dean Winchester - Supernatural

Eragon - Eragon/Inheritance Cycle

Erika Shinohara - Ookami shoujo to kuro ouji

Kirito - Sword Art Online

Light Yagami - Death Note

Marinette Dupain-Cheng - Miraculous Ladybug

Naofumi Iwatani - The Rising of the Shield Hero

Peter Griffin - Family guy

Rachel Berry - Glee

Ross Geller - Friends

Tori Vega - Victorious

Victor Frankenstein - Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus

Y/N - Fanfiction

[delicate-moon-princess]

His Favorite "Toy" to Use

Hi, everyone! I want to thank you all for 129 followers!! I can’t believe it. Your support has made me feel so inspired 🥹. I really can’t thank you enough. To celebrate this milestone, I thought I could take a shot at writing a sexy headcanon. Enjoy!

His Favorite “Toy” to Use

Warnings: 18+ smut, use of sex toys and other sex accessories, RPF, p in v, tiny bit of fingering, oral (m and f receiving), deepthroating, bdsm aspects, little bit of daddy kink, pet play, humiliation, anal play, corporal punishment, overstimulation, bodily fluids, mild sense deprivation, temperature play (both hot and cold)- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Any typos are my own!

Henry-Rabbit Vibrator

The toy sits in your underwear drawer. And whenever Henry is in the mood to use it, he walks towards the bed while holding it behind his back. 

His grin gives it away, you already know what’s in his hand. Cheeky man.

You lean back against his chest as he sits up against the headboard. His legs keep yours apart as he holds the toy inside you.

He gets a rush from seeing your expression as your clit and g-spot are simultaneously struck by the vibrations. Occasionally, he moves the toy back and forth to heighten the sensation.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart. Does that feel good? Are you gonna cum for me, hm? You’re so beautiful when you cum.” He murmurs in your ear as you gasp.

He drags orgasm after orgasm out of you, making you gush around the silicon plenty of times. He beams in pride as you make the toy and his hand drip with your fluids. Luckily, he always has the foresight to put a towel down.

More characters under the cut…

August-Spreader Bar

The bar fastened to your ankles holds your legs apart. And as opposed to ropes or cuffs, it gives August the perfect handle to toss you around as he pleases.

Sometimes, he just flips you around to savor the dazed, fucked-out look in your eyes. Your expression feeds the feral animal inside him. You're his little ragdoll.

Other times, he loves to stand you up in front of him. Your legs spread wide, he straps a magic wand (his second favorite toy) to your thigh. The vibrating head is pressed to your clit.

The constant, intense buzzing has you dripping. Tears escape your eyes when your arousal coats your thighs and leaks down onto the carpet. Your toes curl as you sob.

“You’re making a mess on Daddy’s floor, princess. What am I to do with such a messy girl?” He clicks his tongue while shaking his head. You’re in for it now.

Sherlock-His Cane

It’s a muiltool. Used for walking, or a weapon if need be. Sherlock’s cane is also the perfect symbol of his immense power and social status. 

And if you’re being mouthy with him, he won't hesitate to punish you with it. After he’s had enough of your attitude, he makes you strip and crawl naked to the bedroom in front of him. 

That’s when you know better than to disobey him, so you just hang your head and crawl. Whenever you slow down to stall your thrashing, the tip of his cane nudges your ass to urge you forward.

“Keep going, little rabbit. Your punishment awaits. Save your tears, you know a naughty pet gets the cane.” He scolds you. Humiliation is always part of your punishment.

He’s excited by the loud sobs you let out whenever his cane whacks your tender bottom. He only stops when there are welts on your throbbing flesh.

Afterwards, he sits on the edge of the bed with your head in his lap as he strokes your hair. When you're done sobbing against his trousers, he gently cares for your wounds like the good husband he is.

Geralt-Gag

He doesn’t need any fancy toys. Geralt has two hands, a mouth, and a cock to please you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t take joy in hearing you cry from underneath a gag as he slams into your poor body. And when you’re spending the night at an inn and he doesn't want to draw unwanted attention to the two of you, it helps.

It’s usually just a piece of cloth shoved between your teeth and tied behind your head. The fabric presses down onto your tongue, making you drool and gag whenever you try to whine.

It doesn’t muffle you completely. So when you let out an especially loud moan that can be heard despite the gag, his hand comes up to grip your throat.

“Silence yourself…. Before I shove my cock between your lips and do it for you.” He hisses, squeezing your throat hard enough that you get the idea.

It takes great effort not to sob as he fucks you even harder, keeping his hand on your throat as a warning. With his Witcher stamina, he doesn’t tire till the early hours of the morning. After your pulsating cunt has been fucked and filled by him dozens of times.

Sy-Jewel Butt Plug

Sy always makes sure to prep your tight hole with his fingers and plenty of lube before he slips it inside you. A jewel in the shape of a red heart greets him after your hole closes around the plug.

“What a sweet little pucker you got there, darlin’.” He growls, squeezing your ass in his large hands. He spanks you with a cheeky grin.

He plants a kiss right on the gem. His mouth makes the plug shift inside you, which jarrs you enough to squeal softly.

With a pillow under your hips to keep them elevated, Sy fucks you while you lay on you stomach. His large hands keep your cheeks spread, that way he never loses sight of the red jewel cradled in your hole.

He’ll pull out to cum, coating your ass in his thick seed. It drips onto the plug, marking the shiny treasure between your cheeks as his own.

Walter-Rope

This may or may not come as a surprise, but Walter is really into rope play. In the rare free time he has, he often studies the art of shibari. He’s mastered plenty of knots to trap you in. 

Your arms and legs are hogtied behind your back, which is his favorite position to tie you in. He flips you over onto your front and drags your face to the edge of the bed. He uses your immobility as an opportunity to stand in front of you and fuck your throat.

You're drooling and gagging as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. He keeps one hand in your hair as he watches your movements closely. Always keeping an eye out for your safe signal.

“I’m gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, and you're going to thank me for it, little slut. Because you’re nothing but a cum hungry whore. That’s it. Cry for it.” He snarls, loving to see tears slip from your eyes.

Walter is adamant about aftercare, especially after hardcore scenes. He’s quick to untie you and massage your tense muscles. 

He gives you water and lathers your raw flesh with some healing cream. His gentle praising and soft kisses ease you back down to reality.

Clark-Feather Tickler

It’s a tiny bit cheesy, sure. But that's just who Clark is; a traditional man. When he first presented you with the feather, he couldn’t stop blushing and grinning like a fool. You’ve never seen him so excited to try something in the bedroom.

He traces the wispy black feather all along your body. Goosebumps rise on your skin. You gasp when he tickles your nipples, making them perk up.

His mouth encloses over one of the hard buds as he trails the feather down your stomach to your pussy. It ghosts over your slit so delicately it makes you ache. You finally whine and beg him for more. He only continues to tease you. 

It makes you so sensitive and needy. You threaten to use it on him next if he doesn’t indulge you soon. Of course, this only makes him want to do it more.

“Is that a promise, sweetheart?” He raises a brow with a playful smirk.

Napoleon-Blindfold

Napoleon wants everything he does to you to be a surprise. So, he cuts off your sense of sight with a silk blindfold. Sometimes, it’s paired with one of his silk ties holding your hands above your head.

To add to the deprivation of your senses, he even spins sensual music on the record player. He keeps the volume low, but it’s just enough for him to sneak around the room without you hearing him.

You don’t hear or see him reach for the bucket of ice holding the bottle of expensive champagne. Letting an ice cube rest between his lips, he leans down to trace his mouth along your neck.

Breathy gasps escape you as he trails the ice down your form. Along your collarbone, over your nipples and down your stomach. He lets the cube rest in your belly button so he can speak.

“I think this hot little pussy of yours needs a cooling down, don’t you think, darling?” He smirks before he takes the ice back in his mouth. You let out a cry when the ice touches your heated cunt.

He spends the night with his head buried between your legs, lapping up the water from the ice and your sweet nectar. Napoleon is a man of fine tastes, and you’re his favorite meal after all.

Charles-Candle Wax

You’re on your stomach as Charles holds the lit candle above your back. The hot wax drips onto your flesh and the initial burn makes you gasp. You’re reduced to whimpers as it cools and hardens. 

The sensation makes you squirm, your arousal leaking onto the bed. He only chuckles and continues to hover the candle above you. Your body jerks when each drip hits you. Wax coats your shoulders, back and ass before he sets it aside.

His fingers wick away a bit of wax. You moan when his cool fingers soothe the mild burns on your skin. One of his hands comes up to massage the back of your neck as he admires the work he did on your back.

When his fingers dip between your legs, you whine. He hums, spreading your moist lips so he can gaze at your glistening folds. He lets out a moan when he collects some of your wetness on his finger.

“You’re absolutely drenched, darling. Do you enjoy the pain? Oh, indeed you do. What a wanton little thing you are, my love.” He whispers in your ear with a smirk, sinking his finger into your aching hole.  

Mike-Vibrating Cockring

He came across it when he was making a snack run at the drugstore. On top of all the chips and candy he got, he also got the cockring. Mike can be a bit…impulsive.

The band makes him last even longer. It also makes him swell up, adding onto what is already a monstrously sized cock. As you ride him, it feels like you’re being impaled by his size.

With each bounce of your hips, the buzzing drums onto your clit. At times, you just grind to savor the feeling. You toss your head back and moan. 

“Look at my girl work for it. So fuckin’ hot when you ride my dick, baby.” He grins, holding your winding hips.

He’s giddy as he watches you whine and grind on him. He gives your ass a swift smack. Seems like for once his impulsiveness paid off.

A/N: I tried to show all our boys equal lovin’ with 150-200ish words each. And I didn’t include all of Henry’s characters opps. Anyways, thank you all so much! I hope you have a good night/day. 🥰

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 @sunndust

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 18

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,353

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter.

Chapter 18

Deb yawned and stretched, smiling as the soft blanket slid down over her naked body. She took stock in herself noticing the knee brace had been reattached and her body ached in all the right places but she was alone. “Sy?” She called out.

August heard Debbie's soft voice call out and rushed to check on her. “Hey.” He bit back the smirk that was itching to spread across his face as she blushed and covered her pert breasts with the blanket. “Sy and Geralt went on a couple errands. Do you need anything?”

She bit her lip. “Did he say how long he'd be gone?”

“I figure about an hour, hour and a half.” He noticed her squirming. “I can help you if you need something. “

“I..I need to use the bathroom please.” Her face flamed all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Ah, no problem.” He walked to her side of the bed and started to reach for her and she squeaked.

“No, wait! I need some clothes. In the dresser, on the left side are some sleep pants and on the right are some of Sy's t-shirts.”

August gathered the requested clothes and took them to her. He smirked when she looked at the sleep shorts he handed her. They were very short. “Easier to get over your cast darlin. Want me to help?”

“No! Just wait outside the door please?”

Just before he pulled the door closed he looked back over his shoulder. “No standing on that leg, young lady or you're in trouble.” He chuckled when her jaw dropped. 

After cleaning up in the bathroom, August carried her to the kitchen and sat her on the island countertop and handed her a glass of juice and some pills.

“What are these?”

“Anti-inflammatory, muscle relaxer, and antibiotic.” He pointed to each one as he listed them. She tossed them back with a sip of the juice. “Good girl,” 

Deb blushed and grinned shyly at the praise. August picked her up again and instead of carrying her with her legs, well good leg around his waist and his arms under her bottom like Sy, he carried her on his hip like a toddler. 

He settled them on the sofa with her bad leg across his lap and flipped the t.v on finding a show for them to watch. 

“So is there a girl somewhere waiting on you?” She arched her brow at him.

“Personal much?”

“Very, but you dressed me in booty shorts so it's fair,” She smirked.

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “I'm sure there is one, somewhere but I'm never in one place long enough to form attachments.“ She was shocked at his honest answer instead of his usual smart-assed avoidance when the conversation turned to him. It was a common theme with all the guys in the unit. They all traveled so much that they didn't have anywhere to call home after leaving the military. “Don't give me that look, princess,” he shook his head at her.

“There's no look,” She held up her hands in a universal surrender pose. 

“Attachments are weaknesses and weaknesses get people killed.”

“Do you really believe that?” 

“Yes,” his voice was adamant. 

“And you think people who have them are weak,” She added.

“Yes.” 

She nodded and chewed at her bottom lip. “That's why you didn't like me. You see me as a weakness for Sy. You think I make him vulnerable.” They were all statements, not questions. When he didn't respond she knew she was right. “All of you look up to and respect Geralt like he's the father or big brother you never had. He doesn't see love as a weakness.”

“It's different with Sy. Geralt really does act like a father to him and he wants Sy to be happy.”

“He wants you all to be happy,” She countered. “Why do I make Sy weak?”

He moved her leg and stood. “We aren't having this conversation.”

“I'm being serious. I need to know,” She pressed. “I love him and I don't want him to make a mistake.”

August turned to her, eyebrow arched. “Even if you're the mistake?”

“Yes,” She answered without hesitation. “I want to protect him as much as you do.”

“So you can do something stupid like run away? I get the blame and suddenly you're back together? I'm smarter than that girl.”

“I wouldn't run. Sy made me promise him after our very first disagreement that I wouldn't run until we talked out our problem.”

“Not a person to stick around when things get tough?” He leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf with his arms crossed over his chest looking down at her.

She squirmed under his judgmental glare but decided it was only fair to get asked tough questions if you were going to ask them of someone else. “No, I mean, not the way you think anyway. I've never thought I'm good enough for Austin. Always felt like he deserved so much better than me. He disagreed then and still does. When we first got serious I promised myself that I would tell him everything, every dark, dirty little secret and he would see for himself and leave me but  h… he didn't. He told me that I blamed myself for…” She stopped. “The story isn't important but he made me promise to never try to push him away again and not to run because he would chase me to the end of the world if he had to and I believe he would.”

“Sy's on a ranch now. He's out of the game so it's different.” He tried to brush it off. They both looked at the front door when they heard Aika barking.

The door opened and the furry missile darted through the room and leapt onto the couch covering Deb in kisses. Soon enough there were squeals and giggles of laughter.  “Mercy! Mercy,” Deb gasped between licks from the wet tongue of Aika.

“Akia, heel,” Sy gruffed in a commanding tone. Akia instantly went to him standing against his leg. “Good girl, yea such a good girl,” he praised giving her love and scratches. He moves over to the sofa and sits down next Deb giving her a kiss of her own. “You feeling ok?”

She nodded, “August helped me in here cause I was tired of being alone in there.”

“You were resting so well I didn't want to wake you but it's payday for the hands,” he explained. 

“Did you bring me the books?” She asked, preparing to work on the payroll.

“Amy stopped by earlier and brought all the paychecks. She's been keeping the books since you were in the hospital,” Sy explained. “She jumped in so we could keep the horses fed and cared for and I could focus on you.”

“Oh, that was really nice of her. I'm sorry she had to do that but I'm all better now. I can go back to work.” All three men turned and looked at her like she'd grown a second head. “What? I am. Well I can,” She pouted and crossed her arms.

Sy kissed the top of her head and snuggled her close. “Uh-huh, that's adorable. You're getting better but no, you aren't well yet and if you even think about trying to work you won't be able to sit or stand,” he grinned, squeezing her ass for emphasis. His blood rushed south when she looked up at him with big eyes through her lashes. He cleared his throat trying to distract himself from how bad he wanted to take her right there.  “Bet Auggie picked out these little shorts, huh?”

Geralt's bark of laughter echoed from the kitchen and August’s ears turned red as he sat several cans of soda on the coffee table. “I , she told me to get them!”

“Sleep pants!” She corrected. “And Sy's shirt.”

Geralt came back from the kitchen with paper plates, pizza and breadsticks putting them all on the coffee table. “It's OK little one we all know August is an ass man. He's been trying to get a look at you in tight pants since he got here,” he winked at her before grabbing some pizza and sitting down in a chair on the right side of the sofa.

They all laughed and Deb secretly winked at Sy. “I need,” She leaned over Sy's lap stretching to reach the end table lifting her bum up a little bit. She collapsed in a fit of giggles when Sy lifted the t-shirt up showing off her butt.

August growled as he flopped down in a chair at the opposite end of the couch with his food. “Fuckin teases, all of ya “ he huffed but couldn't  hide his smirk. 

 They all ate their pizza while they joked and laughed,  even watched a couple of movies before August left to go to Walt’s. Napoleon had a job to do for a few days so August was going to take his shifts with Mike until he returned. They cleaned up their messes and all turned in for the night. 

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Will went through the house checking the doors and making sure everything is secure one final time for the night before he is off shift since August was there to take over. As he was walking toward the guest room he noticed Mike's light on and Door ajar. “Everything alright?”

Mike shrugged then grimmaced; fuckin shoulder. “Yea.”

Will stepped into the room  and sat on the end of the bed facing Mike. “You know it's OK to say no, right?”

“So people keep saying,” he had to fight not to roll his eyes. He knew they all meant well but they didn't know what he was going through. They didn't understand. “I just need all this to be over so I can figure out what's gonna happen to me.”

Will's brow furrowed. “You're gonna be ok Mike. You've got people who are willing to fight for you, to take care of you.”

“I..,” he shook his head, “I can take care of myself. I just have to get out of here to do it. Do you think they really need me to testify? I mean they have Debbie and as far as my old man goes, his dealing with the gang should be enough to convict him, right?”

“If you don't want to testify,  you don't have to. I know that no one has talked to either one of you about any of that yet. I think the hope is that there is enough evidence that it will speak for itself,” Will explained. 

“Do you think they would let me visit my dad?” Mike focused on picking some invisible lint off his jeans.

“Walt can..”

“He said he didn't think it was a good idea,” he cut in.

“Did he say why?”

He shrugged again and growled out “fuck” grabbing his shoulder. “He doesn't think it's good for me. I guess he thinks I can't handle it.”

Will thought about his response for a moment.  “I've only known Walt since the rescue so I won't say he's out of line. I'm sure he means well but I think you need to talk to Sy and Debbie.”

“No, I don't want to bother them. They have enough to deal with.”

“Kid, you know they just got home today right?” 

Mike nodded. “I'm glad she's finally healed enough to go home.”

“They called as soon as they found out she was being released. You know that right?” Mike shook his head. “They told us to get you packed up so we can bring you home to them tomorrow.”

“I..I don't think that's a good idea. I should stay here.”

“Why wouldn't..”

“I'm pretty tired. Think I'm gonna try to sleep now,” he cut him off.

Will sighed and nodded. “Good night.” He headed out to talk to August.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy jumped when Geralt stepped up beside him. “Slipping wolf?” the white haired man chuckled.

“Apparently so,” he finished fixing the coffee pot for the next morning. 

“Security company will be here tomorrow at ten to start the security camera install. They've been checked out and approved of course.”

“I can't thank you enough, all of you…”

“Stop. You don't thank family, Syverson.” Sy smiled and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. Geralt mirrored him, leaning against the island. “You ok pup? Do not lie to me,” he warned. 

“It's better since we've been home. It helps when everything is familiar and having Aika.” She hadn't left Sy's side at all. “I'm sorry you've had to deal with my bullshit. I just didn't want to dump it on Deb with everything else.”

“PTSD isn't bullshit,” he scolded. “Besides, they haven't been full episodes, just the oncoming panic. You..” 

They both jolted and ran to the master bedroom aa Debbie's screams echo through the house, Akia even running and growling. All three burst into the bedroom. Sy turned the light on and went straight to Debbie while Geralt and Aika searched for foul play. “Hey, hey, shhhhhhh,” Sy soothed as he woke her from what was obviously a nightmare. She flailed her arms, fighting an invisible attacker until her panicked eyes slowly opened and locked onto Sy.  “Hey, there's my girl,” he kissed her head and hugged her and could feel her body trembling as she clung to him. He repositioned them so they were laying on their sides facing each other, Deb curled against him. “I've got you baby.”

“T..they were t..t..touching me again.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “try hurt you again,” he promised.  “I know that doesn't change what they've already done but it's over now.” 

Gearlt and Aika came back from doing a perimeter check. He walked up to the bed. “Everything's secure. Need anything?” He asked Sy.

“Try something?” He asked and Geralt inclined his head. “Lay down behind her?”

“I don't know if..” Geralt started but Debbie turned over and grabbed his hand before he could retreat. Those sweet blue eyes locked with his and it was like she could see into his soul and he couldn’t deny her anything. Kicking off his boots he climbed in behind her.

She snuggled between the two huge bodies and slowly started to calm down when they were all pounced and she was covered in wet doggie kisses. “Aika!” She chuckled as she scratched her ears. Once Aika was sure her human was OK she laid dowcryn on all their legs. Deb's shaking eased up and she turned so that she could see them both as her eyes got heavy .  “Safe,” She said, yawning as her eyes slid closed.

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[caffieneaddictt18]

Moment of Peace

sorceress!reader travels with geralt and ciri as their healer and ciris mother figure as geralts wife. one relaxing day, reader shows ciri a little party trick that geralt doesnt know yet. ends with geralt and reader play fighting about why she didnt show him but showed ciri; and them all acting like a family

(not my image)

As we finally settle in a meadow, surrounded by forest, I let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of sun against my face and the soft soil beneath me feels amazing.

"Ciri! Y/N! Go collect water. I'll be right back." Geralt commands, but before he can leave to collect wood and sustenance for the night, you stop him and give him a quick kiss.

"Be safe."

"Always am."

Those simple four words are all you need before you walk off into the forest for a few yards, before you come upon a clear water stream. You see Ciri standing in the water and feeling the sun while collecting water. As you join her in the water, she looks up.

"So... why do you allow him to order you around if you're his wife?" Ciri, blunt as ever, asks, not understanding that this is Geralt's way of showing his love.

"He doesn't 'order' me around. It's his way of keeping us safe. I'm a mage and can keep you safe. You're training and can keep me safe. Plus, he goes off and does the dangerous hunting, so we don't have to. It's his way of showing love." I explain his actions and why I react without losing my patience with the way Geralt talks to me.

"Oh. I didn't think about it like that." Ciri ticks her head to the side and continues to collect water.

"Geralt isn't conventional. But he is exactly how I want him. I wouldn't want it any other way." I start towards the bank of the river and continue walking along the greenery of the forest.

As Ciri looked on as you walked, she watched in mystery. The forest seemed to bend to your will. The trees would part to make a path for you and the stones would roll out of the way, leaving only soft soil for you to walk on.

As you both reached your camp site, Geralt was dragging a large deer, and a cloth behind him that was filled. Probably with wood.

You and Ciri both put your jugs down as Geralt drops the sack of wood off near you and walks to the trees to skin the animal for food & it's hide.

You have the sense to build the fire and let Ciri light it later. She's normally sleepy when you build the fire. Makes it easier.

As you both run around, you find a good size patch of daisies.

"Ciri!" You call over the girl, "Come here!"

The blonde girl runs over to see what you're looking at.

"Would you like to learn how to make a daisy chain? You can even put one on Geralt, if you'd like." You throw out the tempting offer to make the Witcher seem silly.

And Ciri quickly agrees. You sit down, careful to avoid the daisies, and show her how to make a daisy chain/flower crown.

As the sun is no longer at its nice, warm heat and enters the baking heat, you take Ciri down to the stream again to clean up. 'The sun will dry us faster' was your reasoning to drag the girl with you.

As you are cleaning your clothes and yourself off, you see Ciri doing the same. Perfect.

"Hey, Ciri! Would you like to see something?"

"Um... What is it?"

"I promise, no harm will come unto you from me. It's just a little party trick."

"Ok..." She waded closer to you as you met her in the middle of the stream.

You magically gathered the sweat and water from Ciri and yourself, throwing it into the air and condensing the clouds around the sun to have more water, allowing the clouds to form a sort of circle around the sun. As the sun continues to shine, the clouds begin turn colors... briefly pink, then a light green, and there's a light blue! (Refer to the picture at the top)

Ciri looks at the sky in awe. "You can do this?" She points to the clouds.

"Yes. When I was at Aretuza, they taught not just politics and magic. They taught basic sciences. This was one of those. I had asked my teacher why there as a rainbow after every rainfall. She explained it to me. Since then, I had been practicing it until I was able to perfect it. Took a couple tries, but it came one day, and it stayed."

"And you never showed me?" A deep, hulking voice inquired from the shadows. Of course, the yellow cat-like eyes gave him away.

"I'm sorry, Geralt. I thought of it as a mere party trick. And it's not like it is helpful when we are off on adventures." I laugh and 'apologize' for not showing my husband sooner.

"You better be sorry!" He charges out of the woods and into the stream, getting both you and Ciri wet again, before lifting you by the waist and carrying you back to base on his shoulder. Everyone was laughing and peace was covering the three of them.

Just a moment of peace.

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

Author's Cup of Tea:

I am so sorry the ending was bad. I didn't know what to put for the ending so I winged it. Thank you all so much for your love and support of my work! I love to see everyone enjoying it.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Broken Heart

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Language, violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 15-

Anika's cabin in the woods wasn't too far away, thankfully.

To say she was surprised to see Geralt after all this time was an understatement, but you were more surprised about Otto the Werewolf living with her.

You and Geralt had been hired by villagers many years ago to kill him but managed to find him a makeshift cure instead. The vial around his neck kept him from shifting, it kept him human and in control. It saved him.

Anika was able to figure out that the girl was under some kind of powerful mind-control enchantment but had no idea who would possess such knowledge to use Chaos, druidic magic and ancient elven sorcery in a singular spell.

She gave the girl an extraction elixir to break the mind-control, but it would take time for it to kick in and there was no guarantee that it would work either.

Now, it was just a waiting game.

"How are you doing, little one?" Geralt's gentle voice suddenly asked.

You glanced over your shoulder to find him walking out the front door of the cabin before he sat down on the porch steps beside you.

"I've been worse." You admitted. "How are you?"

"I've been better." He replied with a heavy sigh. "Anika told me that Visenna is dead."

Your head snapped back in his direction, "as in your mother, Visenna?"

"Hmm." He nodded, avoiding your gaze as he stared out at the woods around the cabin.

"Oh, Geralt. I'm so sorry."

You weren't entirely sure what else to say in this situation, so you didn't try and say anything else, instead you laced your arm through his and leant your head against his shoulder. Geralt's body was tense, but that tension melted away at your touch and he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Geralt was conflicted with his own internal feelings. He had spent so long hating his mother for what she did, but at the same time, she was still his mother and the happy memories he had of her, no matter how few there were, they were still happy memories and he loved her.

"It's okay to be sad. She was still your mother." You whispered.

Geralt sighed, "I know."

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you sat together. Geralt's head now resting against yours while you stared out at the surrounding woods watching the small birds and animals in the distance.

"I'm going to cut some firewood for Anika. The least I can do for her helping us." Geralt suddenly said.

You lifted your head from his shoulder as he stood up and began descending the porch steps before a thought suddenly hit you.

"Where's Ciri?" You asked, hating yourself for not asking sooner. "The real Ciri. Our Ciri. Where is she?"

"She's safe." Geralt reassured, noticing your sudden panic. "She's with Yennefer at Aretuza."

The word safe and Yennefer did not belong in the same sentence. The last time Ciri was alone with the mage, she had tried to sacrifice the girl to get her magic back.

"She thinks being at Aretuza will help with Ciri's magic training?" You asked, and Geralt nodded. "I don't like it. I don't... I don't trust Yennefer, Geralt."

"Well, I'm starting to."

"You trust her with Ciri's life after the shit she did?"

"Not yet. But everyone deserves a second chance." Geralt simply replied. "You gave me one."

"That's different."

Geralt sighed but didn't try and argue any further before he picked up the axe that was leaning against the porch and wandered off into the woods to cut down some firewood.

You watched him in the distance swinging the axe at wooden stumps, splitting them in half with ease. It wasn't long before he had two large piles of perfectly cut wooden wedges beside him. You could watch him cut wood for hours and not get bored.

"You admiring the view?" Jaskiers voice suddenly questioned.

You could hear the smirk in his tone as he walked out the cabin behind you and you rolled your eyes but didn't try and deny it because, yeah, you were admiring the view. Your boyfriend looked good cutting wood, so what?

"Here."

You glanced up to find the bard handing you a cup which you eyed cautiously and now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Relax, it's not poison. Anika said you need to keep up your fluids after so much blood was taken from your body. So, drink up."

You took the cup and drank the water, surprised at how thirsty you actually were. Jaskier must have noticed too because he disappeared back inside and refilled the cup without question.

"Thanks, Jaskier." You handed him back the cup which he refilled once again but this time for Geralt. "You making it a habit to keep Witchers hydrated?"

"Only when said Witchers are stupid and don't do it themselves." He shot back.

"Okay, rude." You joked causing Jaskier to chuckle softly before you stood up and followed him out the woods, but you didn't miss the look of worry he sent your way when he realised that you were following. "Relax, I might be weak from blood loss, but I can still walk."

"To be fair, you couldn't exactly walk a few hours ago. So, excuse me for being slightly concerned."

You snorted softly but had no come back for that as the two of you weaved your way through the tall trees of the forest to where Geralt was now sitting on a log beside the large piles of freshly cut wood.

"I think you've chopped enough here for... two, maybe three centuries of fire." Jaskier observed, handing him the water. "What's the plan Geralt?"

"We wait for her to wake up, make sure she's okay, find Rience and the mage that did this, and kill them."

"And then what?" Jaskier prompted casually.

"Y/N told me that she saw you talking to Philippa Ellhard in Ban Glean." Geralt began to say causing Jaskier to sigh as he looked over at you.

You thought back to that day and how that woman had threatened the bard. You couldn't quite place where you knew her from, but when you explained it to Geralt, he was able to figure out that it was Philippa Ellhard, the court mage for Redania.

What the mage for Redania wanted with Jaskier was something that you couldn't quite figure out and after everything that had happened in the last week, you haven't had a chance to ask him more about it.

"I'm sorry, Jask. I heard her threaten you, I got worried." You apologised, knowing you went behind your best friends back by telling Geralt.

"No, no, it's fine. I... I should have told you." Jaskier sighed, looking down at the ground in guilt.

"It's okay, Jaskier." Geralt reassured. "What did Dijkstra want you to do?"

"He wanted me to convince you guys to take Ciri to Redania."

Redania? Why would he want Ciri to go to Redania?

Geralt actually chuckled at the bard’s words, thinking how ridiculous it sounded, but Jaskier wasn't laughing.

"And I agree with him." The bard quickly added which caused Geralt’s expression to harden. "She'd be safe with an army, an entire army at her back."

"Ciri would be nothing more than a brood mare on the Cintran throne." Geralt muttered.

"Well, isn't that what she was born to become?" You pointed out and Jaskier nodded.

"She's right, Geralt. Ciri is a princess. That's what princesses do. They sit on little royal thrones, and they have little royal babies. And they rule kingdoms. This is what Ciri wants."

"Does she want to be a political pawn for Vizimir and Dijkstra? No. We stay the course."

"Neutrality has consequences too, Geralt." Jaskier reminded, sitting down on the log beside Geralt while you leant against the tree and watched them.

"There are already consequences, Jaskier. And not just for Ciri. I thought by taking her off the board, the world would stop trying to use her. Instead, they're trying to use others in her place."

"And they will continue. Because that is what people in power do." Jaskier sighed, glancing between you both. "But she's not a Witcher. She's certainly not an Aretuzan witch sourcing magic out of... stones, or hemp, or plants, or whatever it is that Yennefer does. She's a princess. I think you should trust her."

"Her source." Geralt repeated, looking over at Jaskier in sudden realisation.

"Her... what now?" Jaskier asked in confusion before glancing over at you with a questioning look, but you shrugged your shoulders because you had no idea what Geralt was thinking.

"You're right." Geralt said, walking back towards the cabin, leaving you and Jaskier by the piles of wood.

"I'm right... Well, that's deeply worrying. What?"

Jaskier stood up and you pushed yourself away from the tree before the two of you made your way back to the cabin, still totally confused on what Geralt was thinking.

"I need you to wake up." You heard Geralt say as you and Jaskier entered the cabin.

"Geralt, no." Anika warned from across the room. “It's too soon. You could hurt the extraction spell."

Slowly, you and Jaskier walked over to where Geralt was knelt beside the girl’s bed, her eyes fluttered open in confusion as she stared up at the white haired Witcher.

"You said there was always a source. What did you mean? Always a source to what?”

"Magic." The girl answered, her voice a mere whisper.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Teryn."

"Good." Geralt encouraged gently. "Something happened that affected your mind. Do you remember what happened?"

The girl slowly sat up in bed looking around worriedly before she focused back on Geralt.

"I was dragged from my room... by a man."

"A man with a scar?" Geralt prompted.

"Careful, Geralt." Anika warned from somewhere behind you.

"He was there. Sometimes. He bought the Witcher in. Chained her up." Teryn answered, her voice trembling as she looked over at you.

"They kept me drugged. I can't remember much. Can you tell me who else was there?" You asked gently, kneeling in front of her.

"The woman with the funny voice. They all helped the man. The man, he... he always scared me."

"You knew him." Geralt said in realisation.

She nodded, "at school. At Aretuza."

Aretuza?

You glanced over at Geralt who met your gaze with an equally panicked look. Ciri was at Aretuza with Yennefer.

"Oh..." The girl began to sob, shaking her head hysterically.

"We need to put her back under." Anika instructed, but Geralt ignored her.

"I need a name. What was his name, Teryn?"

The girl’s sobs turned into panicked wails. She hugged her knees to her chest and began to rock herself forwards and back while screaming before dropping her head on her knees and sobbing quietly.

"That's enough, Geralt." You warned, looking at the girl sadly.

Suddenly, as if your voice had triggered something, her head snapped back up. The panicked and fearful look in her eyes had vanished completely, replaced with something that had your Witcher senses screaming at you to run.

"Stupid Witchers." Teryn spat in a deep voice that wasn't her own.

You and Geralt were on your feet in an instant as you stared down at the girl who was grinning madly up at you.

"You're doomed and you don't even know it. I am Cirilla's destiny. May all ye wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us."

She threw her arm forward and you were not expecting the telekinetic wave that sent you flying across the room and crashing into the wall, hard.

Your body collapsed to the ground on impact, your ears beginning to ring as you looked up to find Anika unconscious beside you after being thrown across the room as well. Your blood loss from earlier was making it hard to concentrate. The knock that wouldn't usually stun you, had you struggling to get to your hands and knees while the room around you spun.

"Jaskier, the amulet!"

You looked up and it took your eyes a moment to focus, and your stomach dropped when you realised what was happening.

Geralt was across the room fighting with Otto who seemed to be turning back into a Werewolf while Jaskier struggled to get the amulet from Teryn who must have stolen it without anyone noticing.

Shit.

Your weakened body struggled to move, but you forced yourself to your feet, using the wall beside you for stability. You rushed over to Jaskier, or more like stumbled, but you managed to stay standing while the bard held the girl to his chest, stopping her from running out the cabin.

"The amulet. Take the amulet." Jaskier grunted, struggling to hold her.

You yanked the necklace from the girls grasp who instantly stopped fighting in Jaskiers hold once the amulet was no longer in her possession and the bard gently lowered her to the ground as she passed out.

"Geralt!" You shouted, tossing the amulet across the room.

He caught the necklace with one hand, the other holding Otto down before he pressed the amulet to the man’s chest and the Werewolf side of him instantly calmed down and he stopped fighting.

"Thank goodness." You sighed, leaning your back against the wall in relief.

-

The following 48 hours went by in a blur.

Ciri had apparently escaped Aretuza while Yennefer was meant to be watching and protecting her. So, while you and Jaskier went to organise a ferry ride across the sea to Aretuza, Geralt found Ciri and bought her back.

The Wild Hunt had showed up when he reached Ciri which was concerning. But Geralt had reassured that they were gone for the time being, which was only a small comfort.

The ferry ride lasted longer than you would have liked, but it would have been even longer for Jaskier who had to deal with Valdo Marx, a fellow bard who Jaskier disliked with a passion.

Geralt and Ciri slayed the Aeschna, a nasty sea monster that had been hassling the ferryman for weeks. You watched on proudly as Ciri used Geralt’s sword to kill the monster and before you knew it, the ferry pulled up to the shore of Aretuza.

Aretuza was dangerous. It was where Teryn had been kidnapped from, but that also meant whatever mage was working with Rience was also here, so that was where the group of you went. You needed to find that mage and stop more people from getting hurt.

Yennefer had proposed a Conclave to find out who this rogue mage was, and although you wanted to join her and Geralt, you knew having two Witchers at the Conclave would not be smart. They would know something wasn't right, and the rogue mage would disappear before you could figure out who they were.

So, reluctantly, you stayed behind with Jaskier and Ciri.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this?" Geralt asked quietly.

Him and Yennefer were going to pretend to be a couple. It was Yennefer’s plan, because of course it was, but it would be the only reasonable explanation as to why Geralt was accompanying her to the Conclave.

Geralt rested his hand on your shoulder while the two of you had a quiet conversation outside the small hut that you were staying at on the outskirts of town.

"Nope. Not at all. But it has to be done." You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands. "I just hate being sidelined."

"You're not being sidelined."

"I am."

"Someone needs to stay behind and protect Ciri in case something happens." Geralt reminded and you sighed, but nodded because he was right. "If you aren't okay with this, I won't do it."

You looked back up at Geralt, his beautiful golden eyes shining from the moonlight above and you knew he was telling the truth.

"You have to do it. We need to find out who this rogue mage is that is working with Rience. And find out why they want Ciri and why they wanted me and my blood. If we don't... more innocent lives will be in danger, including Ciri's." You explained, resting your hand atop of Geralt’s that was still on your shoulder. "I trust you, Geralt. So, go."

"I love you, Y/N."

He lifted his free hand and gently cupped the side of your face before he leant forward and kissed you passionately.

"I love you too." You whispered against his lips before the door behind you suddenly opened.

"Geralt, are you ready to- oh, sorry." Yennefer's voice hurriedly apologised.

You kissed Geralt one last time before the two of you pulled apart and you glanced over at the mage who had changed into a beautiful dress.

"I'll go get changed, then we can go." Geralt said, squeezing your hand one last time before he stepped past Yennefer and walked into the hut.

Neither you nor Yennefer said anything as you stood outside together awkwardly.

"Geralt told me what happened in the castle. I'm so sorry, Y/N." She said, breaking the silence after a few seconds. "I might be able to use my magic to heal you. I mean, you’re still kind of pale from all the blood loss, I can... I can help."

You shook your head, "save your power. My Witcher healing is working, I'll be as good as new come dawn."

Yennefer nodded with a small smile before she looked up at the stars shimmering through the treetops above you.

It was rare that the two of you had alone time together. And now you understood why because it was awkward.

Yennefer was trying to be better. But you still didn't like her. It wasn't even about what happened between her and Geralt on that mountain all those years ago, although that had definitely not helped. But it was what she did to Ciri, that was something you couldn't forgive.

If Ciri had died the day Yennefer tried to sacrifice her... you would have killed Yennefer then and there, and she knew it too.

"I do hope one day that you can forgive me for everything... I hope one day we can become friends." Yennefer suddenly said.

"Me too." You found yourself saying, and you meant it.

The only female Witcher and a powerful mage like Yennefer? That would be a friendship that nobody would dare try to fuck with.

Yennefer smiled softly at your words before the hut door opened once again and Geralt stepped out. He was now sporting a shining silver suit that you knew had to have been Jaskiers idea because there was no way the Witcher would ever choose to wear something like that.

His hair had also been neatly pulled back which was definitely Ciri's handy work and you smiled, walking over to him.

"You look nice." You smirked, looking him up and down trying to take a mental picture of this outfit that you knew he would never wear again.

"Don't get used to it." He muttered, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as he looked over at you before holding out a familiar looking sword. "Here. I forgot to give this back to you earlier."

It was your sword that you figured had been lost during the fight before you got kidnapped. The last time you saw the sword it was sticking out one of the dead elves, but Geralt must have grabbed it before they left Shaerrawedd.

"Thank you." You took the sword and sheathed it over your back before glancing between him and Yennefer. "You two be careful, okay?"

They both nodded and you watched them walk away, disappearing through the woods to the Conclave.

You remained outside the hut for a little while, keeping guard and making sure nobody was lurking nearby, but it seemed to be quiet and safe for the time being, so you made your way back inside.

Jaskier was sitting on the edge of Ciri's bed shuffling a deck of cards and singing soothingly while Ciri fell asleep under the covers. You closed the front door quietly behind you not wanting to wake the young girl. Jaskier glanced over at you hearing the door and smiled softly while he continued to sing.

You pulled your sword sheath from your back, leaning it against the wall before you collapsed down on top of the other bed listening to Jaskiers gentle voice while you stared up at the ceiling.

"I think she's finally asleep." Jaskier whispered a few minutes later.

You tilted your head to the side as he stood up and pulled the blankets up higher covering the girl’s shoulders.

"You'd make a good father." You observed.

Jaskier chuckled softly, "I think I'm more of the fun uncle type, my dear. But thank you."

He put the deck of cards on the table before he walked across the room towards you.

"How are you doing? It cannot be easy for you knowing Geralt and Yennefer are pretending to be a couple at the Conclave right now."

Jaskier knelt beside your bed as you sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. "It's not. But I trust Geralt. And Yen has changed. I still don't like it, but I understand that it had to be done."

"Nobody in your position would like it." Jaskier agreed, smiling sadly at you. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch for a while."

"Thanks, Jask."

Jaskier blew out the candles near your bed and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

You awoke not long after, but it took your tired mind a few seconds to figure out what had actually woken you up before you realised that Jaskier was no longer inside the hut.

You sat up on high alert, your eyes flashing over to Ciri's bed across the room. The girl was still fast asleep and unharmed, but Jaskier was nowhere to be seen.

Cautiously, you stood up grabbing your sword from your sheath against the wall before making your way outside. It was still dark, the moon and stars shining brightly in the sky above you, but there was no sign of Jaskier.

You found your body was finally back to normal. All the blood that had been taken and the amount of drugs that had been injected into your system wasn't affecting you any longer, your Witcher healing having done its job overnight.

Thank goodness for that.

"I've slipped away from my security detail. You're in no danger, I promise." You heard a voice say nearby.

"Yeah, well, that force field that blew you back, it, uh... lasts till dawn. Let them try it." Jaskiers voice suddenly replied.

"I'm scared, Jaskier." The other voice said.

Who was that?

Slowly you made your way towards the voice, spotting a smaller hut nearby where the source of the voices had been coming from.

"Just saying that makes you braver than you know."

"That's it. That's what makes you so special. You don't just see people. You see the best in them."

You had heard that other male voice before, but for the life of you, you couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

"May I?" The same voice asked.

A few seconds later, the faint sound of singing and the familiar strum of a lute filled the still night air, but it wasn't Jaskier who was singing. It was the other man.

You paused outside the open door of the hut, your sword still raised because you had no idea what was going on, but as you peaked into the room you were surprised to find Prince Radovid playing the lute.

"You learnt my song." Jaskier whispered once the prince stopped singing.

"My-my playing's shit, and I did have a-"

Jaskier surged forward, cupping the man’s face with his hands and silencing the princes rambling with a kiss.

Your jaw dropped as you watched the two of them make out, and you slowly lowered your sword from where you had it raised prepared for a fight.

"Maybe that's something we can work on." Jaskier whispered, pulling away ever so slightly to look at the other man. "I can't take you inside. I'm sorry."

"Then take me here." Prince Radovid responded.

Jaskier smiled before pressing his lips to the other man once again and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling either before you slowly backed away from the hut to give the two men some privacy.

With everything that was happening right now. All the horror. All the death and destruction, it was nice to see something good finally happening.

Jaskier deserved it.

-

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile.

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries.

[podcastenthusiast]

Three little drabbles featuring Geralt "Horse Girl" of Rivia and different animals, from Jaskier's POV.

---

1. Horse

Jaskier realized it a few weeks into this new witcher-following, song-composing venture. Specifically, when he went to eat the last apple and was told in no uncertain terms that it's for Roach, even though their food rations were running worringly low and they were a day's ride from the next village. Even though he's a fragile human. Even though she could literally just eat grass.

The mare outranked him. She had seniority.

He tried to befriend the horse, with middling success.

He tried to befriend the witcher, too.

At least Roach could be bribed with a carrot or a handful of raisins.

People project a lot of their own feelings onto animals, he supposed. It's a relationship designed to be unequal. As complex or as simple as a person wants it to be.

For a while, he had started to resent her a little, as pathetic as that may sound. That is, until he woke in the middle of the night and overheard a murmured, rather one-sided conversation.

"I worry about him, though," Geralt was saying. "Can't exactly just find a new bard and start calling him Jaskier if something happens, can I."

What?

"Wish he'd shut up sometimes, but... I guess it's been kind of nice having someone around who talks back."

Jaskier's heart felt like it might burst or break. Or both.

"Not that you aren't good company, old girl."

Roach gave a quiet snort.

That was all years ago, now. The horse is different, but still somehow Roach.

He is different, too, but somehow still Jaskier. Still the reliable bard his friend needs him to be.

Now, he watches from his spot by the campfire as Geralt brushes through Roach's mane. The witcher's got drowner brains in his own hair but gods forbid he has a wash before his trusty companion is completely tended to. He's very gentle with her, which is probably why she tolerates it as well as she does. He's heard tales of stablehands losing fingers to routine grooming before.

Jaskier wishes he could write a ballad about this without potentially damaging his fearsome reputation-- the unbreakable bond between a witcher and his horse. The unexpected tenderness of hands made to kill.

He reaches for his quill to jot down a few ideas. Something something the mighty wolf and the wild horse, loyal and brave companions defending their forest home together. Keep it vague enough. Maybe a folktale vibe.

Besides, Jaskier thinks with a touch of bitterness, the wolf's tongue is the real danger. His jaws that snap at anyone foolish enough to get too close, to offer help when he's caught in a trap.

...Maybe he still has some feelings to work through.

The wolf also has a heart he tries so hard to bury. Jaskier can see it. Always has.

"You spoil her rotten, you know," he remarks lightly, plucking on his lute strings. "She eats better than we do."

"It's like sharpening my swords. I have to keep Roach in good condition, or we don't eat at all."

"Mhm. And it's very sweet."

He no longer begrudges Roach her well-earned place at Geralt's side. The witcher had been alone out here for such a long time before he came along, probably will be again after he's dead and buried. Even if Jaskier does wish that he could be the one Geralt trusts with his innermost thoughts and secrets and sleepless night fears, he is glad the man has someone in whom he can confide.

They all have their roles in this story. Perhaps he ought to accept his as its scribe, and let that be enough.

But Jaskier's greatest fault, he knows, is an always has been his refusal to accept things as they are.

-

2. Cat

"Oh, look at that. Someone's cat has gone missing. Poor thing."

"We're here for real work, Jaskier," Geralt says, scanning a contract notice. Recent plague. Graves disturbed. Ghouls. See alderman for details. Bit dull.

"They're offering a reward. See?"

"Somehow I doubt a small child has enough coin to justify ignoring the ghouls."

"Says here you'll get their eternal gratitude and-- oh! The lady of the house will darn your socks free of charge for a full year. Any additional mending at a discount. Now that's a good deal."

"Hm."

"Geralt, as you know my favorite doublet is in a sorry state after that minor werewolf incident--"

"I told you to stay with Roach."

"--All water under the bridge now, of course, and what an adventure! Worthy of a fine ballad--"

"Jaskier."

"--as this would be. Can't you at least keep one keen witchery eye out for the cat?"

"And risk a ghoul catching me off guard? Sure."

"Well, now you're just being silly. Don't tell me you're a dog person. Or are you allergic?"

Geralt sighs, realizing now that only the truth will free him from this conversation.

"Don't mind cats," he mutters. "But they don't like me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Cats don't like me," he repeats. "They start hissing whenever I get too close."

Jaskier's expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. "Why?"

"I insulted their king. Why do you think? They've got more sense than certain humans, I guess."

It's a veiled remark. Jaskier sees right through it.

"You're not a monster, Geralt," he says, achingly sincere. Then, in a lighter tone, "Does that mean you've never pet a cat before?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I was very young. I can't remember."

Jaskier mercifully drops the subject after a quiet and thoughtful walk back to the village's tavern.

He doesn't fail to notice Geralt buying extra scraps of meat from the innkeeper, or how he sneaks away at night to set them like snares in promising locations near the village. He'd probably say it's for the ghoul contract if asked, but Jaskier knows better.

Even if he didn't, there is really no other explanation for Geralt returning to the inn on the second night, covered in claw marks, carrying a ghoul's severed head in one hand and a bag containing one squirming, hissing feline in the other.

-

3. Spider

"GERALT!"

Every witcher in Kaer Morhen hears the bard's scream, but Geralt reaches the room in moments, his silver sword already drawn.

"Jaskier, what--"

"Kill it!"

The bard is standing on his bed, pointing frantically at something. Geralt follows his panicked gaze and sees--

"Really, Jaskier?" He sighs.

"What are you waiting for? It's a monster! Kill it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not a monster. Just a spider. Not even poisonous."

"How do you know?"

"I read." Geralt crouches down for a closer look at the spider. "Might look scary but it's harmless. Probably sought shelter from the cold."

"Well, then it can go right back outside."

"Jaskier, be reasonable."

"I am. Either the spider goes or I do."

The witcher looks thoughtful. Says nothing.

"Oh, thanks, Geralt! I feel so loved."

The spider crawls onto Geralt's hand and Jaskier almost screams again, shrinking back even farther. Gods, it has so many legs!

"Pretend it's a kikimora or something," he pleads. "Why won't you kill one little spider for your very dearest old friend in the world?"

"Because kikimoras have no niche. They're invasive, and need to be dealt with to maintain balance in the ecosystem. Spiders aren't like that; they do belong. A monster, fundamentally, is any creature that doesn't."

Jaskier just stares at him, speechless. He's not sure he has ever heard Geralt say that many words all at once.

Geralt's eyes remain on the spider. "Witchers aren't sent out on the Path not knowing why we kill; we're not soldiers."

"I never thought of it like that," Jaskier admits. "That spider's still fucking terrifying, though."

"Hm. I'll take it outside."

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I know what scared, stupid people say about witchers sometimes. But I-- You do belong. You're important. Just want you to know that."

"...Thank you, Jaskier," he says. Then, quieter, "You too."

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

If you're still doing the kissing prompts, geraskier and 30.

30. Kiss as comfort

Jaskier saddled up against his side on the log, as the bard always did at night while they sat around the campfire.

Geralt had grown used to listening to his complaints about the cold autumn weather. He barely felt the urge to point out he’d told him numerous times to buy better clothes.

“You feel warm,” Jaskier stated. He leaned his head against Geralt’s shoulder, and they sat there watching the rabbit cook on the skewers stabbed into the ground beside the fire.

The flames licked up into the air, the wood crackling and creating a heady scent.

Geralt shifted his weight, pulling Jaskier flush against him.

“You’re too bony,” he observed.

“Catch me more rabbits and I’ll fatten up nicely,” Jaskier joked.

Geralt hummed. If they had more coin, he would buy more meals for the bard. It would keep him warmer out here in the middle of the wilderness.

He turned the rabbits, catching the paler side of the meat.

“Won’t be long,” he said when Jaskier’s stomach grumbled.

“It’s fine, darling, I can wait.”

It took another ten minutes before the rabbit was ready and Geralt put an extra handful of meat on Jaskier’s portion. He needed all the strength he could get, but he didn’t need to know the witcher was doing it.

Hearing Jaskier moan in delight at eating their simple, warm meal was enough of a reward.

If he watched his jaw working, those lips shining with animal grease as he chewed, then hopefully the bard never found out.

He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel them move against him, but he couldn’t. The bard deserved someone better to be with. Someone who didn’t bring him danger at every turn.

Later that night, they snuggled together in their shared bedroll. It had been many years since they'd slept in their own individual beds.

Geralt lay facing out into the wild dark while the bard slept soundly between him and the fire, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

He could feel the little puffs of breath Jaskier made against his neck and each one made him ache with want. When he dreamed these days, it was of little noises of happiness the bard would make when they kissed.

It was a sweet torment, one that had him grumbling to the bard most days when all he wanted to do was the opposite.

He just couldn’t let him know. Witchers were not meant to want anything. Nothing for themselves, at least.

But he did want. He wanted so badly to turn around and place a tender kiss upon Jaskier’s cheek, and yet he couldn’t.

Instead, he counted the days and thought about how much it would be a relief and a curse to say goodbye to Jaskier when they reached the next big town.

The next day, Jaskier woke up late to the smell of freshly cooked eggs and roasted partridge.

“Ooh, what a delight,” he said, stretching his legs and arms out, then sitting up. “A girl could get used to this.”

Geralt hummed, like he always did when he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t reveal all his secrets.

“Yes, I know, Geralt, it was rather lovely of you. You do such a good job looking after me.”

Jaskier stood up and brushed his hair with his hands, grabbing Geralt’s cloak and wrapping it around himself.

Geralt plated the food and handed it to Jaskier, who took it and then, leaning over him, placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

It took Geralt’s breath away. The feeling of those soft lips against his rough skin made him forget what he was doing.

He did manage to stand up after, his posture stiff. Jaskier blinked at him slowly.

“You feeling alright?”

“Ye-Yeah.”

Geralt turned around and grabbed his own plate, much smaller than what he had given Jaskier.

Hopefully not noticeably different. His tongue didn’t work at the best of times, but right now he felt like he would blurt out the truth if he opened his mouth.

‘I’m in love with you, Jaskier.’

The words twisted around in his mind while he listened to Jaskier eat.

Like everything the bard did, he was noisy. Over the years, it brought a sense of comfort until the nights he slept alone became unbearable.

Geralt couldn’t let Jaskier know. That would be the end of their friendship and that would break him more than he could even explain.

He could never reveal anything to his friend. Jaskier was his mouthpiece, persuading aldermen to pay the amount they promised and innkeepers to allow a witcher to say.

The bard was a master of charm. Most of the time, anyway.

Geralt had seen Jaskier throw himself at some questionable people over the years and that’s usually when the bard would say something stupid.

‘You’ve got a sexy neck, like a goose.’

Most people would have died of embarrassment, but the bard just kept on going.

The thing about that encounter was how Geralt longed to be the person Jaskier was trying to seduce.

Not just a friend he gave compliments to or placed soft kisses against his forehead to say thanks.

Geralt wanted more. He needed more. He just couldn’t have more.

Nice things weren’t suitable for witchers.

Soft things like Jaskier weren’t meant to give grumpy monsters comfort.

His hands twitched as he picked up a handful of partridge, the plate wobbling in his grip briefly.

Jaskier seemed to notice the movement from the way he raised an eyebrow. It was almost comical if not for how Geralt felt so exposed.

He ducked his head down, staring at the food, and chewed slowly.

The bird meat tasted good, a rare treat after so many days of rabbit. No amount of seasoning could change the fact they had eaten it for every meal since the crescent moon.

Tonight, the moon would be almost full as it rose into the sky. Geralt looked to the sky, seeing it clear, the warmth of the sun spreading across it.

Small birds flew overhead, tweeting in panic. Geralt looked around, searching for signs something was wrong.

And then he smelled it: an acrid smell that told him Jaskier was not happy.

Locking eyes with the bard, Geralt realised his mistake.

Jaskier wasn't only unhappy. He was downright furious.

"You, witcher," he snapped. "You think you can pull the wool over my eyes."

He stood up, marched over the short distance between them and tossed a large piece of partridge onto Geralt's plate.

"Do you think I'm stupid? That I won't notice you serving me more food than you when all I'm doing is walking after you? You're the one fighting monsters day after day."

Geralt glanced down at his plate for only a second, but it seemed to be enough time for Jaskier to launch into another tirade.

"The first time, I thought you'd simply mixed up the plates. Then last night, I was unsure, but I thought you must've been having an off day. And this morning, well, now I know you're doing this on purpose. Am I that much of a liability to you?"

Jaskiers breathing was heavy, nostrils flaring. His heart was beating fast, pumping blood around his veins and gearing him up for a fight.

Not that Jaskier would hit him. Shout at him, yes.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you ever stop to think how I might feel if you died because your body didn't have all the energy it needs to fight off a monster? I couldn't live with that."

Geralt blinked, trying to process what Jaskier was saying.

"I wouldn't die…"

"Oh, no. And all those stories of witchers from yesteryear who died on the path are just bollocks?"

The weight of Jaskier's eyes on him was intense. Geralt bowed his head, the plate he held feeling awkward in his hands.

Jaskier spluttered, "Got nothing to say?"

"Why do you care?" Geralt asked, sounding harsher than he meant it.

Jaskier spluttered, "Care? Why do I care? I'll tell you why, Mr Geralt of Rivia, because I've travelled with you for twenty years and you've never pulled this shit before. Everything has always been fair and equal between us, regardless of your brawn and my charm. Our meals were split 50/50. That was until after Rience and then you started acting weird. What is this, Geralt?"

The scent changed, moving to a deep sorrow.

"Fuck," Geralt muttered under his breath. This was not what he wanted to happen.

"Oh, yeah. Of course. I should've known. I’m a burden and you feel guilty." Jaskier folded his arms. "Well, I won't have it, witcher. You better buck up your ideas. I'm not weak."

"I've never thought of you as weak."

Jaskier scoffed.

"It's true. I don't think you're weak. You're a survivor. You're stronger than most people I know. But I can't lose you."

"That's not up to you."

They stared at each other for a second too long, then Jaskier looked away.

He turned, facing away from Geralt. His hands flexed by his side.

"Jaskier…"

"Don't, Geralt. I've told you that before."

His voice was wavering, thick with emotion. Geralt knew his eyes would be filled with tears, and he didn't want to cause Jaskier to feel that way again.

He'd caused a permanent scar when he'd yelled at Jaskier on that godsforesaken mountain.

And if he hadn't done that, Rience might not have gotten to him.

Geralt closed his eyes and swallowed.

"I love you," he breathed.

When he opened his eyes, Jaskier was still standing away from him, not turning around and looking at him like he expected.

If Geralt couldn't smell the confusion on him, he would have assumed he hadn't heard him.

But Jaskier still hadn't turned around.

He took a step towards him, noting the way his back was rigid.

"I love you, Jaskier. And it's my fault, all of it. If I could only see what I know now back then. I would never have sent you packing. I would never have lost you."

"Geralt," Jaskier said, his voice cracking. "If this is some game."

"It's not," he said, taking the final step between them and wrapping his arms around him. "I love you."

The sob that left Jaskier was choked, but he turned in Geralt's arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

His ear was pressed against his cheek and Geralt twisted to press a kiss against it.

Then another against his hairline when Jaskier didn't complain.

The air around them thickened with a sweet smell, happiness slowly overcoming the sorrowful emotions.

Jaskier pulled back slightly, just enough to turn his face towards Geralt and press their lips together.

Time seemed to slow down, hands coming up to cup each other's face, pouring their love into the kiss.

Those lips felt warm and just as soft as they had on his forehead. Each brush of lips—hands slipping into hair, needing each other—Geralt didn't want to let go.

They did eventually part, because Jaskier really needed to breathe. They stood, sharing each other's air, eyes roaming over each other's faces.

There was a small smirk tugging at Jaskier's lips. Geralt felt himself smile in return.

"Well, this was unexpected."

Geralt didn't answer. All he could focus on was the rhythmic beat of Jaskier's heart and the wet shine on his lips.

The heat of him, burning into his skin through their clothes.

His hands moved up and down Jaskier’s upper back, holding him close.

There could never be anything as perfect as this.

It was comforting.

"Geralt," Jaskier said.

"Hmm?"

"Kiss me again."

Without hesitation, Geralt leaned in and their lips touched once more. They melded into one another, and for the first time, everything settled within him.

It finally felt like Geralt belonged somewhere, and it was right here in Jaskier's arms.

Thank you for the prompt. Apologies it took me a bit of time to get round to it, but you're still one of the first to be filled.

List of kiss prompts

[blvddy-bxnnii]

More Tissaia and Yennefer Headcanons!

These are individual hcs for both women that I've been working on for a lil bit now

Quick Disclaimer: Yennefer’s list mentions self-harm, eating disorder, and ptsd. The rest is pretty angsty, including Tissaia’s portion

Perhaps a little bit of a projection onto Yen but not by much

_______

Yennefer

• When she's nervous, Yennefer fidgets with her hands and rocks back and forth in place or if she's sitting she'll bounce her leg. She has a bad habit about picking her nails from her childhood so she wears gloves to prevent it but you can still see her scratch at her fingers through the gloves. Partially why she wears gloves in the first place. This is also why she frequently crosses her arms, it gives her a sense of security in times of anxiety or when Tissaia isn't available. Coping mechanisms in a way

• Yennefer is plagued with nightmares and night terrors from her childhood which has turned her into a night owl. She may say she's retiring to bed early but in reality, she simply stays awake. Bussing herself with reading or practicing spells; sometimes slipping outside for long walks deep. She's afraid of sleeping alone and having no one to ease her from the ptsd she's garnered from the abuse and bullying. A few times waking up with a scream or crying, shaking and holding herself if she's alone. Using magic to prevent dark circles forming under her eyes and to keep her awake

• Yennefer does in fact have ptsd. She hides the symptoms of it but they show through small gestures. Flinching away at touch if she doesn't instigate it, constantly in a state of panic or on edge. She never feels like she can relax for even a mere moment and she'll do random, unnecessary tasks to keep her brain occupied. Vivid nightmares as mentioned before with insomnia, fidgeting whenever she stays still for too long, hypervigilence around crowds of people, and rash and quick irritability, especially if itdisturbs the only few moments of ease she gets. (All of this is only heightened after Sodden)

• Yennefer has a bad habit with eating she picked up from childhood and surviving on the sides of trails where food was scarce. She goes days without eating, often or not forgetting she has to eat or that she's hungry at all. It was especially bad when she returned to Aretuza. Only nibbling on the food provided and saving the rest as if she wouldn't eat again. Something Tissaia would constantly remind her of with a few others such as Triss and Sabrina that she is safe, she is allowed to eat and not worry about when she'll eat again

• Despite being as powerful as she is, Yennefer hates the dark. Constantly needing a light source because she's afraid. Created by the times where she'd be forced to sleep in the barn and the threat of wild animals or monsters were always there, her father scaring her with stories so she wouldn't run away. She keeps a candle lit at night no matter what, she isn't able to sleep without it (when she can). When she's sleeping alone she needs it the most otherwise she'll proceed to stay up. Why she doesn't join Geralt in caves or wanders very far whenever she's out at night

• Another fear of Yennefer’s is rejection. Stemming from the years of being a hunchback. Even though she is inhumanly beautiful, knowing that she could have anyone she so wishes, it's still a lingering thought that stays in the back of her mind. That underneath the enchantment they'll still see the imperfections, the bitterness, the hurt little girl that craves affirmation, love, protection. The ugliness that the enchantment couldn't fix

• Yennefer is bisexual with female preference. As she does enjoy the company of men and found herself relatively good at getting what she wants from them and pleasing them, something about women is different. Finding herself enjoying their compliments, paying attention to the smaller details on them; how they smell, how soft their hair and skin were. To how they would dress, presenting their figure

• Yennefer’s love language is quality time. She isn't one to shy away from speaking how she feels or or get physical but for love it's different. The emotion she never knows how to properly show thus she expresses it with quality time. She'll actively listen or would much rather sit in silence. To her it's comforting just to be in her partners presence. Even if she's just reading a book or creating potions, knowing they're in the room is enough

• Yennefer has an anxious attachment towards love. She's achingly lonely, learning to protect herself after everything life has thrown at her and the amount of times she's been told she's incapable of being loved. Any serious relationships have ended because she pulls them close, pushes them away, runs, and then returns. She desperately wants to be love but she's too anxious to open up and trust, revealing unhealed wounds that could possibly have salt thrown in

• She still experiences urges to self harm. When certain situations remind her of her abuse, stressed, overwhelmed, Yennefer finds herself craving relief. A dull ache over her scars that makes it hard to resist. This is the other reason as to why she wears gloves. To not only hide the scars but also prevent herself from relapsing. It has happened a few times but not enough to kill her as she wished before hand

Tissaia

• Tissaia has a really mild form of ocd. Not enough to make her unable to function but in a way where she constantly needs her desk organized and clean. If it's not, she'll clearly be stressing about it all day or finds an excuse to be in her office to make sure its tidy. Same with her clothes, she consistently needs them to have no wrinkles, she won't wear them if they do and will proceed to use magic to make sure they're up to her standards. This also extends to her need for control and minimal chaos in her presence

• Tissaia can sew! Although most sorceresses use magic and enchant a needle, Tissaia, having lived for so long, found it as a hobby to pick up in her free time. Often fixing miniscule rips and tears or if her students come up to her, she offers to fix it for them. She finds it redundant to just use magic to solve all problems but also she uses it as a way to relax and de-stress occasionally

• One of Tissaia’s fears is being alone. Something she often chides herself on but in reality a very true aspect of her character. She may put on facade, a wall and turn others away but she always regrets her actions. They're one of the many thoughts that keep her up at night thinking how her life may have been different if she had not chased away people. Being alone, to her, feels suffocating. As if chained and constantly brought down

• She has been taken advantage of before. Mostly when she first became a sorceress, advising royalty. At the behest and order of kings to serve them while the Chapter turned a blind eye and deaf ear, that led her to accept that seduction is one of the most powerful tools a sorceress has. It contributes to why she's so reserved and modest. Even when water is involved, she submerges herself fully clothed or use magic to change outfits when no privacy is available

• Tissaia is a lesbian. She's lived long enough to try all sorts of sexual endeavors but she came to the conclusion she preferred the company of a woman over a man. From her time serving courts but also the years she spent enduring men's gazes and reading the thoughts they would conjure. The fantasies they had in mind that made her severely uncomfortable. She wouldn't doubt a few men she's been with were pleasant but women were tender, soft, and so much more rewarding to please. However nowadays she hardly searches for a romantic partner, at least until Yennefer came along

• Tissaia’s love language is a cross between quality time and physical touch. She loves spending one on one time with her partners, that distraction from everything else in her life to focus on someone she loves and listen to them instead of the gossip of girls. Physical touch that include holding hands and tight hugs that reassure her that this is real and not an illusion crated by magic. She also greatly enjoys the intimacy of a kiss

• Tissaia has lost touch with the concept of time. After being alive for so many years and having watched the world change, she genuinely forgets that it truly has been years. Time slips from her easily nowadays. For what feels like months for the rest, to her it felt only a week went by. A phenomenon that terrified her at first but now she's accepted it. However, thinking about it for too long can cause her to feel depressed, that even though she's has many feats and accomplishments, it's never enough

[cowboygenesis]

one: redanian ale | geralt x reader

part 1 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: blood, animal death, mild gore

word count: 3.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: i haven't posted a reader insert since middle school, but since ive been getting into the witcher again recently i thought this would be a fun project :) ill try my best to keep everything canon, but please keep in mind that the reader will be given the default name of 'maja'! if you dislike it, i do encourage the usage of a browser extension like 'word replacer II'. the name isn't too relevant to the story, i just find it a lot easier to write this way (as opposed to 'y/n', (name), etc.) anyway, please remember to give feedback and enjoy! x

Geralt stepped down the element-worn cobblestone road with a quiet huff, Roach trailing alongside the man’s figure with a seemingly matched sense of fervor.

The homes of the outskirts lined up in tight rows, alternating between maintained and otherwise decrepit wooden skeletons of a once lively hearth. Every stained-glass window emanated a warm light from within, casting onto the solemn sidewalk that led into the main square. Similar structures surrounded the tiled area, adorned with wooden plaques representing various businesses: a butcher, blacksmith, herbalist; something typical of towns on the continent.

It was a chilly afternoon, and the amber treeline of the backdrop was a colorful testament to the arrival of autumn’s harvest. The edge of the cracked pavement carried a lively array of wildflowers, growing sparsely out of the famously fertile earth of the region. It was strange, seeing such an abundant land give birth to such impoverished people. They swarmed the town in a hurry, cloaked in rags and somber faces, occasionally turning to gaze up at the flaxen-haired man with abhorrence, hatred, and curiosity.

Their sunken features flooded the street in the silent mayhem of impotence, weathered muscles bravely carrying the weight of their harvest into the beating heart of the city.

Coarse linen bags lined the trunks of carts for the lucky few being able to afford such transportation, others tried their strength at stacking the burden on their dominant shoulder. A permanent slouch was often a good way to identify the economically wounded. He furrowed his brow at the thought.

The cool air nipped gently at Geralt’s nose, fingers numb as they tightened around the leather horse reigns. His pace quickened, strides bold and purposeful as he spotted the centerpiece of town above the bobbing crowd ahead.

The cobblestone smoothed below his feet, transitioning into a sleek brick that led into the hexagonal center of town. People swarmed out of the tight street and quickly dispersed along various stalls lining the courtyard, allowing Geralt’s lungs to expand with fresh breath once more.

His eyes scanned along the walls, noting the uniform architecture of homes surrounding the plaza. Up ahead, sticking out like a not-so-sore thumb, stood the main attraction of the town. Its broad structure spanned significantly further than any surrounding shop, walls towering high into the third floor.

The off-white plaster was embellished with masterfully painted embroidery: a composition of roosters, red flowers, and various greenery; a traditional kind of adornment in these parts.

Unlike the other businesses, this particular building adorned a shiny, metallic plaque by the heavy-set doorway. It was written in a foreign language, carved into the slate in mechanically-even letters. Geralt approached this unfamiliar sign, fastening Roach to the wooden fencing to the side and leaving her with a soft pat on the muzzle. She neighed in response, a sound debatably considered sentient and acknowledging.

“Won’t be long, girl,” He reassured with a half-smile, adjusting his harness before stepping through the doorway.

The tavern air was drastically different from the outside world, hitting his complexion with a soothing warmth as the soft scent of baked goods and freshly poured ale filled his nostrils. The sensation scored a subtle smile from the witcher, hand swiftly unclasping the twinned holster of his weaponry.

He hummed lowly, scanning the crowd of people in sight: drinking, singing, dancing; warm bodies moving in rhythm to the upbeat ballad of a female bard taking center stage with her polished flute. A song about a lost love, druids, bloodshed. Geralt had recognized it from one of Jaskier’s performances, noting how polarizing the tune sounded with a change of instrument.

He continued walking alongside the wall, finally deciding to take a booth seat near the tinted windows of the northern wall. He propped his equipment against the table, positioning himself closest to the wall. The stained glass poured a soft light onto the scratched surface of his table, outlining every crevice and mug stain with a brilliant azure.

“Welcome to ‘the Manticore’, may I take your order?” Came a quiet voice, somehow bleeding into the chaos of the bustling tavern despite coming from his immediate right. Geralt turned his gaze towards it, eyes met with a pair of rheumy eyes.

A doe.

So was the witcher’s immediate thought at the sight of the skittish-looking servicewoman taking his order.

Her skin looked pallid, almost greyish in the soft light of the candlelight, cheeks pudgy yet somehow betraying her otherwise ghastly appearance. The subtle spread of freckles on her cheeks was the only memory of livelihood in the sunlight, spreading to her temples and ending in a single mole above the girl’s untamed brows. They were thick, straight, and resembling a man’s with how unkempt they appeared.

She held her fists firmly against the dip of her hips and her spine declined forward, giving the woman a folded, relaxed posture; a strange mix of confidence merging with a subtle sense of doubt reflected her apparent social abstinence.

“Redanian ale,” He spoke back, arm extending to rest on the plush couch, gaze wandering.

He first took note of the woman’s boots, how worn the leather seemed with the dried mud still clinging to the nooks and crannies of the laces. Her worn, moss-green blouse shamelessly revealed a perched bosom, held up artificially by the corset hugging her waist snuggly, perhaps uncomfortably.

Finally, he caught the attention of the silver amulet that lay comfortably against the flushed skin of her chest, embellished with a large, iridescent crystal sat in the middle. An opal, maybe a moonstone. It felt out of the ordinary, gleaming with a bright light that seemed to come from within the stone itself.

“You should be wary with that kind of necklace in your ownership,” Geralt warned under his breath, chin dipping to subtly signal towards the girl’s jewelry.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the comment, though her gaze instinctively followed his own. She brought a hand up to toy with the pendant, letting the metal move between her fingertips as if it were her first time seeing it.

“Oh, this old thing?” She questioned, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice as she held up the amulet, “It’s a fake, just a trinket I keep around,”

Despite her reassurance, the witcher’s comment seemed to have fuelled the baseline suspicion a barmaid would hold towards most customers. Simultaneously, she seemed genuinely inquisitive about the man’s opinion, her brow perched high on her forehead.

Her pinky traced along the side of the silver base, running down an array of intricate engravings carved into the metal by hand.

“Looks expensive. Different kinds of folk hang around these parts, you’d know best,” Geralt continued, tone flat yet assertive.

He never once meant to threaten the girl but rather tried offering a kind piece of advice based on his own experiences with such riches. Her prideful display of such an eye-catching jewel could land her in more trouble than she could have expected. His curiosity threw her demeanor off, eyes trailing to her feet. A moment passed without contact, then another.

“That’ll be it, girl,” he hummed, attempting to brush her presence off with a final word to the conversation. She shook her head left to right, almost like exiting a trance, and nodded at him hurriedly. Her nose tinged rouge. She turned heel, boots squeaking as she made her way through the boisterous crowd and back towards the bar.

The man allowed his gaze to linger on the girl until she disappeared into the sea of other bodies, huffing at the comfortable feeling of solitude once again. He let himself sink into the seat below. His eyes turned to study the crevices of the oak table he resided at, keen eyes suddenly focusing on something in the distance.

A raven-haired man sat hunched down at an adjacent booth, head clad in a pristine cloak that clasped off at his chest. The witcher stared back in an unspoken manner of competition, his watchful gaze scanning each visual intricacy the man had to offer. The pigment in his robes was intense and rich, an exotic indigo staining the thick linen, lined with silver thread that connected at the neck with a metallic amulet. It might have been adorned with small studs and jewels, from his position Geralt could not tell for certain.

His pale hands perched atop a leather-bound book surrounded by scattered cards, at least two decks. The fingers were scrawny, bony, wrapped in intricate rings that reflected the same blue light of the stained glass. His eyes bored into Geralt with a certain might, pools of sapphires flickering with candlelight.

They both lingered that way endlessly, both trying to intimidate the other into looking down, a gentle admit of defeat. The man smiled.

“And… there we go,” Came that one quiet voice again, accompanied by the dull tap of a glass mug placed firmly on the table. “Can I get you anything else?” it continued as Geralt made a last-ditch effort to squint at the cloaked man in the back of the room. He seemed satiated by this exchange, quickly returning to shuffling a fresh deck of cards sitting just beside his ale.

“…Hello?” The doe-eyed girl waved her hand to Geralt with a confused look on her sunken face, thick eyebrows furrowing with a twitch of her upper lip.

He turned his gaze towards her, quickly noticing the sudden emptiness around her chest— the amulet was gone. She must have taken his words to heart, or perhaps, more unfortunately, found them to be a kind of veiled threat towards her well-being. The skin of her chest was reddened, maybe hot to the touch.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” She said matter-of-factly. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden inquiry, otherwise maintaining his demeanor. It wasn’t so unusual.

“That’s right,” he replied tactfully, fingers tracing the handle of his mug before gripping it tightly and taking a hefty swig. The alcohol hit his throat with a delicious burn, trailing down the throat and leaving a tinge of plums and spice in its wake.

With a look as infamous as his, Geralt was undeniably used to being spotted out, even in the smallest of hamlets such as Posada. He didn’t mind the musings of others, as most of his encounters happened to be quite harmless and an inconvenience more than anything. He decided to enjoy his drink in peace and allow the girl to ask any questions she might be curious about. If he got lucky, the conversation could score him a new contract; Gods knew that was the kind of excuse he needed to occupy himself for the upcoming days.

“My, my…” The woman whispered, eyes widening a fraction as her fingers began skimming the edge of her apron in contemplation. There was an air of anticipation surrounding her, as if eager to ask about his dangerous lifestyle but abstaining for the fear of rejection. Same old.

“That makes you a frequent traveler, doesn’t it?” She piped up squeakily, clearing her throat after.

“Somewhat,” Geralt replied dryly, aiding his parched tongue with another swig of the drink. Exactly what he ordered, surprisingly. The girl didn’t bother cheating her way out of extra coin.

“And why do you find yourself in Posada, witcher?” the girl questioned, bright-eyed. Her hips twisted towards him, legs shuffling back and gently resting against the frame of the booth opposite to him. Geralt huffed, placing his ale firmly on the oak below. His face remained in its neutrality.

“Not staying long,” he mumbled with a backhand to his upper lip, cleaning the wetness from it with a smooth swipe. He spotted the barmaid’s coy gaze looking down as she swiftly positioned herself on the seat. When she looked up again, their eyes met.

There was a scar on her temple, kissing the hairline of the frizzed locks growing there. It looked well-healed with time, the weathered strip of skin standing out with the raised edges of its pale, pearlescent grove.

“Just for a rest I assume, then?” she smiled softly, the scar curving with the movement of her muscles. Geralt nodded. Her gaze seemed to falter at that but sharpened a mere second later.

“Just a drink, not much else to get done around here,” he spoke lowly, taking a knowing glance around the tavern; townsfolk swarming the bar in rugged clothing, some barefoot, all baring sunken faces. “Seems like it’s not monsters your town needs helping with,” he scoffed.

The barmaid’s eyes followed Geralt’s gaze, but she seemed to refrain from commenting. Her bony fingers clamped into loose fists before dropping to her lap. She moistened her lower lip with a slow flick of the tongue, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She stayed silent for a moment, contemplative, then suddenly perked up with a furrowed brow.

“We’ve got monsters, witcher,” the girl mumbled. Geralt’s brow twitched at the comment, but he gave her a nod in recognition. She nodded back. “Something’s been killing off the townsfolk in the night when they go foraging,”

“Foraging? Why at night?” he questioned.

“For Mooncaps. They fluoresce in the dark and so are easier to spot that way; we use them for skin salves, tea, that kind of thing,” the girl explained, “They grow in the woods.”

“Mooncaps…” the man acknowledged, “And the foragers, how certain are you that they haven’t just lost their way back?” Geralt pressed on, fingers tensing around the handle of his mug.

“Rescue teams have been sent out before, but they never come back,” the girl said, “Sylvanus was the only one to make it home in one piece. After the fifth expedition, there were no more volunteers left. We didn’t want to risk any more casualties, you know? I grew up there, too. But I don’t dare go back now, not after I’ve heard the rumors,” she continued.

“Sylvanus?” Geralt interrupted, feeling the name out on his tongue. It sounded foreign to the land, but unfamiliar to him personally. The barmaid nodded.

“He’s this witch-hunter from Temeria. Well, that’s what he says, anyway,” she breathed out, eyes squinting, “He’s not from around here, you’d from the things he wears. Nice things, well-fit and expensive. Arrived one night and asked for the largest room we had, room seven. That must’ve been a whole month ago by now,”

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze focusing on the table he had been examining beforehand. Nothing. The cloaked figure was gone, leaving behind a vacant table and that deck of cards.

“We’ve got spare rooms, plenty of them. I could arrange one for you if you’d like, maybe a hot bath to go with it,” the barmaid piqued in with the same smile, soft and genuine as her gaze seemed to bore into the witcher’s own eyes. She pursed her lips, anticipating an answer, perhaps one in favor of her declaration.

Geralt used a gloved finger to tap the wooden surface of the table, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still. “I’ll camp out,” he declared, hand raising his mug as the last drops of ale trickled down his throat. He still felt parched.

“As you wish,” the girl nodded, a glint in her eye as she reciprocated with a polite smile. Her arms stretched across the padding of her seat, relaxing her muscles before she swiftly stood up. Her hand grabbed onto the upper rim of the empty mug, removing it from the table with a huff.

“It’s on the house. Thank you for helping out,” she added quietly, smiling.

“Hold your appreciation, girl. I haven’t done anything to earn it just yet,” Geralt replied, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. It was airy and warm. Her half-lidded gaze met his own.

“You’ve offered your kindness, it’s all I could ask for these days,” she replied quaintly, taking a few steps back while her fingers tampered with the iron handle of the mug. She looked down briefly, then back up. Her smile had disappeared. "I'm Maja."

“Geralt,” he responded half-mindedly, out of habit. He assessed the name she had given him carefully, letting it echo in his mind for a second. Maja, just like the personification of mother-earth. He had read about her in a foreign tome previously, or perhaps heard it in a hymn or song.

“Farewell, then, Geralt,” she giggled once more, sounding somewhat bubbly at the reveal. Her smile stretched wider this time, revealing a pair of dimples adorning each flushed cheek with a shallow grove. She nibbled at her bottom lip, breathing in deeply before turning away, yet she held her gaze with his, somewhat determined to keep the witcher’s attention. She whipped around, her overskirt twirling gracefully around her hips before she leaped away. Geralt caught one last glance of her locks before she disappeared into the crowd again.

He breathed out, eyes closed tightly. His meeting with Ciri would have to wait another day while he took care of the monster plaguing this off-road town. He imagined it to be a Noonwraith, maybe a Werewolf in the worst case. It would be dirty work, but quick, and perhaps the town could spare a decent amount of coin for putting an end to their unfortunate endeavors.

The man stood up with a grunt, eyes scanning the crowds of clientele once again. His mind tried focusing on a certain head of raven-black hair amongst the sea of bodies, but his efforts were fruitless. The witch-hunter was gone, or at the very least in hiding… perhaps somewhere nearby. Geralt recalled the barmaid’s testimony, how she confessed they had rented the man a room just a few nights back.

The witcher’s eyes shifted to the broad staircase at the edge of the room, oddly empty and lit dimly by candlelight adorning the wall. He walked over in a few smooth strides, eyes narrowed and focused. He set his boot on the first stair, hearing it creak pathetically under his boot. He climbed another, another, continuing til the very top.

The gleeful tune of the lute sounded muffled and dull at this level, reverberating through the walls and getting eerily distorted in the process. Geralt lurked down the hallway, passing wooden doors adorned with handmade numbers and watching for light seeping through the gap where the planks met the floor.

He stopped suddenly, faced with number ‘7’. His gloved hand reached to grip the doorknob slowly, but with a firm squeeze, he twisted. To his surprise, it was open.

He stepped in, nose catching the vivid aroma of rosemary and myrrh. It carried in the air heavily, a thin stripe of smoke weaving through the air and connecting at the tip of an incense stick sat on a desk to his left. It was messy, clattered with books and one-off documents stained with slim rings of plum and violet.

“There you are,” came a gravely, monotonous sound. Geralt turned to face it, his eyes met with sapphire ones. They were bulbous, almost too large for the socket, threatening to pop out at any moment. The intensity made the witcher stay put. “Geralt of Rivia!” the man exclaimed theatrically, arms extending wide as he made his way from the bedside mirror. Geralt realized he hadn’t noticed the man when he entered.

“And you are?” the witcher asked firmly.

“You know my name,” the man replied, a smile adorning his lips. There was a thick scar running across them, connecting to his right brow.

“Sylvanus, is it?” Geralt replied, deciding to back into the doorway with his backside. Hearing the hinges squeal as they shut, Sylvanus seemed to relax. His mulberry cloak fluttered as he moved closer, head low. The whites of his eyes were glazed, shimmering like tiles of water. “There’s a monster roaming the woods, I’ve been told you know of it,”

“Certainly, yes,” He replied diplomatically, moving soundlessly to take a seat by the cluttered desk. The incense was shriveled now, copper tray piled with ash. “You’d like to know of this beastie? It was relentless. Ghastly and pale and crimson, drenched in innocent blood. Female in appearance and winged, like succubi,” Sylvanus explained, hands flailing wildly as he recalled the creature’s looks. His tone was low. “It is quite a miracle I made it out with all my limbs still intact,” Sylvanus sighed amongst dramatics.

“It seems we’re dealing with a harpy,” Geralt replied with a nod, hands now placed firmly on his hips as he watched the man before him go dark in the face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bulging as he approached in a swift stride. He pointed a long finger at the witcher’s chest, gaze holding his fervently.

“That is no ordinary harpy, witcher,” the man hissed, offended at the mere suggestion of it. “I’ve seen nothing like it. This is no ordinary occurrence, I’ve come to realize…” Sylvanus carried on, retracting his arm that slivered under his cloak like a snake returning to its lair.

“This town, you’ll learn to know, is cursed. Plagued,” he finished slyly, almost hostile in his manner.

Geralt sighed at the man’s warnings, eyeing his lowly figure as it trailed back to the padded armchair by the desk. His snake-like arm slid out once more, thin and splotchy. It grabbed a match, striking it quickly against the table’s surface to illicit a pale flame that he used to light a fresh incense stick with. The room became smokey within seconds, a thin veil of grey dancing in the light breeze of the window open ajar. When he was done, Sylvanus tossed the match to a pile of similarly decrepit ones.

“If you want to know how I survived, well,” he trailed, “the beastie is weak to light. It fears daytime, sunlight, fire… anything that burns,”

“How did you find out?” Geralt questioned,

“Trial and error,” Sylvanus shrugged with a grin, eyes squinting. He slumped into the chair, tossing and turning until he seemed comfortable. “It only comes out on moonless nights, that’s when it goes out to feed,” he added. Geralt nodded, stopping for a beat to let the man continue on his tirade, but there was nothing else he wanted to say. His focus had now shifted to an opened book on the desk, his fingers skimming through the pages feverishly.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyeing the man once more before turning around to leave. “Thanks for the info,”

“Don’t make yourself allies in Posada, Geralt,” a voice called out behind him, deep and dark. “It might just turn on you,”

Geralt halted. He nodded, head tilting but not enough to catch the man’s figure again. The witcher shuffled away silently, shutting the door behind him with a ‘click’ of the hinges. A soft shuffling came from within, cloth rubbing against cloth and stacks of papers being ripped frantically, in a strange hurry. The flaxen-haired man let the commotion unfold without interruption.

He spotted an ornate window peeking outside, his eyes squinting at the bright lights of the colors flickering around the main square. It was getting late, and he would have to make camp soon. His feet stomped down the flight of stairs, faded music coming back in full effect.

He took note of the blonde-headed bard singing her heart out, and the slowly declining yet continuously vast crowd of townsfolk swarming the vivid scene. His gaze trailed to the bar instinctively, hovering over about a dozen heads that he knew instantly didn’t include the one he sought out.

A soft breath escaped his chapped lips, hands swiftly reaching for the cover of his cape’s hood. As the warmth of the tavern slowly faded from his body, Geralt felt his fingers ache in the cold of the night.

[sexualsam]

What's Lost is Lost (Pt. 2)

Ok ok I’m back and with part two. I kind of let myself get carried away with this one and im sorry if it got away from me. This will most likely be the last part so let your imaginations run wild. I have been binging Black Clover so I kind of started this and then completely forgot about it. My requests are open loves!

Word Count: 1,413

Imagine: Imagine: Meeting Geralt for the first time in a tavern you work at. At least to you it’s the first time. (Semi angsty Geralt) CONTINUED

This was her fault, at least she knew that. At least she could admit that.  

If stubborn had a picture next to it in the dictionary, her photo would be right next to it. Smiling like all hell, even if she knew that all hell was about to break loose.  

There weren’t many things she was good at, but with the things she was, she wasn’t just good, she was amazing.   Lying, manipulating, being cold and calculated. These were all things she went above and beyond in.  

This was different, however. She was in a situation, a bad one. One that not only put herself in danger but also someone she cared for.

She stood there in the middle of a windowless room, with a knife pressed against her throat.   She stared in front of her. There stood the most important person. Him.  

He was the one person she truly cared about, loved, even. He could pull her out of her own head in an instant. But she would never admit it.   She wanted to think she was heartless.  

Deep down, she knew. This wasn’t a time to laugh, it was a time to be scared, to fear for her life; but she couldn’t help it.  

How could he seriously believe she cared this much about her life. Her simply complicated, dark, twisted life.   That was his mistake, his fault.  

She couldn’t care less about what was going to happen to her. Whether she lived or died, it didn’t matter.  

So, she laughed.  

… you really think I give a fuck about what you do with me? She could feel his eyes staring at her even as she looked at the floor.  

The one and only person she cared about.   And the one she cared about the least.  

… do it then.

She felt the blade press deeper into her skin as her captor’s grip got tighter.  

He looked at her, eyes glossed.   And for a brief moment, he could see a small flicker of guilt on her face.  

He knew that he loved her, but he would never admit it.   She was heartless. She didn’t care about anybody but herself, and he knew that.

Geralt thought back to the last time that he had seen you. You were nothing like the girl he had run into at the tavern almost a year ago. You, no, that girl was not you.

Ever since that night he had been searching for the answer.   What happened? Where had you gone? Why?

He had asked these questions to himself repeatedly. Simply put, there was no answer. He had scoured villages, kingdoms, forests and realms. No one had anything that had any answers.

He instead turned his attention towards a more direct approach. Locating the woman he had seen at the tavern. The shell of your formal self that he had run into on that fateful night.  

He had circled back to look for you. No one seemed to remember the bar wench or anything special about her, except for her low-cut dresses. Geralt had to restrain himself while listening to his witnesses speak. The way they spoke about your body sent him into a rage. They spoke like animals and as if you were a piece of meat waiting to be devoured.   He knew you; he knew every part of you. He had explored every single inch of your body. But the way the villagers thought of you. The way they vividly described the small part of you they were able to see in the dim tavern light made him want to start a massacre.   No one was able to royally piss him off as much as they did. No one except for you.  

Your constant taunting about how there was never a lesser evil. How he didn’t need to treat you like you needed protecting. How he was breathing or walking. There was always something to bicker about.  

Geralt mounted Roach once more. He was on his way out of Kaer Morhen. He had gotten all the rest and vials he needed to last him the year. He planned to continue his search for you for as long as he had to. Until you were in his arms once more, starting petty arguments and laughing both with and at him.

The cold air nipped at his face; he hadn’t stayed the whole season at Kaer Morhen. Only long enough to stock up on what was needed to succeed in his mission. One without coin as his prize for winning.  

As dusk started drawing closer, he had decided to set up camp for himself. Something small and sufficient for one night.   Geralt typically gravitated towards a river or stream, as to have water for himself and his horse. However, there was a spot that was barren. No water or actively flowing source of hydration. Instead, it was where he and you had snuck out to, dozens of times.   When Lambert or anyone else at Kaer Morhen had gotten on your nerves, he could usually find you here.  

It was a small escape for you, and for Geralt it was a treasure trove of memories from the past.  

During spring, it was littered with tulips and weeds. The tall trees surrounded it, creating a clearing and a perfect sky for you guys to gaze upon as you lay.   He could almost feel the warmth of your skin as he reminisced. The memory seemed too real.   Sprawled out in the clearing, nothing but nature under you.   You nested into Geralt’s arms, looking up at the blue sky. His hands rested atop your abdomen as you plucked the grass mindlessly from the earth. His scent was so calming to you. Of course, you teased and taunted him, but he knew it was all good fun.  

At first, he didn’t find it so amusing. He thought you were stubborn and narcissistic. But just as soon as he realized why you acted the way you did, he was already enthralled by you.  

He found himself concerned with your safety and your recklessness. He wanted to fight to protect you even in the smallest of altercations. Geralt was well aware of your abilities and what you were capable of, but he didn’t care, he had a need to make sure you were safe.  

You were indeed stubborn. Protection wasn’t something you felt you needed. You could feel yourself becoming more and more captivated by him and his ways, but you didn’t like being vulnerable.   Everytime you felt that emotions were starting to peek through, you put up walls. The only time he had ever truly seen you at peace was in this clearing.  

Geralt could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He longed to be with you once more. He was the only person that truly knew you and likewise. He had let parts of himself that no one had ever seen be free around you.  

As he approached the clearing the memories grew fonder and stronger, as did the faint glow to a dancing light.  

Somone has tainted this land.  

He dismounted Roach and was sure to be quiet. He stopped far enough back that he was still masked by the darkness.

“Stay here.” He quietly muttered; the steed slightly nodded as if understanding what he had just said.  

The Witcher drew closer, taking small and quiet steps, careful not to draw any attention towards his direction.   He knew it was not a monster or beast, simply a human looking for a camp. But not here, not in is sacred place.  

The warmth of the fire slowly started to crawl to his skin. It was a change from the frigid temperature that surrounded him.   A sheet of ice shattered beneath his foot, and he held his breath.

Damnit it.  

A cloaked figure looked in his direction, though he was sure they couldn’t see him he shrunk back into the shadow of the tree.  

He waited, waited for a proper amount of time, till he was sure the person had assumed it was an animal or their imagination.   He conditioned his stealth like walk over to the clearing.  

He could see now that the figure had moved. They were standing up, staring directly at him. With the distance he had covered, the flames of the fire surely illuminated his features as so with the cloaked figure.  

He choked on his breath.

“Geralt?” . . .