#geralt of rivia x curvy!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickfowlerrr · 4 months

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sit me on your throne.

pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader

warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 4.3k

notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.

thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).

"You kneel before me?"

Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.

He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.

He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.

The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.

He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.

Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.

You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.

Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.

Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.

"Your friend?" you wonder.

"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.

You quirk a brow, "Safe?"

"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."

You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.

"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."

Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.

"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."

He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.

You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.

You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.

You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.

He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.

It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.

“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”

The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.

You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...

“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”

“Geralt.”

You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.

"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."

"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.

You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.

You think.

You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.

You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.

You take a deep breath.

"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."

"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."

"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."

"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.

You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."

"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.

You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.

You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.

There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...

Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...

You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.

You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.

You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.

Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.

You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.

You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.

You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.

You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.

It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.

You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.

It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.

Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.

Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...

Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.

You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.

He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.

The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.

"Did the clothes not fit?"

He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."

You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."

"I'll go with you."

It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.

You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.

You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.

She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.

She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.

"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."

"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.

"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.

You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.

You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.

You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.

It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.

You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.

"Now?" you question.

He nods once, "Now."

You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."

Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.

"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.

"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."

"And what shall I call you then?"

You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.

He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.

You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.

Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.

"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.

He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.

"Well I don't."

"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."

"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."

"I don't want any throne."

Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.

"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"

Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.

Unthinking, you step toward him closer.

"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"

"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."

Another step.

You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.

"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.

You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.

"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."

He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.

You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.

His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.

You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.

Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.

"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.

"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.

One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.

He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.

He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.

He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.

"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.

Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.

You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.

You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.

"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.

Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.

His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.

Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.

Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.

"Geralt, I'm,"

"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.

You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.

Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.

"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.

Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.

"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.

"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.

You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.

"I envy you, you know."

"Don't."

You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.

"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."

"And where will you go?" he asks.

Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."

"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."

"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.

His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.

"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."

"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.

"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."

"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.

"And of course your coin would be useful as well."

"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"

"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."

You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.

You part lightly and breathe,

"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."

#geralt x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt smut #geralt fanfic #henry cavill characters

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diamondcamefromhell · 4 years

Text

Lessons

Fem!Reader x Jaskier

A/N: had this idea while in the shower and lemme tell you i was so excited to write it, please let me know what you think and if you liked it or not i personaly had a blast writing it, even if it got sad in the end, lmao

Summary: Y/N is a female doppler [basically shapeshifter] who knows Jaskier the heartbreaker is in town, and decided to teach him a lesson

Warnings: swearing, a bit of sexual tension, arguing

Word Count: 3,216

Any and all feedback is really appreciated and can be left anonymously on my ask page <3

Following a witcher might’ve been foolish to anyone else, but me and my friend had an advantage. Simply changing who we are, so Geralt doesn’t suspect a thing. Being a doppler sure had its advantages. Either way, my eyes weren’t on him, it was Jaskier who I was aiming for.

The continent famous bard was more known for his ability to break hearts than his true talent to sing and write. I wanted to give him some taste of his own medicine. While I had no personal stories in regards of being ghosted by him, I was simply bored and out to avenge those who have been hurt. And he was an easy person to teach some important lessons. Maybe next time he will think before he offers the world to a new woman. Maybe they stop being toys to him.

Jaskier and Geralt finally ended up going to a tavern, after walking around Novigrad for hours. Our guess was they didn’t find what they were looking for. But we found them.

We sit across the room from them, as my eyes are glued to Jaskier, I try to pin-point what women find so attractive about him. He simply seemed… average.

“Stop staring or he’ll notice.” Patricia hisses, grabbing my arm. I take my eyes off the bard and look at my friend.

“Who do you recon he’d like?” I ask, as she leans back.

“From what I heard, anyone who resembles a female.” I grin, leaning across the table.

“No, who could break his heart, Pat?” I whisper, as evil grin paints her face and he also leans in.

“Do El.” I lean back, considering.

Elizabeth is a woman I met years ago now. The poor girl only saw her village, but she was a beauty that’s quite rare to see. Curvy in all the right places, long blonde hair, big green eyes, pouty lips. Petite. Even if I saw her only wear rags, when I dressed her up, she would knock any guy down at a simple gaze.

Most importantly, in this case, she also had a brilliant voice. Which I will also have.

“She’ll be perfect.” I stand up, stealing one last look at their table. I notice Geralt give us a quick glance, but he doesn’t seem to be suspicious. I wink at my friend, and purposely loudly exclaim. “I have to go now, see you later Pat.”

I leave the tavern to go around the corner, in the alley where nobody can see me. In mere seconds I am Elizabeth, dressed in a navy gown with a deep enough v to show off her cleavage. I made sure her hair was pinned back and curly with a few lose strands falling on her face. Red lipstick and some liner. I knew she looked stunning.

No. I did.

I go back inside, as many pairs of eyes go to me and I hear some men gasp. I steal a glance at Patricia, who is grinning, though not looking in my direction. I try not to grin myself. I pretend to be looking around, to see Geralt staring at me, and Jaskier too, turned on his chair, eyes on me.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” I exclaim, heading towards the pair. “Are you who I think you are?”

“Have you heard of Geralt of Rivia, and the greatest bard alive, Jaskier?” The bard speaks, smirking, and I see him attempt to keep his eyes on my face, not my chest.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty of the witchers adventures.” I purr, as Geralt’s lips curl. I offer him a smile, but take my attention to my target. “But of course, all thanks to your ballads, great Jaskier.”

“What is a lady like you doing in such a place?” I shrug, playing with my hair, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Just passing through Novigrad. Thought I’d stop for some wine.” Without an invite, I drop to a seat next to Jaskier, inching closer to him, until our legs touch. He doesn’t pull away, so I smile. “I never expected to run into someone so amazing.”

“I am so flattered.” The bard blushes, as I place my hand on his.

“Could you be so very kind, and give me a live performance?” I plead, as I feel him practically melt at my touch. He stutters something, picking lute from his side.

He springs to his feet, going around the table. I notice Geralt still staring at me, his mouth slightly open, but I ignore him. Not the one I came for, I remind myself. Jaskier strums his lute, shyly at first, but I give him an encouraging smile, and he grows braver.

After all, he is in his element.

He gifts me with one ballad, I do not recognize, but I pretend to enjoy anyways. He has a talent, I have to admit. It’s pleasant to the ear and makes me feel better. However when he strums a different tune, one I recognize, I know it’s my chance.

I stand up, going to the bard, joining him in his singing. I hear some men cheer, but once Jaskier and I lock eyes, the whole taverns seems to disappear. Our voices collide in perfect unison exploding into beautiful fireworks, giving everyone the best show they could ever lay their eyes on. Part of me wishes I could experience it from a different perspective, actually witness it from side-lines.

But I knew, absorbed into the world of our own was far better anyways. I couldn’t help but smile, as he smiled too. He started to spin around, I followed, as we broke into an easy dance. The song was coming to an end, so I started to inch closer, and once we hit the final note, I landed my hand on his shoulder, pulling us real close.

I felt his warm breath on my face as we just started at each other. The tensions were high, but I reminded myself of what the end goal is. I pulled away a little, smiling.

“How is a man like you all alone?” I whisper so only he could hear, as he smirks. “I don’t mean to offend your companion, but you know.”

“How is a lady like you alone?” He dodges my question as I step back fully now.

“Please, my name is Y/N.” I decide to use my real name, not Elizabeth’s. I want him to feel something when he hears my name, not hers.

“Y/N.” He repeats, dreamily. I wink at him, landing my hand on his lute.

“I like how you say it.” I purr at him, as he stares at me, and I know I’ve gotten this man on a leash now. “Enough of singing, I want you to talk to me.”

“I’d love that.” He says in one breath as I take the lute out of his hands now, turning around to place it on a table.

“Take care of it for me, love.” I speak to Geralt, before I turn back to Jaskier. “Care to go for a walk? I’ve heard portside is especially pretty this time of evening. The sun is just starting to set.”

“It would be an honour, Y/N.” He stutters, as I give my hand to him, which he takes.

His anxiety seems to wash away, as he confidently leads me out. I look at Patricia, who gives me a thumbs up under her table. I wink at her, as we enter the beautiful evening outside.

The town is busy with people, many who stop to stare at us. Me, dressed in a fancy gown and a brightly dressed bard is a rare sight, I’d guess. Not a pair you’d put together. We silently walk down the street, as I go closer to the bard. I breathe in deeply, as a cold breeze rushes past us. I glance at Jaskier who hunches a little.

I wrap myself around his hand a little bit more.

“I didn’t expect it to be so chilly.” I explain, when he looks at me. Bard stops in his tracks.

“We can go back.” I shake my head, and keep walking, leaving him no choice but to follow me.

“I want us to have some privacy.” I whisper, as his cheeks heat up a little. “I’ve heard so much about you. Never did I dare to dream of meeting you, yet alone going on a lovely stroll. Didn’t think you’d look at me.”

“You are beautiful, Y/N.” He says, and I know that. Elizabeth is gorgeous. Something inside me twists in a painful way as I wonder what would he say about the real me. Doesn’t matter, tough. “As beautiful as a starry night. No, not even that, a beauty like yours couldn’t even be put into words by a million galaxies.”

“You’re making me blush.” I say, fanning my face with one of my hands, keeping the other one wrapped around his.

“I am the one blushing, in a presence of such beauty.” He throws his free hand in the air. “Don’t get me started on your voice, blessed by the angels.”

“I only followed your lead.” I let go off him, stepping in front, giving him a smile. “If it weren’t for you, my dear, I would have never sounded anywhere near as good.”

“I’m flattered.” I stop, as he does as well. Our gazes lock, and yet again, the world around us disappears.

“How do you do this?” I say, silently, walking closer to him, landing one of my hands on his neck. “How do you make the world disappear?”

“You feel it too?” He says in a hushed voice. I got him wrapped around my little finger, and he had no idea. I almost felt bad.

“All I feel is you.” I say, not resisting the temptation to kiss him.

I pull him in, going on my toes, landing a kiss. My stomach twists in excitement as he pulls me closer, landing his hand on my waist. I can taste his hunger as he enters my mouth. Our warm breaths turn into one, but before he gets full, I pull away.

Not far away enough to break from his grip, though. I look around, pretending to be ashamed, which is easy as my cheeks are on fire. Not from shame, however. He lets go off me immediately once he remembers that we are in fact, in a middle of a street. A less busy one, but still full of people.

“I am sorry.” He apologizes and I look at him, smiling.

“I am the one that’s sorry. I just couldn’t resist.” I say, straightening up my posture. “The docks, that’s where we’re headed, right?”

“Yes, of course.” This time he takes my hand himself, with no hesitation. I pull closer again, but don’t wrap myself.

I play the shy card, keeping a sweet smile on and looking down, but I hate to admit that he is a great kisser. I almost couldn’t resist not pulling away. He made me want more. I know how girls found him so fascinating. He’s a sweet talker and a great kisser.

Also a heart-breaker, I reminded myself.

I didn’t think he tried to break the hearts, no. He was simply aloof, enjoying life and many of it’s pleasures. As did I, with many of my forms. Maybe with this one I could break his heart and use a different one to enjoy what this man has to offer.

I don’t let myself fantasize any further, as my cheeks heat up again. I wonder about those girls, who allowed themselves to be swallowed by this beautiful madness, and how many sweet promises he made to them. And how then they lay in a cold bed, alone, waiting for the world that was promised. Look at the starry night, remembering how he once compared them to it.

I believe he meant those things, he did. But he also forgot. It was one more beautiful woman to him, and a broken heart to them.

“Here we are.” He breaks the silence as I lift my head up. I have lived in Novigrad for years, but not once have I visited the docks at sunset. It was beautiful. I stare at the open waters as it paints with pink, orange and red.

“It’s so beautiful.” I whisper, mesmerized by the sight. The boats sitting in the waters also shine different colours, looking ethereal.

“It is a sight to see.” Jaskier speaks and I look at him, to catch him staring at me. I wonder if he even looked at the waters in front of us. The way colours reflect in his eyes, however, make it hard to look away. The shadows make him look so pretty, it almost hurts.

“You are a sight to see.” I tease, tearing my eyes away, looking back at the waters.

“I could write so many songs about this view.” I nod, imagining how he could weave this beauty into words, immortalizing it. “And you too, Y/N.”

“You know, Jaskier.” His words get to me, so I know I must take action. “I am scared.”

“Of what, my rose?” I sit on the ledge. Bellow it there’s some dock paths going around the harbour. Jaskier follows, sitting next to me. Our shoulders touch.

“People don’t only talk about your great talents.” I don’t want to look at the man next to me. I found it hard to break his heart, to hurt him. He’s gotten to me. “They also tell stories about how you break hearts. Not on purpose, I am sure. But I hear far too many stories of lonely nights women spent waiting for you.”

“I never meant to-“ I lift my hand, looking at him now. He seems sad, the shadows now making him appear older.

“I believe you didn’t.” I say, and I mean it. “But you promised them the world, and then took it away. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

“It won’t, I wouldn’t-“ I shake my head.

“It would.” I say, cutting him off again. His hand grips mine tightly. “You’ll see another pretty woman and will go after her. Forgetting me. Then there will be another.”

“I never forget.” He says, and there is a bit of bitter in his tone. I look away.

“But you never come back.” I hiss, pulling my hand out of his grip, crossing my arms.

“Because I cant keep those promises anymore. It’s best for them to move on.” I glare at the man, who seems so oblivious to these things.

“Some of them keep waiting and hoping. You can’t do that.” He furrows his brows, staring at me. “I won’t let you do this to me.”

“You must understand, I never intended to hurt them. I meant what I said, at the time at least.” I nod, I already have figured as much.

“Maybe you live in the moment too much. Not thinking about what comes after.” I see him smile, looking down.

“Maybe the world is focused on tomorrow too much.” I scoff, standing up.

“If you promise someone something, they will expect it.” He springs to his feet, taking my hand.

“Answer me this, sweetest rose, how come that when people get in a heat of a moment and say things, people forgive easier and move on?” His grip tightens, and our eyes lock. “But when it’s said in a moment of passion, people never seem to forgive. Hate is not a crime, but love is?”

“I don’t know, it just is.” I say, but I have to admit, he has a point. “Maybe because with one thing you give them something and then never deliver it, shattering their dreams and when you’re angry, you aren’t making new promises and crushing them. It hits differently.”

“I never wanted to hurt them.” He throws his hands in the air, letting go off mine.

“Yet, you did.” I step back. My voice grows quiet. “I don’t want to be hurt.”

“Please.” He pleads, extending his arm. “Maybe I can’t promise not to hurt you, but I swear to try. I swear to deliver on my promises and if I cant, I will show up and tell you.”

“See, this is how it feels, Jaskier. To have the thing you want be taken away from you.” I say, bitterly. He takes a deep breath in. “At least I am letting you know.”

“Was this your plan all along?” I shake my head, allowing myself to slip in a lie. At first I wanted to tell him that it was, but before me now stood a broken hearted man, and I don’t kick someone when they’re down.

“But fear decided to tag along.” I say. “After I kissed you, I remembered all those stories. And with each step they grew louder and louder. I am sorry, I truly am.”

“Then give me a chance.” He takes a step towards me. “Or let’s enjoy some time together, see where the night goes and we go our ways come dawn?”

“Maybe in another lifetime, things could be different. You’d be less of a breaker, or I would be less afraid.” I sigh, feeling an ache in my chest. “Nevertheless, I must return home. Go my own way, before I get to spend the nights thinking about you.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, and I know it’s genuine. I feel so bad, I want to rush to him and apologize. The plan sounded fun, because I thought he was a careless heartbreaker. But he was anything but that. He cared, a lot, and he simply loved too much. That was his crime.

“I know. I am sorry too.” I turn around, before I give into his plea. Maybe I will find him as someone else and see where things go. “Goodbye, Jaskier. I will think of you when I gaze at the seas painted by a sunset.”

I don’t know if he said goodbye, he probably did. He probably said some sweet line about how he will sing about me, or something. Maybe he sneaked in a promise he wont keep. I didn’t listen. I rushed away, changing my form as soon as I was out of his eyesight.

I walked around the Novigrad for the rest of the night. Restless. I felt bad, horrible. He didn’t deserve it. But he learnt the lesson the hard way, I just didn’t think I’d be hurt in the process too.

I never went back to him. As any form, for that matter. I saw him a few times, but chose to stay away. I heard less stories about him for a short while, and eventually I know he settled for some woman, a beautiful theatrical actress – Pricilla. I was happy for them.

But I never used Elizabeth again. Her skin felt tainted now, as if it committed a greatest crime. Or maybe it simply belonged to him, now and forever as it was the one he kissed. If I wasn’t her, he wasn’t mine. So I lived like that, enjoying my life.

Letting Elizabeth go into the sea at sunset, her becoming my most precious form. One where I got my own taste of heartbreak.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier angst #is it angst?#witcher one shot #jaskier one shot #jaskier x female reader #doppler #dopplers are cool #also elizabeth is the most not polish name ever #i am literally from a country neighbouring poland #i know polish people #i should know polish names #not elizabeth #oh well #rant over #pls enjoy #bye #p.s tags pls work k thaks

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