#in Vris's eye if I keep their heads where they were so I just leaned in bc themes......motifs..........symbolism................

[forgetful-river]

Sometimes being in love is like getting your eye gored in a fit of purifying violence, sometimes it's not

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel. [ Pt. 8 ]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Tissaia de Vries pays you a visit and you are met with a startling revelation that can change your life, and the Witcher's forever. How are the two of you going to act upon it?

Warnings: None

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

"Why won't this fucking spell let me in?" Jaskier whined; in frustration, having tried for perhaps the tenth time to step into your chambers, but the spell that Yennefer had placed, had not allowed him to enter. And even Geralt, for that matter. Geralt had already experienced it once, and his sensible self didn't try it again, but Jaskier was headstrong, not wanting to stop trying until he had found a way to break that spell.

"Jaskier, let it go. Will you let her rest? Yen's put the spell to protect [Y/N]." Geralt tried to intervene, but the bard threw out both his hands in the air; dramatically and glared at him.

"I mean her no harm, Geralt. I'm sure you are very much aware of that. I love that woman."

Although Geralt knew that Jaskier meant it entirely in a platonic way; given the fact that the two of you had developed a deep rooted friendship ever since the whole knock you up with the Witcher baby drama had begun; a part inside of him flared with jealousy.

Jaskier, on the other hand felt guilt pierce through his heart, ever since he had found out exactly what had happened through Geralt. A part of it was his fault— although the entire conversation in the celebration revolving around Henrik had been a sodden joke from his end, because he had seen Henrik's eyes on her; he had never thought he would go to this extent. He felt guilty, finding himself responsible to a limit for what you had gone through, and he had to talk to you, get it off his chest; but the damn spell.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier from the collar of his shirt and began dragging him away from your room, without muttering a word, when finally, you emerged from your chambers, your eyes sullen, sleep deprived and deep dark bags already formed under them.

"Geralt, [Y/N]—" Jaskier tried pulling his shirt off the Witcher's clutches, trying to bring to a halt to the Witcher's dragging, "—Gods, you're such a big grizzly bear, would you look? She is here."

Geralt's head turned towards you and he let Jaskier go, his facial expressions changing almost instantly, from cold and unemotional to soft, and concerned; the second his eyes landed on you. You looked like a wreck, and Geralt mentally cursed himself, and his inability in that minute to reach out and provide you with comfort, or anything that could make you feel better, made him feel worse.

Instead, he decided to keep quiet, and let the bard talk to you instead, as he was already hovering around you, like a mother hen, concerned.

"[Y/N], I'm really sorry, I didn't know, I had no idea he was such a pervert, I swear to the Gods, had I known, I wouldn't have made those jokes—" he began, and you gave him a weak smile, reaching out and letting your hand rest against the side of his arm, aware of Geralt's eyes fixed on the exchange between the two of you.

"You had no idea, Jaskier. Stop beating yourself up, I'm alright."

Jaskier looked visibly relaxed upon hearing those words although he still wasn't entirely convinced, but decided not to push you any further.

"Would you like some breakfast? I'll ask someone to bring something up here for you," Jaskier asked softly, to which you simply shook your head, and turned to Geralt.

"I want to go home, Geralt. If you don't mind, can you arrange for a horse for me?"

Geralt stiffened when he was addressed directly, and he immediately nodded swiping his palm over his jaw and looked at you, "Give me some time, I'll arrange it."

"Thank you, Geralt," you whispered, giving him a meagre smile, before the smile was overshadowed by a painful look in your eyes, and Geralt forced himself to look away as he left you alone with the bard.

The bard did leave you alone shortly, with a promise to come back with a plate full of bread and ham for you; and you conceded because, as much as it pained you to think of it, you did want to be left alone, and this was the only way to make the hovering bard leave.

You were thankful you didn't see the sorceress all day, for you weren't ready to deal with her. But, you were shocked to have a visitor on your door, and a person you had least expected to see— Tissaia de Vries. When she stepped into your bed chambers, Yennefer's spell being no barrier for her, you weren't surprised, because you knew who she was.

"My name is Tissaia de Vries—"

"I know who you are, you are a member of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, you are a powerful sorceress who created Yennefer of Vengerberg," you stood up from the side of your bed, your palms reflexively fixing on your bump as you stepped closer to the woman, eyeing her carefully from the corner of your eye. You noticed her lips curl into a smile, and she nodded, bringing her palms together and rubbing them lightly.

"Indeed, but the girl grew her wings, and she flew away."

You watched, noting how her smile faltered for a bit, and her eyes grew distant, as though she was suddenly plagued by certain memories, before she blinked, and turned towards you again; smiling at the curiousity that laced the features of your face.

"You must have questions."

"Yes, what do you want?" You pointed out, bluntly, without leaving a room for any further blabbering.

"Straight to the point, I see. Which is good. Saves me the effort, and the time," she slowly stepped closer, her head turning slightly to look for any unwanted ears out in the hallway prying into the conversation. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed your wrist, although the grip was light; as she pulled you towards her, so her lips were lined to your ears.

"Yennefer hasn't been entirely honest with you. There are a lot of things you don't know, and you must know," you blinked, listening to her as she continued, "Now this mansion has ears, but if you wish to know more come find me, child. I will be at the tavern in the village below, just until dawn tomorrow."

Sneaking out of the mansion in the death of the night was easier than you had thought it would. Your face was almost covered, the cloak wrapped around your body, covering your face partially as you hurried down the secluded street of the village. You had walked for over a kilometer, and hadn't experienced anything dangerous so far, and you were thankful for it.

The village lights were finally in sight, and you breathed a sigh of relief, when someone caught your arm and pulled you to the side of the road. He pulled off the cloak off your face; and you were met with the Witcher's golden orbs, his lips pressed together in a firm line, that only told you that he wasn't happy with the way you had sneaked out.

"You followed me. All the way."

His nose twitched, and he let go off your arm, your fingers feeling tingling due to the lack of his touch.

"I wanted to see how reckless or stupid you could get," he mumbled, his voice raspy.

"And?" You parted your lips to let out your breath, still looking at him.

"You like to play with fire."

You rolled your eyes, and turned away as you began walking towards the village once more, and Geralt cursed under his breath, before he began following you.

"You think you can just leave in the middle of the night? I am arranging for you to leave, but like a normal human being, in the light of the day."

You let out a snort; your pace slowing down a bit to let the Witcher catch up with you, but you didn't stop walking. You turned your head slightly to look at him, "I'm not leaving, Geralt. I knew you were following me. I saw you."

Geralt's lips twitched, almost faintly but you caught it before he looked at you with all seriousness again.

"I'm sure you didn't want to just go out for a walk."

"Well—" Your hand flew to the back of your head, as you scratched it lightly, and pulled your gaze away. The village was already upon you. "— You wouldn't exactly have let me if I had asked for your permission."

"Fair."

Your eyes spotted the tavern, and a rush of adrenaline surged through you. You wouldn't lie; you were curious as to what was it that Tissaia knew, and you didn't.

"It's funny, Witcher, you barely used to say words to me. Look at you now."

He grunted in response to you, his own eyes now having captured the destination where you were headed; the tavern.

"The tavern?"

You ignored him as you stepped into the tavern, and your nose immediately scrunched upwards, as the horrid smell of ale; too much of it, filled in your nostrils. Ignoring the pang to throw up, your eyes began looking for Tissaia until you spotted her, sitting at the back, at a farther end, smiling and watching you. It was as though she knew you were coming.

"Tissaia de Vries?" Geralt mumbled, and you nodded. Before he could even stop you, you were striding towards her. He decided to simply follow you, now that he was here with you. It was better to keep his eye on you, in case she decided to pull up an antic.

"I see you're not alone, [Y/N]. Witcher." The sorceress nodded her head in his direction and motioned for the two of you to sit down on a bench in front of her. You looked at Geralt, and he craned his neck slightly, his eyes darting around, scanning the tavern for anything unusual, while you sat down. In a minute, he sat down too, the bench now feeling cramped with his massive frame just next to yours.

"Tell me what you told me earlier. About what Yennefer hid from me."

Geralt tensed beside you and you chose deliberately not to look at him, at the mention of her name, keeping your eyes fixed on the sorceress in front of you.

"I think it's time, Geralt. Yennefer's been keeping things from you, I thought you would have understood, but unfortunately—"

"Tissaia, I don't understand what game you are playing," Geralt leaned forward, his palm placed on the table, his eyes narrowed at her, his shoulders tense.

"Geralt," you whispered, "let her speak."

The White Wolf grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything else. His shoulders remained tense, heat radiating from his body; that you could feel but you were too curious to listen to the sorceress to feel any different.

"There are certain spells that can take a human's life," Tissaia began, her solemn eyes now fixed on you, "they are strong enough to destroy a human body. Because a human body isn't strong enough to take it." She leaned forward, letting her elbows rest against the table as she picked a piece of red meat and tossed it into her mouth, chewing on it and swallowing it. "The point is, the spell that Yennefer used, to grow his child within you wasn't an ordinary spell. No human can endure the power of that spell, and come out unscathed. You did."

You turned towards Geralt and shot him a look, before turning back to the sorceress again, "I don't get it. I survived the spell. Which is why this happened," your hand flew to your belly, and you looked down at your stomach, feeling Geralt's gaze on it too, before the two of you turned towards her again and she nodded.

"You think it was a mere coincidence that Yennefer picked you, out of all the women in the world, to carry that baby?" She pointed to your stomach.

"I needed the coin."

"The coin was a facade, child."

She turned towards the Witcher and he blinked, "You didn't know it too, Wolf. She never mentioned [Y/N] before, did she? I doubt it. Yennefer never betrays her own plans."

"Get to the fucking point, Tissaia," Geralt growled, and you shifted uncomfortably towards him, agreeing with him on this. Tissaia was making you uncomfortable.

"Twenty five years back, Queen Calanthe gave birth to a girl, this was before Pavetta was born. Someone stole the baby the night she was born, but they never found her."

"I think we should leave." Geralt intervened.

You turned towards Geralt, confused and helpless, before turning back to the sorceress again.

"That baby had the Elder Blood running through her veins. She had immense power, power that could disrupt everything around her by just one scream from her throat."

"What happened to the baby?" You asked; your heart thumping wildly against your chest.

"That baby grew up until Yennefer of Vengerberg found her in Redania, and a Witcher put his child in her."

Tissaia found herself a smile, you couldn't help but gasp, and Geralt just deadpanned, "Well, fuck."

"You're telling me that I'm the Princess of Cintra? Gods you must be mistaken, I don't know anything about magic. I'm just a commoner that got trapped by these two for coin." You turned towards him, giving him a glare, and he grunted in response.

"You were never trapped, you chose to do it."

"You think Yennefer wants to be a mother?" Tissaia spoke again, but this time, her eyes were on Geralt. You glanced from him to her, and then back, until you had your eyes fixed on his uncomfortable form. His fingers had clenched into a fist. "Combine the Elder blood, with a Witcher's blood. No sorceress is powerful enough against that baby." She pointed towards your stomach, and instinctively, your palm flew towards it, trying to shield your bump from the woman's eyes. You felt Geralt stiffen too; as he shifted towards you, his own protective side spilling out at those words as he glanced at you.

"If you knew your lover well, White Wolf, you would have known. Her lust for power would never end. She wants that baby because that baby is the key for her to slide to the top."

Geralt swallowed thickly. His palm came to rest against the table in front of him, his grip tightening over it, his knuckles almost turning white. He knew Yennefer was power hungry; but never had he realized that her hunger was now out of control. He felt stupid now, and more than stupid, he felt relentless rage, because she had played him. All this while, he thought that she wanted his child— but all she wanted was a Witcher's child, mixed with the Elder Blood, so she could have, for herself, the most powerful magic yielder in the form of a child.

"It wasn't a coincidence then, that Yennefer wanted me to carry this baby," you whispered to Geralt who just looked at you blankly. You then turned to Tissaia, who tossed a piece of red meat into her mouth once again, her eyes fixed on you, "What power does Yennefer have over me?"

She smirked slightly, as though she had thought about this quite a lot.

"Well, your powers need to be harnessed, which is why she has an edge over you. Once you do learn to harness your powers, Yennefer wouldn't be a problem." She suddenly closed her eyes, and her lips started moving as she began chanting something and your eyebrow shot up. Within seconds, she was already done. "She wouldn't be able to track you for a while. You can go wherever you want. The effect of the spell should last five to six days."

Somewhere outside, a rooster suddenly crowed, signalling that it was morning. Tissaia de Vries suddenly lowered her cloak so that it covered her face.

"It's dawn, I will take your leave, [Y/N]. Find me whenever you need me," You watched, numbly, only nodding your head at her as she stood up, and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly until she was already out of sight. You kept sitting there, bellowed in silence, both of you breathing laboured, lost in your own thoughts.

Geralt finally pulled you out of your thoughts, "A Princess? I need a fucking drink."

Geralt stood up and walked away, to get himself a drink. You just kept staring at him, too shocked to even react, or process anything. This was all too much to process in a single night. You were a Princess, and not just any Princess, you had Elder Blood running through your veins.

Your baby —

You pressed your palm to your mouth, rather abruptly and stood up, dashing towards the exit of the tavern.

Geralt's head shot towards you like missile as he watched you leave.

You ran outside, Geralt's heavy footsteps racing behind you as you bent over in a corner and began throwing up.

Geralt's warm palm fixed on your lower back; and you felt him pull your hair away from your face, holding them up for you while his other hand ran soothing circles over your lower back.

You weakly stood up straighter, but your legs suddenly felt weak which is why you held on to the wall for support, as you wiped the corners of your mouth with your sleeve.

"Too much information for one night," You muttered in a low voice, your eyes not meeting Geralt's.

"Not the only one," Geralt responded, his lips twitching with humour, but that immediately washed away when you tried taking a step towards him but found yourself unable to hold yourself on your feet. He reached out, grabbing you by your shoulders to steady you to your feet.

Finally, letting out a soft exhale, the Witcher bent, and lifted you up in his arms, almost effortlessly, his hand holding you from the base of your thighs. Your hand wrapped around the Witcher's neck almost reflexively, as he held you against his chest and began walking back.

The first few minutes were quiet, until you finally spoke— your fingers unknowingly playing with the Witcher's hair.

"This complicates things."

He hummed in response but chose to stay quiet; so you continued.

"Where does this leave you, Geralt? Because I have .. already made up my mind."

A silence took over the two of you, causing you to flick your gaze to the side of his face. His lips were pursed together, as though he was thinking. You didn't stop toying with the strands of his hair, and neither did he stop you. Finally, he exhaled, and craned his neck slightly lower so he could look at you.

"And what did you decide?"

You bit the insides of your cheeks nervously. Geralt had been nice to you, until today, if you were to ignore the first few weeks you had known him. You had seen the change in the man; having grown from cold to lukewarm towards you, but that didn't mean you didn't know what Yennefer meant to him. Now, would Geralt really let you go? Especially.. if you were carrying his baby?

"I .. I want to go home.. to Cintra.. I want to see my mother, I want to.. see my kingdom, and I want to learn to harness .. my magic.." You whispered.

Geralt nodded, but he didn't reply.

He slowly let you down, and you looked up to realize that you had been so distracted talking to Geralt, you hadn't realized that you were standing on the bottom most step that led to the sorceress' mansion.

"I won't stop you."

You abruptly stopped walking when you heard those words, your legs almost freezing when you felt that he wasn't behind you anymore. You turned back around to find him standing on the bottom most step while you had already made your way to the door.

"Thank you, Geralt. For everything."

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221

Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox or comments. ✨

[waiting4inspiration]

Darkness before Dawn Epilogue

Summary: Geralt arrives in Eronia to see you again even though he’s unsure about that. Charlotte finds out where he’s stay and tells you about it. You’re not going to allow him to simply pass through and leave without saying goodbye to you again.

Warnings: end of the series, fluff, angst, strong language, mentions of death, magical elements, mentions of infertility, it’s a happy ending :))

Word Count: 2,094

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

Staring at the towers of the castle of Eronia, Geralt doesn’t know how welcomed he would be if he were to walk in there today. It had been two years since he left and though not much has changed for him, who can say that it has been the same for the royal family? He doesn’t even know if he’s still on your mind just as you are on his. Even though everything has been the same for him, a lot can happen to the heir of Eronia. 

He’s stayed at the local inn the past few days, thinking about how he’s going to do this. After he left, he hasn’t been sure that you would want to see him again. And Dominic, knowing that you and he are closer than one should be with a Witcher, probably wouldn’t allow him near the castle. Geralt has to be careful about this. 

But, of course, word spreads like wild-fire that the Witcher has returned to Eronia. It’s clear that Geralt has made a name for himself by saving you and people look at him everywhere he goes. In two years, he thought things would have died down and people would have forgotten about him. Obviously, that hasn’t happened. 

A woman in a cloak sits down at Geralt’s table as he eats one afternoon and he recognizes the fire-red hair sticking out from the hood of the cloak. “Charlotte,” Geralt grumbles, placing his ale on the table and leaning slightly forward. 

“I heard you were back in Eronia and came to see for myself if it was true,” she speaks in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone is sticking their nose where they shouldn’t. “There’s only so many times gossip in the castle is true.”

“Does (Y/n)-”

Charlotte shakes her head, knowing that he was going to ask if you know he’s here. “The King wanted me to keep it from her. He says that she has enough on her mind and that…” she stops, looking up at Geralt, the candle between them lighting her face hidden under the cloak. 

“That she shouldn’t waste her time with me.”

“That she probably won’t stand another heartbreak when you leave again,” Charlotte corrects him. “She was devastated when you left the first time, Geralt. She never left her room for weeks. Ida thought that if she went with her and saw the continent like she dreamed, she’d feel better. But she doesn’t even glance at handsome suitors that come around.”

That’s not what Geralt wanted. He thought that if you had forgotten about him and found someone else he would walk right out of Eronia again and forget about you, carry on with the life of a Witcher instead of dreaming of a life with you. But hearing now how you don’t even try changes things. 

“You’re not just passing through, are you, Geralt?” Charlotte questions, breaking his thoughts and making his eyes spring back up to her. “You’re here to see her again, right? Please tell me you are.” She practically begging at this point. 

Geralt breathes out a deep sigh and drops his gaze to the food on the plate in front of him. “With Dominic knowing I’m here, he probably won’t allow me in the castle to see her,” he mentions, not seeing the way a broad smile grows on Charlotte’s face. 

She places her hands on the table and chuckles to herself. “There are ways around that,” she quickly says before pushing herself to her feet and rushing away without Geralt being able to say another word. 

He watches her storm out of the tavern, keeping her head low and her hood secured with her hands. When the doors slam shut just as a clap of thunder sounds in the sky, Geralt stares at it for a few more moments as if he’s waiting for you to come walking through them any moment now. 

But he knows that a stupid thing to think will happen. 

Charlotte pushes the doors of the library open and finds you just where she left you; surrounded by floating books with a blue haze around them. Your head lifts from the open book on the desk in front of you to look at her with a frown on your face as to why she would be out of breath. 

She walks up to the desk, smiling brightly at you as she leans forward with her hands on the table. “You won’t believe who’s in town,” she says between breaths, the smile on her face never wavering. 

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” you chuckle, glancing back down at the book of spells in front of you and picking up where you had saved your spot with your finger as a marker. 

Charlotte gives a small, excited giggle as she moves around the desk, past the floating books to stand at your side. “Geralt of Rivia.” 

The moment the name leaves her lips, the books lose the blue haze around them and they fall to the ground. Your head snaps up to her and you’re no longer interested in the book laid open in front of you. 

She nods her head, grabs your hand and pulls you out of your seat. “And he wants to see you.”

You don’t think twice about stepping out of the protective circle you stand in that was made out of caution. You don’t care about that. You don’t even care that it’s raining as you step through the castle doors and into the city. The only thing on your mind is getting to the inn and seeing the man you’ve longed to see for so long. 

Seeing the inn in the distance, you stop to catch your breath as thunder rolls through the sky. You have no idea what it will look like for the princess to be storming into the tavern, drenched to the bone and looking for the Witcher. Hell, you don’t even know what it looks like for the princess to be running through the streets in the pouring rain. 

But then, you see Geralt leading his horse out the stables. Your heart pounds in your chest at the thought that he could be leaving again. No, this time, you intend to stop him. “You’re not planning on leaving without saying goodbye again, are you?” you shout, stepping forward as Geralt’s head lifts up to you. 

Even though you’re soaking wet, you’re still the best image he’s seen in two years. Behind you, Charlotte stands a few feet away with a cloak in her hands, one you seem to have forgotten about putting on. And further behind her and gathering around you and Geralt are people that have decided to take interest in what’s going on. 

“I shouldn’t have come back in the first place,” he says, walking forward to meet you halfway, leading Roach with him. 

Charlotte notices the gathering crowd and starts to shoo them away. Whatever’s about to happen, they don’t need to see it happening. Though, it is a bit of an inconvenience that you’ve decided to do this in the view of the public. Your mother would never have approved of this. But you don’t care about that. When has anything your mother said been positive?

“But you did. Why didn’t you come to the castle?”

“Because everything’s changed, has it?” he asks back, now standing in front of you. He can now drop his voice so that only you can hear what he says. “You’re almost ready to take your place on the throne and no longer cursed. I don’t have any business in Eronia.”

You shake your head at him and take a small step forward. “Nothing’s changed, Geralt. I still see ghosts and spirits. Tissaia de Vries said that the only curse you ended was the Death curse. I’m no more ready to take the throne as I was when you left because I’ve been traveling the continent with my aunt and only came back a few weeks ago,” you mention, holding your gaze with Geralt through the lighting strike that sounds in the distance. “And you’re still the same Witcher I fell in love with. The same Geralt of Rivia I have dreamed about seeing again, hoping that our paths would have crossed while traveling. The same man I prayed would come back to Eronia. Nothing has changed, Geralt.”

You may have gotten used to seeing ghosts everywhere you go, not knowing if they know you can see them or not, but that hasn’t stopped you from being cautious. Hence the protective circles around the castle created from your own magic. You don’t want the same thing with Kurst happening again. 

Geralt hears whispering, looks to the side and grumbles when he sees people still gathering around. He takes your hand and leads you away from the opening and back to the stables where he hopes you two can have some privacy. And so you can get out of the rain. 

He closes the doors, leads Roach back to her spot as you run your fingers through your hair. Now, you and Geralt are equally soaked from the rain.

He looks back at you while pulling something out from the pouch on the saddle. Walking back to you, he says nothing and only stares at what he holds in between his fingers. As he nears, you see that it’s a small white flower and you become confused at this. “Ida gave this to me when I left. She told me that it would help me find what I was looking for,” he explains when he sees the confused look on your face. 

“Did you find it?” you ask, slowly lifting your hand to touch the flower as Geralt hums. “What was it?”

“An old wizard that knows of very old magic. He gave me this,” Geralt explains in a whisper, as if someone’s outside with their ear pressed to the door to listen to the conversation, and holds up a piece of aged parchment. “This is why I came back,” he whispers, handing you the piece of parchment. 

You take it from him and read it. From what you can tell, it’s a spell. But it seems to be very old magic. And as you read on, you realize what the spell is for. Your head snaps up to Geralt again, your eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in shock. “I told myself, if I found this, that I would come back. I wasn’t going to leave. I was just going to take Roach out to stretch her legs.” 

A smile grows on your face as Geralt steps closer to you. “And you’re sure it will work?” you ask, dropping your arms to your side and he places the flower he holds behind your ear and into your hair. 

“He reassured me it would.”

The spell is to reverse any infertility caused by anything. You remember that Geralt was hesitant to stay the first time because of what he couldn’t give you - a family. He thought that it would ruin your reputation and your family name. And that is why he went looking for a cure for his infertility. He said to himself that if destiny really exists and he’s meant to be with you, then he will find it. And he did. 

“So, this means you’re staying?” you ask, leaning into his hand when it cups your cheek. 

Geralt leans forward, presses his forehead against yours and hums. “If you’ll have me.” You smile, nod your head, and wrap your arms around his neck. “But I won’t be a King.”

You laugh at his words and step closer to his, pressing your body to his to find a bit of warmth now that the coldness is setting in from the rain. “That’s alright. You can be King Consort. As long as I have you by my side,” you say, making him smile as he leans closer to press his lips to yours. 

There’s a loud thunderclap, one that makes you think that if anyone was listening in on your conversation, they would have been startled at the loud clap and might have run away. But nothing can pull you and Geralt away from each other. He kisses you deeply, making up for the past two years as he holds your face close to his. 

And he reminds himself to get back to the fact that you can still see ghosts and spirits...

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[queenxxxsupreme]

HI! I’m not sure if this is where I send my request but HELLO ❤️ I friggin love your Yennefer x reader stories they make my heart go JSKSHJEKAHDGS (*´꒳`*)Could you do a request for Yennefer x fem!reader where Yennefer gets jealous hehehe THANK YOU!!!!

A/N: Hi babe!! Sorry this took so long to get to! I hope you like it!

***

Yennefer found herself tapping her nails against the table in rhythm with the bard’s music. Her eyes flickered around the tavern. She was ready to have you back at the table with her, but you were across the room getting drinks for everyone. 

Yennefer turned her head, no longer interested in pretending to listen to Jaskier’s story, and searched for you. 

You were easy to spot. Her senses naturally picked up on her voice and spotted you like the rose among thorns.

You stood at the counter, chatting idly with a man while you waited for the barmaid to bring you your drinks. 

Curious, Yennefer began to listen to the man.

He complimented your hair, to which you smiled and thanked him. It was an innocent interaction. But then he complimented your smile and told you that you were pretty. 

The corner of Yennefer’s lips turned up into a smirk. There was no way he had any chance of taking you away from her. 

“Would you like to join me for a drink?” The man asked, taking a step closer to you. 

“Thank you, but I’m waiting for drinks. I’ll have to pass.” 

He didn’t seem to get the hint. 

“What’s the harm in them waiting a bit, sweetheart? It won’t hurt.”

“She said she’ll have to pass, sir.” The barmaid spoke firmly as she put your drinks down on the bar in front of you. 

The man, frustrated and embarrassed that he’d been turned down, stormed out of the tavern. 

“Thank you for that.” You smiled at the barmaid. 

“No problem, love. I’ve learned that you can’t be friendly with men. Always have to be firm first and figure out what kind of person they are.” She leaned against the counter for a moment. 

“It’s a shame we live in that kind of world. But I’m glad to have people like you around to help with people like him.” 

“Anytime, love.” She winked at you. “Do you need help carrying that to your table?”

“I think I can get it.” You smiled and paid her for the drinks before returning to your table. 

Jaskier was in the middle of retelling a story about one of the times he had gotten caught in the middle of a fight between Geralt and a slyzard. Lambert and Aiden were listening and enjoying every time Geralt corrected Jaskier’s overdramatic recount of the event. 

Yennefer was physically there, but her mind was elsewhere as she looked out of the barred window of the tavern. 

“Is everything alright, Yenn?” You asked her, placing her drink in front of her. 

“Just fine.” She answered flatly.

You take your seat next to her, thinking that perhaps it was just something that someone said that irritated her. 

Wanting to comfort her, you reached underneath the table to place your hand on her knee. 

She tensed up beneath your touch, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You furrowed your brows together as you looked at her. You pulled your hand away from her and put it into your own lap. 

Why did she react that way? 

You looked down at your drink for a few moments, chewing on your lip. You looked back to her, finding that she was glaring daggers at someone from across the bar. You followed her gaze to find she was glaring at the barmaid. 

It took you a few moments to realize what was wrong with Yennefer. 

“Are you upset because of the way that man behaved? Because he wouldn’t take no for an answer? Or because he was trying to flirt with me?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I’m not worried about some flea ridden man. I know you don’t fancy someone like him.”

Then what is it that’s got you so grumpy?” You tilted your head to the side, keeping your voice low enough so only she’d hear you. 

Yennefer brought her eyes down to her drink, locking her jaw tightly. 

It was only then that you could see it, the lack of confidence in her eyes that didn’t belong. It was rare to find that look in her beautiful violet gaze, but sometimes it happened. It was only natural. 

Your gaze softened and your shoulders fell. 

“Yennefer.”

The way you said her name made the mage’s stomach twist up- it was so sweet. But how could you sound so sweet when she didn’t deserve you? When you could go find someone more worth your while? 

“Come with me.” You leaned over to kiss her cheek before slipping from your seat. 

You left the tavern, venturing out into the cold autumn night. You didn’t worry about Yennefer not following you. She wouldn’t let you stray too far into the sketchy streets of the village without her at your side. You could handle yourself, but she wouldn’t leave that to fate. 

You slowed down so that you could walk alongside her. She kept her hands stuffed into the pockets of her fur coat, her eyes fixated on the street ahead. 

“Yennefer, you know I love you.” You reminded the stubborn mage. 

“Love is a funny thing.” She said, a cloud forming from her warm breath. “My mother loved me, but she stood idly by while my stepfather sold me to Tissaia de Vries.”

“Yennefer.” You stopped her, taking hold of her arm and turning her to face you. “It was a harmless conversation with that woman. She helped me with the rude man.”

“She was trying to flirt with you, Y/N.”

You hadn’t noticed. She was being friendly, sure, but was she really flirting? More importantly, were you flirting back? 

“Was I…. Was I….?” You couldn’t make the words come from your mouth. 

Yennefer watched you for a few moments, thinking over the scene in her head. 

“No, I suppose not.” She let out a small breath. “I just…. I don’t know. Seeing you…. Seeing her…. She could’ve taken you, you know.”

“No, she couldn’t have, Yennefer.” You reached out to pull her hand from her coat. Her fingers were warm compared to yours. “Because I am in love with you. Not her. I know sometimes you’ll doubt me. That voice in your head is too much to control, I know. But I’ll spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you otherwise.” 

She looked at you with glossy purple eyes. Blinking the tears away, she nodded. 

“I love you too. And I’m sorry.”

“No worries.” You brought her hand to your lips, gently kissing her knuckles. “Let’s get to the inn. It’s freezing out here.”

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If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[thegirl20]

Witcher Femslash February - Crown

Prompt from @bamf-jaskier’s list.

This is probably related to this previous ficlet: Graves.

Yennefer potters around, tidying up the kitchen and wiping down the surfaces. She's just put a casserole in the oven for dinner and it can be left for a few hours without attention. As she works, she listens to the conversation happening at the kitchen table where Ciri and Tissaia are 'doing crafts'.

"This is going to be a beautiful crown, Ciri," Tissaia says, head bent over the project they're working on. "You'll make a wonderful princess."

"Uh huh." Ciri nods, sticking something sparkly where Tissaia is attempting to neatly colour the white paper yellow. "When I'm a princess, I get called Cirilla."

"Oh, of course." Tissaia looks up and catches Yennefer's eye, she smiles and rolls her eyes. "Princess Cirilla it is, then."

"My daddy says it sounds more posher."

Yennefer catches a laugh and turns it into a cough, turning away from the pair so that she doesn't make Tissaia laugh.

"He's right," Tissaia tells her. "It's terribly posh." Silence returns as they work on the crown.

"Do you know any stories about princesses, 'Ssaia?" Ciri asks, after a while.

Tissaia flashes Yennefer a panicked look and Yennefer takes pity on her. "Yes, she does," she says, coming to sit at the table opposite the other two. She lifts her eyebrows at Ciri. "She knows a story about a Queen who rescued a Princess."

Ciri gasps. "From a tower?"

"No!" Yennefer widens her eyes. "This princess was trapped underground! So deep that there were no windows, and no light coming in and she had to squint to see anything." Yennefer narrows her eyes and leans across the table, peering at Ciri. Tissaia is watching her, amused and confused. "The Princess had locked herself away, because she didn't like the world very much."

"She locked herself away?" Ciri's brow is creased. "That's not what happens, mummy. Princesses don't lock themselves up."

"Well, this one did. She was fed up of having to listen to stupid people tell her what to do, and she had decided that she would never fall in love with anybody, because they were all too boring," Yennefer says, seeing realisation dawn on Tissaia's face.

After a fairly horrific childhood, Yennefer had grown tired of the world and everyone in it. A one night stand with Geralt had resulted in Ciri, who she immediately gave Geralt custody of; how could she possibly be a parent when she had no clue even how to take care of herself? She visited her often, and loved her fiercely, but she was terrified of hurting her somehow.

She'd closed herself off to attachments, choosing instead to keep her head down and work hard, progressing quickly in her chosen career of forensic anthropology. She liked the fact that most people thought old bones were creepy and didn't necessarily want to spend a lot of time in her office or her basement lab. The dead are good company and require very little by way of conversation.

She had been called to give evidence at a court hearing one day and had met Tissaia De Vries QC. And everything had changed.

"And what did the Queen do to rescue her?" Ciri says, her expression still a little sceptical, even as she asks for more detail. "Did she climb up the Princess' hair? Or fight a dragon?"

"She did fight a dragon, as it happens," Yennefer says, watching Tissaia's lips curl into a smile. The case they'd met on was that of a father who had abused his wife and children for years, before murdering them and disposing of their bodies. Tissaia had rigorously and meticulously led the case against him, and won. "But she didn't climb the princess' hair." She smiles at Tissaia. "She asked her out for a drink."

Ciri wrinkles her nose. "That's boring." She rolls her eyes. "Was the queen pretty?"

Clearly this story can only be salvaged by beauty, so Yennefer lays it on thick. "Pretty? Oh, no. She wasn't pretty." She purses her lips at Tissaia's raised eyebrow. "She was the most beautiful woman the land had ever seen. She had long, shiny brown hair, almost down to her waist." It had been hidden under that hideous wig at the time, but Yen decides to leave that bit out. "Her eyes were so magical, they changed colour every time the Princess looked at them. Sometimes they'd be blue, like the ocean. Sometimes green, like the grass of a meadow."

Tissaia is shaking her head, but there's a faint blush covering her neck.

"She wore a long, flowing black cape that billowed out behind her when she walked."

"She sounds like a baddie, mummy," Ciri says. "Like Maleficent."

A laugh bubbles out of Tissaia's throat and she leans in to kiss Ciri's head. "You're right, darling. She does sound like a baddie." She turns to Yennefer and tilts her head. "How did the Princess know she wasn't a baddie?"

"Because the Princess found the Queen after she'd slayed the dragon," Yennefer explains, holding Tissaia's eyes. "She was in the ladies toilets, crying about all the boys and girls that evil old dragon had hurt. So the princess knew she was very, very good."

Tissaia presses her lips together, blinking fast.

Ciri sighs. "That was a rubbish story, mummy."

Yennefer and Tissaia both laugh at the honesty and Yennefer notices Tissaia dabbing at her eyes.

"Well, it's my favourite," Yennefer says, reaching over to poke Ciri's nose. "Now, is this crown about finished or what?"

"Yeah, we're finished." Ciri shoves the paper towards Tissaia. "'Ssaia needs to cut it out and put the sillytape on it."

"I'll grab the sellotape while 'Ssaia does the cutting." She pushes up out of her seat. "Then we can hopefully get you crowned in time for dinner.

--------

With the crown assembled, it's time for the coronation. Ciri is sitting in the biggest armchair they have, her feet dangling well above the floor. Yennefer stands dutifully by with the elaborate paper crown held on a cushion from the sofa. Tissaia stands by the other side of the 'throne', a rolled up piece of paper in her hands.

"May we commence, Princess?" Tissaia asks.

"Yes." Ciri nods once, looking straight ahead, no doubt at her adoring subjects.

Tissaia unfurls the paper and clears her throat. "My Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, Earls and Countesses-" Yennefer's stomach twists when she realises she's using her fancy lawyer voice. It always does funny things to her. "-may I present to you, upon this day of her coronation, Princess Cirilla of Cintra, the first of her name, ruler of all she surveys."

"Say the other bits," Ciri encourages, head held high, nose in the air. "About my dad being the king and stuff."

"You are right, of course, silly me." Tissaia unfurls the piece of paper further. "Ah yes, I hadn't got to that part yet." She clears her throat. "Princess Cirilla of Cintra, first of her name, ruler of all she surveys. Daughter of Kings Geralt and Jaskier of Rivia and of Queen Yennefer of Vengerberg. Her birth has united the kingdoms and-"

"And you!" Ciri frowns up at her like she's an idiot. "Daughter of Queen Yennefer and Queen 'Ssaia."

Tears spring to Yennefer's eyes at the same time panic grips her chest. She and Tissaia have never really discussed what Ciri is to her. It's not the same as the relationship she has with Jaskier. Jaskier has been around since Ciri was a tiny baby. She's lived with him and Geralt as a couple almost all her life, and certainly for all of it she can remember. But Tissaia came along later. She's always been 'Ssaia. She's never been 'mum'. But this seemingly doesn't matter.

Yennefer looks to Tissaia for a reaction, and she sees that she's struggling with her emotions. She tilts her head in question, checking that Tissaia is alright with this interpretation of their complicated little family. She gets a tiny nod in confirmation. She moves closer, taking the 'scroll' out of Tissaia's hand, giving her the crown instead.

Yennefer flicks the paper and swallows. "Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Daughter of King Geralt and his court jester Jaskier-" Ciri giggles, but doesn't make her stop. "And daughter of Queen Yennefer of Vengerberg and Queen Tissaia of Vries-" She meets Tissaia's eyes over the top of Ciri's head. "Slayer of Dragons and Champion of Justice."

She gets a watery roll of the eyes and a genuine smile in response before Tissaia kneels in front of Ciri and places the crown on her head. She takes her little hand and kisses it, giving it a squeeze.

"I wish you a long and happy reign, Princess."

Yennefer squeezes Tissaia's shoulder. Ciri slides off the chair and wraps her arms around Tissaia's neck.

"Thanks 'Ssaia." She pulls back. "Can I have a biscuit? I'm starving."

Usually Tissaia would be strict about eating junk before dinner, but she just smiles. "I think a Princess deserves a biscuit on her Coronation day." She stands and holds out her hand. "Let's go and get one, shall we?" They head to the door where Tissaia pauses. "Are you joining us for the post coronation biscuit?"

Smiling, Yennefer nods. "As you wish, Queen 'Ssaia."

[beauty-of-sins]

I have a smut request! Tissaia x reader or Tissaia X yenn. Where one of them is sending filthy thoughts through telepathy through out the day, until finally they end having passion fuelled sex.

Tissaia de Vries x Reader

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I’m starting to notice I give a lot of backstory in my fics. I’ll work on reducing that in the future for you horny bastards. 

Growing up you were always different from the others. While you weren’t as bold as Yennefer(or as difficult) you still managed to catch her attention. Simply because you weren’t afraid of her nor were you in awe of the Rectoress. She couldn’t shake you and even at a young age, she knew that you were destined to do great things. 

After all the trails, you had ascended. Doing your part without complaining and you served your time with your king.  You felt lost however, in the bustle of the courts, and you knew this was not what you were meant to be. You quickly found yourself back in Aretuza asking the Rectoress to let you teach. You enjoyed teaching there and so did your students. While you were strict you were much more patient than the Rectoress and they blossomed under your charge.

You found yourself sharing a common bond, age and experience both leveled the playing field.  Through your teachings, you shared quite a few meals together and your feelings began to change.  She wasn’t completely serious all the time as most people thought, and her dry humor always found a way to make you laugh(even when you didn’t want to). How she carries herself, the grace she radiates. The way her laugh carries through a room.

You weren’t the only one whose feelings were changing.

It was you that noticed it first, the way she always leaned towards you, asked for your theories first, the casual touches that you had to stop a shiver each time you felt her hand on you.

You would use this to your advantage. There was no way she was going to make the first move. 

It was going to be all up to you. 

You pass by her lecture, seeing her scare the new girls into submission once again. You could tell she was secretly amused by their reactions though and it was really just another test for her. 

It’s the perfect time.

A small smirk rises on your mouth. You let out a little whisper, elder seeping out of your tongue penetrating her wards and you can see it hit her. 

A thought of her own that she had pushed back.

You bent down in front of her, knowing nothing but to submit, your passion directed at her. You were tied up in a pretty bow, a gift just for her.

She stumbled with her words before resuming. Something only you could catch from being around her so long before you slipped into the shadows. She looked undoubtedly shifty at the next meeting, and you innocently asked her what was wrong before she changed the subject. You never thought you’d live long enough to see the great Rectoress squirming in her seat. 

The next was at the Garden, taking your students out, making sure they knew how to handle certain herbs.  You could feel her staring at you through the window. You desperately wanted to laugh as her magic tried to seep in without warning. You meet her eyes, and upon contact with your wards spur a thought.  

You’re on her very desk, paper staining the very paper she’s working on. Your hands dripping with your own wetness, as you spread out for her display. You beckon her to lean down and taste.

She twitches as a blush rises to her face before she attempts to focus back on work. This time you do laugh, but you pretend its at something that one of your students say.

Dinner. 

This time you invited her over, and this time she surprised you, wearing a gorgeous red dress with a teasing neckline that almost made you faint. You were both actively aware you were teasing each other as it went on, knees touching underneath the table. You lean closer to her, and jokingly offer her a morsel, from your own plate, holding it up to her mouth. You’re surprised when she leans in and slowly eats it off the fork. Your gaze gets heavy. 

Eventually, you make your move. You lean forward, wiping something that wasn’t there off the corner of her lip. 

“I know what you were doing.” she whispers, the edges of her lips catching your thumb, you hold it there.

“As do I.” you whisper, leaning forward into her red painted lips. 

Both of your wards are down for the first time and you are taken back by her want, the need to see you beneath her. The times she stared at you whenever you weren’t looking and think of a million scenarios of what you could do together. 

You unzip the back of her dress, slowly, time doesn’t mean anything to people like you. But Tissaia clearly didn’t think the same way. 

She reaches up to your own and rips some of it off with fervor. It’s strangely hot to see her like this. 

To think its all for you.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” she hisses out, reading your thoughts, in between kisses she steps out her own, and you pull the tattered remains fo your own dress off. 

You fight for dominance, and your winning, fulfilling your own fantasy of besting your former teacher when she began whispering elder you’ve never heard before. Your still, your muscles lock up and for some reason, you are not afraid as she leans over you. 

It’s oddly calming. 

“I like when your quiet,” she says, nails tracing from underneath your chin toward your belly.  

I don’t think you do.

She frowns before cutting off her wards again and you fight the urge to snicker. 

She can sense your amusement, her small frame pressing down on you. And that’s when you feel it against your inner thigh. She had to have been wearing the strap-on the entire time. And heat floods you when you realized that she had anticipated this.

Her hands slide up, around your sides teasingly while the head of the strap grinds into your heat. You have to move. You break out of the spell easily using the slight opening in her spell. You were tired of waiting. You push her down onto the chair, straddle and don’t even wait for her to process what’s going on before she’s inside of you.

You feel full, and although it hurts slightly, mostly you feel pleasure. Your breath tickles the shell of her ear as she feels you slide down on her. She grabs the small of your back and pulls you in closer as you slowly ride her. It’s the most beautiful thing she has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. 

She leans forward, biting around the sensitive skin on your nipple and it makes you speed up, her eyes flutter in pleasure at the sensation. Her other hand grabbing onto your ass, rocking you, encouraging you even more.

The sensation begins to make you quiver in your lap, as you increase your speed. In between, you hungrily kiss her lips, enjoying the taste of her. Her hand slides down to your clit, rubbing slow circles. You cannot stop the moans from falling out as the beginning of your orgasm starts to pool in your belly,

It’s coming and you know she can feel it too.  Her hips pushing up, as you both approached climax. 

You stare into her eyes as you ride her. Only knowing one name as you cum. Hers. You tighten around her, and you can feel yourself pulse as it floods through you. She keeps going so you can ride out her orgasm

You slump into her neck, inhaling in her familiar scent, neither of you moves for a while.

“I think I like you,” you whisper. 

You feel her chuckle into your neck at your silly declaration. She smiles into your neck. 

“I couldn’t tell.”

[king-finnigan]

Play With Fire - part 11

Warnings! Torture! Lots of it! And murder! (sorry, stregobor)(sike)

Genuinely though, heed the warnings. Seriously.

Masterlist!

***

He pulls the knife back, out of Stregobor’s cheek, tears and blood running down the skin into his mousey grey beard. Geralt looks at it for a second, listens to the muffled sobs of the man in front of him, revels in the power he feels coursing through his veins.

“Well, shit,” Jaskier breathes out behind him, and Geralt looks back, unsure.

“Too much?”

Jaskier shakes his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “No, love, not at all. You mind waiting for a second, though?”

Geralt nods, and watches as Jaskier takes another chair from the kitchen table, dragging it over until it’s opposite Stregobor. He sits down on it, elbows on his spread knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs as he bends forward. “I do love a good show.”

Geralt grins, turning back to Stregobor, who’s now trying to yell at him through the bloodied ribbon, crimson still streaming down his cheek and neck. Geralt frowns. “Sorry, what was that?” He pulls the cloth out.

Stregobor’s chest is heaving, eyes wild and angry, as he stares at Geralt. “You sick son of a bitch. You’ll pay for this, I’ll make you goddamn p-”

His words are cut off as Geralt stuffs the cloth back into his mouth. “Yeah, I’ve heard enough.” He digs his thumb in the wound in Stregobor’s cheek, brushing against bloody teeth. He turns back to Jaskier as the man in front of them screams, muffled. “What do you reckon? Cut his tongue out to keep him quiet?”

Jaskier sighs, leaning his chin in one hand. “Dunno. I think that’s up to him.” He looks past Geralt, at Stregobor. “Are you going to insult my love again?”

Stregobor frantically shakes his head, grey eyes wide and scared. Jaskier shrugs. “’mkay, he can keep his tongue, I guess.” He reaches over to the dinner table, taking a bowl of grapes. “These yours?” he asks Stregobor, who nods. Jaskier chuckles, as he pops a grape into his mouth. “Not anymore.”

Geralt frowns. “Did you even eat anything substantial the past couple of days?”

Jaskier shakes his head, mouth full of grapes. Geralt sighs, turning back to Stregobor. “Do you have any leftovers? Maybe some bread?”

He pulls the rag out, and Stregebor nods hesitantly. “I got... pasta. In the fridge?”

“Thank you.” Geralt puts the rag back in, turning to Jaskier. “Please eat something, dear, I don’t want you to faint.”

Jaskier sighs, then shrugs. “Alright, mom.” He does land a little kiss on the top of Geralt’s head, where he’s still crouched in front of Stregobor, as he walks to the fridge. “Oooh, pesto! I love pesto.”

“Right,” Geralt mutters. “Where were we?”

“You were torturing him, love,” Jaskier calls over his shoulder, as he pulls open random drawers, rummaging through them for a fork, taking a bite of the pasta when he finally finds one.

“Right.” He turns back to Stregobor once again. “You got any ideas for torturing you?” he asks the man. Stregobor shakes his head, and Geralt sighs. “Like I said: I’m a bit new to all this stuff.” He pulls out his phone. “Let me google it.”

He hears Jaskier snort behind him. Then: “You could pull his nails out.” Stregobor lets out a muffled cry of protest. “No?” Jaskier asks. “Hmm. Maybe break some of his bones? Cut him up some more? Scalp him? Pour boiling water on him? Choke him? Burn him? Ooh, that’d be an interesting one. I know you like to play with fire, love.”

Geralt nods, putting his phone back in his pocket. He turns his face back up to Stregobor. “Alright. You choose. And if you don’t, I’ll choose for you.”

He pulls the rag out and Stregobor breathes a few shaky breaths. “Please don’t-”

Geralt stuffs the rag back in. “Right. Guess I’ll choose, then.” He considers his options for a bit, mind blank except for the wheel of torture, turning in his head, as he waits for the little black arrow to land on something. Finally: “I really hope you’re not too attached to your nails.”

They tear up one of the curtains, taking off the cuffs and tying Stregobor’s hands to the arms of the chair, and his calves to the legs, for good measure - in case he tries to kick Geralt.

The man sobs and screams as Geralt wedges one of the knives under the nail of his index finger. He tries to pull it up, frowns when he meets too much resistance. “Jaskier?” he asks, and he feels his love’s presence behind him.

“Try wiggling it around a bit, detach more of the nail before you take it off.” His voice is a bit muffled, undoubtedly stuffed with pasta.

Geralt nods. “Right, good idea.” He moves the blade from side to side, ignoring the muffled screams above him, as blood streams down the arm and leg of the chair, onto the once so white carpet.

He tries again, moving the knife up, and this time he succeeds - the nail falls on the floor. He moves his other hand up, thumb pressing into the reddened and raw flesh, feeling the soft and slippery texture of it, mixed with the warmth of the blood. 

Stregobor suddenly grows limp, his head falling forward. Geralt startles, pushing his hand against the man’s neck, sighing in relief when he feels a pulse.

“Did he pass out?” Jaskier asks behind him, and Geralt nods, smiling a bit when his love lets out a quiet sound of disappointment.

He turns back to Jaskier, who’s sitting in the chair again, cross-legged, elbows on his knees, chin on his fists. “Maybe slap him around ‘til he wakes up? Throw some water over him?” he asks.

Jaskier shrugs, the interest in those pale, blue eyes quickly dwindling, now that Stregobor is no longer conscious. “We haven’t got all night, we still gotta kill De Vries before either she or Stregobor are expected at work tomorrow morning.” He shrugs again. “Maybe pull out some more nails and see if he wakes up?”

Geralt nods, turning back to Stregobor, as Jaskier starts inspecting his own nails, face passive and a bit annoyed. As Geralt wedges the blade under the next nail, Jaskier starts humming softly.

“Hmm. What song is that?” The nail comes off pretty quickly, now that he knows the proper technique. He moves on to the next one. Stregobor is still unconscious.

“’Everybody wants to rule the world’,” Jaskier replies. Geralt chuckles, shaking his head lightly.

“And do you?” he asks, as he takes off the next nail. “Want to rule the world?”

He hears Jaskier laugh, then the rustling of clothes and footsteps, as his love walks towards him, laying his chin on Geralt’s head, watching as he works. “Love, I already do.”

Geralt laughs. “Can’t argue with that.” 

Stregobor wakes up again, and immediately starts screaming, muffled through the fabric. “Ah, good, you’re back,” Jaskier says. “Hey, I have an idea. What if we don’t take off the next nail?” Stregobor sighs in relief, tears streaming down his cheeks. “What if we take off the whole finger instead?”

The man starts pleading through the rag in his mouth. Geralt sighs, digging his thumb in the raw, exposed flesh of one of the fingers. Stregobor screams. “Stop begging, it’s not gonna help. It’s annoying.”

He moves his head up slightly, and Jaskier leans forward, pecking a small kiss to Geralt’s forehead. “What do you think?”

Geralt shrugs. “Works for me.” 

Jaskier leans his chin on Geralt’s head again, as he tries to take Stregobor’s ring finger. He sighs in annoyance as the man tries to curl it under his palm, tries to pull his hand back. “Stop it.” Stregobor doesn’t listen, and Geralt jams the knife into the top of his hand, through muscle and bone, into the wood of the chair.

Stregobor screams again, as Geralt holds his hand up. Jaskier puts another knife in it, and he curls his fingers around the handle. “I told you to stop it. I warned you.” He roughly grabs Stregobor’s chin, his thumb digging into the wound in his cheek, as the man sobs. “You brought this upon yourself. Understand?”

Stregobor looks at him with wide, grey eyes. Geralt clenches his jaw, a wave of annoyance washing over him, and his other hand drops the knife he’s holding, grabbing the one that’s still sticking out of Stregobor’s hand instead, twisting it around.

He waits for the man’s screams to die down. “Answer me when I ask you a question. You. Brought. This. Upon. Yourself. Understand?”

Stregobor nods shakily, and Geralt lets go of his chin, taking the knife he dropped on the ground again, putting the blade against the man’s finger as Stregobor quietly sobs.

“Gods, you’re so hot when you do things like that,” Jaskier whispers.

They hear sirens in the distance, and Geralt frowns. “You think someone called the cops?” He looks back, and Jaskier shrugs. 

“Don’t know.” He thinks for a second. “Maybe best if we wrap it up here. We shouldn’t push our luck by staying too long.”

Geralt nods. “You’re right.” He turns back to Stregobor. “Looks like you got off easy.”

“Should I do it, or do you wanna do it?” Jaskier asks, as Stregobor’s grey eyes flit between them, panicked. 

Geralt contemplates his options for half a second. “You do it,” he says, as he hands the knife back to Jaskier. 

His love nods, as Geralt pulls the other knife out of Stregobor’s hand, watching as his love goes to stand behind the chair, taking the man’s chin into his hand, tilting his head back.

“See you in hell,” Jaskier whispers to Stregobor, before he cuts his throat.

Geralt rolls his eyes, as the man struggles for a few seconds, blood streaming down his front. “You’re so dramatic.”

Jaskier laughs, and leans forward as Geralt stands up from where he’d been crouching, kissing him softly. 

Stregobor goes limp, and Jaskier moves to the kitchen, taking a towel, wiping down the knives and Stregobor’s skin where Geralt touched him. He turns on the tap, throwing the towel in the sink. “There. Now they won’t know you were here.”

Geralt smiles, pulling his love flush against him. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

Jaskier kisses him again, arms curling around his neck. “Love,” he whispers back, “that’s all you. I just gave you the first push.” He extracts himself from Geralt’s grip, flinging the front door open. “Now, let’s go. We have someone to kill, still.”

Geralt laughs, and follows Jaskier out of the house, leaving Stregobor’s slowly cooling body behind, still seated in the chair, in the middle of the room.

***

Tag list babey! (If you want to be added, just send me a DM or an ask, or put it in the comments, whatever suits you):

@just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard, @dandelionslute, @weakforjaskier, @the-blondey, @shipwrecked-nawtali, @bygodstillam, @rum-cream, @random-nerd-3, @allthethingshappening, @agentlewomanandascholar, @tschulijulesjulie, @noobtiedoo, @foddle-the-fiddler, @thenameislion-dandelion, @skai6, @thesmileyplant, @hysteria347, @pensandknittingneedles, @freak-fee-blog, @whenrainbowsend, @flustratedcas, @negatjazzy, @bridgehampton, @lookinforsomeabsinth, @dandelion-and-the-wolf, @sweetieplum

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze (21/25)

Previous

__________________

Jaskier sang giddily as he practically skipped towards his classroom. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, the birds were singing and he was in love. He simply couldn’t be happier. Half term had been blissful. He’d spent the end of the week tucked up in the studio with Priscilla recording a few songs for a new album. If he’d used fire based metaphors liberally then who could really blame him? He had a hot fireman boyfriend and it was so very nearly the summer holidays. Just a few weeks left. Melitele bless the summer term.

“Morning, Jaskier.” Triss greeted him with a wave.

She was wearing a pale blue summer dress with roses embroidered into the fabric. He envied her slightly. His shirt was probably the thinnest one he owned, that wasn’t see through, and luckily Tissaia allowed them to wear short sleeves. Shorts, however, were another matter. Apparently shorts were unprofessional and they had to wear trousers. He’d considered turning up in a dress, he had a lovely white chiffon dress that he’d stolen from Pris back when they were still dating and never wanted to give back. Unfortunately, he was already walking the wire with his more liberal teaching views and he was almost positive he wouldn’t last the day if he turned up wearing a dress. So he was in his long trousers, pale yellow shirt and a dark red tie. He fucking hated wearing a tie, but he was determined to be on his best behaviour until the end of term.

“Good morning, Triss!” He beamed at his friend and gave a little bow, his fringe flopping in front of his eyes.

Triss laughed, the freckles on her skin seemed to have doubled over the week off. She must have been enjoying the sun. She looked relaxed, the tension from her shoulders was gone and her soft brown eyes were practically twinkling. “You seem happy?” She asked as she ran a hand through her thick curls.

Jaskier tilted his head as he thought back on his own half term. The benefit of having Yennefer in the know was that she’d been able to cover for them and managed to trick Lambert into babysitting Ciri over one lunch time whilst Geralt snuck out to see Jaskier. It hadn’t been for very long but they’d made pancakes with bacon and maple syrup for lunch, which led to some very sticky sweet kisses. Geralt had returned to Ciri with flour over his shirt and a set of terrible excuses. Yennefer hadn’t been impressed when Geralt blamed the mess on her. Ciri had been equally unimpressed when she’d learnt that Geralt had gone for lunch with ‘Yennefer’ without inviting his daughter along.

Jaskier didn’t envy Geralt. Living alone meant that Jaskier didn’t have to make such excuses and it was his job that was causing them such a fuss. He would have to make it up to his boyfriend in the summer when the both had more time.

He grinned soppily and sighed. “Yeah.”

Triss cackled. “Oooh I know that look!” She rested her chin on her hands. “You, Mr Pankratz, are in love!”

Jaskier blanched. “What?!”

“The idiotic smiles and the simpering sighs. It’s like with Geralt all over again!” Triss raised an eyebrow at him.

Jaskier laughed nervously. “No, no. Absolutely not. Not in love. I… got a new instrument!”

Triss just looked at him, clearly not impressed.

“A trumpet!” He announced. “A very beautiful instrument, it’s silver plated. Oh and you should hear the sound it makes, so rich.”

Triss giggled. “Right, So does this silver plated trumpet have a name? Or do you just like to blow it?”

“Triss Merigold!” He gaped.

She had a point but in his defence he really had bought a new trumpet. He wasn’t sure when he was going to get round to learning how to play but it had just looked so sad and lonely in the shop. The silver varieties really did produce the most beautiful sounds, he’d always meant to give the brass section a go, but he’d gotten hooked on stringed instruments and keyboards. The flute was alright, but the trumpet was loud and bold and unafraid.

Not to mention that the way the light had bounced off the silver plated instrument had reminded him of Geralt’s hair.

Triss didn’t need to know that.

“What ever happened between you and Geralt?” Triss asked more quietly.

Jaskier sighed and hopped up to sit on her desk, ignoring her protests as the desk pen was knocked into her lap.

It was time to act.

He owed her at least some explanation after he’d sobbed all over her. He sighed again, more dramatically this time, trying to set the scene.

“Well, my dear Ms Merigold.” He tossed his hair from his eyes. “It was a slightly chilly autumn day, last September if memory serves me well.”

“Jaskier, get to the point” Triss prodded his arm. “And off my desk!”

“I fell in love, like a star falls through the sky. It was magical and beautiful, burning ever so brightly.” He brushed his hand in the air in front of him as he pictured the light of the star streaking across the sky. “But just like a falling star, it flashed before my eyes and faded back into the darkness before I could even find the words to describe the sheer perfection of its beauty, nay its resplendence.”

Triss groaned and shoved him hard so he fell off the desk, he barely managed to keep on his feet as he stumbled across the floor.

“Oi!” He spluttered. “You asked!”

“You could have just said you’ve moved on.” Triss pointed out.

Jaskier winked. “Oh well, now where’s the fun in that, my darling?”

Triss smiled sadly. “It’s a shame.”

Jaskier put a hand on his hips. “And why is that?” He asked hiding his glee, he felt a pang of guilt about deceiving his friend but it was for the best.

Triss shrugged. “I just thought you could have been good together. Esk thought so too.”

“Esk?” Jaskier teased.

Triss tried to hide her smile and glared at him. “Eskel, we’ve been hanging out.”

“Ooh, hanging out.” Jaskier gave her a cheeky smily.

Triss threw a pen at him and he had to duck out of the way. “Get out of here, Jask.” She snapped but he could see the barely concealed laughter in her eyes.

“I’m filing a grievance!” He called out as he picked up her pen and pocketed it. Pens were like gold dust in this place. He’d never managed to keep one for more than a week before it got lost, or more likely stolen.

“No!” She called after him. “Give that back!”

He spun back round with wide arms and a grin on his face. “Give what back?” He cackled.

“Jaskier!” Triss shouted.

“Farewell, my dear!” He giggled as he scarpered off towards his classroom.

__________________

His classroom had been fucking hot all day and he was starting to wonder what he liked about summer so much. The kids couldn’t concentrate and quite frankly neither could he. He was ashamed to admit that his lesson plan had flown out the window, along with his sanity, and just before lunch he’d wheeled in the TV set to put on some cartoon about words and sentences that was probably better suited to a year 3 class but it was just hot and the children enjoyed the cartoons. It had taken a while for them to work out how to get the subtitles to work on the old video cassette but the kids kept shouting out ideas until they found the right button.

He’d even let Filavandrel and his class in on his masterful plan. They had both sat at the back the classroom fanning themselves with a text book. Filavandrel was a peculiar person. Not the sort of man Jaskier would have pegged for a primary school teacher, but then Valdo Marx hadn’t been either. Filavandrel was a regal fellow, it was best description Jaskier had, slightly haughty with a definite superiority complex and a disdain for his fellow teachers. The only person that he had seen Filavandrel talking to during break times was Francesca Findabair, who taught the Daisies, one of the year four classes.

Still Jaskier wasn’t one to judge. Filavandrel was at least tolerant towards him, which is more than could be said for some of the other teachers. He’d been downright hostile towards some of the staff.

He rolled the TV set back down the corridors to the storage room. His kids were out on lunch, hopefully staying in the shade. He felt sorry for who ever was on playground duty this week. He was more than happy to stay inside in the scolding heat.

By the time he’d made it to the staffroom there weren’t any seats left so happily plopped himself on the carpet with a contented sigh and closed his eyes. The ground wasn’t exactly a fluffy cloud but he’d been on his feet most of the morning trying to keep his Buttercups focussed and he was tired.

He felt the shadow creep over him as the staffroom fell silent. He opened his eyes and looked up to find Tissaia de Vries staring down at him. Even in the hot weather she was wearing a full length skirt and long sleeved blouse. He didn’t know how she was coping.

“Mr Pankratz, my office, now.” She said sharply. There was a sadness in her eyes that he couldn’t place, and she’d called him Mr Pankratz rather than Jaskier.

Cock.

He scrambled to his feet and brushed down his trousers. He chewed his lip anxiously as she left the room. “Fucking cock balls.” He moaned and shuffled his weight, flexing his fingers and digging his nails into his palms.

“What did you do?” Triss asked quietly.

An excellent question, hopefully it was his spontaneous video lesson, but he’d checked and no one else had the TV booked out for that period! Perhaps it was another parent complaining that he’d dared to mention that anything other than heteronormative lives existed. He frowned, had Tissaia been psychic and known that he’d almost worn his dress to work?

Fuck!

The only other thing it could be.

No.

They’d been careful.

He felt sick. “I don’t know.” He stammered. “I’ll. Umm. I’ll see you later I guess.”

The walk towards Tissaia’s office was the longest walk of his life. He had to stop twice to lean up against the wall to catch his breath. He almost ran to the toilet once to throw up but managed to keep his lunch down, just about. He stood outside her office feeling about two feet tall, and five years old again. The last time he had felt so small and helpless was standing outside of his father’s office after he’d come out to them over dinner.

That had been his last dinner at his parent’s house.

“Mr Pankratz, please stop hovering and come in.” Tissaia called through the door.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath before plastering a smile on his face, hoping he could charm his way out of this one, or maybe he could set the school on fire and Geralt could come and rescue him? No. That was a terrible idea.

His heart pounded in his chest as he walked into the office. Not only was Tissaia there, but Philippa Eilhart was perched at her shoulder looking like a fierce warrior who was about to charge into battle.

“Ah. Ms Eilhart!” He stammered. “You are looking radiant as always.”

“Sit down, Mr Pankratz.” Philippa said in lieu of a greeting.

He dropped down into the sit opposite Tissaia’s desk. “And Tissaia can I just say, I love what you’ve done with the office.”

“Jaskier.” Tissaia sighed with a shake of her head.

“Right. Ok then.” He mumbled and smiled sheepishly up at the two women, feeling a little like one of his kids. “Can I ask why I’m here then?”

“We would tell you if you just stop talking.” Philippa answered sharply.

Tissaia’s face was a mask of indifference. Jaskier couldn’t work out what the hell was going on and he certainly would not want to play gwent against the headmistress. She just gave nothing away. Philippa on the other hand was a brewing storm, a blizzard of ice.

Jaskier was fucking terrified.

“We should probably start by saying what an asset you’ve been to the school, Jaskier.” Tissaia started calmly. “Whilst your teaching methods have been… controversial at times, it’s no secret how much the children adore you, and they always leave your class as the best versions of themselves.”

Jaskier beamed at the compliment, that was better than he’d been expecting. Perhaps he’d read the whole situation wrong. “Thank you, I really do try to understand their individual needs and make sure I’m teaching a wide and diverse syllabus. I think the music helps, the government really doesn’t understand the importance of the arts in helping to develop creativity and problem solving skills, not to mention communication skills and learning that it’s alright to have hobbies for the fun of it. Music really just brings people together, and I think—”

“Mr Pankratz!” Philippa snapped before regaining her composure. “That’s quite enough about what you think. Here’s what I think.”

“Right, yeah. Well…” Jaskier mumbled.

“What I think” She said ignoring him “is that I’ve had several reports about the nature of your relationship with Mr Geralt Rivia.”

Jaskier felt as if his heart had stopped in his chest.

“Ciri’s father?” He asked quietly.

“One and the same.” Philippa raised an eyebrow at him. “The allegations, Mr Pankratz, are that you have been engaging in some vastly inappropriate conversations with another member of staff about Geralt’s looks.”

“That’s not a crime!” Jaskier protested.

“Conversations which if they’d been about a female would have reported as sexist and misogynistic, and highly inappropriate, especially regarding a parent of a child that is in your class.” Philippa stepped forward and peered at him intensely. Her eyes were jet black and he felt like he was staring into a blackhole. Around her neck was a long silver chain, a heavy owl pendant with bright yellow eyes gazed back at him.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but he had no excuses. She was right. He’d been careless at the beginning, too stunned by Geralt’s beauty to know how to keep his mouth shut.

“What’s more is that there have been allegations that because of your infatuation with Mr Rivia, you have been treating Ciri more favourably in class.” Philippa added.

“That’s not true!” Jaskier cried. “How the fuck have I been treating her any differently to any of the others?”

“Watch your language, Jaskier.” Tissaia chided sharply.

“I demand to know!” He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to know.”

“You spent longer speaking with Mr Rivia at parents’ evening in October, which incidentally I saw for myself at the beginning of term. You have met with Mr Rivia on multiple occasions outside of school.” Philippa smirked.

“Who told you that?” Jaskier asked incredulously. His fingers began to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, he so sorely wished that he had a notebook or his guitar. He needed to do something! Anything. He settled for shuffling his weight, hopping from one foot to the other.

“I’m afraid we can’t disclose that, Jaskier.” Tissaia said softly.

At least she had the decency to look guilty at the accusations. Ms Eilhart seemed to be delighting in his suffering.

“When did these alleged meetings occur?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“Mostly between January and March. Although you were also seen getting a taxi with Mr Rivia at the wildfire the other day.” Philippa stared at him without blinking, a smile dancing on her lips.

Jaskier spun round and flung his arms in the air.

“Is someone stalking me?” He yelled. “What? Do you want a breakdown of every time I’ve seen Geralt outside of school and why? Is that it?”

“Jaskier, calm down!” Tissaia snapped without raising her voice.

“Ok, I’ll give you a breakdown!” He put one hand on his hip and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Jaskier.” Tissaia sighed.

“No. no. If I’m to be accused, let’s make sure the facts are quite clear.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him to shut his fucking mouth for once in his life.

He didn’t listen.

“Yes. I have seen Geralt outside of school. Yes, I find him attractive. That is not something I can control and I won’t apologise for it either, but I will admit that I have said some things that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for that. I started seeing Geralt outside of school after parents’ evening at the end of October, so you can correct that on your little list of all my wrong doings. We ran out of time on parents’ evening, this is not me favouring Ciri. Ciri is just more complicated than my other students. On the surface she appears to be coping very well with her trauma but she’s young and I am worried that she’s not processed it properly.”

“So you admit to spending more time on her.” Philippa’s smile made his toes curl, and not in a good way.

“Because her needs require more time. This is no different to me spending my weekends learning sign language because Dara’s needs require it!” Jaskier pointed out. “Geralt had concerns and quite frankly so did I. Ciri expressed an interest in learning to play the guitar, we both thought it would be a good way for her to work through some of the things that might have been bothering her. We talked about different instruments and I suggested a few good teachers.”

“You were seen out drinking with Geralt’s colleagues.” Philippa noted, writing something down in her notebook.

“Lambert is a fan of my band. Geralt mentioned it and I reached out to Lambert to say thank you. My band is not very well known so it was nice to meet a fan.” Jaskier put his other hand on his hips. “They are good people. We became friends, or am I not allowed to make friends outside of school now?”

“These gentlemen are people that Ciri considers to be family. So I’m afraid not.” Philippa said cooly.

Jaskier scoffed. “Istredd is dating Yennefer, not to mention half the staff are friends with Yennefer. Triss is dating Eskel, Ciri’s uncle. Why am I not allowed to be friends with my colleague’s partners just because Ciri is in my class?”

Philippa narrowed her eyes at him, but Tissaia looked away with a small smile.

Point to Jaskier!

Ha!

“That is different.” Philippa insisted.

“It is not!” He countered firmly. “And just for the record I saw the news about the wildfire. I was curious and I was not the only person there. There were dozens of people watching the firefighters. I wanted to make sure my friends, plural, were ok. Geralt came over when he saw me, the others left without him. It was cheaper to share a taxi back to town.”

“It was inappropriate.” Philippa said sharply, her voice was brimming with cool anger.

Jaskier could almost feel the sparks in the air as she pinned him down with an icy stare.

“Please don’t suspend me.” He pleaded. “Not now, I can’t leave my kids now.”

Philippa appraised him with eyes, not dissimilar to a shark hunting its prey.

“Please.” He repeated as he dropped back down into his seat. “I will stay away from Geralt. Just, please let me finish the term.”

Philippa glanced at Tissaia. “And what do you suggest, headmistress?”

Tissaia smiled at him with an almost maternal fondness. “Jaskier is one of the best primary school teachers this school has ever had. Not only is he great with the children, but he is committed to bringing diversity and equality to the school. Suspending him now would do more harm than good.”

“And what would I say to those who claim his objectification of Mr Rivia is no better than the comments made by those who have been suspended?” Philippa asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“I would say that Jaskier was foolish but he only ever wears his heart on his sleeve. I believe, whilst ill-judged, he only said those things out of a deep fondness and respect for Mr Rivia. That being said, it would not be right for there to be no reprimand for his, or Triss’s behaviour at the start of term.” Tissaia’s words were calculated and Jaskier almost fell out of his chair in relief.

She was defending him.

Philippa nodded. “Very well. Jaskier, I will be writing to you with a formal decision regarding any action that the school board will be taking. You will have an opportunity to challenge this should you think it’s unfair. In the meantime please cease any contact you have with Geralt and Ciri’s family outside of school. Is that understood?”

Jaskier gaped.

He’d gotten away with it.

Sort of.

“Umm, actually I do have a couple of questions?” He raised his hand awkwardly.

Philippa rolled her eyes. “Go on, make it quick.”

“What if Triss, or Istredd invite me out to the pub and Eskel and the others are there?” He asked, tapping out a rhythm with his fingers on the desk in front of him.

“Then you find a way to politely decline.” Philippa answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what about when term ends?” Jaskier asked, desperately trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Why would that change anything?” Philippa asked, her dark eyes piercing into his soul.

“Oh well, I wouldn’t be Ciri’s teacher? I could… be friends with them again?” He tried a smile but his stomach was twisting and he could taste bile in the back of his throat.

Philippa laughed darkly. “Tread carefully, Mr Pankratz. You’re dismissed.”

“Oh hey, no, but you haven’t answered—”

“Out. Now.” Philippa cut him off.

“But that’s not fair!” He protested.

“Jaskier.” Tissaia’s eyes were warning him to shut up but once more he didn’t listen.

“This fucking bullshit.” He snapped as he kicked his chair out from underneath him. “Bollocks to the lot of it.”

He stormed from the room in a fury.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

He considered going home sick. He was too hot, too tired and bloody fuming, but his kids. They needed him.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. He still had another ten minutes of break time left. He hit the speed dial, praying that Geralt would answer.

It rang twice before he heard Geralt’s voice hum through phone. Jaskier finally felt as if he could breathe again. He looked behind him at Tissaia’s office and then trotted off towards his classroom as he spoke.

“Dear heart?” He asked, his voice shaking more than he would like.

“Hmm?” Geralt answered ever so eloquently.

“There’s been a slight problem.” He sighed quietly.

“Ciri?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No. Not her.”

“Spit it out.” Geralt grumbled.

“Alright, moody.” Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Sorry. Long shift.” Geralt sighed.

“Tell me about it.” Jaskier agreed. “Tissaia asked to speak to me, with Philippa Eilhart.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup.” Jaskier agreed.

“Is everything alright?” Geralt asked quietly.

Jaskier thought about it. “I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

“I’ll ask Renfri if she can look after Ciri tonight after I’ve put her to bed.” Geralt suggested. “I can come over.”

“Does she know?” Jaskier frowned.

“She guessed.”

“Oh.” Jaskier sighed. “Right.”

“Jask?” Geralt whispered.

“No. It’s alright. I’m fine, dear heart.” Jaskier lied, but he’d promised Tissaia and Philippa that he would stay away from Geralt until the end of term. He had to at least try. “I’ll see you once term is over.”

“No.” Geralt groaned.

“Love, please” Jaskier whined. “Don’t be difficult.”

“Are we ok?” Geralt asked in hushed tones.

Are you breaking up with me?

That was the real question.

“Of course we are, three things?” Jaskier asked gently.

“Chocolate chip pancakes, cornflowers, chamomile tea.” Geralt answered without missing a beat.

Jaskier let the hidden meaning behind those words wash over him, let them clear away his doubts and fears.

“I adore my Buttercups, my darling, you know that.” He answered with a sigh. “I’m just not sure whether teaching is what pleases me anymore, not if I can’t have you.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled.

“Summer, my dear. If we can’t be free then, well… I always did want to become a musician.” His heart clenched in his chest.

“Three things.” Geralt stated firmly.

Jaskier froze.

Geralt had never asked him that before.

He couldn’t find the words.

How could he choose just three things that made him happy?

“Not sure I can beat chocolate chip pancakes.” He teased.

Geralt hummed but didn’t answer.

Jaskier took a deep breath. “The way the moonlight shines on a river and changes the world into one of magic and power and intrigue, the golden eyes of a wolf as it watches its cub play in the woods, the warmth of being known and loved by someone I adore.”

Geralt was silent on the other end of the line.

Jaskier laughed nervously. “So umm. There’s that.”

“When is the end of term?” Geralt asked.

“Not soon enough.” Jaskier replied with a dramatic sigh.

“Hmm. IOU.” Geralt mumbled. “Fuck, I need to go.”

Jaskier smirked. He really should have kept a tally of all the kisses that Geralt now owed him, and vice versa.

“Stay safe, my darling.” He replied just as Geralt hung up.

He sighed as he reached his classroom, his eyes drifting over the paper buttercups that covered his door.

What made him happy?

What pleased him…

He wasn’t lying when he told Geralt that he wasn’t sure anymore, but was he really going to give up his career for a relationship that probably wouldn’t even last?

He pushed open the door and then turned to lean on it, sliding to the floor with a long groan.

It was going to be a long three weeks before the summer holidays.

____

Next

[cami-chats]

Being In Love

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Pairing: Geralt/Renfri

Warnings: Brief mention of past non-con

Realizing she was in love with Geralt was less 'oh' and more 'ah shit'. That's literally what she thought when she realized it. Jaskier had been rehearsing his lines, and when he asked Geralt if he thought it was funny, he'd just hmm'd. Renfri had laughed at that, and that was when it hit her: she was in love with him. Ah shit. Plenty of people fell in love with Geralt, and he'd turned them all down. He hadn't given a reason, and as far as she knew, he wasn't aro. He just... hadn't been interested. She was his best friend, sure, but that was because she hadn't looked at him and fallen immediately in lust so he gave their possible friendship a try and here they were. With her in the exact position she didn't want to be in. 

She was in the coffee shop where Yennefer worked now-- managed technically, though how she got that position after only working there for six months, Renfri had no idea-- with her laptop open as she kept a careful eye on the bid for a set of daggers. She didn't care about all of them, just that one stiletto dagger with the red jewel on the end. She'd probably turn around and resell the others if she won this-- which she was determined to do. 

Geralt took the seat next to her, and she didn't think anything about it; they always sat next to each other. "Black Swan's out," he said as he reached into his bag his own computer. 

"I saw." Damn, someone just raised the bid by fifty bucks. Was this person made of money? She glared at the screen as she entered a new amount. If her parents hadn't left all their money to her when they died, she'd be so screwed right now. 

"Want to go tonight?" 

"What time?" She had to get up early tomorrow to meet with her Women in Medieval History teacher, so she didn't want to be out too late. Dr. de Vries was a great professor, but she could be a little ruthless if she thought Renfri wasn’t paying complete attention to her. 

"Seven." 

"Sure." 

Geralt plugged in his charger and opened it up, scowling at the world at large as he worked on his essay. 

"Hello friends!" Jaskier proclaimed, throwing his bag on the table and sitting across from them, his elbow resting on the table so he could lean his head into his hand. "How are we this fine afternoon?" 

"Busy," Geralt and Renfri said at the same time. 

"Are you messaging each other?" he asked, peering over to try and see what was on their screens. Geralt flicked him in the nose. "Oh alright, keep your secrets." He rubbed at his nose and sat back down. "Any plans tonight?" 

"We're going to see Black Swan," Renfri said, refreshing the page to make sure she hadn't been outbid again. 

"Sounds like fun, can I come?" 

"No," Geralt said immediately. Renfri glanced at him but didn't comment. As much as they joked about Jaskier talking too much, they'd all gone to the movies before. 

"What? Why not?" 

Geralt just glared at him. 

"Fine. Fine, leave me alone on a Friday night like a pathetic loser with no friends." 

"No," Yennefer said, appearing behind him and making him jump, "you're a pathetic loser with almost three friends. Why are they leaving you alone on a Friday night?" 

"They're going to see Black Swan, and I'm not invited." 

"Black Swan?" she repeated, perking up. 

"You're not invited either," Geralt said, before she could say anything further. 

She pouted, but he was unmoved. "Fine. I just need to finish up inventory in the storeroom and then I'll be done." 

Renfri didn't think anything of it at the time-- too busy winning the auction! She paid through the nose for it, but by Lilit that dagger was worth it-- but once she was back in her apartment, she frowned. Geralt often acted like he didn't want any friends, but he never refused plans outright unless he had a reason. He must have a reason for this, but she didn't know what the hell that could be. So something about this must be different. Did he need to tell her something? Oh fuck he's dying. Wait, no. Geralt wouldn't tell anyone he was dying until he was already dead. Safe there, but did he still need to break some sort of news? But that didn't make sense either. People found things out about him, he didn't volunteer the information. Hell, Renfri hadn't known his parents were dead until she'd tried to invite them to Geralt's birthday party-- a party he'd protested but had fun at all the same, thank you very much. 

She was overthinking this, nothing was going on. Yennefer and Jaskier could both be assholes to watch movies with, sometimes it was fine, other times it wasn't and clearly this was one of the latter. 

And that belief stayed with her until Geralt showed up at her apartment. Dressed up. He was wearing a button-up. And Jaskier hadn't bribed him. He'd combed his hair to resemble something neat, and he was even wearing jeans that were free of holes or grease stains from where he worked. Suddenly, her haphazard ponytail at the base of her neck and the hoodie seemed terribly inappropriate. 

"I wasn't paying attention to the time," she lied. "Let me change real quick." 

He nodded and took a seat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest for lack of anything else to do. 

First thing, she took out the elastic and ran her fingers through her hair. She ducked into her room and pulled off her hoodie and t-shirt, throwing it carelessly on the ground. She had a date night shirt around here somewhere, she just needed to find it. She opened her closet, grabbed the first dressy shirt she saw and put it on. She finished buttoning it, then glanced in the mirror and grimaced. This was the shirt she wore when Yennefer dragged her to parties. Translucent white with big red rose designs and little ruffles to make up the capped sleeves. It might be a button up, but it was low cut by design. She thought about changing again, but she wasn't going to risk them being late; this would have to do. 

She headed back into the living room, so busy messing with her hair to make sure it wasn't caught in the collar, that she missed the interested look Geralt gave her new outfit. God was this a date? She hadn't prepared herself for a date. At all. Much less one with Geralt. What did Geralt even do on dates? Hell, what did she do on dates? She'd been on one since starting college, and then she hadn't trusted anyone for a while. If this was in fact a date, it would be her first in over two years. Maybe she should ask, make sure. 

Except then Geralt held the car door open for her, and that had to mean this was a date, right? He never did that normally. When they got to the theater, he paid for both their tickets even though they had a longstanding agreement to pay for their outings separately. And then they were in line, waiting for that screening to open, and he cleared his throat and said, "You look nice." 

"Oh. Um, thanks." She had definitely chosen the wrong shirt for this. "You look nice too." That sounded insincere, so she added, "I didn't know you had pants that clean." 

He snorted, and this was more normal footing. "I never wear them." 

"They make your ass look pretty phenomenal." 

"My goal in life," he said drily. 

"I'm just saying. You're guaranteed to get laid if you go on a date wearing them." Damn. She used to be suave, can you believe that? If they were definitely here as friends though, that would've been a perfectly fine thing to say. 

"Hm," he said, but it was noncommittal. God damn it, this was a date and she’d just said that.

Someone in line was eyeing her a little too much, and she shifted, putting an arm around Geralt's waist. He didn't pause, his arm going over her shoulders automatically. It was a common bit they did, since Geralt was intimidating enough that no one wanted to risk hitting on his girlfriend. Of course, now that they were (probably) on a date, it only served to make her heartbeat quicken instead of easing her mind. 

They got into their seats without further incident, and she shivered. She knew that movie theaters were cold, and she hadn’t brought a jacket. Unprompted, Geralt put his arm back around her and pulled her close, his body a line of heat against hers. The music started playing, the lights dimmed, and the movie began. 

The boss of the ballet showed up, and Renfri leaned in to whisper, "He's a predator." 

"Yeah." 

She didn't bother to move back into her own seat because Geralt was plenty comfortable to lean on. Hell, over the course of their friendship she'd learned that he didn't make a bad pillow, either. A couple minutes later, she was proven right about the character, not that it was a surprise. She snorted, tucking hair behind her ear from where it had fallen out when she moved. 

They walked out of the theater, not knowing exactly what they had watched. "That was..." 

"Weird," Geralt supplied, and she nodded. 

"Good, but weird. And I could have done without the assault plot points." 

"Unnecessary," he grunted. See, it's stuff like that they made them such great friends. 

They got back to her apartment, and Geralt hovered awkwardly in the doorway like he wasn't sure if he needed an official invitation or not. "Get in here, Witcher," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've been here a hundred times." It was a bit different since they'd just gone on a date, but for the most part it was the same. He was still her best friend, and she was still perfectly comfortable around him. 

"Hmm." He stepped in and closed the door, but he was staying near the entrance instead of making himself at home like he normally did. 

Renfri sighed. "It's the shirt isn't it?" 

Geralt said nothing, but it was enough. 

"I didn't know it was a date until you showed up. I grabbed the first thing I saw," she said with a shrug. 

"Hmm." 

"Oh don't give me that, I was happy to go on a date with you, I just didn't know that's what it was. You want a beer?" 

"Yeah." At the offer, he started acting normally, taking the bottle from her and sitting on the couch. "Weird movie." 

"I was hoping for a little more dancing, but I should've known better. It's not like Portman's a dancer, she's an actress." 

"A good one." 

"A good one," Renfri agreed, "but not a ballerina. The whole rivalry plotline seemed... contrived." 

He grunted in agreement, taking a sip. "Good effects." 

"Damn good effects," she said. 

Everything was normal. That leading to them fucking on her bed, well, that was less normal. But it was also a sight better than talking about a movie neither of them had loved. 

*

"What the fuck," she spit as a loud, persistent noise woke her up. 

It took Geralt a second to be awake enough to form words, but when he did, it was one word, more of a groan than a word, "Jaskier." 

"He's calling you? This early?" Then, "Why the hell is that your ringtone for him?" She picked up the phone, slid it to answer and said, "Fuck off!" and hung up. She sighed in relief at the blessed silence that followed. 

Only for twenty seconds, when the phone started going off again. Geralt answered it this time, leaning over her as she covered her ears and wondered how long it would take for her to go completely mad. "What," he growled. 

He was close enough-- and the room was quiet enough-- that she could hear Jaskier's side of the conversation as well. "Was that a woman answering your phone? Two questions for you, Mister Geralt: since when do you do hook ups and who is she that you've stayed the night?" 

"Jaskier," he said warningly. 

"Oh alright, but I will get the answers out of you eventually." 

"Get to the point." 

"Can you pick me up? Well, me and Yennefer. We're too drunk to drive." 

"Call a cab." 

"I can't find my wallet and the she-witch claims she can't find hers. Personally, I think she's cheap." 

Geralt groaned, head dropping to the pillow. Renfri pat him in commiseration. 

"Great! We're at the Cintra sorority house." 

He sighed. Of course that's where they were. Calanthe had banned him from going in. While he had no intention of going inside, she'd probably take it as him picking a fight if he showed up on her lawn. "Be outside." 

"Thaaaank you Geralt, you're my hero!" 

Geralt humphed and hung up. 

Renfri rubbed at her face, trying to will wakefulness into being. 

"Jaskier's an idiot," he grumbled. He pushed himself up. "See you tomorrow." 

"I'll come with you," she said, talking around her yawn. She made to get up, and he gently pushed her back down. 

"You have to get up early." 

"I'm already up," she argued, but when he kissed her forehead and got to his feet, she didn't try to follow. It's not like Geralt needed help, and she was going to have to wake up again in four hours. "Call if you need a save." 

Geralt snorted, imagining how that rescue would take place. 

"And-" she had to stop to yawn widely "-I'll see you tomorrow."

[ask-sickstuck]

May I see vriska trying to take care of sick tavros please and thank you. :)

Let’s do Tavros with chronic pain for this kind of sick! Vriska is so bad at being comforting.

Acessibility

“Oh my gooooooood,” Vriska groaned as she pushed Tavros back to the car. Someone had parked halfway into the loading area of their parking spot. The last few songs at the music festival could still be heard from the lot, but the words couldn’t be made out anymore, especially not with Vriska bitching over them.

“Vriska, we don’t even like the handicapped parking spots,” Tavros reasoned. “This uhh, isn’t remotely close. Just pull out into the street and we’ll block everyone until I’m in the car.”

“If they’re going to be an asshole and park in the handicapped spot, we’ll have to be asshole handicapped parkers,” Vriska growled. She pushed the side of Tavros’ wheelchair up against the car that parked in their spot on the way down the ramp, smiling as she heard the scratch.

“Whatever, we should still make it to meet everyone at the bar in the same amount of time,” said Vriska, flipping her hair. Leaving Tavros on the street, she started the car and backed up. Some other traffic was moving in the parking lot, but after she forced her way out, she confused the people around her trying to leave as she turned on her hazards and got out. A couple of people honked, but she simply lifted the trunk as Tavros got in her car, taking her time pulling apart his wheelchair and loading it in the back. She liked making a show, and if anyone wanted to get out and fight her for them having to struggle so much to get Tavros in the car, she was already belligerent and ready to take them out.

“Where’s the new place Terezi wanted to try?” asked Tavros. “I need to eat. I’m ready for some bar food.”

“It’s really close, and I think it’s actually pretty old. I’ve still never been there, though,” said Vriska. “Aw, shit, there’s a curb. You think you can throw yourself up onto it if I put the chair up there?”

“Yeah,” Tavros smiled weakly, unhappy about the situation.

“Hell do you think the lift is?” asked Vriska, squinting as she looked around at the building.

Tavros hung up his parking pass, struggling a bit to fit it up with all of the keychains Vriska had hanging.

“Vris?” asked Tavros.

“Huh?” she asked as she opened her door.

“I’m uhh, really low on spoons. Can you just make sure that I CAN get in before I get out of the car?”

“Yeah,” Vriska looked down and sighed. “Yeah, I can do that.” At this point, she felt sure that there wouldn’t be a lift, and that once again it didn’t occur to her that her stupid friends didn’t think about whether or not she could actually bring her boyfriend with her to hang out. Vriska went up the steps to talk to someone who worked at the bar since there wasn’t an obvious ramp or anything to be inspecting. She found Terezi and Aradia up ahead and slammed her hands down on the edge of the bar.

“Hey. Bartender. The hell’s the handicapped entrance, I’m trying to bring my matesprit in to buy drinks for me and my lovely gal pals here?” Vriska widened her eyes and nodded to both of her friends, demanding more than asking.

“Um…Hm…” the bartender thought. “Is he in a wheelchair?”

“Yes,” Vriska rolled her eyes.

“You might be able to get it up the back entrance. I think there are less steps back there. It’s a little busy, but I could come help you in a bit.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” asked Vriska. “Your bar isn’t accessible if it has steps.”

“I’ll be with you in just a few minutes,”

“God! At least have a plank of wood out there or something!” Vriska grabbed both of her friends by their collars. “Come on, bitches, let’s spend all of his money somewhere else!”

“Vriska, you’re being very obnoxious,” pointed out Aradia.

“I’m fucking pissed off! This is ridiculous!”

“They’re assholes, yeah, but this does happen to us all the time,” said Terezi. “You should be used to it.”

“Well, I’m USED to getting angry as shit about this bull! Let’s get our hot asses out of this bitch bar!”

“Vriska,” Terezi stroked Vriska’s arm. “As much as you have embarrassed us, we’re going to stay here. I doubt Tavros even wants to stay out this late at all. He’s not going to last much longer, anyways. He’ll make you take him home 1 drink in. Let’s cut our losses and split back off.”

“We’ll make other plans,” promised Aradia. “I just don’t want to go anywhere for a while,”

“Unbelievable,” Vriska threw her hands up and walked out. As she got a few steps away, she raised a middle finger in the air and yelled.

“FUCKING BITCHES! EMBARRASED NOW?” Vriska stormed out and stomped down the steps.

“Won’t work?” asked Tavros as his girlfriend got into the car.

“And nobody gives a shit,” Vriska turned on the car. “So what do you want to do? What awesome place are we going to on our own without those bitches?”

“To be honest, uhh, I’d love to just go home. I feel like shit,”

“Sounds great. We’ll watch some movies and I’ll bust out the tequila,” Vriska tapped on the steering wheel.

Usually Tavros would wheel himself around exactly where he wanted to be, but he stayed right where Vriska let go in the kitchen so she could pour some liquor. He waited on Vriska to take him back to the couch, forcing her drink in his hand so she could push. She took her drink back and sat it down on the side table, realizing that Tavros wasn’t even going to get out of his wheelchair on his own. He really was completely exhausted. Vriska reached out and dragged him onto the couch with a little grunt.

“Could you grab my medicine?”

“Yeah,” Vriska stood up, heading to the ablution block to grab Tavros’ pills. She put them in his hand and he immediately dry swallowed them.

“Thank you,”

“Not a problem. Okay. Back in our romantic hive to cuddle and see what happens,” Vriska pretended to be positive. She downed her shot of tequila and snuggled into Tavros, only to realise that she was still fuming and needed another shot already. She stood up and went back to the kitchen, swallowing a double and then pouring herself another shot to bring back to the couch for when she was ready.

“Is your medicine kicking in because WOW. MY medicine is kicking in~” Vriska nearly spilled her shot and flopped down to the couch the second the liquid was out of her hand.

“Uhh, yeah, actually,” said Tavros with a weak smile. “It’s making me sleepy.”

“Wonderful,” Vriska fake grinned and tossed back her shot. “I’ll just romantically fall asleep out here with you, and by fall asleep, I mean pass out drunk.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” said Tavros.

Vriska leaned into Tavros.

“So what movie did you put on?”

“The film version of something trashy that I’m pretty sure I saw Karkat owned,”

“Great,” said Vriska. “Just great.”

“I can change it. I just grabbed the first thing I thought might be okay,”

“Nope,” said Vriska. “I love it already.” She closed her eyes, trying to relax.

“Honey, if you keep moving, I’m not gonna be able to drift off into a sweet slumber with my man,”

“I can’t help it,” Tavros admitted. “The pain medicine for my legs makes me jittery and I just can’t stop shaking.”

“Oh. Is that what it is?” Vriska stood up and stumbled a bit. As she picked up her shot glass to refill it, she added,

“The tremors were so big that I thought it couldn’t possibly be voluntary. That’s just lovely,”

“I don’t like these side effects any more than you,”

“I know. I just thoroughly understand why they drive YOU nuts,” Vriska fake smiled. “Can’t have one damn day where something doesn’t go wrong.”

[beauty-of-sins]

Jealous!Tissaia de Vries x Fem!Reader

A/N: Happy Valentines Day! ;) I said I wouldn’t do anymore but here we are. 

Also I’m slightly tipsy soooo give me some slack here guys.

“Kneel.”

You obey immediately, kneeling in front of her couch with a curious look in your eyes. Something was off, Tissaia was gazing off into the distance with a warning in her eyes. She pats her knee and you lean forward, resting your head on her thigh. 

Her hand reaches over to her desk, rummaging around until she pulls out her pipe, already stuffed full of something. You watch her sharp eyes turn down to you expectantly. You wave a hand and it sets fire, a slight smile rises in her face.

You observe as she puts it to red-painted lips, inhales then she turns down toward you, blowing it in your face. You can recognize the slightly smoky and sweet smell from anywhere. Something or someone must have really stressed her out.  You watch her in all her glory, knowing that you are the only one that she allows to see her relax like this. 

It begins to take an effect on both you and her after a while.  You begin to feel a relaxing buzz set in as you take in her gorgeous body. You loved being underneath her, it makes you feel at peace. As if she was reading your mind, she moves, a hand drifting up to caress your face. Her touch is gentle but her nails are scratching your skin. You’ve done this enough to recognize her signature warning.  

“Have you been good?” she says, a hand goes down to your neck, lifting your head up to look you directly in your eye. You nod, a giggly smile coming out of your face at the question.

When have you not been good? You lived to serve her in any way possible. She grips your neck harshly, upon hearing your answer. Your eyes get wide at the predatory look in her face. 

“Phillipa.” 

She shows you her memories. You are excited to meet the older mage.  You hadn’t been able to attend one of her lectures before. Your shifting nervously as she congratulates you on one of your successful thesis, adding a new theory to an old branch of magic.  You blush at her praise and it deepens even further when she winks at you. She gives you a handshake before she addresses other people and you look down at it with pure joy. You can feel Tissaia’s anger at the moment, brimming just under the surface before she walks away from the dreaded sight. 

You gulp. You didn’t even know she was there.  Her jaw is set as she takes another pull of her pipe, blowing the air out of her nose this time.

“It was just-

“Enough, Y/N.” She says, voice booming, cutting off your explanation.  “Seems like I didn’t train you as well as I thought.” 

Her magic creeps over you, undoing your dress, you look back as it flutters to the floor. You are now naked in her office. You don’t feel afraid until her magic makes the door creak open. Even though you were still giddy from the herbs, the surprise overrides you at the thought that anyone could walk by and see you like this.

Normally, she was very into making sure that no one gets to see her coveted pet. But not this time. 

“Might as well let them see who you belong too.” 

She sets aside the pipe and pulls you into your lap. A hand immediately cupping your ass as she looks up at you. The other is on the back of your neck, the hair on your arms is standing up, knowing that anytime someone could pass by.  She snaps, and something appears in her hands. It’s a collar, studded with several jewels, it radiates opulence. 

“Put it on.” 

You take it from her hands, she leans back into the couch, watching you put it on. It’s heavier than you expected, and it’s tight around your neck but not to a point where it’s uncomfortable. You find yourself enjoying the feeling, it oddly makes you feel secure.

“How does it feel,” she says, running a finger over the little part that had her name on it. You make a show of meeting her hands, hearing her inhale sharply at your touch. 

“Good.” you purr back, a teasing smile on your face. 

She grabs the collar, pulling on it, to test its strength. Tissaia must be satisfied by the way she’s looking at it, before she turns her attention back to you.  

Before you could move, she grabs your hair harshly and she bites into her neck, sucking harshly. It hurts, you moan out in pain, looking toward the door. You bite your lip to stop more moans from escaping. She lets go of your skin with a satisfying pop, leaving a huge hickey on your neck. You wince, thinking about how you're going to cover this up. 

Before you can even catch your breath, a hand comes down on your ass making you squeal. The resounding smack echoes throughout the room and you were sure that anyone walking by could hear it. You would be lying to say you weren’t excited by that prospect. 

Her knees were in between your thighs keeping you from closing them, but you didn’t want too anyway. What you did want, however, was to see her naked. You became very aware of how ill-dressed she is for this session. 

You lean forward, allowing your hands to run through her hair.  She didn’t seem to mind even leaning into your touch. You send your magic to do your bidding only to find that you couldn’t use it. 

You shoot a confused look, until a smirk blossoms on Tissiaia’s face, it only then did you figure out what was in the collar. You didn’t want to know how she got it but luckily you didn’t have the time too. She grabs your wrist pulling them behind your back,  you feel cloth sliding in between them, tight and relentless.

You couldn’t move them if you tried. She picks the pipe back up, and continues, taking in the sight of her beautiful pet above her. You want to whine but the smoke effects you too, letting you relax at the situation. Her eyes are half-lidded, as a single finger slides in between your breasts, she can feel your breath shudder at the teasing. You are dripping onto her fabrics but she doesn’t mind. It runs down your stomach and traces until it goes to your thigh.

“”Who do you belong too?” She says sharply, the danger is clear in her voice. The collar seems tighter around your throat somehow.  

“You.” There no hesitation in your voice. It’s strong, resonant the only constant that you know in your life.  It takes a total of two seconds before she pulls you by the collar and you are lying on your back. She plunges into you with three fingers, while the thumb rubs on your clit. 

You cannot contain yourself, and even if you could you didn’t want too. You rock into her but you cannot. Her magic is pulsing from the collar, making you still. You are completely at her mercy. It feels absolutely delicious, you want to touch her. To feel her muscles move as her fingers plunge into you. She goes in deeper, and you moan loudly.  Your memory is filled with only her.

You are underneath her desk, eating her out while she talks to another mage.  You suddenly suck her clit, and her thighs clamp around your ears while she cums. The only hint is the slight stutter in her voice. You smile into her thighs as you lick her taste off your lips.

She invites you to dance at the ball. But unknown to everyone you are not only dancing. People assume its the exhaustion of the dance that's making you breathe like that.  Her magic is traveling through your body, making it pulse with pleasure. The music is at its climax as you twirl and so are you. You come while pressed against her. She takes you down into a dip, Tissaia smirking down at you. 

She brings you back out,  pulling on the collar while she fucks you, eyes full of lust.

“Mine.”   

You cannot breathe. You close your eyes as you cum around her fingers, rocking into them with her name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. She is certainly holy. She’s still hungry but lets you relax, letting you fall into the comfort of the couch, the restraints around your wrist disappearing but the collar stays on. You won’t be taking it off for a while.

It is only then that you hear footsteps in the hallway and the sound of laughter. You look back to see Phillipa’s form walk away from the door. Tissaia’s watches you cover your hands to hide your blushing face. 

“You did good, pet. ”

You would never be able to look Phillipa in the eye ever again. 

You had a feeling Tissaia would like that. 

[queenxxxsupreme]

What Consumes Us (biker!Geralt)

Chapter 2

A/N: I just really really want to give a big BIG thank you to @jensensjaredsandmishaslover and @justyouraveragemainblog because I really really don’t think this story would’ve gotten far without either of them!!! I love you so much guys:)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Anxiety swirled in Romina’s stomach the same way angry clouds often moved in the sky just before a storm. She clutched the strap to her back tighter and repositioned it on her shoulder. 

Aretuza was closed. It opened at 11a.m. but closed at five for two hours to prepare for the busy evening crowds. The text message she received from Tissaia de Vries told her to go around to the back. There would be a door labeled employees only. She could enter through there. 

Romina mentally cursed at herself for thinking this was a good idea. Everyone who knew anything about Cintra knew that it’s most notorious gang, the Hellcats, operated out of Aretuza. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she made her way down the alley that separated Aretuza from the little shop next door. Romina pulled the device out to see her mother was calling her.

“Mom, I’m sort of a little busy right now.”

“I just wanted to tell you good luck before you start work, and I want you to know that I think this is a good step for you.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Romina rolled her eyes. “Working at the same bar a cult works out of is such a good step. You’re always telling me that I should stay away from the cult life. You always hated that dad was a part of one.”

“I’m not talking about your father right now, Romina. Besides, Tissaia is a good person. She helps people.”

“Didn’t the Hellcats claim responsibility for a shooting last week over on Lesna Street?” Romina slowed down as she approached the back of the bar. She spotted the door with employees only on it. “Mom, I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll let you go, love, but just be safe and don’t get an attitude with Tissaia. I love you, Romina.”

“Love you too, mom.” Romina sighed as she ended the call. “I don’t have an attitude.” 

***

The room she walked into looked like some sort of break room. There were a few circular tables with chairs around them. Against the far corner were two leather sofas and a television. 

Romina jumped at the sound of a locker door being slammed. She turned her head to see a little hallway to her left that led to a locker room of some sort. 

“You’re a little jumpy.” A dark haired woman commented as she approached Romina. 

She wore a black wrap dress with a deep V in the neck. Her dress came up just a couple inches above her knees. Black heels added three inches to her height. Her dark hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders. Her eyes were violet, matching her dark purple lipstick. 

“I’m looking for Tissaia de Vries.” Romina told her. The woman nodded her head, looking Romina over.

“You’re the new girl, aren’t you? Romina, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” She smiled and brushed pieces of her brunette hair behind her ear. 

“I can take you to Tissaia.” The woman turned and started to lead the way out of the break room. She took Romina down a little hallway and stopped at a door labeled ‘Rectress.’ The woman knocked three times on the door. 

“Come in.” A voice spoke from the other side. 

“Good luck.” The woman smiled at Romina, though it seemed fake, and opened the door to the office. 

Romina stepped in, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. 

“Have a seat, Romina.” The woman at the desk gestured to the empty chair in front of her desk. As Romina sat down, the woman introduced herself. “I am Tissaia de Vries. I run Aretuza.”

Tissaia was just as stunning as the first woman Romina ran into. Her brunette hair was tied back in a neat bun at the top of her head. She wore a white turtle neck and a pair of black skinny jeans with black heeled ankle boots. A dark red blazer rested on the back of her seat. 

“Hi, um, I’m Romina. But…. but you already knew that.”

Tissaia nodded her head softly. 

“I won’t spend too much time right now going over how we work here. I just wanted to welcome you here and wish you luck on your first night.” The smile on her lips was soft but for some reason, it made Romina uncomfortable. “I’d like to see you back here at close.”

***

The Witcher stepped into Aretuza, pulling the hood off of his head. As he took his gloves off, he briefly looked around the mostly empty bar. It was just before seven so the bar wasn’t technically open. 

At the bar sat a group of three women who Geralt identified as Triss, Sabrina, and Yennefer.

Something moved off to the left of him. Turning his head, Geralt spotted a familiar brunette leaning over a table, wiping it down. Her skintight jeans clung to her curves. A black leather belt wrapped around her waist. The Witcher silently wondered if she actually needed the belt or if it was just for looks. A black silk button down was tucked into the waist of her pants. A few of the top buttons were left open to reveal the soft curves of her bust. Black heeled booties added about four inches to her height.

“You know, you’ve got a staring problem.” Yennefer told him as he approached the bar. When she saw him moving towards the bar, she broke away from the group she had been talking to.

Geralt said nothing as he took a seat on a barstool. Yennefer retrieved a beer and passed it to him. As she did so, she leaned across the bar so she could be closer to him.

“She’s the daughter of the Bishop.” The ebony haired bartender nodded in the direction of Romina.

“I know.” He muttered, lifting the bottle of alcohol to his lips.

“Tissaia didn’t say much about her.” Yennefer sighed. “Just that she moved back home to be with her mother after Bishop passed.”

Geralt had no intentions of talking about Romina so he remained silent.

“You were close to Bishop. Did he ever mention a daughter?”

“No one was close to the Bishop.” Geralt shook his head just slightly. “He didn’t care to discuss his personal life.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit.” Yennefer rolled her violet eyes. “All Bishop ever did was talk. Surely he mentioned her once.”

Geralt tilted his head to the side just a little. His eyes narrowed as his brows drew together.

“Why do you care, Yennefer?”

The woman held his gaze, leaning against the bar with her hands. When he didn’t look away first, she did. Before she could say anything, someone down the bar called her name. She sighed heavily and pushed herself away from the Witcher at the bar.

Geralt watched her leave and then focused his gaze on the pool table in the back corner of the bar.

A few minutes later, Yennefer returned to stand in front of him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the black marble bar top.

“The power radiating from her is…. unbelievable.”

Geralt leaned back and grunted. He almost rolled his eyes.

“Yenn-,”

“Don’t ‘Yenn’ me.” She cut him off. “Tissaia knows we are struggling right now to keep the Suns out of our territory. They’re stealing clients left and right, and slaughtering us every day. Our numbers are dwindling.”

“You aren’t the only ones. The Witchers are few and far between.” Geralt reminded her. “It’s just how things work. The old die off and dismantle, and new ones take their place.”

“You’re kind might be dying off, but I’ll be damned if the Hellcats follow.”

“Why would Tissaia bring in another mage from the outside? Especially one that doesn’t know she’s a mage?”

“Because she is powerful.” Yennefer nodded to Romina.

“So are you.”

“Yes, but hers is different than mine.” Yennefer’s gaze found the woman, who was now sweeping the floor.

The witcher glanced over his shoulder, amber eyes finding Romina. Her lips moved as she sang along to the music. It was Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple.

“Because her mother is a source.”

“Who’s mother is a source?” Triss asked as she joined the duo at the bar.

“Romina’s mother.” Yennefer answered, keeping her eyes on Geralt. She stood up straight, resting her hands on the edge of the bar. “I thought you said the Bishop never spoke of his private life.”

“He didn’t. I can sense her strength. It’s similar to Cirilla’s but not as controlled.”

Silence fell between the trio. Triss found herself gazing at the newest addition to Aretuza.

Romina could feel eyes on her. She quit sweeping and brushed her long brown locks out of her face. Brown eyes scanned the bar in search of whoever was watching her. When she spotted Triss, she smiled softly and waved. Triss waved back and then motioned for her to join them.

Romina leaned the broom against an empty table. As she approached the end of the bar, her eyes found the white haired man sitting across from the two ladies. Her heart raced violently in her chest. Why was this man here? How did he know where she worked? Did he follow her?

Romina felt a little uneasy approaching the small group. Even without the man, Yennefer was intimidating. Triss, however, was friendly. She’d been the only one to make Romina feel welcomed. 

“Hi, Romina.” Triss greeted her.

“Hey, Triss.” Romina came to stand off to the white haired man’s side.

Geralt didn’t look in her direction but he could feel her eyes on him.

“We were just talking about you.” Yennefer leaned against the bar. “Tissaia doesn’t bring in just anyone-,”

“Yennefer.” Geralt cut her off. The mage didn’t mind him.

“I’m just curious how she found a little thing like yourself.” Yennefer ignored the Witcher.

Romina looked from Yennefer to Triss and then to the man she still didn’t know the name of. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Um, she knows, um, Tissaia knows my father and my mother.” Romina nodded her head, bringing her eyes back to Yennefer. It wasn’t until after she spoke that she realized she made a mistake. “I-I’m sorry. She knew my father.”

Yennefer gave her a tight smile before pushing herself away from the bar to go down to a few customers calling for her.

“Don’t mind her.” Triss took Yennefer’s spot, leaning against the bar. “She means no harm. It just takes a little while for her to get used to you.”

Romina nodded just a little.

“What did you do to your forehead?” Triss reached across the bar. Her hand gently clasped Romina’s chin and turned her head so she could examine the angry bruise and healing cut that had been caused by those who tried to kidnap her the previous night.

“I fell.” Romina answered a little too quickly, her eyes hastily darting over to the man just an arm’s length away. He didn’t acknowledge her. Romina was thankful for this.

“Better be more careful, love.” Triss frowned. “Tissaia doesn’t like when we look roughed up. She’s a little obsessive over appearance.”

“Oh, I can sort of tell.” Romina awkwardly laughed, looking around the bar.

It looked nothing like the biker bars in the movies looked. This one was refined and elegant. The bar and table tops were black marble. The hardwood floor was a deep brown chestnut. There were mirrors behind the alcohol behind the bar and simple but beautiful lights hung from the ceiling. 

“Triss!” Yennefer called for the mage.

“Excuse me.” Triss smiled at Romina before making her way down to Yennefer.

Romina went to retrieve the broom she was using. She glanced up at the man sitting at the bar. His back was to her. The back of his leather jacket had a logo on it, one she’d seen before. It was an odd wolf bearing its teeth. That was the logo for the Witchers, the gang her father had been a part of. Above the wolf head in white letters was ‘The Butcher.’ Underneath the wolf was ‘Of Blaviken.’ 

Blaviken. Romina had heard that name before but she couldn’t remember where. 

She tapped the bottom of the broom against the floor a few times before moving around the bar counter to put the items in a back room. As she came out, she caught the man lookeding at her. She glanced over to see where the two mages were. They were at the opposite end of the bar with a group of three individuals.

Letting out a soft breath, Romina moved to stand a little further down the bar than the stranger. She leaned her elbows against the bar and rubbed her hands over the cold marble.

“Are you following me?” She raised a brow, looking to him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Hardly.” He snorted, bringing the beer in his hand up to his lips.

She took a few moments to study him. He wasn’t all that frightening in the lighting of the bar. He was rugged, for sure, but handsome.

“I’m Romina.”

“I know.”

She almost rolled her eyes.

“Usually a gentleman tells a woman his name when she tells him hers.”

His eyes flickered over to meet yourshers. She gasped softly at the vibrant amber color of his irises. She never noticed them before.

“I’m no gentleman.”

Romina looked down, messing with her fingers. 

“Have you seen anyone  of the Suns today?”

Romina turned her head to look at the white haired stranger out of the corner of her eyes. 

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m only curious.”

Romina held his gaze, biting her bottom lip. 

He was a Witcher. She knew very little about Witchers. What she did know, she learned from her estranged father, who had piercing amber eyes that had seen far too much. This man before her, the one who had saved her the night prior and the one who refused to share his name, had the same gaze. Perhaps it was a Witcher thing.

“You must’ve known my father, if you’re apart of the Witchers.”

He tilted his head just a little, not caring to speak.

This frustrated Romina. She sighed heavily and pushed herself away from him.

“You make terrible company, Witcher.” Romina glanced to at him out of the corner of her eyes. 

“My kind doesn’t make good company.” He met her gaze, looking up at her through his lashes.

“So I’ve learned.” Romina mumbled. 

She looked back to the white haired man, who had his hands focused on his knuckles. She decided to quit pestering him. If he didn’t want to talk, she cwouldn’t make him.

***

The night was long and busy. Romina was too occupied her entire shift bussing tables that she didn’t see where or when the white haired man disappeared, but he was gone by last call.

Romina shrugged on her jacket and began to zip it up.

“Hey, Romie?” Triss called from the door of the break room.

Romina poked her head around the lockers and smiled at the mage. The nickname had quickly spread after opening for the night. Triss started it and the other workers within Aretuza quickly took to it. 

“Just a reminder that Tissaia wants to speak with you before you go.”

“Thanks, Triss.”

Her phone vibrated in her hand. It was a text from Jaskier.

From: Jaskier

<”I’m out here when you’re done.”>

After Romina told him about what happened with the members of the Black Sun, he insisted on taking her home and making sure she got to her apartment without any trouble.

To: Jaskier

<”I’ll be just a minute.”>

Romina tucked her phone into the back pocket of her pants and picked up her bag. She threw it over her shoulder before leaving the break room. Just down the hall in the opposite direction from the bar was an emergency exit. To the left of the exit was a black door with a window that allowed one to look into the office of Tissaia’s.  

She tucked in her shirt, having just untucked it after the lights went out on the floor of the bar went outr. She approached the already opened door to the Rectress’ office and knocked on the frame.

Tissaia sat behind a cherry oak wood desk. She lifted her head and placed the pen in her hand down.

“Come in, Romina. Close the door behind you and have a seat.”

Romina did as told then took a seat in one of the seats in front of Tissaia’s desk.

“I just want you to know I am so thankful for-,”

“Spare the formalities, Romina.” Tissaia folded her hands on the desk. “I asked you to stay because I want to tell you what I expect from you. I’ve got notes from the other girls who have things, both good and bad, to say about your first day.”

Romina blinked as her mind processed what she was being told.

“Let’s get started.” Tissaia moved a few papers on her desk around. “Aretuza isn’t just another biker bar, Romina. It has class. It has elegance. You’ve heard of Calanthe Riannon, have you not?”

“I have.”

“Do you know what business she partakes in?”

Romina shook her head. She’d heard stories, but she wasn’t willing to say anything out loud and risk being fired.

“Well, we can discuss that later.” Tissaia sighed gently.

“I-I know it’s illegal.” Romina spoke quickly. She didn’t want Tissaia to think she was stupid, that she didn’t know anything.

Tissaia held Romina’s gaze, tilting her chin up just a little.

“I’d be more careful saying that outside of these walls.”

“I-I’m not ignorant, Ms. dDe Vries.” Romina shook her head. “I know she runs the Hellcats and I know…. I know this is like their homebase.”

“Then you know that by taking this job, you are accepting a position within the Hellcats.” Tissaia stated. Romina hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Emmaline told me that you were in desperate need of a steady income, Romina.”

Upon hearing her mother’s name, the brunette lifted her head to look at Tissaia.

“How about you don’t think about any of the unsavory things that come with this once in a life time chance you’ve been offered? At least for now.”

Romina’s mouth was dry. She nodded her head stiffly. She did need the money. She needed a steady job. She could always find another one but for now, Aretuza would have to do.

“Geralt told me of what happened last night.”

Romina furrowed her eyebrows together, bringing her gaze up to meet Tissaia’s.

“Who?”

“Geralt. The man who stopped you from being kidnapped by the Black Sun.”

“Geralt.” She repeated. The name felt foreign on her tongue but it fit the brooding and strange man. “He…. What did he tell you?”

“Everything I needed to know.” Tissaia answered flatly. “Let’s begin with what was said about your work today.”

Romina swallowed the lump in her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“’She worked hard and did a fantastic job keeping up with the crowd.’”

The brunette smiled proudly at the compliment.

“’She’s a little too quiet and timid for Aretuza. But she didn’t fall behind bussing tables.’” Tissaia glanced up to Romina to gauge her reaction. Romina looked down when Tissaia’s blue eyes fell on her. “’I don’t think she fits into Aretuza. She’s way too shy.’”

As Tissaia continued to read what the veterans of Aretuza had to say about the newbie, the same thing kept coming up. Romina was too shy, too quiet. She didn’t make a mark on anyone.

“In all fairness, ma’am, this is an entirely new place to me.” Romina shook her head gently. “And-And it’s quite intimidating.”

“It can be, but only if you let it intimidate you.” Tissaia put the paper down. “Romina, I believe there’s always room for improvement in oneself. You did a good job dressing for tonight. Black and classy is what we aim for. No skirts that are too short or too revealing of tops. I’m not running a strip club. Heels are a must of for my girls. The ones you wore tonight worked. You got to see how my girls were dressed tonight. You know my expectations from here on out. I want to see an improvement onin your attire.”

“Done.” Romina nodded. “I have plenty of clothes that would work.”

“Good. Tomorrow, I’d like to see you more open and more lively. I’ve heard from Emmaline that you are outgoing. You aren’t the quiet little mouse we saw today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s late and I’d like you back early tomorrow. Does noon work for you?”

It was pushing four a.m. already. She’d be home by 4:30 and maybe be asleep by five.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Tissaia watched as Romina disappeared through the door. The Rectress took a soft deep breath and shuffled a few papers into a neat pile.

“She’s going to end up dead.”

Tissaia lifted her head to see the Witcher standing in the doorway to her office. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. His gaze was hard and irritated.

“She’s weak. She wouldn’t last a day on the street as one of your mages.”

“She is weak in that sense, yes.” Tissaia held his gaze. “But she is much more powerful than anything we’ve ever seen. Perhaps even more powerful than Cirilla.”

Geralt grunted and tilted his head to the side just a little. Being that Cirilla was the granddaughter to the Lioness, Calanthe, who ran the Hellcats, Calanthe wouldn’t allow Cirilla to be used against the rising threat of the Black Sun.

“You can’t use Cirilla against Cahir, so you plan to pull an innocent girl into this life.”

Tissaia said nothing for a while. She looked down at the paper before her that contained Romina’s history.

“I don’t pay you to judge my decisions, Geralt. I pay you to keep Romina safe and out of harm’s way.” The Rectress’ voice was quiet but stern. “Her survival is essential to ours. If Cahir gets ahold of her, he could kill her or use her against us. Either way we would be doomed.”

Geralt’s hands fell from the pockets of his jacket and he let out a heavy sigh. He turned to leave.

“Have a good night, Geralt. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He grunted in reply while Tissaia smiled just slightly.

***

Romina made her way down the alley next to the bar. Her stomach churned and nausea swarmed her. Thinking she was hungry, she dug around in her bag for the chips she knew she stuffed in there earlier in the day.

“No wonder you were almost kidnapped.”

Romina came to a sudden stop, her heart jumping into her throat at the sound of the Witcher. Her hand came up to her chest. She could feel her heart beating beneath her palm.

Geralt stood leaning against the door that was a fire exit leading into the bar. One booted foot was propped up against the door. His arms were crossed. 

“What is that suppose supposed to mean?” Romina pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you were kidnapped. You didn’t even notice me.”

“Because I wasn’t looking.” She continued on down the alley, walking straight pass ed him. He came down the three steps and started walking behind her. The sound of his heavy footsteps, for whatever reason, made her heart race even more. Maybe it was because this man was huge and hulking, and if he really wanted to,  he could cause her harm. 

“Would you like some advise?” It almost sounded like he was being sarcastic.

“Oh, I’d love advise from you. Quiet, brooding Witcher who only half ass answers questions.”

“Are you pissed because I wouldn’t tell you my name?” 

“Just a little pissed that you leave or ignore me when I try to get answers.” Romina came to a sudden stop and turned to face him. She didn’t expect him to be so close, but they ended up standing almost toe to toe. 

She refused to back up, to let him think he intimidated her.

“Have you been following me?” Brown eyes looked up at him. There was a fire in her gaze, one he hadn’t seen the day before. 

“No, I haven’t.” He answered calmly. “You’re paranoid. It’s common for victims of kidnapping to be paranoid.”

Romina shook her head firmly, turning to leave the alley. 

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Still, he followed her. 

“What’s the advisece you wanted to share with me?” Romina sighed out. She made it out of the alley first since Geralt walked behind her.  She could spot Jaskier’s car across the street from Aretuza. 

Without looking both ways, Romina stepped off into the street. She was too eager to get to the safety of her friend’s car. She couldn’t explain her reasoning, but she felt someone watching her. She’d felt that way since she stepped out of the bar.

Geralt’s hand wrapped around her arm and he pulled her back on to the sidewalk just as a car zoomed by. The wind from the vehicle blew Romina’s hair into her face. 

“Watch where you’re going is a good start.” Geralt released her arm. She glanced over her shoulder at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes before she crossed the street.

As she put her hand on the handle to the passenger door, she looked over her shoulder. Geralt stood on the sidewalk where she left him, looking at her.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @geralt-yennefer-jeskier @riviawitch3r @hina-chans-stuff @fcgrizi​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​

Just a little reminder that if you want to be on this taglist you have to let me know because I’m not using my usual taglists :)

[queenxxxsupreme]

What Consumes Us (biker!Geralt)

Chapter 3

A/N: GUYS I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA thank you for coming to my Ted Talk :) Also I just want to give another huge thanks to my beta @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ for finding my mistakes and dealing with my needy ass. I love you babe :) And thank you thank you thank you @justyouraveragemainblog​ for helping me through my shitty writer’s block and for always giving me amazing suggestions. I’m positive I wouldn’t have gotten this far without your help. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.1k

Additional Note: every time I put a freaking keep reading thing in something it takes away all the bold and all the italics I do so I apologize ahead of time for how shitty this is. I already know it’s gonna take away the bold from a text message or two and then the italics when a certain someone has a dream about another someone

“Who is that?” Jaskier furrowed his brows together as he looked at the strange man watching Romina.

“Some guy who hangs around the bar.” Romina threw her bag into the back seat and started to buckle. Jaskier was still looking at the man, who refused to move from where he stood. “Jask, come on. Just go.”

“How was your first day?” He put the car into drive. 

“My feet hurt like hell. And I can’t not wear heels so I may as well just say good bye to comfort for the rest of my life.” Romina stretched her legs out as much as she could in the car and put her head back. “Do you think I’m making a bad choice? Working at Aretuza?”

“I think…. I think it can be if you let it be one.” He briefly glanced over to her. “But just because that Calanthe Riannon lady has ties to the place doesn’t mean you need to join a gang or anything.”

Romina stayed quiet. She didn’t want to say anything she shouldn’t say and chance being taken out by someone in the Hellcats. Paranoia was already eating away at her. Tissaia had practically said she was in the Hellcats, hadn’t she?

Romina’s phone buzzed in the pocket of her jacket. She sighed as she pulled the device out. It was a text from Triss. The two had exchanged numbers on their break earlier in the night.  

From: Triss Marigold <”Me and Yenn are having breakfast at the diner around the block from Aretuza at nine. You should come with us.”>

Romina groaned loudly, closing her eyes as she out her hand over her face.

“What is it?”

“One of the girls I work with just invited me to breakfast at nine.”

“Do they not know you worked until just a few minutes ago?” Jaskier furrowed his brows together.

“They worked the same shift as me.” Romina rubbed her eyes. She was anxious to get the makeup off. 

“Are you going to go?”

“Yeah, probably.” She didn’t want to say no. She needed to make more friends, honestly. And saying no was something she sometimes had difficulty doing.

Jaskier huffed and shook his head. 

“Good luck with that.”

***

Romina. Romina.

The sound of Geralt’s voice caused her to jolt awake. A thin layer of sweat caused her hair to cling to her forehead. Her breathing was uncontrollable as she sat up. She placed her hand over her heart to ensure it was beating still. It, in fact, was beating very rapidly within the confines of her rib cage. 

She reached over to turn the lamp by her bed on. She heard his voice. Why was he in her room?

Wide and frantic brown eyes searched the expanse of her bedroom, praying that she was alone. 

The room was empty. She was by herself. 

Romina rested back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling. Why did she hear his voice? Did she dream about him? Why would she dream about him?  

She ran her hands over her face, groaning softly. 

***

Romina slid into the booth next to Triss.

“Good morning, Romie!” The mage chirped. 

“How do you have so much energy after last night?” Romina furrowed her eyebrows together. 

“You get used to the long hours and short time to sleep.” 

“Did you enjoy your first day at Aretuza?” Yennefer raised a brow as she stirred sugar into her coffee. 

“I did.” Romina nodded her head, offering the intimidating woman a little smile.

“What did Tissaia want to talk to you about last night?” 

“Yenn, that’s none of our business.” Triss spoke quietly.

“I believe it is.” Yennefer looked to the mage across from her. “She’s one of us now. We don’t know if we can trust her. Hell! We don’t know why Tissaia brought her in to begin with.”

“I-I just needed a job.” Romina looked between the two women. Triss looked down at the mug of tea in front of her while Yennefer gazed at Romina as if she sprung two heads. 

“Tissaia doesn’t just bring in someone because they need a new job.” Yennefer’s tone was harsh. “The last person she hired was Vilgefortz and he’s been with us for nearly six years.”

“Leave it be, Yennefer.” Triss told her. “Do you have any questions, Romie?”

Romina smiled softly at the nickname. Triss was the only one at Aretuza who showed Romina kindness, who wasn’t harsh or didn’t deliver backhanded compliments. 

As a waitress came over, she ordered a coffee then watched the woman leave. She looked back to see Triss and Yennefer looked at her. She took a deep breath and folded her hands into her lap. 

“I’ll figure things out eventually.” Romina was too afraid to ask questions, too afraid that she’d say something wrong. “How long have you two been at Aretuza?”

“I’ve worked there for the last twelve years.” Triss brushed her fingers over her curly hair. “Tissaia found me wandering the streets. She took me in, gave me somewhere to stay until I could get on my feet.”

Romina didn’t expect that answer. 

“I’ve been with Aretuza all my life.” Yennefer’s voice lowered. Her attention fell to her coffee. She placed the spoon on a napkin and wrapped her hands around the cup. “Tissaia saved me.”

Romina nodded her head softly. She found herself a little dumbfounded, staring at the beautiful woman before her. She knew mages didn’t age. Her mother, after all, was in her late fifties but appeared in her mid-twenties, close to Romina’s age. 

“Does she do that with everyone? Save them? Help them?” She asked quietly. 

“Yes.” Triss nodded her head. “Tissaia de Vries saves everyone, whether they know they need it or not. She has can…. She  can spot a person who has potential and make them see that potential.”

“Sabrina always compares them-compares us-to dying stars.” Yennefer turned her head to look out of the window. “She says Tissaia has the ability to resurrect dying stars and turn them into something beautiful.”

“That’s why Calanthe let’s her run Aretuza the way she does.” Triss added, leaning in so she wouldn’t have to talk so loud. “Because Tissaia is the shit.”

Romina giggled and tucked strands of brunette hair behind her ear. 

*** 

Romina looked in one of the mirrors in the break room, checking her appearance before she went out to the floor. She raked her fingers through her hair, which she’d straightened for the night. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans with a black turtle neck tucked into them. A belt with a squared gold buckle wrapped around her waist. Black leather boots with four inch heels adorned her feet. 

“Are you always this narcissistic?”

Romina jumped and turned to see Geralt leaned against the doorway to the break room. She hadn’t even heard him open the door. 

“Maybe I am.” She muttered, irritated that he was so sneaky. She turned back to look in the mirror once more. “Why did you tell Tissaia about the other night?”

“Because it’s her business to know if one of her girls has been harassed by the Suns.”

“It’s really not her business what happens to me.” She turned back to him. 

He didn’t wear the leather jacket he had dawned both times she saw him. He was in a fitting black long sleeve. His hands were tucked underneath his crossed arms. 

“The second you took this job, you made your life her business.”

“What’s your deal?” Romina furrowed her eyebrows together. “Do you just show up at inconvenient times to mutter some bullshit and then disappear?”

“Or I show up and save your ass from the Black Sun.” He bit back. 

“I never asked you to save me, so if you’re going to keep rubbing it in my face, then please point me in the direction of the nearest Black Sun so they can just take me the hell out.”

Tissaia said she wanted Romina to be more lively. She wanted more personality.

Instead of snapping back with some sort of snide comment, he rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

“Have you been following me, Geralt?”

He stopped in his tracks. Romina thought maybe he was surprised by her using his name. He turned to face her, his brows furrowing together.

“Why?”

“That’s not an answer. Have you been following me?” Romina took a few steps towards him. In her outfit, she felt powerful, like she owned the world. He didn’t scare her. “I heard your voice last night and I swear, I saw you earlier this morning when I was out.”

He continued to stare at her as if she spoke in a language he didn’t know. 

Triss slipped into the room passed him, accidentally bumping into the large man who blocked the doorway. He blinked and looked down at Triss.

“Are you okay, Geralt?” She asked him. 

He muttered something under his breath and disappeared out of the break room.

“What is his problem?” Romina whispered to Triss. 

“It just takes him a while to warm up to people.”

“He’s an ass.”

“He’s brooding, sure, but he means well.”

“No, not that. I think he’s been following me, Triss.” Romina crinkled her brows. 

“Geralt? No.” Triss laughed just a little. “He sticks to himself.”

“Why does a Witcher hang around here anyways?” She looked back to the mirror as Triss went to her locker. 

“Because his goddaughter is Cirilla, the Lioness’ granddaughter. He’s one of us.” Triss pulled out a little makeup bag and went to stand next to Romina at the mirror. 

“Well, he has a terrible attitude.”

***

Romina gasped and immediately dropped to her knees at the sight of a dog, a brown husky, in the bar. The moment it saw her and Triss, the dog took off in the direction of the women. 

It barreled into Romina, eager to get attention. 

“Oh my gods! Aren’t you the cutest thing ever!” Romina rubbed the dog’s neck and ears. It had a leather collar around its neck with Roach engraved on a golden plate. 

A sharp whistle caught the dog’s attention. It left Romina’s lap and went to stand at the feet of Geralt. 

Romina watched the man for a moment as he rubbed between the dog’s ears. He lifted his head to look at her. She pushed herself to her feet. 

“You don’t strike me as the dog type.” Romina moved towards him, smiling at the dog. “He reminds me more of a cat guy.” She spoke in a high pitched voice. The dog wagged its tail and bolted towards her again, weaving itself in and out of her legs. 

“Roach.” Geralt called the dog’s name. It obediently listened and returned to his side, sitting down by his boots. The dog’s mouth was wide open and it appeared that it was smiling at Romina. 

“Roach?” She raised a brow. “Who names their dog Roach?”

“I do.”

“Hmm. Of course you would.” She moved to start taking chairs off of tables. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Romina didn’t answer him, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine. Geralt knew what she was doing. He saw the way she grinned like she had thought of some grand plan. 

The doors to the bar burst open. Romina looked to the door, caught off guard by the sudden entrance of the two men. 

“Romina.” Geralt said her name in a hushed tone. It was weird to hear him sound so gentle and soft. 

Her attention was pulled away from the two men to look at the Witcher. He motioned for her to come to him. Romina gave the two men at the door one last glance before moving towards Geralt. She didn’t go to him completely so he placed himself in front of her. 

“What are you-,”

“Romina.” Triss cut her off. She stood behind the bar just off to Romina’s right. She shook her head, silently telling Romina not to speak. 

The tension in the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Romina peered around Geralt’s arm, curious to get a better look at the two who had entered Aretuza.

The man who had entered first wore an expensive black suit. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back. He messed with the watch on his wrist. It looked just as expensive as his suit, maybe even more. 

The man looked around the bar, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. His eyes moved over Yennefer, who stood at the other end of the bar from Romina, Geralt, and Triss. Sabrina, a red headed bartender, stood next to Yennefer. 

The man didn’t seem interested in any of them. His eyes landed on Romina. A crooked smile crossed his lips. 

“Ah, Romina-,”

“You aren’t welcomed here, Cahir.” Geralt’s voice was deep and frightening.

The man, Cahir, looked to Geralt, obviously annoyed that he’d dare to interrupt him.

“The guard dog speaks.”

“Cahir.” Tissaia’s stern voice came from behind Romina. 

Romina looked over her shoulder to see Tissaia emerging from the hallway her office and the break room were down. Briefly, the Rectress met Romina’s gaze. But then she looked back to Cahir, clasping her hands together at her waist.

“You know coming in here would cause trouble,.”

“I just came to see the daughter of the Bishop. I wanted to see if she shared his…. personality.”

“How did you know my father?” Romina spoke. Geralt reached back to put his hand on her arm to ensure that she stayed safely behind him. 

“Oh, we were brothers, darling. As thick as thieves.”

“Brothers my ass.” Yennefer spat. “You’re the one who killed him.”

Romina’s brows furrowed together. She didn’t know if this man meant he was actually her father’s brother or if they were like brothers. Nor did she know any details about her father’s death. She didn’t think she cared about him that much. She hardly knew the man aside from what faint memories she had from her childhood. But now that the situation was being presented, she wanted to know everything.  

“Please take Romina to the back, Geralt.” Tissaia told him. 

“No!” Romina raised her voice, pushing his hand off of her arm. “What does she mean he killed my father?” Her brown eyes found Tissaia.

“I can explain it later, mouse, but now is not the time.”

“You just came here to stir up trouble, Cahir.” Triss spoke. 

“Geralt.” Tissaia said his name. 

The witcher nodded his head once and turned to face Romina.

“Come on-,”

“No, I want to know what he meant.”

“You will know in due time.” Geralt assured her, ushering her back towards the break room. 

“Don’t tell me she doesn’t know of her bloodline.” Cahir’s words silenced the entire bar.

Geralt no longer tried to make Romina go back to the break room. He kept his back to Cahir as he faced Romina. He was able to see the look on her face change from confusion to worry. She gazed across the room to Cahir.

“Bloodline?” She repeated quietly, her voice threatening to break. 

All her life, Romina was kept from relatives, from the sisters she knew her mother had to the brother her father had. She always wondered what was wrong, why she couldn’t have a big family like everyone else she knew. This man man here claimed to know about her family. 

Tissaia, using telekinesis, pulled the knife from Geralt’s jacket that rested on a barstool. The weapon launched across the room, stopping just a few inches from Cahir’s neck. 

“You aren’t welcomed here.” Tissaia’s voice was much more threatening than it had been before. 

Romina stepped forward, wanting to follow Cahir as he turned to leave the bar. Geralt’s arm wrapped around her waist tightened. No matter how hard she pushed, he wouldn’t let her go. 

Behind the mages at the bar, the mirror on the wall began to rattle. Yennefer could sense Romina’s power, her energy, her chaos. The elder mage looked to the mirror, her brows furrowing together. 

Geralt could feel a sudden surge, almost like an electric pulse travel from Romina’s body to his hands and his arm where she touched him. It wasn’t enough to be painful but it was noticeable and it was annoying. 

“I-I need to know, Geralt.” Romina couldn’t find the power to be angry at him for stopping her. One hand held his forearm while the other was tucked underneath his bicep and fisted the material of his shirt. 

“You will soon.” He assured her. 

“Yennefer, take Sabrina and check outside.” Tissaia spoke as she moved towards Romina. 

Tears filled the young girl’s eyes. She couldn’t look away from the front doors. 

Geralt could hear her heart, hear the way her breathing was labored. His attention was pulled from Romina to Tissaia. The Rectress placed her hand on Romina’s cheek. 

Romina’s brown gaze found Tissaia, who looked at her with a softness Geralt had only witnessed a handful of times in the decades he’d known the Rectress. 

“No need to work yourself up, mouse.” Tissaia brushed pieces of Romina’s hair behind her ear. “You will find the answers you seek, but only when you are ready.”

“I want to know now.” 

“You aren’t ready to hear the truth.” Tissaia softly shook her head. Her hand dropped from Romina’s face as she turned to go towards her office. “Assist her to the break room, Geralt. She needs a few minutes to gather herself.”

“I don’t need your help.” Romina spoke through her teeth to Geralt as he let her go. She stomped towards the break room. 

Geralt locked his jaw, watching her disappear through the door. He turned his head to look at Tissaia. 

“Did you feel that?”

“We all did.” Yennefer said. “She’s going to be a danger to us all if she loses control.”

“I remember a point in time when you couldn’t control your chaos.” Tissaia glanced over to the mage briefly before bringing her eyes back to Geralt. “I will tell her when the time is right.”

He grunted and shook his head, moving to go to the break room.

***

Romina stood at the mirror in the break room, her hands by her sides and her gaze focused on her reflection.

Geralt stopped in the doorway of the room. He watched as her fingers curled into fists.

“Cahir isn’t worth getting frustrated over.”

“I’m not frustrated.” She murmured softly. “Just confused.”

She blinked and turned her head to look at him. Her hands met each other in front of her waist. She started to mess with her fingers. She held his gaze for a few heartbeats then looked down to her hands.

“I saw what happened back there. The mirror shook.”

Geralt tilted his chin up just a little.

“It happens to mages who aren’t trained to contain themselves.”

She nodded softly.

“It happened when my father…. when I heard he died. I was on the phone with my mother. All of the windows in my apartment, they shattered. All of the windows in the apartments on my floor, the two floors above me, and the floor below me.... It all shattered.”

She moved to sit at one of the tables. She leaned back and rubbed her palms together.

“I wasn’t close to him. I didn’t…. I didn’t know him. But I still…. I felt pain when he died.”

“He’s your father, whether you had a relationship with him or not.”

Romina nodded her head again.

“Did Cahir kill my father?”

“I don’t know.” Geralt answered her.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder. Tissaia had entered the break room. She nodded her head once to him. He glanced one last time to Romina before leaving.

“We open in less than ten minutes.” Tissaia moved to stand a few feet from Romina. “Gather yourself and get ready for the day.”

“I want answers.” Romina looked up at her.

“You will get them when you are ready.” Tissaia turned to leave the break room. Romina stood up, the chair she was in screeched against the floor.

“Am I a mage?” She demanded, her fingers curling tightly by her side.

Tissaia stopped at the door to look back at the girl.

“No, but when the time comes…. you will have the potential to be one of the greatest I’ve ever seen.”

Romina watched the door swing shut behind the Rectress.

***

When Aretuza closed at five in preparation for the busy evening that laid ahead, Romina found herself leaning against the counter across from Triss and Yennefer. They were taking a little break before getting back to work. They sat in the barstools while Romina stayed behind the bar.

“Who is Cahir?” She leaned on her elbows against the black marble top.

“A dick.” Yennefer spoke through a mouthful of her burger. 

“He runs the Black Sun.” Triss said. 

“Does he always walk in here like he owns the place?”

“Never.” She shook her head. 

“He was taunting Tissaia.” Yennefer looked over to Triss. The two shared a glance, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Romina.

“What?” She furrowed her eyebrows together.

Triss looked down at her plate of fries while Yennefer looked behind the bar into the kitchen and then towards the hallway Tissaia’s office and the break room was down. The three were alone at the bar. Everyone else was in the break room or stepped out for a smoke. 

Yennefer brushed her tongue along the front of her teeth, shifting around in her seat before leaning forward towards Romina.

“He wants you-,”

“Yennefer.” Triss cut her off. “We really shouldn’t be telling her.”

“No, you really should.” Romina looked between the two. “I don’t want to be left in the dark.”

“You aren’t being left in the dark.” 

Romina turned her head to look at Tissaia. She made her way around the bar, taking swift steps towards the small group. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt that fell just below her knees and a dark red button down tucked into the skirt. Her hair was in a low bun. 

“You’re being protected, little mouse. You’re very new to us, practically an outsider. We don’t share everything with outsiders.” Tissaia’s gaze fell on Yennefer and Triss. “Leave us.”

Triss stood up, taking her plate and drink, and moved towards the break room. Yennefer seemed a little more irritated. She rolled her eyes and sighed but she followed Triss nonetheless. 

“You don’t know much of anything about our lifestyle, mouse.” Tissaia messed with the pendant to her necklace. “You will learn of what is and what isn’t acceptable. For instance, what Yennefer almost did is unacceptable.”

“I just wanted her to tell me-,”

“I know what you want, but as I’ve said before, you aren’t ready.” Tissaia firmly cut her off. “What is acceptable is you carrying out your duties here at Aretuza and waiting patiently like the quiet little mouse you are.”

Romina was frustrated. She gritted her teeth together and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Why do I have to wait?”

“Why do you need all the answers immediately?” Tissaia countered, raising one brow just slightly.

“Because Yennefer said Cahir killed my father.”

The Rectress fell silent. She nodded her head a little. 

“You have yet to be accepted by Calanthe. Once she accepts you as one of hers, then you can know of your father’s history with us.” She moved to return to her office. 

“What do I need to do to be accepted by her?” Romina followed Tissaia around the bar but she didn’t move fast enough. 

Tissaia disappeared into her office. Romina growled in frustration and rested the upper half of her body on the bar. 

“Pouting now, are we?”

She lifted her head, dragging her palms across the cold marble. She sent Geralt a glare, muttering a few curse words to him under her breath. 

“I’m not pouting. I’m just….” She shook her head, unable to come up with the right word to accurately describe how she felt. She was angry and frustrated with Tissaia. But she was also confused and upset that she didn’t know what everyone else apparently knew. 

“Take it from someone who was once an outsider to these people.” Geralt came to stand close to her. She turned to face him, furrowing her brows together. “It takes time for them to warm up to you. The only reason you are here is because of who your father was.”

“I don’t even know who the man is, Geralt!” Romina couldn’t help but raise her voice. “I saw him once a year on my birthday until I was eighteen and then after that, I didn’t see him until I was twenty-three. That was the last time I saw him. Three years ago.” She shook her head. Her fingers combed through her hair. “Everyone here sounds like they knew him better than I did.”

Geralt sighed through his nose and leaned against the counter with one elbow. 

“The Bishop was a complicated man. But from what I heard, his biggest regret was never having a relationship with his daughter.” 

Romina found herself gazing up at the man, losing herself in his liquid gold eyes. 

The sound of the front door closing behind Vilgefortz, one of the bartenders, made Romina jump. She looked away from Geralt to the man entering the bar. He smiled to Romina and nodded once to Geralt but continued on his way passed them to the break room.

“What did you have to do to get them to trust you?” Romina brought her attention back to the Witcher standing less than a foot from her. 

An arrogant smirk crossed his lips. 

“Became the Butcher of Blaviken.” He patted the bar with his hand twice and then moved to the break room.

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