#geralt is a wee bit lonely

[dapandapod]

Two Pillows

Hello there! Here be a little story (2098 words only) of Geralt and his loneliness. And how he fights it and how he fights himself! 

Here on Ao3  and thank you a billion @damatris for helping me reading through it and giving me a thumbs up! The ending has been glaring at me for weeks...

Please enjoy <3

Geralt has picked up a habit over the years he has been traveling. He isn’t a lonely man per say. He doesn’t feel the need to be close to others necessarily. He just sleeps better with two pillows. One he is propping under his head, it is a bit flat and worn out, just perfect. The other one is a little bigger. Just a little fluffier. No one asks about the two pillows, why should they? Who cares about a mutant's sleeping habits?

So when no one but the stars are watching, Geralt cradles it in his arms and holds it close. Curls around it and keeps it safe. It smells like him now. He doesn’t mind, but he prefers when there is someone else's smell on it sometimes. It happens that he hides a soap from Kaer Morhen inside it, when leaving the empty halls hurts more than usual. It smells of pine, if Lambert was the one doing the soap that year it sometimes smells like beer.

It’s not that he pretends that he is holding someone. It just is. It’s fine. Geralt sleeps in his bedroll with his pillows, and the aching loneliness inside is kept at bay. Sometimes he thinks of Renfri. Sometimes he thinks of Eskel. Sometimes he thinks of his mother, faceless after all these years.

Sometimes he thinks of arms returning the embrace, of a heart beating under his ear, of a hand stroking his hair as he falls asleep. But it’s the wind stroking his hair as he falls asleep. His pillow pressed against his chest. The only heartbeat is his.

It happens that Geralt travels with people. Sometimes it’s a merchant going the same direction, sometimes it’s a hunter or just a farmer bringing their goods to the market. Those shared nights are complicated. Instead of holding his pillow close, he watches the star travel across the sky. When morning comes the only rest he got is meditation. Which is fine, he can make due.

   Then Posada introduces him to a certain bard, and he finds his nights changing. He doesn’t trust the bard. Doesn’t like him. He brought nothing to their travels, not even a bedroll. He managed to talk Geralt into letting him borrow the fluffy pillow, but failed at getting a place in the bedroll. The summer nights are still warm and Geralt is kind enough to make camp where he finds the grass thicker, the moss richer. He learned that first night that Jaskier sleeping poorly is a Jaskier that won’t shut up.

But that means Geralt only has one pillow. So he meditates the nights away, because truly it is fine. He can sleep without holding something, but he doesn’t trust the bard yet. That’s it. He listens to Jaskier snuffle in his sleep, his snores and hums. He is never quiet, that man, and Geralt finds it settles him. It becomes a backdrop, a constant he doesn’t even realize he needs until it leaves. Jaskier does that sometimes. Leaves.

They spend winters apart. Sometimes a whole year. Jaskier still borrows his pillow, after all this time. And that first night Geralt holds it, it smells like spices and warmth, achingly familiar. And if he holds it a little closer, digs his fingers into it a little harder, only the stars are there to see it.

    What irrevocably changes things however is when Geralt falls asleep with Jaskier in his arms. They don’t mean to, but the summer festival had them both in a merry mood and deep in their cups. Jaskier can’t seem to find his own bed, and decides Geralt's bed is good enough. Some shuffling, wrestling and resignation later, Jaskier steals Geralt's fluffy pillow once more and wriggles into the circle of his arms.

It is late. So late it is bordering on early, and Jaskier falls asleep immediately. But Geralt’s mind is spinning. He has held people before, of course he has. But something settles in him, clicking into place. He is home. Geralt doesn’t even notice falling asleep. Doesn’t wake when the sun shines in through the window, doesn’t stirr when the smell of cooking breakfast drifts up towards them.

When he comes to, there is a heartbeat under his ear. There is a hand stroking his hair. Someone holding him close. They smell like spices and warmth. And Geralt knows he is well and truly fucked.

  They don’t talk about it, why on earth would they talk about it? But when they part, the pillow is not enough anymore. The smell of Jaskier quickly fades from it, and he finds that he is saving it. Savouring it. So the pillow sits unused, waiting for Geralt to break or for Jaskier to come back.

    Winter is hard. Too hard. Geralt breaks first, holding the pillow tight. When spring finally comes he is more exhausted than he has been for a long time. Lambert and Eskel share a worried glance, but Geralt doesn’t have time. It’s not that they usually decide a time and place. But this year Geralt wishes they had. He is not sure what he wants, and how to express it. He needs Jaskier close, even if it is only him borrowing the pillow. A something to make the path easier.

Their roads don't cross. Sleep eludes him, keeping his sanity hostage. Geralt breaks again, and finds himself in Oxenfurt. Jaskier is there, surprised to see him. On his arm is a beautiful blonde, Priscilla is her name. They performed together during the winter and made a contract with one of the local inns to stay until summer. It’s not fair.

   Geralt leaves without his bard, returning to his sorceress. Lilac and gooseberry stick to his skin as they again soar, crash and burn together. On a mountaintop far above the world, it is for the last time. Jaskier is there, caught in their flames. It is not fair, Geralt knows it is not fair. But Jaskier brought his own pillow on this blasted hunt, and Yennefer pushes him towards an edge he has been toeing for years. He doesn’t even notice falling until it is too late. And he is pushing Jaskier out of the way, shoving him out of reach with all his might.

   Time is strange. It passes him by, he is a pebble sitting in a stream watching the world pass by. And like water eats away stone, so time is wearing Geralt down. Geralt returns to Oxenfurt. Searching, looking, aching for his friend, his bard, his home. Priscilla meets him with an acid tongue. Jaskier isn’t there. He didn’t return at all, sending word that he is taking some time off and going to the coast.

He knows he is a bad friend. Knows he is a bad man, a bad witcher for risking human lives for his own stupid longing, his need to keep Jaskier around. But he can’t help it.

   Geralt finds Jaskier at the edge of a cliff. The wind is raging, tearing at his hair and clothes. The waves crashing against shore with an anger he can only find in nature. They watch each other against the backdrop of a grey sky. Jaskiers face is impassive, strange, guarded when Geralt walks up to him, falling to his knees. He can’t keep going any more. There is nothing left of him but the aching sadness and loneliness. The absence of friendship, laughter, spices and warmth.

“I'm sorry.” He croaks out, words stolen by the wind. “I’m so sorry.”

Every beat of his heart is agony, his eyes burn and his chest aches.The ground is cool and slightly moist under his knees, sand and salt seeping through his trousers. He can’t look up at Jaskier. He watches his shoes, well worn and a little stained.

Then there are warm hands on both sides of his face, and Jaskier tilts his chin upwards. So many emotions are swimming behind Jaskiers eyes, his brow set and lips a firm line.It feels like he hasn’t aged a day.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, just wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulder and tugging him into a hug. Geralt's face is pressed against Jaskiers stomach, and he can smell the warmth, the spices, the fabric soft under his cheek.

   Geralt didn’t plan ahead, didn’t think any further than finding Jaskier again. He should have, and they end up sharing Jaskiers room at a nearby inn. Geralt almost wants to offer him his pillow, selfishly collecting his scent for that inevitable parting. But he can’t, not when the inn already has enough. There is only one bed though, since Jaskier didn’t count on company. Geralt offers to take the floor, and Jaskier almost lets him.

But he scoots over, making room for Geralt on the bed. They don’t speak, just lay down facing each other. Jaskier has obviously been sleeping here for a while, and being surrounded by his scent makes something inside Geralt unclench. They watch each other, waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know, but wait they do.

“Why?” Jaskier asks him finally. His voice is hushed, as if afraid to disturb the silence.

“I had to. I couldn’t pull you down with me. You-...” You are too precious to me. Geralt almost says it, it is on the tip of his tongue before he stops himself.

“I what Geralt? I can’t read your mind.”

“I don’t need you.” Geralt mumbles, and Jaskiers brows furrow in hurt. “I don’t need you, but I want you. So much. When you are around, I-..:” Geralt falters again, and Jaskier waits in silence.

“When you are around, I settle. I can’t describe it. I want you around, and that is selfish of me.”

“That sounds like need to me, Geralt, and it is not selfish. You are allowed to want things.”

“You are not a thing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said.”

They don’t talk anymore after that. They look at each other, and then Jaskier hands Geralt another pillow to hold and turns his back on him. He knows. Of course he would have noticed. Shame burns in Geralt, and he wants to hold Jaskier, but he isn’t sure it would be welcome. So he burrows deeper into the blanket, surrounded by Jaskiers smell, and holds the pillow tight.

   When he wakes up, he is still holding the pillow. It is warm and sweaty, and Geralt soon finds out why. Jaskier lies pressed against his back, arm slung over his waist, forehead leaning against the back of Geralt's neck.

Geralt stays still, no matter how sweaty he is he doesn’t want to break this hold. It is a little unfair of him, because Jaskier likely did it in his sleep rather than by choice. He lies there and waits for the inevitable, for Jaskier to wake up and pull away. When Jaskier finally wakes up, it is at least an hour later. Geralt possibly slumbered a bit too, feeling too safe and comfortable to fight it. And now, Jaskiers heartbeat is picking up and he is getting tense. Before Jaskier can do anything, say anything, Geralt places his hand on Jaskiers.

“Stay?”

He regrets it the instance he opens his mouth, but somehow, for some reason, Jaskier stays.

“You are right.” Geralt confessess. “It’s a need. I need you. You are-” And he falters again, pulling in a shuddering breath. Jaskiers fingers flex under his, but he waits silently until Geralt is ready.

 “Missing you is like missing home. You are home to me.”

Geralt wants to flee. Wants to run. Wants to take back his words and hide them again, shove them back into the deep darkness. But they are out. And they were heard.

 “Geralt…” Jaskier is shuffling backwards, cold and empty space between them.

 He knew it. He knew it would be too much, too soon. But he was ready for it, but it still hurt.

 “Look at me.” Comes from behind Geralt, and he turns, shifting with the pillow still in his grip. Jaskier's eyes are gentle, but he can’t read them. Doesn’t know how to interpret them.

 Jaskier grabs the pillow and pulls it out of his grip, eyes never leaving his. He tosses the pillow on the floor carelessly, and it’s strange, so strange.

 “You are my home too.” Jaskier says quietly, placing his hand around Geralt's wrist, pulling him closer.

Oh.

Geralt breaks again and again and again, and he reaches out with both arms, pulling Jaskier to his chest, holding him close.

 Finally holding him close.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

... Of the Old History’s End and the Beginning of a New Era (Geralt x fem!reader, Part 4.)

Chapter status: REVISITED AND REVISIONED

Description: Geralt of Rivia, also known as the infamous Butcher of Blaviken or the White Wolf, was traveling the Continent along with idiotic, yet humble and kind bard Jaskier, settling in a small town near the free city of Novigrad. That was when Geralt bumped into an old friend of his - and realized that all the wrongdoings he had committed in the past will eventually come back to him.

Part description: After a few weeks pass by, both of the old friends come to the conclusion that they were far from done with each other and decide to solve their mutual emotions and questions.

Warnings: Well, let's just name the things how they are - this part is kind of a mess consisting of: long, confused emotional monologues to solve the shit Geralt and the priestess had been through, me trying to messily explain the lore of the books/shows when it comes to Yennefer's and Geralt's relationship, some angst probably (a wee bit) and smut. Aye, that should be it.

A/N: I am sorry and not sorry about writing and revisioning this part; it's somewhat strange to revisit my old smut and be horrified by my old style of writing. Oh well, less whining and let's jump right into it, shall we? By the way, there is a moment where Jaskier asks Geralt something along the way "You know how I feel about her and you"; that doesn't mean how he feels about them as a couple, but respective people for whom Jaskier both has feelings. Inspired namely by: Her Sweet Kiss (Everytime You Leave) by Joey Batey, Sonya Belousova, and Giona Ostinelli, composed for TWN.

Word count: 11.2 K

Tagging: @soleil-dor​, @axk111​, @nemesisplayboy​

Master list: H E R E

Wind’s howling, you thought to yourself as you looked out of the window, soaked neck deep into your bathtub. It was longer than two weeks since you've last seen the witcher with his trusty companion; a bard and a mare. Much had changed since the night you parted - flowers and trees started to blossom, the air was becoming warmer and instead of morning freezes, there were now torrents of rain drenching the vicinity of Novigrad. You loved everything about your small cottage since it was a quiet and lonely place, built in the local wilderness. The surroundings were beautiful - your cottage was standing on the confines of a forest, a lake, and a long, beautiful meadow; this was giving you more than enough activities you could do when you felt bored - anything from swimming, hunting, reading a book, picking herbs to just lay down on the grass and contemplate about various thoughts that had crossed your mind.

It was a sanctuary that belonged to anyone but you. True, the folk were coming in and out to consult their health issues from time to time, but unless you invited someone to stay over, your loneliness wasn't to be interrupted. Back in the day, you used to be fond of people and being around them all day and every day, yet the older you became, the more you appreciated silence and peace. You loved everything about it.

The loneliness and peace were now interrupted by the memories of the time you spent with the two men and anytime you just sat down to relax, your mind started racing and going back to them. More so, soon enough the thoughts filled your head during various activities, making you restless - anytime you'd sit down into the doorframe and make ointments, anything you'd sew yourself new shirts, anytime you'd be making new arrow or simply examine the people asking you for help, your mind would ponder about them. Where were they? What were they doing? Were they safe? Should you try to find them and talk to them? Was it too late for that? Will you ever see them again?

Just as you pondered about the men, the more you were noticing how much had Geralt changed and how much you changed yourself. You were sure that you had known the witcher pretty well back in the day; Geralt always had a kind heart and calm nature, he always pondered upon the problems presented to him, he had his own moral codex, and overall, he wasn't what you'd expect when it came to witchers. There were always fading hints of emotion under the tough exterior... But now, the emotion was clearly visible on his face and in his eyes, it could be heard in the way Geralt spoke and in his motions. Even when you thought about it two weeks after, you could still feel the warmth of his breath and the beating of the heart in his chest, being quite faster than usual; you recalled all the tenderness and lust in Geralt's eyes... And his worry back when you were hunting the striga and bringing her home.

Never in your life would you agree with anyone who'd say that Geralt was a heartless monster slayer who was bound to feel no emotion; but the transformation he underwent was making you speechless. As you sat in the bath, you sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head. There you were again, pondering about Geralt.

Any of that, unfortunately, changed the way Geralt acted in Cintra, the night before the two of you parted. While he was pleasured by one of the local prostitutes, you bumped into three local fishermen who were drunk as all shit. It was raining, a storm was coming; before you could defend yourself, the men had beaten you up and thrown you down to the ground, and to be frank, it was rather obvious what they were about to do next. The witcher, thank Melithelé, appeared from the darkness just moments after and helped you to get out of there. Where was he when you most needed him? At that point of your conjoined adventuring, you were already hitting the coldest, darkest bottom there was. It all began after you met Eskel along the way; you were playing with local children, reading them a story while the two men picked themselves up and went to have a beer. And since then, something was off... Geralt had never been the same again. All the small things he was doing were packing up over the past few months and this night, you finally felt like you had enough.

"Where, by the Gods, have you been, you bobolyne?" - As soon as you walked out of the alley, you started to yell at the top of your lungs; your cheek was swollen, the dress was torn on your thorax and you were clearly panicked and shaken. Among the crying, there was also an impressive amount of punches you gave him with both of your first, hitting his back and shoulders.

"Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to? You know well where I've been, Y/N, you are not stupid." - The man answered emotionlessly, walking closer to Roach to search for something in his saddlebags. Usually, Geralt was a good company to be around - but the last few months... Phew. The things he had told you without a flinch, the way he behaved and acted around you. Suddenly, it felt like all of the legends and myths about the witchers were true. Not an ounce of emotion, not an ounce of humor or care. Nothing. Sometimes, you made him chuckle, but that was all. Your Geralt seemed to be gone.

"Oh, hear ye, hear ye. The legendary White Wolf was busy fucking a whore in the local brothel while his friend, a woman who consistently works on saving his ass and helping him with the local folk, was almost raped and killed. Bravo." - Normally, you wouldn't blame Geralt at all; he couldn't know that the men would prey on you and jump you on your way back to your room, but this time... Geralt clearly saw the men eyeing you across the inn and he certainly had to hear every little gross word they said. And he left you behind nonetheless. With tears in your eyes, you stood behind him and watched him paying more attention to Roach than you. Your tone of voice perfectly matched his coolness and lack of interest the entire time. This was one of the things that Geralt liked about you - you didn't like making scenes and you avoided doing so because you were perfectly capable of solving the conflict by silent staring and a few mocking remarks.

"I saved for your right on time, didn't I? No harm was done." "No harm done?" - By that point, you were staring at him, shaking your head as he put a cloak around you, covering you up. - "No harm done, Geralt? Are you short of marble? Three fucking men just kicked me, punched me, and hit me, laughing while doing so. They were also saying that I shouldn't be hanging around a witcher, 'cause they heard that your kin enchants maidens, seduces them, and leaves them pregnant with a demon who crawls out of the mother's womb, killing her in the process. That this is how the next generation of witchers, emotionless monsters, is conceived. And you know what?" - Asking Geralt this question, you walked right to him and looked him in the eyes, already crying by that point. - "I think they were right. I can't do this anymore, Geralt. I Don't know what happened to you, but... I can't".

There was silence for some time; as you started to whine and cry, you walked to yours, preparing the saddle. You had to leave, you had to leave Geralt alone in Cintra and disappear. Truth be told, you had no place in the world around you and didn't know where your trail would be headed, but if it was anywhere far away from this piece of dick, you were glad to take it. "Would you be gladder if I let them do what they intended? Was I supposed to just leave you there, listening to the sounds?" "You know what? That's it. I'm done with all this hypocrisy and bullshit, I'm done with whatever you're trying to do here, I'm fucking leaving. I believed that the tales about your cruelty and lack of emotion weren't true, because you became my friend... A good friend. Now I see how wrong I was. Farewell, Butcher of Blaviken, a thousand thanks, and graces to you... Burn in hell, butcher." - And with that, you prompted your horse and rode out of Cintra's city gate, disappearing into the night, leaving Geralt behind.

The witcher remembered it as well. He remembered everything that happened on this particular night in Cintra. He could still recall how much your words stung as you said them slowly with your voice tranquil and balanced while the tears run down your cheeks. But by that, by watching you leave, he had finally adhered to what Eskel had told him - you were better off on your own, without Geralt around. People will be trusting you more, they will act better towards you and over time, you were to find your place and home on the Continent, settling down. There were nights during which Geralt considered coming back to you, about tracking you down to whatever hell you resided at just to apologize and beg you for your forgiveness.

Words wouldn't change anything, truly, it wouldn't remedy your relationship, it wouldn't heal a broken heart and hurt feelings... But he'd have one less thing to hate himself for. That was when Yen said your name while they were talking; she just came from an audition at Emhyr's court, the witch and her powers being in the talks of being hired by the Black Ones - Geralt told her that he once knew a woman named just like that, a woman who was a priestess. The sorceress scoffed, giving your precise description to Geralt, making him realize that it was you. You were Emhyr's personal counselor. Therefore, he couldn't just walk up to you and apologize for everything that had happened between the two of you... On the other hand, Emhyr had protected you from the worse wave of the Witch hunt.  

Once you appeared in that inn and Geralt he finally, after all those years, had the chance to apologize, to try to explain to you and tell you how he feels, he just couldn't - suddenly, he was short of words. And the more time you spent together, the more it became clear that there wasn't only friendship the witcher felt when it came to you; Geralt was fond of you, enjoyed your company... He was attracted to you in every way possible. Geralt, without realizing it, became charmed by your personality, by your stubbornness, and your self-sufficiency, your physical appearance was making him mesmerized... And whenever your body was close to him, each time he heard your witty remarks and saw you grinning or heard your laughter, his breath became a bit shallow, he lost all his words and common sense and it was only you Geralt was capable of paying attention to. The longer you were haunting his head, the easier it became for you to get under his skin as fast as you did; and two decades was a hell of a time.

And the more he spent away from you after the bard meeting, the more restless Geralt became; knowing you probably felt the same way about him was making him even more disturbed and anxious. Without a doubt in his mind, the man was aware that he caught himself in the webs of the games you were playing, he was under your sweet spell and it was as if he couldn't find a way out of this situation - not a way that wouldn't end up by Geralt telling you everything he had on his mind. Geralt had to act, that was the only solution because this time, it was the real now or never he was facing; he had to search for you, asking you to forgive him and to confide in you, giving you the last say in this rather messy situation. It was good to know, to finally admit that he wanted you - but if you would turn him down, he wouldn't dwell on doing anything. Geralt would simply ask you if you'd remain his friend.

That was when he downed the entire pint of ale in front of him, picking himself up and paying for everything he and Jaskier drunk that night; they were still residing in Rosemary and Thyme and while Jaskier was mostly in the companion of various women or scholars and other troubadours, Geralt was trying to find the cursed gold by both day and night... While being stuck thinking about you. Just as he was leaving the inn, Jaskier appeared next to him, dragging on his sleeve to stop him from leaving. - "Where are you going, Geralt? The evening just started and that noble lady wants to pay for everything we're going to drink. I think she likes you. Is it because of the contract?" "The lady offered to pay for my drinks because she wants to desperately get into your pants, may I be damned if I ever will understand why someone like you had this effect on women. And as for the question, you asked… It's complicated." - The witcher answered simply, making the bard tilt his head, a smirk appearing on his lips. - "Need to talk to an old friend." "I knew it." - Jaskier whispered, leaning his elbow into the fencing surrounding the inn and its small front garden. - "You've been looking miserable the past few days. It’s usual for you to look like you hadn’t properly slept in years while also being grumpy to add a peck of realness into said suspicion, but you’ve been really out of it this time, friend. Each time you came to Rosemary, you barely touched your food and drinks and noticeably turned down offers from all sorts of ladies who wanted to have some fun. You feel like you have to do this, don't you?”

“You’re right, Jaskier. Hm..." - For a moment, Geralt looked down at his boots, trying to sort his thoughts out. But he didn't necessarily have the words to express everything that was on his mind. - "I don't know how it happened, but this is the first time when I feel like... Like I was to go crazy if I stayed silent this time. If I don't say anything now, I'll have to be silent until the day I die. Knowing there are no spells involved, unlike the whole djinn mess, makes me... Feel vulnerable and weak.” "Now, that was almost poetic of you, Geralt, you’re taking my breath away. Wow. I managed to teach you some things over the years, didn’t I? How would I describe this situation… Hm… It’s almost unfair because what you’re feeling is stealing all your reason, while her current is pulling you close so you could get destroyed by her sweet kiss. Dear Melitelé, that was wonderful; need to write that down and use it in a tale.” - At that, Jaskier gave Geralt his known gaze filled with excitement and sudden inspiration. The witcher hummed in agreement upon hearing Jaskier’s description, watching the bard with an amused grin; needless to say, the bard got it right. - “What I was trying to say is… I hope Y/N will listen to you and that she feels the same way. Needless to say, friend, you know how I feel about her…” - The bard furrowed a bit, putting his palm on Geralt’s shoulder before whispering. - “… And you.”

The silence grew louder while the men stared at each other amidst the warm spring night. After a while, Geralt patted Jaskier’s palm and pushed it off his arm, stepping aside. The smile Geralt gave to the bard, though, was knowing and genuine, letting Jaskier know that not only does the witcher realize what Jaskier was trying to say, but he also takes it into account and will remember it. Shortly after, the man turned on his heels and left Rosemary and Thyme, riding out of Novigrad under the cloak of darkness.

Roach was galloping the entire time, Geralt didn't leave the animal to rest for a second - she was used to the rush, so Geralt knew she wouldn't kick him off. Soon, after twenty minutes as you said, the witcher arrived in the village where you met and where you also parted ways. Even though it was late, the town still seemed lively; some kind of a celebration had just ended, the girls were dressed in traditional attires with big flower crowns on their heads, and the men were wasted beyond socially acceptable. Even the innkeeper seemed to be in great spirit. Sure, they were people who told their kids to immediately hide inside the house, loads of cats who hissed at the mutant, and men who stared at him with suspicion, but luckily, there wasn't anyone who'd be daring enough to verbally attack Geralt.

"Excuse me, good people." - Geralt prompted Roach to stop in her tracks, addressing a group of the young folk who were standing in front of a tall pagoda brought out in birch wood. The men, seemingly already drunk, didn't even bother to acknowledge that Geralt was a mutant and a witcher to top it all off; they couldn't be bothered. - "I'm looking for Y/N, a local herbalist and healer. She's rumored to help good folk like yourself with ailments, bad dreams, and illnesses."

"And what does you want from 'er, eh?" - One of the boys asked the witcher, walking next to the horse to look Geralt in the face. - "She's a good woman, one of the best we had 'ere in years. Looks out for the folk, helps even when asked in the deepest night. A good witch if ya ask me." "Undeniably." - Geralt agreed, knowing full well that you were nowhere near being a witch. This folk was rather simple and most of them saw sorceresses, witches, and priestesses as the same mutant species; even though it was far from the truth. - "Heard she's used to that and that she moved in here fairly recently, ten years back at most. I just want to talk to her, I don't mean her no harm. Had a nightmare myself and need to talk to a specialist."

"Freaks like ya have dreams?" - Another boy asked; the addressing wasn't said in a derogatory way or with disgust, it just made Geralt realize that the youngsters knew he's a witcher... And probably knew which one he was. - "They do. Will you tell me where she resides or will I have to ask someone else?" "I'll tell ya, sir, but promise me this." - The first boy furrowed, raising his chin. - "If ya break a hair on 'er head, we'll hunt ya and beat ya to a pulp." - "Oi, stop." - One of the girls squealed, pulling the boy away from Geralt with her eyes wide open. She then proceeded to lean closer to the boy, thinking that Geralt won't hear her whispers. - "I know who he is, Andrej - that's the witcher who saved the lord's daughter. I've heard they're lovers, Nikola claimed it, 't was just this morn'. He's searchin' for 'er, meaning no harm. Let's just tell 'im."

"Aye, so be it." - The boy stepped forward, scared enough not to look into Geralt's face but brave enough to show him the way. - "See that long alley of birches? Follow it 'til ya reach the end of the orchard. There's a big rock in the distance, a cliff, but ya'll follow the river against the current until you see a lake - and in the distance, there's a small house surrounded by a lake, a meadow, and a forest. That's where the witch resides, sir, in nature's lap, the lady says. I'm sure you's won't have a problem finding it." "Thank you, good folk." - The witcher nodded at them, prompting Roach to set off once more. - "Farewell, witcher."

After twenty minutes on the road, Geralt had to admit that the girl's description was fairly decent. The only thing it understated was the beauty of your cottage which stood out from its surroundings. The lake was projecting a perfect copy of the night sky above, the forest was dark and your home amidst of it all, was illuminating its surroundings with a dim and warm light. If he didn't know you better, he'd almost suspect you had elected the location based on stories and fairytales that were going around; your front garden was filled with all sorts of colorful herbs to bursting; the wooden exterior of your home was decorated with tens upon hundreds of various homemade trinkets, talismans, and amulets; the windows were large and wide open and the sweet smell lingering in the air... Truly, it seemed like Geralt had the fairy godmother's abode in front of him.

After he tied Roach next to your horse in the miniature stable, patting her on her head and mumbling quietly: "Behave well, girl.", the man walked through the front garden, approaching the door. It took him a moment to gather himself, he was nervously playing with the hair at the back of his neck, thinking through what to do next; his eyes were looking at the hundreds of candles that were lit up one by one, surrounding the windows to induce the dim light that was supposed to bring out trust and calmness in the incoming folk. As Geralt finally rose his palm to knock on the door, the door opened itself in front of him. It seemed that you've known Geralt was about to come to talk to you. You were a priestess and you could ask stars for a favor in the form of foresight every now and then - to be fair, you knew that Geralt will come, but you had no idea what he'll need... So you prepared yourself a bath nonetheless. - "Come in, witcher, don't be shy."

To his surprise, you were laying in an enormous wooden bath, with your head leaned back and water reaching up to your throat - to his impression, you managed to open the door with your foot. There, as usual, were petals of flowers covering the entire surface of the water as well as there were a least fifteen various doses of bath salts opened and set up around the room. Geralt would happy drown his eyes in such a sight; his eyes took in the sight of your throat being all tensed up while your features appeared relaxed and soft, your hair tidily kept out of your face. All and all, the man realized damn well that you were very naked under all those petals and bubbles, even though he could only see the runestones which operated into the skin on your shoulder; emerald, wild green.

Instead of standing in the doorframe like a five-year-old boy, Geralt closed the door and walked inside the cabin. - "Take a seat anywhere you'd like, Geralt; bed, chair, table, whatever floats your boat." - Your voice was raspy and silent, resembling a moan; hearing those sounds made the hair on his nape stand up while he walked to the bed, taking off his cloak. With a sweet smile, your eyes lazily opened as you moved closer to him, offering him your palm - were you asking him to join you? No, he realized soon after; there was a glass of wine standing on the nightstand. Scoffing, the man gave you your alcohol. "Well, let me put it like this - I knew that you'll come tonight and that there are matters which are making you restless. So, please, start talking about what's going on inside that dense head of yours." - Saying this joke out loud, you giggled and sipped on the wine, laying into the hot water once more.

"There's a lot on my chest." - Geralt answered honestly, pouring himself a glass too. This raised your interest enough for you to open your eyes, watching him closely. - "Namely the night we parted." The man watched your eyes widen slightly upon hearing that and in reaction to his words, you sat up and turned your face away from him. Without shame, he let his eyes wander on the nape of your neck that gently formed into your shoulders, stopping at the runestones laid out into your skin; it must've been painful to undergo without any sedatives. Even though he couldn't see anything that would fire up his groin, Geralt had to admit that you were most beautiful when you didn't try to be seductive and when you didn't know he was watching you. Your head turned to look at him, showing him the profile of your sweaty, wet face; you were furrowing, and your lips were tightly pressed together. - "Should've suspected as such, shouldn't I? Well, good news for you, friend; it had already happened and there is no world where you could take back what you've said and how you behaved. On contrary, I can't take it back either. Nor do I wish to. That night in Cintra, I had to let go of you - end of the story."

With a sigh, you gestured for him to turn away from you; since he wasn't fast enough, Geralt saw your figure emerge out of the water and had a split second to look at the small of your back, hips, and thighs along with your bum in the middle, he could watch how droplets of water slipped down on your skin along with a few petals sticking onto it and think about how gentle and supple it would be under his fingers. Yet he did as you wished, turning away from you so you could put on some clothes. "Yet, an actual question remains - did I ever let you go? The night in Cintra changed me for good, it made me who I am today. Gave me a few points to think through, and a different angle to approach life... Props to you, I was the most feared person in Nilfgaard for some time. It was bound to happen, Geralt, I had to leave you there. And believing that a priestess and a witcher can graze the road together? What a naive idiot I was, oh dear."

"I want to apologize nonetheless and it would really mean a lot to me if you'd let me finish." - The man asked you silently, his tone of voice shifting towards the gentle, emotional side you grew to like. You didn't answer out loud as you put a long robe on, the long sigh was more than enough to prompt Geralt to continue, though. "If I told you how many times I've thought about the apology, you'd say I'm being absurd, but it's true. It came to mind here and there, a lot during the last twenty years. If I were to start somehow, I'd start by deeply apologizing about what kind of idiot I was; I should've never listened to what Eskel had to say. I wish I had never said the words and did what I did..." - With that, Geralt lost himself in his thoughts for a bit, replaying the night once more. Your calm gaze and empty expression were still haunting him - but he started paying attention once he heard you scoffing coldly. "I knew something happened after we met him in Velen - you've been someone entirely else after the night you've spent with him. Now I finally know that it was Eskel to blame. What in Melithelé's name did he tell you?" - You didn't even give Geralt time to respond and started laughing again. - "No, let me guess. He thought it's weird, to have a companion grazing the road with you, didn't he? Thought it was restraining me in all the ways; people were scared of you and therefore they were also terrified of me, you drove everyone away, you were a burden to me, weren't you. Am I wrong?"

"You're not." - The witcher answered with honesty and you, trying to control the anger, took in a deep breath, scoffing once more. - "Once he'll get into my hands, Geralt..." "Nonetheless, I regret driving you away from me. It was so ridiculous of me because, after that, I've spent years and decades searching for what would make me feel better, human, and maybe even happy; I feel like I've never belonged among all of my brothers in this regard. Looking back, I've spent so many years chasing utter nonsense. Maybe, if you hadn't left me that night, I wouldn't ask for the law of surprise, I wouldn't meet Yennefer and never asked the djinn for that damned wish and..." - But before he could finish, you walked right next to him and poured yourself another cup of wine. With a melancholic smile, you stepped closer to the man and caught his chin between your fingers for a second before shaking your head.

"Stop it at once, witcher." - While contemplating how to put it, you decided to lean your palm into the window frame, looking onto the night sky. "There was nothing we could do. No way around any of it. It all had to happen the way it happened." - As you heard Geralt take in a breath and stand up, ready to protest, you shot an angry gaze his way, making him shut up. - "Don't say a word, Geralt, I mean it. Destiny is a fickle power and therefore, I had to leave so you could have the chance to become the man destiny wanted you to be; it wasn't in your cards to be yet another emotionless killing machine, you weren't designed to be a mutant without a heart... Not like any witcher is one anyway, but you, Gods, you were supposed to be different. First, you had to become a mentor and a father, and following this, the events led to you meeting the sorceress, isn't that right?" - As you looked at Geralt, he was furrowing at you with his elbows leaned into his knees. Carefully, you put the cup away so you could kneel in front of him. Before continuing, you licked your lips and furrowed a bit as well.

"Imagine if I was there with you that night, on Pavetta's ball. The ballad has it that a majestic fight had gone down in which the witcher picked up his sword and saved Pavetta's beloved, Duny of Erlenwald, and therefore, the witcher could cast the law of surprise on the newlywed couple. If I was there, there would be no fight because I'd defuse the conflict; that's why you wanted me there in the first place. If you wouldn't be gifted the child surprise, you'd be able to sleep - and you wouldn't go out looking for the djinn. Jaskier wouldn't get hurt, you wouldn't have to ask Yennefer of Vengerberg for help and you'd never meet her. You wouldn't fall in love with her, never cast the last wish and your destinies wouldn't become entwined. And, for fuck's sake, you wouldn't feel any of this." - Gently, you put the tips of your fingers on top of his heart, watching as he carefully covered your palm with his. The gaze he gave you was endearing, almost heartbreaking with how much emotion and unsaid words it carried. Since you didn't want to ruin the moment by pulling your hand away, you just kneeled down and smiled at the man as you leaned your cheek into his knee.

"As I said. Destiny is a tickle power and everything you ever did, everything you thought has led you back to me. Because it was bound to happen. See, if you didn't go through any of that, you wouldn't even consider riding here all the way from Novigrad just to apologize. Oh, I know that gaze. You're thinking about her, about Yennefer. Aren't you?" - The man gripped your palm tighter, nodding. - "What about?" "What I don't understand is... Why am I feeling the exact way about you, Y/N, and her; even though I'm aware that whatever I actually feel for her is amplified by the curse. I don't know if it's the same kind of emotion." "There's no simple answer, Geralt. Needless to say that both you and Yennefer had done things that contradict the love you're supposedly feeling for each other. Oh, come on, don't look at me this way - I know her, we've been in Emhyr's court around the same time. I know the number of men she had seduced over the years and I've seen how she treated them. That sorceress is, by Gods, one of the most beautiful women to look at, I need to admit that - yet, on the inside? What is she? A bitter soul of a girl that has been hurt time and time again. Maybe you're not in love with the Yennefer that you bump into - you're in love with an idea of the woman you knew decades ago. You're in love with a fairytale. And you love her to death even though it hurts and tears you apart. Therefore, it's only up to you to decide whether what you feel for me is the same emotion you feel for her and if anything I said is actually true." - There was another silence falling over both of you as you watched each other. Geralt didn't say anything for quite a moment, he just rose his other palm and let his fingers caress your cheek, mimicking the touches you gave him during the dance. With a sigh, you leaned closer to his warmth, a small smile appearing on your face as you kissed his palm.

"There is a difference." - The witcher said in the end, catching your jaws in his palms. - "You are not a fairytale." And with that, the man kissed you gently. His lips were everything you thought they might be; warm, supple. In reaction to the kiss, you caught his palms on your jaws and picked yourself on your knees. With a smile, you lost yourself in another kiss, this one was initiated by you. After it ended, you remained in the same position, leaning your forehead into his. "I'm sorry." - Geralt whispered with ease, feeling a huge rock falling off his chest. Simply saying that let him feel so much better. - "I'm sorry for what I've said and what I've done. I guess I won't be the best witcher there ever was, then; I've become such a puss." - Hearing the callback to what you told him in the cabin, the man heard you scoffing with amusement. "If you weren't the best one, Geralt of Rivia..." - WIth that, you leaned away to look him in the face.

You've been touched to your core, your heart was beating happily as your brain processed what he had said and done. Sure, Geralt didn't exactly proclaim what exactly he felt for you, but it was all said in the kiss. Yet, you didn't want to weep because of all the happiness and excitement you felt and so, you decided to joke around. - "If you weren't the best one, there would already be a pack of ghouls eating your ass for breakfast. You just lost control over your heart and that, my friend, won't kill you. Trust me. I've been feeling emotions all my life and turned out pretty much okay."

The man grinned upon hearing your backhanded compliment, nodding away; again, Geralt lost himself to the thoughts inside of his head. This time, he was thinking about Jaskier's tale and the similarity between you and Yen that Jaskier pointed out in it. To some degree, Geralt could see all of the small similarities - both of you being beautiful in your own regard - while your looks were warm, gentle, and welcoming, you preferred to experiment with various herbal treatments to help you keep up your youth and always made sure that it was your natural beauty and charm working on the people around rather than enhancing yourself (although you loved a bit of an Axii action)... In the end, you weren't a witch to do so. On the other hand, Yennefer seemed to be your direct opposite - she liked to present herself as nobility, someone to be respected. The woman dressed in expansive dresses and wore perfectly balanced make-up along with the rarest jewels, always radiated dominance and a huge amount of charisma. And, of course, keeping herself younger using various magic. You've been both beautiful in your own regards, just as Geralt thought. These similarities also bore impressive power you both held in your hands as well as you were both rather dangerous. You were both undeniably intelligent and capable of bringing out the worst fears in your opposition and enemies, something not even bothering with negotiations; you both often jumped straight to enforcing your own opinions.

And even though, looking closer at the both of you, you couldn't be more different from one another. The witcher knew that he isn't thinking clearly in this regard, since his and Yennefer's relationship was rather complicated to talk about. There were emotions, love and hate prominently, and there were stories which the relationship left behind. It was an on-and-off relationship and it always ended up the same - they bumped into each other, fell in love for a while, fucked, argued, and then, one of them ended up leaving. Someone always ended up leaving.

But while looking at you, Geralt had the feeling that things could be different, that he doesn't have to be stuck in the cycle of arguments and heartbreak. Just looking at the smile you were giving him was making his heart bump a bit faster and in reaction to it, it was making him smile back at you. The view of your bare back, bum, and thighs was eye candy, a pleasant change from everything he was up to for the past few years. It was two years back when he last held Yennefer in his arms - two years since she left him behind in a town, sleeping in a coldened bed, vanishing under the dark cover of the night. Since the night in Aedd Gynvael, Geralt was grazing the road on his own, Jaskier joining him much later; when he yearned for a woman's company, the witcher preferred to visit a brothel and, occasionally, there were women who were willing to spend the night with him in the inn's room. It was never connected to emotion, though; it was just a physical need that needed to be fulfilled.

With you, on the other hand... Geralt hasn't felt this good about anything or himself in a long, long time; whether emotionally or physically. Hidden amidst everything you made him feel was this undeniable safety and delicacy which was promising Geralt that no matter what was gonna happen, he'll be okay. "On the other hand..." - You whispered, lowering yourself back down. - "You see, you made me think." - Your irises started to widen, and your pulse was picking up as your breath grew shallow. Whatever you were thinking about, it was clearly arousing you; to hold your saliva back in your mouth, you licked your lips and sighed. - "What if you'd let them do whatever they wanted to do to me, Geralt?"

Whatever you found sexually arousing about this sort of thought made Geralt confused. "I don't wanna think about that..." - The man asked you silently, but you just clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head to shush him up. - "You hinted about the men possibly fucking me like a whore, didn't you? Why don't you show me?"

Upon watching Geralt's expression freeze suddenly, you almost burst with laughter; his eyes widened, and his mouth opened as he tried to figure out any sort of answer. The more confused he was becoming, the more genuine and bigger your smile got. Deciding to approach it from a different angle, you caught Geralt's palm in yours and made him focus on you. "Listen, Geralt. I'm a woman, a lady, and for too long, I've been aimlessly wandering the woods and country roads by myself. And I think you know precisely what I mean by that. I started to feel this attraction since I was patching you up two weeks ago." - Your voice was quiet as your palm caressed his hand and slowly crept up to his shoulder; the expression on your face was melancholic, warm, simply endearing. - "Hundreds of times you must've heard how strangely handsome you are, maidens and ladies must've asked about your scars and cuts, but for me, this body means something entirely different." - As your fingers reached his throat, you pulled the piece of leather covering the scar down, smoothing it. - "It means home... Something I've seen time and time again, something I've learned to know, and fills me with safety every time you're around. And therefore I ask you, Geralt, fuck me like a whore. Because even Melithelé herself knows we both need it."

The silence was overwhelming; you were both sitting silently, glaring at each other while your fingers were smoothing Geralt's jaw and cheek. You were right and you knew it, both of you did, in fact. At that moment, Geralt would slay any monster for you, he'd bring you any treasure, and would help you conquer any kingdom, if that would be what your heart would desire. His body was heating up and the fire in his groin was started. With a majestic brooding exhale, the witcher smoothed your shoulder, kissing your cheek while letting the proposal go through his head. But knowing he was thinking about it himself, there was no situation in which he'd decline the offer. - "I think I could do something about that. The question is, are you sure that this is what you want?"   "I'm pretty sure, moron." - You whispered, smiling right into his face. Whatever was going to happen that night, you were sure that it would happen exactly the way it is supposed to happen. No matter if the man would handle you tough and rough, you asked him to do it in the end - you really felt that you'd like the longing, which cumulating longer than you'd ever guessed, to fucking end.

While tracing your fingers along his upper arm, you've picked yourself up and climbed on the bed, attempting to undress him; starting with that damn armor of his. Since you couldn't figure it out, you sighed and kissed the man's cheek; well, after he had turned his head to you, there was yet another smooch coming your way - this one was more passionate and playful, especial when Geralt dug his teeth into your lower lip, making you moan before you caught his jaw in your palm, pulling him aside. - "Wouldn't you look at that? A dirty witcher sitting right on my bed... Sister Fregga would go insane if she'd got to know. I'm afraid you'll have to take it off yourself, though, I don't know how to undo this damn jacket of yours." The man laughed upon hearing that, picking himself up so he could look at you while undoing layer after layer. Usually, he wouldn't spend this much time with any sorts of foreplay (he'd just pull it off at once and got to fucking), but you weren't a one-night stand... Let alone a whore. And yes - to be frank, Geralt was able to recall all the hatred that sister Fregga had for him back in the day. The entire time he was taking all of the layers off, you laid down while leaning into your elbows, having your foot carefully smoothing over his thigh and abdomen - your eyes were absolutely enchanted with the man.

"So, the miss would like to know how the business usually works, do I understand that correctly?" - The witcher asked just before he was about to pull his linen shirt over his head, prompting you to come closer. With a wicked smile, amused with his willingness to try a bit of foreplay to break the ice, you climbed on all fours and let Geralt gently smooth your lips with his thumb. "Yes, you understand that correctly, mister witcher." - You answered quietly, kissing the tip of said finger. Geralt smiled upon watching and feeling as your lips opened up, teasingly sucking on the said finger as well. - "Then it would be twenty Orens for an hour, three hundred for the whole night... Now, get on your fucking knees and take care of the rest of my clothes, wench."

It was at that point when the play officially began. As you slipped off the bed and stood up, you smiled while tangling your fingers under his shirt, kissing a trail up his neck. During the years you've spent in Nilfgaard, you've slept with many men... Maybe even some women, you weren't sure. And each of them had to beg on their knees just to touch you, to caress your skin. Some of them were glad to simply sit in your room while you put on your dress in the morning - that was the power you held when it came to Axii. Most of the people were enchanted by you simply noticing them amongst all of the others, but making them beg was so much fun. And yet, any of them could be seen as someone who'd make you aroused and wanting just by being near you - and this wasn't, by far, everything the man was doing to you. For him, you'd become anything without using hypnosis, just you and him.

Finally, you decided to pull the shirt off of him, catching his sides in your palms while nibbling and gently biting on his skin, making the witcher amused. Then, you put one of his palms on your hip and sucked on his other thumb, putting on the most innocent and dumbfounded expression you were able to pull off. "I've heard some rumors about you, White Wolf." - It was a mere whisper while you made him sit on the bed, bobbing up on his thighs. Geralt hummed in response and let your fingers and nails caress his skin - he, at the same time, was pulling up your robe to feel the tender and supper skin of your upper thighs. With yet another devilish smile, you leaned to his ear and started whispering. “Girls have been saying that you can do wonders and go all night when you want to.” - Your voice was barely above what would be considered a soft moan and you weren’t pulling the assessment out of your ass either - you’ve seen a few of rather inappropriate memories of him and Yennefer; you had a rough idea about what Geralt could be capable of. Instead of answering, one of his palms made your lap slip onto his just so you could feel how aroused he was; leaning his forehead into your chest as he started rocking you back and forth. Geralt did so for multiple reasons - first, it was pleasurable to feel your lap nuzzle against his, no doubt; he also wanted to hear how fast your heart raced and how the blood circled through your veins, lastly, the man enjoyed inhaling your scent right off your skin where it was the most intense. Dear Melithelé, you smelled amazing. - “I was wondering if the rumors were true? Because the last time you graced our house with your presence, I heard them girls screaming all night long, begging you to go faster and rougher on them. And… I imagined that it was you who was with me instead of my client.”

Instead of letting you continue with the sweet, encouraging monologue, the man shut you up with a peck on the lips leading to a heated, rough make-out. Your body was puzzling into his with each passing moment, your thighs were tightening around his waist and your nails were digging into his skin and tugging on his hair, the movements of your groins getting more and more aggressive, making you moan at times Geralt let himself lose the moment, growling each time your groin slid upon his. A harsh tug on your scalp made you dig your teeth to Geralt’s lower lip as you pulled back, batting your lashes at him with an innocent yet feral stare. You were both long gone, lost to the game; everything you did had nothing to do with intelligence or logic and therefore all the words you’ve said shouldn't make an ounce of sense, and yet, they were one of the most meaningful words Geralt heard anyone say until that day. “You’re such a good girl, listen to yourself.” - The witcher mumbled quietly, gracing you with a smirk. - “And such a tease. If you don’t start working now, you’re not seeing a single Oren.”

You were close to asking him to shut his damn mouth, to forget the entire foreplay thing, and to continue kissing you as if the world would fall apart if he stopped. But since you were the one who asked him to do so, you decided to comply and kneeled down on the wooden floor and kissed his knee while giving yourself a moment to take in Geralt’s appearance. Your lips parted upon taking in the entirety of his body. Melitelé, you weren't talking about his physique, you already knew how in shape he was; now, you were focusing on all the details you never paid attention to. You could see and feel veins trailing up to his elbow, how his skin was delicately smooth at places where there were no scars. Your eyes were hungrily taking in the softened features of his face, the endearment in his eyes, the small unconscious smile he had on his lips. Geralt of Rivia, was, in fact, a very handsome man to you. He remained in position, leaning into his palm, letting you take your time since the more intensely you focused on watching him, the more emotion was readable in your expression.

And then, with one harsh tug, you pulled the pants down to his knees, teasingly smiling at the man... Before shifting your focus to his shoes, take a whole eternity to untie them. You liked the shaft he was given, it was giving you the feeling that even though it wasn't your longest nor thickest man, he'll know what to do with it; but fucking around with him and hearing him scoff was more fun to you. But dear Melitelé, when you took all the remaining clothes down and spat on his prick, Geralt knew he was up for a ride. Within seconds of putting your mouth to use the man closed his eyes, growled, and leaned his head back, concentrating on the beautiful feeling that was traveling through his entire body.

Once it could be felt that you found your rhythm, the witcher first smoothed the back of your head before tangling your hair around his fingers, making you look up at him. Geralt's face was stale, concentrated, his breathing heavy; so you opened up your mouth a bit wider and put one of your palms on top of his, making him push his shaft deeper into your neck. Sure, you knew that the back of your mouth might be sore by the morning, but you also knew that you won't regret it a bit. Once he got the feeling that you were really comfortable with everything that was going on, his pelvis started lifting up at a steady pace, meeting your mouth in the figurative middle; one thing he didn't dare to do was to break the eye contact, fucking your eyes with his the entire time. Your head and face were a sweaty mess, your eyes were running and sometimes, he had to give you a moment to regain your composure, but by the Gods, it was one of the most magnificent views he looked in the last few decades. Neither of you really knew how long did you suck on his dick, but he made you stop after a while - Geralt let you take a deep breath, smoothing your lips with his thumb while kissing your temple tenderly. - "Such a good girl, that's it. Be a doll now, come on, all fours onto the bed."

You did as you were told, climbing onto the bed with a nasty smile on your lips - you even went as fall as to shake your ass playfully. The man scoffed at that, however, this wasn't what he wanted you to do. "Such a tease. Let's try that again, shall we? All fours, onto the bed, naked." - Geralt growled in a low voice, spanking one of your cheeks just to hear you moan upon that contact. You took your sweet goddamn time to push the robe off your shoulders; while staring at him, your fingers smoothed each millimeter of your skin as if they were his own, letting the piece of clothing first fall off your shoulders just to get stuck on the tight know you tied there when you got out of the bath. For a second, you let your hands slip on your breasts, palming them and smoothing your nipples before you finally got to untying the knot. By that time, the man was jerking himself off for a bit because he felt like he will burst if he doesn't. Once it slipped down to your feet, you walked closer to smooth his abdomen and peck his shoulder before climbing back to the bed.

First, Geralt allowed himself to take a good look at everything you've been showing him before thanking all the Stars for letting you two cross paths after such a long time. Lost in your own little world, you patiently waited for the man to do something, anything; so when he pressed two fingers inside you just to test the waters, you moaned into the blanket below you loudly, palming the sheet while throwing it back. Sure, he could see how wet you were, but watching you ride on his fingers was a whole other experience. - "Fuck." - The man mumbled, trying to copy your rhythm. He had to maneuver around for a bit before he was able to figure an angle at which he could lean his second palm beside your head, still fingering you. - "What don't you understand about kneeling, huh? I'm the one paying here so you better do what I say, are we clear?" - "Sorry, sir." - Was all you answered after his fingers slipped out of you, letting you position on your knees and palms steady yourself.

When the first thrust came, you almost fell face first into the blanket, basically screaming at the top of your lungs. As you said, it was a while since you last welcomed a man in your bed, so you appreciated the moment of serenity Geralt gave you to get used to how his dick felt inside you. It felt good, hurting a bit, but nothing you wouldn't get over easily. "Now you tell me, lass." - The man growled while smoothing a trail copying your spine, relaxing the muscles on your back, and waiting for you to throw it back once more. It seemed that this was the sign that you were ready for more. - "Are you this wet for every man that finds himself in your bed, hm?" "You know..." - You laughed back, enjoying as he gripped one of your buttcheeks, playing with it. - "I can't talk about my clientele, sir, it's a decorum." - And with that, you finally slipped back until you felt his warm skin on your ass. - "Fine, fine." - Geralt mumbled, tugging on your hair until you had your ear next to his mouth and his palm around your throat. - "Then let me fuck all of them out of that pretty head of yours."

Ever since that moment, you didn't have any decent recollection of what actually went down - you only recalled yourself moaning, mumbling his name, and praying to all the Gods you knew. The feeling exploding inside your head felt overwhelming, the heat between your legs was burning you alive. What surprised you was that... Geralt was pretty vocal himself. Sure, he wasn't exactly talking, but you could hear grunts of pleasure, growling and moaning at times, making you sure that he's enjoying it just like you enjoyed it yourself. The sex itself wasn't any sort of lovemaking - you asked for fucking and fucking was what you got. The man palmed and gripped each part of your body in his reach, slapped your ass anytime he seemed fit, his mouth and teeth sucked on both your neck and earlobe just to get the loudest, fullest moans out of you. It could be felt that throughout the 80 years of living, fucking was one of the areas he was rather skillful at. And in the middle of all of it, you heard him talking to you... - "Cum for me and I'll leave you a bonus, girl, let me hear you scream."

For the love of Melitelé, that made the fuse finally blow as you moaned, whispered his name, and fell onto the bed, rolling your eyes as your body tensed up and shook while letting go. As your walls clenched around him, Geralt rode out his own high with a few triumphant growls, letting himself cum inside you. It took him a bit to slide outside of you, he just stood there and watched you gasping for air with your eyes firmly closed. That put a smile on his lips. Next time you'll cum, he promised himself, he'll be watching each muscle on your face to see how good he was making you feel.

This feeling of contentment and happiness was intoxicating in the best way possible - fucking someone like an animal set loose wasn't usually his style, to be honest; but he was firmly believing that he'd give you anything he'd see in your eyes. Geralt wouldn't enjoy it with anyone else, or to put it better, he would enjoy anything with you. Knowing this wasn't destiny was making this even better - he didn't end up in your bed because he'd bound himself to you. Geralt ended up there by his own choice because he wanted to be with you and see you. And this freedom felt fucking good. Realizing that, he collapsed next to you and took a breath himself with a lazy contained smile. The man covered you in a blanket, smoothing your head carefully to make sure you were good. Just the look in your eyes told him that you're more than okay, the endearment was warming up his entire chest. Geralt smiled back, as his fingers smoothed your head from your face, hoping that his expression was reflecting all of the feelings inside him.

"Are you alright?" - The witcher whispered as he smoothed your cheek, kissing the spot before sneakily stealing another kiss off your lips. This made you giggle and wiggle under the blanket until you pressed yourself to the side of his body. To be frank, you took your sweet time to answer; your eyes traveled on his face, noticing how sweaty he, himself was. Geralt was also beaming with something that couldn't be named differently than happiness. - "More than that. I feel wonderful, amazing even, Geralt. I wish we'd done this earlier, but I understand it wasn't the time to do so." Lazily, you leaned your head into his touch, smiling at the gesture. - "This is how it goes with all of them? With all the girls?" - Upon hearing that, Geralt laughed, showing you all of his teeth." "No, certainly not. It's never as personal as it was with you. On the other hand..." - While furrowing a bit, Geralt picked your palm up and entwined your fingers with his, watching it for a bit. - "I hoped this will finally put your suspicion about me and Jaskier to rest."

"Oh!" - You laughed, shaking your head at this piece of information. Honestly, even a blind man would notice that there was certainly something going on between those two, no matter what kind of attraction it was. It surely had to do anything with logic or intelligence, it was just happening. But you were sure that both of them already took it to account and took their own stance upon that discovery, whatever the stance might've been. It wasn't your place to force the information out of Geralt, to pry for information that you weren't supposed to discuss and poke around with. If there was anything you'd be adamant about when it came to Geralt, it was that he'll tell you anything and everything once the right time comes. "I am perfectly sure about what my overall idea is about you two now." - Grinning, you palmed Geralt's cheek and patted it a few times. - "What a good boyfriend you are, Geralt, truly. He's on your mind the first thing after you've fucked me. Look at you. What a cute couple you two are." "Invite him here if you're so sure, then. Let's hear what he has to say for himself." - The man answered back jokingly, but your expression froze a bit. And then, to Geralt's amusement, you really picked yourself up to search for your robe laying on the ground.

"I might. You know what? I might do that. Let me just, you know, ride to Novigrad to drag him over here." - At that moment, Geralt was already holding your palm and pulled you back to the bed. - "We both know Jaskier would accept without a second thought, you coward." "You can test this theory of yours anytime later, Y/N, hm?" - The man pulled back suddenly, making you fall back to the bed with laughter. - "Not until I'm done with you, though." "Take your time then, witcher." "Oh, bet your best dress I will, priestess."

The rest of the night felt like a hasty, lazy fever dream. The only moment Geralt recalled clearly was when you sat on top of him and embraced him in a tight embrace, tugging on his hair as the kiss got deeper and deeper. Neither of you moved for a long time, you've remained sitting in this exact position; with each kiss, Geralt could see a warm feeling traveling up and down his spine. This was it. This was the kiss that stole all of his reason and destroyed him piece by piece, weakening his will and igniting a firework of emotion inside of his chest. His brain made sure he remembered every second of it; it felt like coming home, even though he didn't have one. It was giving him hope and clarity, providing certainty. What a strange feeling that was for him. It was then when Geralt furrowed and caught your face so he could pull you out, looking you in the eyes, your entire expression being welcoming and vulnerable. He was smoothing the spot under your eyes with confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening.

You felt like the safety he was looking for all these years, like someone he could confide in and lean into in times of hardships. And fuck, you looked so beautiful in the dim candlelights. The moment Geralt opened up his mouth to tell you all of this, you put your palm on his shoulder and shook your head because his eyes told you more than his words would. The confusion about you not being bound to him and yet all of these emotions happening to both of you, the emotions he clearly wasn't supposed to feel. And the glow in his eyes was telling you what the emotions were, precisely.

He took you more times that night, that was all he recalled after - slowly, roughly, on top or under you, with your fingers entwined, with his head between your thighs or his forearms pushing you down as you sat on his face... He wasn't really sure what really happened and what was just a fabrication of his fantasy, but everything felt real inside his head. There were moans, grunts, fucks muttered, Melitelé called multiple times, heated kisses, quiet praises and embraces, and kisses. You've both fallen asleep by the time the sun started to come out, the first birds already chippering hidden in the trees surrounding your small house in the middle of nowhere. The man was holding you close the entire time, listening to your regular breathing and enjoying the warmth of your skin.

When he was leaving after having dinner with you, there wasn't much that was left to say or do, except a few kisses and last hugs. You didn't want him to promise you anything since you knew that once the time will be right, the witcher will appear on your doorstep. With a grateful, admiring smile you put one of your shirts into his palm, closing it. Both of you were aware that he, as a witcher, will be able to smell your scent long after he disappeared to graze the Continent once more. Once he arrived back at Rosemary and Thyme, Geralt wasn't able to stop grinning upon revisiting all of the memories of the previous nights. Again, he was left to sit in the corner, brood, and sip on his drink; this time feeling better than ever.

Jaskier, surprisingly, kept his mouth shut. He didn't ask any questions, he wasn't sticking his nose into this private matter since it was fairly easy to read everything off of Geralt's behavior and expression alone. And, to be frank, Julian couldn't be happier for the two of you.

[etgramen]

A DRABBLE ; THE TRIALS PT 1/?

    Geralt stared quietly at the small wounds upon his arms ,  the quiet DEAFENING in the space usually filled by young wolves laughing and jesting before the morrow’s training .  the evenings were probably the only times they had to enjoy themselves at all ,  even if Vesimir often got onto them and told them to go to BED amongst the quiet snickers of childish jokes .   Dark brown hues settle on the bed closest to him ,  the young apprentice curled into themselves and shaking .  They were the only ones in the vast empty room ,  each newly empty bed hanging on Geralt’s chest like a pile of bricks as their screams echoed in his head .  his hands come to grasp at his sleeves ,  a shaky breath heard as he shivered and sweat .  His clothes ,  the fabric he wore ,  all felt like FIRE on his skin -  and yet he was freezing .  What once was eight ,  now was two .  

   He could faintly hear the youngers in the room next door ,  those who had not yet undergone the trials .  he wonders how many of them will come back .  The child feels tears welling in the corners of his eyes ,  his breath hoarse as his body became enveloped in an acute soreness .  WITCHERS DON’T CRY .  the words repeat in his head ,  small hands coming up to quickly wipe them away .  was he really to become emotionless ?  completely ?  What will it be like ,  he wonders  .  to not laugh -  to not care ,  to not feel .  Vesimir seemed to care sometimes ,  he thinks .  He recalled the old witcher’s face ,  when he was on the table .  He recalled the way vesimir looked away ,  the young boy’s screams too much to bear .  Maybe this is why Vesimir was so hard on them ,  so detached .  it had to be .  Geralt’s thoughts become muddled the longer he sits in thought ,  his eyes becoming glassy as he incessantly clutched at his clothes .  He became clammy as his cold sweat continued to worsen ,  ginger hair sticking to his skin in the cold dusk as he tried his best not to vomit .  

   he eventually passed out in the wee hours of the morning ,  his exhaustion outweighing his pains and torments .  Vesimir did not wake him for training .  He can’t imagine he’d have been much use to him anyhow ,  not like this .  The symptoms did not subside for two days ,  the young witcher left alone except for mealtimes .  even then ,  he did not go to the meal hall with others .  to his surprise Vesimir brought their meals to them ,  him and the other . . .  In bed !  he seemed . . .  Sad ,  almost .  Vesimir would’ve had their heads if they brought food in here otherwise .   ❝ Try not to get used to it . ❞ the old wolf uttered ,  though geralt found it hard to enjoy his newfound joy of eating in bed when he could barely look at the food -   much more eat it .  He didn’t have much of a choice though ,  as Vesimir insisted on prowling the room until they both ate their meals .  You won’t feel any better unless you give your body the proper fuel  he said ,  but geralt was more worried about his fuel ending up on the floor .   On the third day . . .  Well ,  he almost felt normal .  He was still sore all over ,  and his eyes hurt ,  but the clamminess and . . .  most of the pain was gone .   ❝ Eskel ! ❞  The small wolf whispers to his lone roommate ,  watching the disgruntled apprentice slowly roll over .  he seemed a bit . . .  worse for wear .  ❝ do I have eyes like a cat’s yet? ❞  he whispers ,  little hands coming up to pull his eyelids apart .  Eskel simply laughs at him ,  shaking his head  and whispering back    ❝ Quiet ,  before Uncle hears you and makes you go train .  ❞  The gesture makes Geralt smile ,  the first time since that day .  They ate and spoke ,  and even played a . . .  slower more tired version of hide and seek .  Geralt won ,  but not without eskel accusing him of being unfair for hiding in the hole of one of their older mattresses .  He didn’t hide in that scratchy old bed just to lose ,  chucking a pillow at his brother’s head for even suggesting such a thing . an air of sadness hangs about the two ,  but they were still only children .  Vesimir eventually returns to scold the two ,  telling them to save their strength and get back into bed .  Finally on the fourth day Geralt awoke ,  and his eyes were that of a VIPERS . 

[mimikoflamemaker]

Hey, do you have any head canons about Lithien that readers might not know? Ones that aren't spoilers of course.;-)

What is this? A random question  about my fic?! Thank you so much!! That would be a first and i am honestly beyond excited to get it ;)

Now, whenever I think about some facts pertaining to Lithien I always try to think how they would incorporate into the great river that her story is, but let’s face it - I would need a lifetime and then some to write it all down ^^’ JoO is the last slice of it so to speak and we are starting the 6th year of working on it with book I not even done yet (but soon)… I think I can as well share some.

About my LotR AU in general: if only to show you what kind of nerd I really am - I planned (or at least thought about) not only Lithien’s story since she was born, but also about the stories of her family, which, except for Galaren, involves her other older brother Authion, and her parents Daugion and Belluthiel. And somehow I ended up with a plot dating back to the Years of Trees and filled with plenty of your favorites…

Lithien’s name. I think this is one of my favourites - so, I was 11 (or 12) when Lithien first came to be and her name first was simply because I took Luthien and swapped a letter. Luthien was cool. I wanted my character to be cool too. Fast forward to me being around 20 and stumbling a bit deeper into sindarin. Lo, and behold ‘lith’ now means dirt/ashes. Lithien is not a cool name anymore, but it is also an integral part of my girl (I don’t change characters name once give, because to me it’s like creating a completely new person) and I can’t just rip it off. So I now have ‘Child of the Ashes’ glaring at me in mild offence - her back story helped me. I just included a bit where Daugion named her while still filled with grief after the death of ger wife, which he subconsciously blamed his newborn daughter for. Grieving people sometimes don’t think clearly. And I gifted her with a nice, fitting eppese later on.

Lithien’s occupation. Never once in any of his text Tolkien mentions that elven women were forbidden to take up arms. They just rarely did it. And when they did they could be just as badass as men. So I built on that and hile I think that female soldiers/wardens were not your everyday occurrence, they were not as much of a rarity as one would think (for one, one of Lithien’s fellow wardens Belfaer is also a woman). Lithien went into that with her eye wide open, knowing full well what that choice would entail. And she never regretted it. Later when she was out of commission due to injury and went to live in Rivendell, she picked up some knowledge about healing, but she was never a full-fledged healer. What I find the most interesting about it is that, personality wise, Lithien was the closest thing to what her father would deem to be a perfect heir - Resilient, courageous and living by the sword so to speak. Unfortunately, she was a girl. So the title fell on Galaren, who does his job well and is a formidable warrior, but he would be much more content with his life if he could have chosen a different path for it - whether it would be a healer or a hunter.

A few little facts from Lithien’s childhood: Galaren was the one who tried to be both a brother and a father where their could not be. He still wonder’s if Lithien would have come out to be a bit more lady-like if she had only spent more time in the company of women instead of his friends. Lithien on the other hand wouldn’t change a thing. Speaking of friends - Maethion, Galaren’s best friends (his brother from another mother really :) ) was the one to steal Lithien’s first kiss. and she was barely considered an adult then. It almost came to knives then. Also, stay tuned for more Maethion in JoO - his role expanded for beyond what I initially had planned for him. When Lithien was still a wee tiny self and feeling lonely because Galaren wasn’t home much, he gifted her with a dog - a great black hound that she could ride like a pony if she wished. Lithien was a dog person ever since.

Early on (for an elf) in her career as a warden, Lithien took part in a skirmish with orcs. When she jumped in to protect her fallen comrade she herself was wounded - the blade caught her in the side, tearing the skin and muscle from her hip almost to her spine on the other side. She barely survived that. Galaren, absolutely devastated forced her to swear off being a warden. Lithien relented and took up the position at the Royal Palace. There she met Celebrian, who took pity upon the girl and whisked her away to Rivendell as her personal maid.

Lithien never felt like a maid, more like another child. She got on well with all three of their children and found herself with the growing admiration for Elrond. He made a lot of strong friendships there and met a men she fell in love with. It was a great time. The best time. She would have probably remained there if it wasn’t for what happened to Celebrian and Calanon. But she never forgot to come back for a visit, which sometimes taken years (what is a couple of years to an elf?)

Glorfindel was the one who encouraged her to pick up the sword again, clearly seeing that needle will never become her weapon of choice. Galaren is still jealous that she got to train with him though he will never admit it out loud.

During one of her visits to Rivendell, Lithien met Gilaren, Aragorn’s mother. Her life was never the same since that point onward. I still plan on writing a story based on this premise, but let’s just say that I shifted years a wee bit and Gilraen came to Rivendell pregnant and not with 3yo Aragorn. The two bonded over time, despite Lithien being terrified at first and hovering over Gilraen at every step. She was also one of the first people to hold tiny Aragorn. It was a love at first sight.

Lithien did travel a fair bit over the years. Mostly to Rivendell true, but she was also in Isengards twice, saw a bit of Rohan, and trudged Northern lands with Dunedain for about 15 years. She also briefly visited Mirkwood, had a chance to meet the people of Beor, saw the Lonely Mountain, the Lake Town and the Ruins of Dale. She was in Moria twice, but that’s not worth mentioning.

Dunedain are Lithien’s favourite and best known group of people.  Not only because they are Aragorn’s people, but also because she got to travel and live with them for about 15 years after the events of the Hobbit (just enough time to allow one’s hair to grow back) It was a harsh lesson sometimes, but Lithien wouldn’t change it for anything else.

Lithien’s favorite ‘lady-like’ activity is dancing. Probably because it involves a lot of movement. She is no stranger to needle work or playing harp or singing, but dancing plays well with her dislike of sitting idly, doing nothing.

Despite the initial panic Lithien turned out to be rather great with kids of all races. This might have something to do with wanting to prove that she can do better than what she knows, but she will never admit it. Besides she does really like children.

I still have a burning desire to write a fill up story in this AU with includes the scenario in which Maglor did not die/drown. What I’ve written so far includes a hunt, a great deal of distrust, wounds and blows to the back of the head… But since I never know where to stop once I’ll start a writing project…

And finally, because I’m going to run out of post space - Lithien name’s all of her horses Pilin (arrow). Yes, I shamelessly stole the idea from Geralt, but really - Lithien is an elf. She goes through A LOT of horses, even if they don’t expire before their time. And keeping your loyal companion nameless is not exactly her style.