#NOT THINKING ABOUT HOW HE GAVE LOUD BARD A LOUD ANIMAL

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun: Chapter Sixteen: Something in the Air

This series is book two of a fanfic I have already written called Astarion Epilogue: An Adventure in Making Life

Master List Here for Books One, and Two

*List includes a prequel that is essentially one-shots of their adventures over the fifty years after the battle at the end of the game*

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: Tav gets wrapped up in the Midwinter festival, Shadowhearts and Gale are drinking. While Astarion is hunting for dinner. But something is in the air.

Tav stood in the square just over the bridge leading to Moonrise towers. The distillery that once housed one of the most disgusting creatures she had ever seen in her life was now cleaned, polished, and in total working order again. Dozens of people poured in and out, looking for more than just the hot cider and mulled wine that lay on tables all over the square. They looked for spirits and conversation as the music from a traveling bard played and made casual conversation almost impossible. It’s not that they were terrible by any means; it was just that the volume at which they played their violin was a little grating on the ears. 

Everyone had forgone their armor in lieu of some more casual clothes. Gale was inside the distillery giving an impromptu lecture to a few drunk bystanders dressed in a wool sweater and jacket. Shadowheart parked herself next to the cauldron of mulled wine and wore a long, fur-lined winter dress with an equally long jacket. Tav decided to go with something that allowed her to move freely just in case she needed to spring into action. She wore a long-sleeved red blouse and a pair of tight-fitting pants, her hair tied up in a ponytail to stay out of her eyes. 

A gaggle of children ran by, Apple being among them as she ran with her new friends. Tav kept a watchful eye on her child as too much sugar had led Apple in the past to get overly excited, and that usually led her to bite. Halsin had made it a point to introduce Tav and Astarion to all of the parents and villagers he could, which helped alleviate some of the anxiety of letting her around strangers. They had found that what Halsin had said was true; everyone in the settlement was, as far as she could tell, of a sound mind. The only problem was a few angsty teenagers who weren’t even at the party at the moment. So the only thing Tav was worried about at the moment was Apple getting too excited on candied Apples or the dozens of other sugary drinks and food items and biting someone. 

She looked around for Astarion, who was notably absent. He had told her that he was going to get something to eat, and that was almost an hour ago. Tav just chalked it up to animals being hard to come by because most were in hibernation. Or that he had to go further away from the settlement where people wouldn’t see him feed. Either way, Tav was starting to wonder where he was and if she needed to go out and look for him. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Halsin’s voice came from behind Tav, causing her to jump. “I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“It’s okay.” Tav placed her hand over her heart. “It’s hard to hear anything over that violin.” 

“I’ve asked him to play softer a few times now, and it has fallen on deaf ears.” Halsin shook his head. 

“Maybe that’s why he plays so loud.” Tav smiled. “They made themselves deaf.” 

Halsin laughed, which caught the attention of a few people who were around, including the bard who shot the two of them a dirty look. “I think  he knows we are talking about him.” 

“At least people are talking  about it.” Tav shrugged. “That’s all bards care about anyways.” 

“Very true.” Halsin looked around. “Where is Astarion? Is he not with you?”

“He’s getting something to eat.” Tav touched her neck with two fingers. 

“Ah, I should have guessed.” Halsin nodded. “I’ve noticed you haven’t left this spot all night.” He gave her an assessing stare. “Are you not enjoying the party?”

“No, I am…Well, as much as I can from here.” Tav’s eyes trailed after Apple. “I’m watching her.” 

Halsin followed Tav’s line of sight to her daughter. “I told you everyone here will not harm her; they are good people; you even saw that yourself earlier.” 

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” Tav watched Apple grab a sweet roll. “Apple! Put that back!”

Apple dropped the roll and looked around to find Tav. “Sorry, mom!” She licked her fingers before running off with her friends again. 

Tav blew out a sigh as she returned some of her attention back to Halsin. Leaving one eye on the dessert table. Halsin looked at her with sympathy as he started to understand why Tav needed to abstain from the night's events. 

“When she has too much sugar, she gets excited; when she gets excited, she bites.” Tav said matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t believe all the times we had to apologize and explain away why she bites.” Tav deflated. “But we found that if we limit her sugar intake, she doesn’t bite.” 

“I see…” Halsin trailed off. 

The two stood and watched everything that happened around them. People started to come out of the distillery and dance. Now, having enough liquor in their systems, the loud music didn’t bother them. Tav could only guess how many children were going to be born nine months from now due to their parent's drunken reverie, and it brought a sad smile to her lips. Tendrils of sorrow spread through her chest at the thought. She thought about it briefly and then pushed it away altogether. Not wanting to be put in a sour mood by her own mind. 

Halsin assessed her before speaking. “Why don’t I keep an eye on little Apple for you the rest of the night?” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Tav gave him her full attention. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your people.” 

“You wouldn’t.” He placed his hands on her shoulders as he stepped in front of her. “I have already spoken to everyone I care to, and before I saw you, I was already on my way to play with the children in my bear form.” 

“Are you sure?” Tav looked at him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. 

“I’m sure!” Halsin turned Tav around and pushed her towards one of the many cauldrons of hot cider and mulled wine. “Now go! I will make sure Apple is taken care of and in bed at a reasonable hour.” 

Tav turned her head slightly. “Just be sure she doesn’t eat too much! Oh, wait, I need to tell her to stop and drink some water; she's been running a lot.” Tav looked around for her daughter.

“I will let her know!” Halsin used his archdruid voice. “Now go!”

Tav moved towards where Shadowheart was seated and grabbed a cup. She looked at the two cauldrons filled with the available piping-hot liquids. Shdowheart was enjoying the mulled wine that was spiced with cinnamon, orange peels, and cranberries already deep in her cups as Tav noted the red glow of her cheeks. Tav decided that she should still have her wits about her and grabbed the ladle that belonged to the non-alcoholic apple cider. 

“You’re not going to get drunk off of that one.” Shadowheart spoke just before taking a drink from her glass. 

“I know.” Tav drank her cider and felt the heat course through her body. “I don’t want to get drunk in front of my child.” 

“Oh right… For some reason, I keep forgetting you’re a mother.” Shadowheart looked around for Apple. “I need to come see her more… She is my favorite niece.”

“She’s your only niece,” Tav replied, rolling her eyes.

“Right, and that’s why she’s my favorite.” Shadowheart gave Tav a playful smile. “She is great; you know the two of you got lucky.”

“In more ways than I can count.” Tav looked at the crowd forming around the bard. 

Drunken men and women tried their best to sing as the bard played, and none of them hitting the right notes. Tav took a long drink from her cider, warming her further as she hummed along to the song. The song was called The Beauty of Baldur’s Gate and told of the beautiful maiden who slew the absolute along with her righteous friends and saved all of Faerun from the Mind Flayer invasion. As far as songs about her went, it was one of Tav’s favorites. 

Shadowheart looked at Tav. “Didn’t you and Astarion once enter a bard competition?” 

“UGH!” Tav growned at the question. “No, he entered me in the contest to catch a man who was killing the local bards.” Tav turned her attention back to Shadowheart. “It turns out a bard slept with his wife and took it upon himself to eliminate all bards from the town.” 

Tav remembered the day Astarion had burst through their room at the local inn they were staying at and proclaimed that she would be participating. After a long argument, Tav conceded to participating. They had planned to have Tav not actually sing but instead get access Backstage in hopes that the killer would strike. But one thing had led to another, and Tav had found herself on stage with the crowd calling for her to sing. Then another local bard started to play the flute, and something in her called for her to sing. All the while, Astarion took down the murderer from backstage, and Tav took first place. 

“Didn’t you win?” Shadowheart raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Only because the murderer had already killed all the best bards in town.” Tav downed the remains of her cup and turned to fill it again.

“Why don’t you go up and try your hat at getting the notes right.” Shadowheart gave Tav her best puppy dog eyes. “I’ve never heard you sing, and I would love to.” 

Tav avoided her gaze and instead turned her attention back to the crowd surrounding the bard. They had moved on to another song, and the crowd had swelled to almost double what it had been only a few moments ago. Tav could barely see him as he continued to play host to the drunks around him. They still were having trouble finding the correct notes. 

Just as Tav was about to head inside to find Gale, the bard stopped playing and shouted over the crowd. “Is there anyone out there who is not drunk and can carry a tune?” He jammed his finger in his ear. “I fear I will contract tone deafness if someone does not aid me soon.” 

Tav started walking away past Shadowheart when she stood abruptly and grabbed Tav’s hand. Raising it high in the air. “My friend can offer you some aid!” She shouted. 

Tav pulled her hand from Shadowheart's grip and got in her friend's face. “What are you doing?”

“Making you have a bit of fun.” Shadowheart swayed. “It’s Midwinter! Come on, live a little!”

 The crowd parted as cheers started erupting from all around Tav. If she walked away now, it would look as if she was scared, which she wasn’t, nor was she afraid to stand in front of this crowd. She blew out a long, calming breath and walked up to the bard, who was looking at her expectantly. 

“Hello, my lady; my name is Samuel Crestwind.” Samuel bowed. “And what name does a woman as fair as you go by?”

“Tav.” She looked around at the crowd, waiting patiently for the next song. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be the same Tav that liberated this place of the shadow curse and save Baldur’s Gate?” Samuel asked in awe. 

“The very same.” Tav looked away and blushed. 

“Everyone!” Samuel addressed the crowd. “We don’t have any ordinary person before us! This is Tav, liberator of shadows and the legendary hero of Baldur’s Gate!”

The crowd cheered as Samuel made his announcement, and Tav’s blush deepened. She could feel a strange power surge from the crowd as they cheered. It felt almost as if she was gaining something from them. A strange form of magic, but just as she felt the strange tug, it was gone before could identify it.

“What songs do you know, Tav?” He gave her a flirtatious smile. 

“Pretty much all the popular ones.” She gave him her best polite smile. “Just start playing, and if I don’t know it, I’ll make something up.” 

“As you wish.” Samuel lifted his violin so that it rested on his left shoulder. “Let us see what you can do. 

Tav swallowed, and Samuel started the first few notes of The Green Eyes of Mallistari. The song was about a human woodsman who had fallen in love with an elven woman, and they met under the full moon to state their love for one another. Tav rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before opening her mouth to serenade the crowd. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken Astarion far too long to find something to eat. As he crested the hill that bordered the settlement, the Midwinter party was already in full swing. The hunt wasn’t a complete bust, as he was able to find two squirrels and a raccoon. Not as good as other things he could be dining on, but they would do for the meantime. 

A crowd of people surrounded a bard and his partner as the two danced and entertained the growing crowd. Concern gripped him as he continued into the square where he had left Tav two hours ago as he couldn’t find her anywhere. 

Astarion looked over to see Shadowheart clapping. Her body turned around on the bench to watch the crowd better. He approached her to see if she knew where Tav went as he clocked Apple playing with a bear that he hoped was Halsin. As he approached Shadowheart, her face broke out into a wide smile. It made him uneasy as it gave him the aura that she knew something that he didn’t. 

“There you are!” Shadowheart stayed seated. “Where have you been? You have missed one hell of a party.” 

“I was getting something to eat.” Astarion continued to look around. “Have you seen Tav!?”  He shouted over the noise of the bards and the crowd. 

“I have seen her.” Shadowheart smiled into her cup as she took a drink. 

“And where is she exactly?” Astarion didn’t have time to play games with her, not when Tav could be alone somewhere. 

“Behind you.” Shadowheart leaned back against the table. 

Astarion looked behind him and just found the crowd. “Are you saying she’s in that crowd?” 

“More like the crowd is around her.” Shadowheart slurred as she spoke. 

He turned back around and really listened to the voices that were going on around him. Beyond the sounds of the drunks cheering, there was a high, sweet voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since the days when Apple needed to be sung to sleep, and although Astarion did his best, he was never able to hold a candle to the voice that Apple always asked for. He looked back at Shadowheart to confirm what he was thinking. All she did was nod; she didn’t need him to ask his question to know what he needed to know. 

Astarion started to make his way through the crowd, pushing his way past dozens of men and women. All of them were not putting up a fight, as many of them were too drunk to know what was happening before he had passed them. As he got closer to the front of the crowd, Tav’s voice became clear and it was harder to deny that it was really her. It had taken Astarion hours to convince her to do the bard competition over fifty years ago, and she still fought tooth and nail to get out of it any way she could. The only logical explanation as to why she was doing it willingly now was that she must be shit-faced. 

As he broke into the front of the crowd, he was shocked at what he saw. Tav’s curls cascaded over her shoulders in a waterfall of brown silk. She was glowing in the moonlight but not from any magic but her own sweat that glistened on her forehead and the parts of her chest he could see. A large smile accented her face as she sang and danced to the tune that some man playing the violin was fiddling away. Her face was red, and she was panting, which told Astarion that she had been doing this for quite some time. 

The song ended, and she locked eyes with him. “Astarion!” She ran over to him, and as she did, she tried to catch her breath. “Did you find something to eat?”

“Yes…” Astarion looked into her eyes. “Tav, how much have you had to drink?” 

“None.” Tav panted. “Shadowheart volunteered me to come up and sing.” She grabbed his hands and smiled. “And then the crowd started cheering, then the next thing I knew, I had sung six songs.” 

She was positively glowing. The smile on her face beamed at him, and Astarion found himself staring back at her in awe, gravitating towards her like she had cast a spell on him. Tav was stunning, a vision of pure beauty as she looked into his eyes, and it felt as if she was the answer to everything he had ever asked for. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tav giggled before fear took over. “Is Apple okay?” She squeezed his hands. “Halsin said he was watching her! Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Halsin is doing a fine job entertaining her; it’s just…” Astarion trailed off as he released one of her hands and cupped her cheek with his now free hand. “You look radiant, my Darling.” 

Tav leaned into his touch. “I’m sweaty, that’s probably why.” 

“No.” Astarion stepped towards her, not caring that a horde of people surrounded them. “You put all the goddesses to shame with your beauty.” 

Astarion leaned down and placed his lips to Tav’s. Her lips parted to give him full access to her mouth. She tasted like spiced Apples baked with cinnamon and cloves, whereas he tasted the iron of the animals he had just consumed. The crowd around them cheered, and some grumbled about how it wasn’t fair that pretty boys always got the bards. A different hunger grew in Astarion as he broke the kiss and saw the same hunger in Tav’s eyes. 

“Come with me.” Astarion pulled Tav through the crowd. 

Tav waved goodbye to Samuel, who shouted his dissatisfaction at Tav's departure. “Where are we going?”

“To feed each other mind, body, and soul.” Astarion started to make his way to the inn, Tav following not far behind as she held onto his hand. 

Tag list:

@ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave @littlekidsteve @omnia--mea-mecum-porto @ayselluna @myreadingmanga123 @kismet-of-the-divine @nicalysm @justlilpeaches21 @five-salty-bitters @lenarosic88 @caydevakarian @supervrgnsokay-blog @ravenswritingroom @kalypsoox @foxiecelery @wisteriaofthegraves

#astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion dad #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #fic writing #fluff #fanfiction #fiction #fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 tav #tav #third person #astarion ancunin #angst #angst with a happy ending

[flowercrown-bard]

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

word count: ~2k

content warnings: Animal death (griffin)

summary: Eskel waits for a griffin to show up when a brightly dressed bard shows up and tries to set the little goat that Eskel wanted to use as bait free

------

“It’s alright,“ Eskel said as soothingly as he could. “You’re going to be safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

A mellow bleat was the only reply he got and the tiny goat nudged Eskel’s chest with her head. Eskel smiled. He could feel the scars tugging at his lips, but it didn’t matter, not when his goat was the only one around to witness it.

Eskel secured the rope that would keep her from running away on a stake he had stuck in the earth, making sure the knot would stay in place. With one last pet or her head, Eskel stood up.

“I’m coming back for you,” he promised, before retreating into the shadows of some trees.

As soon as Eskel was out of sight, Lil’Bleater began living up to her name. Searching for Eskel and tugging at the rope, she let out a pitiful bleat.

If her scent hadn’t already been enough to attract the griffin’s attention, those sounds would do the job.

Eskel pressed fiddled with his crossbow, every muscle as tense as a bow string as he waited for the beast to arrive.

But instead of the unmistakable shriek of a griffin and the darkening of the sky as the beast flew before the sun, something far worse appeared that made Eskel’s heart drop like a rock.

It began with the sounds of snapping twigs and rocks being kicked, coming closer. Then, carefree singing joined in the distracting sounds.

A human.

Eskel couldn’t see them yet, but it was clear they had no intention of turning back.

What was a human doing here? Everyone in town knew that this field wasn’t safe. There was a reason why they had hired Eskel. No one dared come here anymore, not as long as there was a griffin attacking everything it could get its claws on.

And now there was a human – unsuspecting or just plain stupid and reckless – coming towards the griffin’s hunting place. Right where Eskel had set up bait to lure the griffin out.

For a brief moment Eskel contemplated leaving his hideout and telling the person to leave. But approaching lone travellers was never a good idea. Eskel knew what he looked like. He had no illusions of being received in a friendly way. If he told the person to leave they would likely run straight back to the town and probably tell some tale about how he had just barely escaped a witcher attacking him.

It wouldn’t be the first time of something like that happening to Eskel.  

So he stayed hidden, praying that the person would just leave quickly on their own.

Lil’ Bleater’s cries got louder, more urgent. The singing stopped. For a moment, so did the sounds of the person’s footsteps. Then, they picked up again, faster this time.

From the trees that had blocked Eskel’s sight before, a man appeared, hastening towards the goat. A lute that marked the man as some sort of bard, was slung around his back and he wore a bright teal doublet that looked so out of place in this area that was mostly inhabited by farmers that Eskel could do nothing but stare.

The man cocked his head to the side like a curious bird when he laid eyes on Lil’ Bleater.

“Hey there, you adorable little thing.” Eskel couldn’t see the man’s face, but his smile was evident in his bright voice. “The shepherd forgot you here? Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home.”

Eskel stifled a curse when the bard kneeled down in front of the goat and ran a hand over her fur with a delighted laugh when Lil’ Bleater nibbled at his fingers, all the while babbling excitedly at her. His laugh was almost as melodious as his singing had been before. Eskel didn’t get many chances to hear people laugh so carefree. Most laughter died when people realised that there was a witcher in their midst.

Eskel watched with a strangely fast beating heart how the bard started to work on the knot. He let out a string of colourful curses when he realised that the know was too tight for him to untangle.

“Fret not,” he said in a dramatic voice through clenched teeth from the effort. “I will rescue you.”

He was so strangely theatrical, that Eskel forgot himself and let out a short laugh, not loud enough for the bard to hear, but enough to startle Eskel himself. He couldn’t remember a time when he had laughed outside of the halls of Kaer Morhen.

Eskel was so taken aback by the unexpected thought, that for a second he forgot to pay any attention to his surroundings. Being negligent was a mistake a witcher only made once in his life.

A moment of distraction was all a griffin needed to emerge from the sky. It was quiet as it approached its prey. The man probably would have never noticed the impending danger if it weren’t for the shadow falling over him. His head snapped up and he let out a terror-filled cry.

It tore Eskel out of his stupor.

He jumped forth from the trees, his free hand stretched out before him and racing towards the bard. A burst of igni interrupted the griffin’s dive, but it Eskel wasn’t close enough yet to even singe the beast’s feathers.

“Get out of here!” Eskel shouted at the bard, whose head snapped up to him.

Eskel had no time to pay any attention to the way he looked at him. He had to focus on the real threat. Readying his crossbow, he ran ever closer. The first bolt flew through the air while he was still mid-run. It barely hit its mark.

The griffin screeched, Lil Bleater let out a terrified cry and the man panted in panic. And still he didn’t get up, didn’t even scramble away.

Out of the corner of his eyes Eskel saw how he worked more frantically then before on Lil’ Bleater’s restrains.

His heart skipped a beat. The distraction lasted only a second, but it was enough for the griffin to take a turn and dive down again, his claws aiming for Eskel.

Eskel cursed and unsheathed his sword. The griffin was almost there. Only one more second and he would be close enough to hit it. Or be seized by the deadly claws.

“Watch out!”

The shout came at the same time that something barrelled into Eskel and it wasn’t the griffin.

No man could push a witcher to the ground with his strength alone, but the shove came so unexpected, that Eskel tumbled to the ground when the man tackled him. The man let out a muffled groan when he fell onto Eskel, for some reason not even trying to catch the fall with his hands.

The talons of the beast missed the bard by a hair’s breadth, Eskel could almost see them gracing his hair.

His heart clenched and without hesitation, Eskel flipped them so that the reckless stranger was lying beneath him. Eskel didn’t look at him as he shielded him with his body.

The griffin’s beak darted forwards and Eskel threw up a quen-shield.

“Stay down,” Eskel commanded harshly and jumped back to his feet and spun around. This time, when the griffin lunged for him, Eskel’s sword buried itself deep into its flesh.

Panting, Eskel stood over the beast as it crashed to the ground, just a few feet away from the man. Without hesitation, he delivered the final blow.  

The stranger whimpered when the sword made a squelching sound as it was torn out of the griffin’s body.

Eskel wanted to whirl around and scold the bard for how stupidly reckless he had been. Heroes didn’t survive for long out in the real wold. If he had died that would have been on Eskel.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to sooth the frown lines on his face away as he slowly turned to face the man again, though not enough to put his scars on full display. The bard had just escaped death, he didn’t need to be scared any further.

“Are you alright?” Eskel asked as gently as he could, but his breath hitched when he finally met the man’s eyes.

They were wide and impossibly blue and they didn’t look at Eskel as if the bard thought that Eskel would be the next thing to attack him. The blue-eyes man didn’t flinch back from the yellow gaze on him and no renewed spike of fear reeked off of him. True, the smell of panic still clung to him, but beneath him, but fainter than before and there was a strange sort of excitement coming off of the man.

He let out a startled laugh, likely a result of the realisation that the danger was over now.

“That was fantastic!” He shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

Eskel’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t….”

His words dried in his mouth and he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the curve of the bard’s smile and the glint in his eyes. Eskel shouldn’t let that get to him. Neither of these things were truly meant for him. Once the bard calmed down enough to think rationally again, the would realise that Eskel was not someone to smile at.

“I told you to run,” Eskel said, more to keep himself from wishing that this brilliant smile stayed on him. “You could have gotten hurt.”

The bard tilted his head to the side and he gave Eskel a long look. “Something tells me you wouldn’t have let that happen.”

Eskel didn’t reply. It was the truth, but the bard almost made it sound as if he thought Eskel was some sort of hero for it.

Uncomfortable under the almost admiring look, Eskel let his eyes wander over the bard’s body, making sure he truly wasn’t injured.

Eskel’s breath got stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on what the bard was holding protectively to his chest. The tiny goat that was cuddled comfortably in his arms gave a happy bleat.

“You…” Eskel’s eyes snapped back up. “You saved Lil’ Bleater?”

For a second the bard looked like he was about to scoff at the idea that he could ever let an animal get harmed, but then his eyes lit up in delight and his smile widened as if Eskel had said something that earned him such a reaction.

“Lil Bleater? That is the most adorable name I’ve ever heard.” A glint of mischief entered his eyes. “And what might your name be? I can keep calling you my valiant saviour in my head, but I think I’d much rather put a name to that handsome face.”

Eskel let out a huff and turned away a bit more, making sure that his scars were as hidden as they could be. He knew even without the bard seeing them, he wouldn’t be considered handsome. He was too broad, too soft in places where his muscles should show and yet too bulky to not be intimidating. But it was nice hearing the word directed at him. The way the bard said it, Eskel could almost let himself believe that he meant it.

He risked another quick glance at the bard’s face and he found no trace of mockery in it.

“I’m Eskel,” he said, swallowing thickly when the bard’s smile grew into a full grin.

“I am Jaskier,” came the reply.

Eskel’s chest clenched uncomfortably. People didn’t offer witchers their names. They didn’t smile at them or talk to them without squirming in discomfort. They didn’t save goats from griffins and push witchers out of apparent danger.

And yet, Jaskier had done all those things. It did something strange to Eskel’s chest, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew he should just leave. Get his pay and forget all about the man with the lovely voice and the blue eyes.

Instead, he heard himself asking, “Would you like to go back to town with me?”

It was a foolish thing to ask and Eskel knew the answer before Jaskier even opened his mouth.

But instead of coming up with an excuse of flat out refusing the preposterous offer, Jaskier’s face brightened. “Of course!” He winked and Eskel’s insides gave a strange twist at the unexpected gesture. “After all, I promised Lil’ Bleater to get her back safely. And I would be loath to part with the lovely thing already.”

Jaskier’s teasing tone allowed no doubt that it wasn’t the goat he wanted to spend more time with.

“I’m sure she would hate saying goodbye to you already as well,” Eskel replied in a strangely choked voice.

A soft laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and Eskel felt the corner of his own lips twitch up in turn, for once not caring how his smile twisted his face. With the way Jaskier’s eyes softened at Eskel’s smile, he almost began to think that this strange man that saved goats and called him handsome, could see Eskel as something other than a scarred and shunned witcher.

His heart fluttered at the thought and as he held up a hand to pull Jaskier up from the ground and Jaskier took it without hesitation, Eskel thought that for the first time he could dare take the risk and find out if Jaskier’s smile would maybe stay on him a little longer.

He was almost certain that it would.

#jaskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #eskel/jaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fic #fanfic #oneshot #first meeting #lil bleater #my writing

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [ Pt. 9 ]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Geralt confronts Yennefer, and a massive argument leads to something massive, that even Yennefer cannot control. And neither can you. Or Geralt.

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

"YENNEFER? YEN!"

Geralt's voice rang through the quiet hallways until the sorceress finally stepped out of her chambers, frowning.

"Geralt—"

She gasped, freezing when she saw him looking at her with a look that was far from the love that she had always seen in his eyes for her. Her eyes flicked from him to you, and you pressed yourself against the wall, although you kept looking at her with rage filled eyes.

"You used me. And I fucking let you." His voice was low, dark— mediating between a growl and a warning.

"My love, what—"

"ENOUGH, Yennefer. Tissaia de Vries told her everything. Funny I happened to be around when she did," he growled.

"And you really believed the lies that woman fed you with? Really Geralt? You would take her words over me?" She hissed back, venom lurking through her dark eyes as she took a step closer. You could see that Yennefer was shaking, and your nearest guess was, that it was with rage.

"Yennefer—" Geralt began, but she cut him off.

"What did she say? She must have cooked up lies on how this whore is a Cintran Princess."

"You couldn't have made it up, Yennefer."

"I thought you loved me. I thought I was important to you. Now you are being poisoned by that witch, knowing what she did to me—"

"Yennefer, enough," Geralt grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled her towards himself, so her face was now inches away from his.

"I told you, I wouldn't be here to catch you fall."

"Geralt, they are poisoning your minds. Look at her—" She turned towards you with hate filled eyes, hot tears leaking from them, "She can never be a Princess."

The sides of his lips tugged upwards as he shot you a quick glance, and then turned back to her.

"I would rather believe the lies they feed me then, than trust you again."

With those words, Geralt pushed Yennefer away and turned his back towards her, his face now towards you. It was only as he had finally started walking towards you, that Yennefer threw back her head and began laughing. It started as a chuckle first, a maniacal, evil chuckle, until she was clutching her stomach and laughing.

"What are you going to do about it, Geralt of Rivia? You're weak. You let yourself be manipulated by me, you fell in love with me and gave up almost everything. Now, what will you do exactly? Leave?"

She hiccuped, her voice dark and malicious, as she mumbled them between her uncontrollable laughter. Geralt's fists clenched, his body going rigid as he slowly turned, looking her in the eye.

"It's over, Yennefer."

"No, it's not. And you—" She turned towards you, taking a step towards you, but Geralt pushed himself between you and her, placing his thick hand on her shoulder to keep her away from you, "You think you've won? You don't know what Yennefer of Vengerberg is capable of." She snapped her neck towards Geralt, craning her neck slightly, so her lips were hovering over his, but he didn't move, as she whispered, "You two will run away. Raise that baby? And Yennefer won't find you?"

"That's the plan, Yen— if you don't already know." Geralt grunted, but stayed where he was.

"Well, then.. go?" She smiled and stepped away, throwing her hands in the air.

You didn't know when Jaskier had sneaked up next to you, but you were now thankful he was there. He took your hand in his, his fingers coiling around yours, entwining your hands.

"She can't mean it, can she?" You whispered, bit all you received in return was silence.

"Leave before I change my mind." She screamed, causing you to flinch, and instinctively jump backwards.

Geralt, in that split second, turned towards you, and your eyes met his. He nodded. You swallowed, pleading with him with your eyes and he softened. You watched as he parted his lips, mouthing the word 'go', and you turned towards Jaskier.

"Jaskier. We need to leave. Now."

"But Geralt—" Jaskier asked, as you pulled his hand and began dragging him towards the main door.

"Just.. Geralt will figure something out. I know it."

The two of you dashed towards the door, until suddenly a sudden thrust hit you hard against your back, and you flew off, your back hitting the wall as you crashed against the floor on one end, while Jaskier flew off to the right. Yennefer smirked, her hands held against her chest, a ball of air revolving around her fingers.

Geralt growled like a wounded animal, his hand finally gripping his sword, as he pounced on her, like a hungry predator. Instead of using the sword, he twisted the sword, hitting Yennefer against her temple with the hilt of the sword, disbalancing her and knocking her off as she fell to her side.She snarled, grabbing Geralt's foot, pulling him slightly until cracks appeared underneath his feet and roots started creeping against his legs, coiling around them, freezing him to where he was.

He muttered a curse under his breath, and using his fingers, he drew a sign in the air, and a sudden blast of telekinetic energy hit the creepers, freeing him of his captivity.

"I can't believe this is how it ends, Yen, but it will," Geralt muttered, in a voice so low, only Yennefer could hear it.

You groaned, blinking, confused and dazed as you fluttered your eyes open. The back of your head was stinging as you sat back up, your hand immediately flowing to your head. Suddenly, you were reminded of Yennefer, and you immediately gasped, your head sharply turning towards where Yennefer and Geralt were, fighting each other. Biting your lip, you crawled to where Jaskier was laying unconscious, keeping your head low so she wouldn't spot you.

"Jaskier," you hissed, slapping him lightly across his face, your head ducked so the sorceress wouldn't be able to see that you are awake, "Jas' wake up. Wake up Jaskier."

"Where... the..fuck am I? Am I dead? Am I in.. heaven?" Jaskier mumbled barely incoherent words as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Na, not so lucky. Now wake up, we need to find a way to get out of here. Geralt can stall her, but he cannot fight her—" Your words were interrupted when Geralt crashed on his back just inches away from where you and Jaskier were, and the two of you looked from each other to him. Geralt groaned slightly, but conscious as he lifted his head up, and his eyes met yours. His eyes softened when he saw that you were okay, the firmness of his eyes melting away.

"Go," he grunted, as he pushed himself up again, his fingers moving as he conjured up another sign, but his eyes were on you.

You pursed your lips together and looked at Jaskier and then at Geralt, shaking your head, "Not without you, Geralt." Jaskier smiled, Geralt kept looking at you, his expressions not betraying exactly how he was feeling right now when Yennefer's bellowing laughter started ringing into your ears. You turned around to see her standing fifteen steps away from you, smiling.

"Had a nice sleep, pet?" She hissed.

Then everything happened in slow motion. You watched her lips and her hands move, and a blast of white light dashed towards you. You could hear it in the back of your head; Geralt screaming, running towards you, trying to conjure up a sign to save you but the momentum and the strength of the sorceress' attack was no match for him.

You didn't know why, but you began gripping the fabric of your tunic, your fingers curling around it. You opened your mouth— a scream, like death, blasted out from the crevice of your throat, shrill and loud. Cracks appeared on the walls around you, the vessels beginning to shake. Just when the blast Yennefer had sent your way was close enough to hit you, the two pillars that stood on the either side of the room fell, landing in front of you, acting as a barrier to stop the force from touching you.

The room was engulfed in dust the second the pillars fell, and you let go off the fabrics you were holding, immediately jumping backwards, running towards Geralt. He wrapped an arm around your waist the minute you reached him, and then turned to look at the rubble that had formed, looking from it to you, "Fuck." He exclaimed, looking at you.

He, however recovered from it faster than Jaskier could who was still gaping at you, wide mouthed. Geralt took this minute when Yennefer was distracted, seething in rage when she had seen just what you had done. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you backwards, dragging you towards the door.

"You two leave."

"And you?" You snapped, pulling your arm away and got a growl from him in retaliation.

"[Y/N]—" the bard intervened, grabbing your other arm, which was hilarious. It was like you were a commodity suddenly. One dropped you and other lifted you up, "Now is not the best time to argue. Geralt can take care of himself but we should get out while we can. You're a pregnant ball of magic that doesn't know how to control it."

"A ball of magic?" You glared at him.

"Fuck, you two. Will you leave?" Geralt growled, intercepting the two of you. When you turned towards him, you realized that while you were bantering with the bard, Geralt had formed a defensive sign around the three of you. It was holding against Yennefer's spell of lightning, but for how long?

"I'm not leaving you. We are leaving, together." You announced.

You just realized something. Yennefer had Geralt's heart, whether you liked or not. He wouldn't be able to kill her, even if he knew he could. He was just buying you time to escape. But you also realized, Geralt had your heart, and you couldn't leave him behind.

"Fucks sake, I can't hold it any longer, why won't you leave—" Geralt barked, and you looked at him, an idea suddenly striking you.

"What if we can all leave? I think I have an idea."

"It better be good." Geralt grunted, still struggling to hold his sheild.

"Remember what Yen said about the Great Mount? No Mage is powerful enough to create a portal to that place. But, I am not a mage." You smiled.

"But [Y/N], you are not strong enough," Jaskier protested.

"We have to try, Jaskier. That's our only way for all three of us to leave. For now. Geralt, hold on for a few seconds longer, I can do this."

A look passed between you and Geralt. He just glared at you, not agreeing per se with the action plan that you had come out with, but he didn't have a plan of his own, except to stall the sorceress. He pursed his lips and nodded, finally parting his lips as words shot out of his mouth, "Fine.. just... don't get hurt."

You nodded and fluttered your eyes close, concentrating on that one black spot in front of your eyelids. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened, your fingers twitching with impatience. You could hear Jaskier mumble, "Geralt, I don't think it's working. We're gonna die by your lover's hands if you don't do something."

You snarled angrily, clenching your eyes shut, focusing all your energy on that spot when the sounds started growing distance and your mind started blocking out the sounds. Your breathing piked up, and you were practically panting; gasping for air when you finally saw it in front of your eyes — the Great Mount. It stood tall, just like you remembered it from earlier.

"Jaskier, bring her back!" Geralt snarled, screaming and struggling when suddenly his spell broke, and the three of you were flung into the air by the force of Yennefer's spell. You kept laying there twitching and convulsing, foam shooting out of your mouth but all you could see in your mind now was the Great Mount.

Suddenly, a portal appeared in front of you, and Yennefer screamed at the sight of it, for the portal wasn't a normal portal she had ever used. This was only something she had heard in stories, and had never seen anything like it. It was a portal that could only be used by the elven mages; better known as the sages. Yennefer realized, blood draining out of her face, if you could conjure up a portal like this, you could bring down her magic with the blink of an eye, if you got full control over your power.

"Hurry!" You screamed, and the three of you pushed yourself up; before you began running towards the portal, without taking a look back. You ignored Yennefer's scream, and the powerful blast of fire that she released because the instant you stepped into the portal, the portal closed, blocking Yennefer out and the three of you landed on your backs on a muddy ground.

You could hear Jaskier groaning someplace next to you, and you could hear Geralt grunt, but louder than that was the piercing ringing in your ears. You kept laying on the cold ground, staring at the sky, your body feeling like it had been run over by a massive elephant, until you felt Geralt; saw Geralt leaning over you, trying to revive you, his fingers patting over your cheeks.

"Wake up. Wake up, fuck."

You blinked, taking a deep breath as you abruptly sat up, all of it coming to you slowly, your brain still clogged due to the immense pain that you were feeling everywhere but your stomach.

"Geralt— the baby."

Geralt's eyes constricted, as his eyes fell to your belly, and without hesitating, his palm flew to your bump, as he placed it on your stomach and began feeling around, listening for a heartbeat.

You kept watching, breathing heavy, biting your lip, trying to control the tears that were forming in your eyes.

What if you had lost the baby? What if —

"Our baby is okay."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, whispering, your voice low, "Our?"

The last you remembered, Geralt had only smiled when he was with her. But you couldn't keep your tears in line, when you saw his lips curve into the tiniest of smiles upon hearing your innocent question. He didn't reply; but instead, he removed his hand from your stomach, placing it on your cheek, for just a split second, his thumb stroking slightly over your skin.

"Hm."

Geralt's touch lingered against your cheek for a second longer, and it felt like your skin was on fire. When he removed it though, it was like ice, cold and stinging. You watched him, with a giddy smile on your face as he stood up, and threw out his palm towards you. You slowly reached out, placing your palm in his as he pulled you up.

"Now what, Witcher?" You whispered, staring into his golden orbs, and he kept staring back at you. But you didn't know why his eyes felt different altogether. It was like he was seeing you, for you and not for a woman who was just carrying his baby.

"We go to Cintra."

You smiled, and looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze and looking back at him, before an amused look crossed your eyes.

"What?" He mumbled, his broody voice back again.

"Starving, Geralt." You explained, rubbing your palm over your belly. His eyes followed your movements, his lips twitching as he nodded.

"I'll see if I can find something to hunt around here, before we leave."

Geralt slowly turned away, and you watched as he began walking towards the shrubbery, when Jaskier cleared his throat, rather loudly, and you realized you weren't alone, "What?" You said, feigning innocence.

"Would the two of you just declare your love for each other already? It's getting obnoxious watching the two of you strip each other with just your eyes." He winked, his eyes twinkling as he began teasing you, and you couldn't help but flush at his words.

"There's nothing between us, Jaskier." You shrugged, rubbing your hands together, wincing slightly as you tried to move your shoulder and Jaskier frowned, eyeing you carefully, but you gave him a ghost of a smile, signalling him that you were okay.

"I'm not blind. And neither am I a eunuch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You gasped hitting him in the arm.

"Well I mean, only a blind cannot see the effect that you are having on my broody friend, [Y/N]."

"Stop being dramatic, Jas'—" You turned away intentionally, not wanting to indulge in this specific topic of conversation with him. Instead, you slowly began walking around, and trying to pass your time until Geralt was back so you didn't have to answer Jaskier anymore or think about what he had said.

Geralt didn't really feel anything for you. Jaskier wasn't right this time. Right?

An owl hooted somewhere around; embers sizzles from the fire that heated up the three of you as you sat around it, letting the warmth seep through your bones. It was like a healing. You watched, as you dug your teeth into the roasted rabbit leg, taking a chunky bite of the meat, hunger making your tummy rumble uncontrollably; you kept staring at Geralt, who was eating too.

Suddenly, Geralt looked at you— the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk— he had seen you stare. You turned away, flustered, heat pooled up inside you.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and began staring at the sky, the trees and anything that wasn't the white haired Witcher smirking teasingly at you.

"We will leave for Cintra at dawn. Although—" Geralt began speaking, and you turned to look at him, "Yen cannot open a portal to the Great Mount, she can open a portal to the city nearest, which is a day's distance from here."

"You think she is already on her way?" You cocked your eyebrow, ignoring Jaskier chewing on the roasted rabbit shamelessly next to you.

"Nothing's gonna stop her. She will follow us to the end of the world just to get what she wants."

"I would be surprised if she didn't," you exhaled as you slowly stood up, your shoulder still sore after having taken that bad fall on your back twice.

"[Y/N], rest," Geralt stated, and it sounded more like a command. When you looked at him, he was arching forward, both his elbows resting on his knees, his legs spread out, his palms together. The fire illuminated his face, highlighting his handsome features.

You lowered yourself by a tree, wincing slightly when your shoulder brushed against the tree bark; a hiss escaping your pursed lips, through your teeth. Geralt's Witcher sense of hearing picked up on your hiss, and he cocked his neck towards you, carefully noticing the way you were slightly tense around the upper body. You watched as he stood up and with big steps, reached where you were, instantly kneeling down next to you.

"Show me."

"What?" You mumbled.

Geralt grunted in annoyance, "You're hurt."

"Geralt, I'm fine, really, it's nothing," you absentmindedly replied him, exhaustion and pain making you feel weak.

A growl arose from somewhere inside the White Wolf's chest— it was animalistic; more like a wounded animal's warning snarl— desperate. He suddenly reached out, placing his hand on your shoulder and you winced in pain. It wasn't the pain, however that bothered you.

But, rather the inappropriate thoughts building up in your mind. You were at the same place yet again, the place where you had conceived your child with Geralt, and so was he. A lot had changed since then, but the feelings had only flared.

Your eyes clenched shut as you felt Geralt's warm fingers brush against your neck as his fingers hooked to the neck of your dirty dress.

Geralt pressed his lips shut when he looked at you like this— cowered under his touch— not in fear, for you could have stopped him anytime. Or could you? Geralt doubted suddenly if he could himself bring him to stop, when his fingers were brushing against your alarmingly cold skin, skin that felt like butter underneath his touch. He suddenly felt intoxicated, his insides flaring up and a sudden, raw hunger built up in him. He wanted to feel more of your skin underneath his fingers, brush his index over the curves of your body, caress you and make you feel better.

He flicked his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself for thinking that way about you.

But it was hard to resist; more so when he could practically see you melting in his touch.

Slowly, he lowered your dress, down your shoulder, grunting under his breath as he noticed the sudden rise of your chest as you took a sharp breath.

You were making this difficult for him.

His eyes fell on your shoulder— a massive bruise had already formed, turning bluish purple and he frowned, leaning closer so he could look at it better.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looked from the bruise to your face, right into your eyes and you took in his words, slowly craning your neck over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. You knew you were hurt, but you hadn't realized it was that bad.

"I .. didn't realize." You whispered, watching his frown widen as his fingers pulled away, leaving a void inside you that threatened to flare.

"Wait." That was all Geralt said before he stood up, and walked away, his eyes lowered to the sides where the shrubs stood, looking for something.

About ten minutes later, you saw him returning, but he had a few herbs in his hands. You kept looking at him questioningly as he knelt down next to you and began crushing the herbs between his thick, beefy palms, as he didn't have a mortar and pestle on him.

"May I?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you let the Witcher apply the thick paste over your bruise. It stung, but you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath, cursing lightly under your breath, and Geralt swore he felt something inside him— a guilt, or perhaps, an inexplicable feeling of seeing you in pain.

The Vessel Taglist:

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#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 12 - The Development, Pt. III

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: nightmares, patrol action, detailed description of bloodshed/violence, jealousy, hurt/comfort-ish.

Summary: A patrol gone wrong.

Word Count: 6.030

Author's Note: It's been almost a month since I updated I think I'm so sorry y'all 😭 I'll be done with language school in the following days so I'll update a lot more often and catch up with requests!!

Enjoy!

"Look, there!" Kiki whispered and pointed at a bush at the edge of a cliff. You, her and your husbands were hunting anything you could find for the town, and it was apparently going to be a rather large looking hare.

You looked around quickly for signs of movement and asked, bow at the ready: "Where?"

"I think it's hiding in the bush," She spoke quietly as you and Joel went towards the edge with quiet steps– you from the left and him from the right. He was quick with a pistol, but bullets were a last resort for hunting as it ruined the carcass and the meat, plus it was too loud.

"You see it?" You asked Joel and drew your arm back as far as it went and held your breath, looking for the animal desperately.

"I don't think it's–"

Blam!

The arrow sprang at the unexpected, loud sound of the pistol from behind you going off and something piercing your back. You heard Joel shout your name as you fell on your side, the bow slipping from your hands. As soon as you raised your eyes up at him, a second shot rang out in the air and a scream left your lips at the sight of Joel collapsing across you with a hole on the side of his head.

"Joel!"

You woke up with a loud gasp and sweat trickling down the sides of your face. Panting heavily, you couldn't speak for a while, sitting and trying to catch your breath. As soon as you snapped out of it, your hand went to look for Joel, where he was supposed to be in bed next to you, but he wasn't there.

"Joel?!" You called for him, running a hand through your hair and launching yourself out of bed and downstairs in the meantime. It was noon, the weather was a tad bit more hotter than usual. You practically ran downstairs as soon as you heard chatter coming from the dining room.

With the pounding in your ear and the fear that struck your heart, you couldn't hear who it was, but your jaw clenched and the blood flow in your veins came to a stop when you saw it was none other than Kiki and Joel sitting at the table, laughing.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)," Joel took notice of your abrupt entrance, but didn't seem bothered by your tense expression. "We were just talking about you."

"... Were you now?" You murmured.

"Come sit," Joel pointed at your usual seat at the head of the table, where you proceeded to walk towards. You entered the room with a dry mouth and slumped shoulders, your eyes never leaving Kiki's evil looking ones despite her smile.

"Yeah, she brought you these flowers and a letter," Joel extended them over to you with a curious, unusual smile spread across his lips. You were utterly dumbfounded as well as fuming, glaring daggers at him, then slowly took the said items from his hand.

Another thing that irked you was how Kiki was sitting in Joel's usual place across the other head of the table, while your husband was sat to your left. You looked at the flower for a while, but couldn't identify it, so you impatiently ripped through the neat package of the letter in question– giving hostile stares to them both as you did.

The paper was folded a few times to resemble a gift card. On the outside, it read Congratulations!

A nervous glance was sent Joel's way, who was flashing his teeth at you. Something he hadn't done in a long while. You then sent a nasty glare to Kiki, then it lowered down to the card in front of you, and with slow movements, you opened it: You don't have to worry about a thing anymore!

Before you could even think what the hell, the cocking of a gun from across you had you looking up at the speed of sound. Wide, bewildered eyes meeting the muzzle of a pistol held by Kiki, who now stood up across you.

You weren't given a moment to form a single word, when the gun went off and you felt it go through your skull, sending your body backwards. The force of it sent you falling with the chair, a horrified and confused expression painted across your face as the back of your head hit the floor.

You saw Joel walk over to you and kneel down with a blank expression on his face, saying your name...

Over... and over... and over again.

"(Y/N)?!" A sharp voice and a firm hand shaking you by the shoulder was what you heard for a brief second before your eyes shot open and a scream rippled through you.

You couldn't see who it was, but you'd know who the arms wrapped around you belonged to anyway.

"(Y/N), it's okay!" Ellie's worried voice somehow matched the grip she had around your body. You must've fallen asleep on the couch, where you had laid down to kill some time before the sweep. You held onto her tightly and pushed yourself back into her embrace as you let out a wail after a deep breath. "It's okay, I got you Dolly..."

You felt her hand caressing your back soothingly as she sat behind you and didn't let her hold weaken around your trembling form. Leaning down, you turned around and pressed your face into her shoulder, and she managed to hug you more properly.

It took a moment, but your attack turned into just hyperventilating, and that came to a stop eventually as well– Ellie just murmured assurances and made sure her grip around you never failed.

You pulled back when you felt yourself calm down: "I'm sorry–"

"It's okay," Ellie rubbed your back in a comforting motion, which made you feel a little better somehow. "You've nothing to apologise for... I hate bad dreams."

"Oh, I hate this one specifically," You chuckled and sniffed. "You think, after a long time of dealing with them, you'll get used to them, but you never really do."

She nodded: "Yeah... You want some water? Tommy sent me to grab you for the sweep."

You groaned and rubbed your temples: "I'd like that, I just neeed a moment to collect myself."

While Ellie was in the kitchen, you put your elbows on your thighs and held the back of your neck, trying but failing miserably to remove the images from your mind. At that moment, you felt the fear in your heart slowly turn into disdain and anger. Your breathing was heavy, and the beginnings of a terrible headache made its presence known.

"Here," Ellie's soft steps made you look up and take the glass from her with a quiet thank you. "You... wanna talk about it?"

You shook your head sideways as you took a big gulp: "Not now... Thank you though."

Twenty minutes later, you arrived at the stables to find Tommy and Joel. The sight of your husband almost made you run up, jump on and kiss him like a child, but you were a woman nearing her fifties, and Joel was a man alreadt in his fifties. Plus, you didn't want to worry him.

"Sorry, I fell asleep," You couldn't help the smallest relieved smile on your face as you approached them with quick steps. Joel didn't look very amused while Tommy urged you both to get going.

Since you were late, which wasn't a common occurrence, Joel had sent the others beforehand and decided to wait for you: "You okay?"

"Sure," You shrugged once you got on your horses.

"You look very pale," He observed, but when the doors opened, you both rode off. You rode fast, so you didn't talk more until you arrived at the meeting point.

The both of you were still a little tense from the previous day, and it hurt you –him too no doubt– but you both knew things could quickly escalate into a fight, and that you both needed to cool your heads before you could sit down and talk.

"We'll talk, okay? After we're done with the patrols altogether," You spoke softly before you both reached the others, to which he nodded with an expression devoid of tension.

"They're here," Bruce tilted his head your way as you waved briefly.

"Right." Joel said after the short greetings. "Kiki and I will search the houses, starting from the one beside the library. (Y/N) and Ward– You two'll search the library while Walt and Bruce will go for that little grocery store on the corner. Anything you can't handle? Holler and come back here."

Everyone gave a single nod as he explained how the sweep was going to go. You shared a brief look with Joel, then tilted your head at the library with a quiet come on to Ward. He nodded and followed you around to the sides of the building to find an opening– a window did the trick, and there were spores inside, but no movement: "Masks on."

After putting them on, you quietly jumped in and Ward followed; you then went back to the entry to open the doors in case you needed an emergency exit, then grabbed your rifle tightly and nodded at him to start moving; your mind raced with thoughts about the amount of fungal growth on the walls, how Ward was going to react if you got into trouble– if he was going to be the reason you'd get into trouble, and at the back, Kiki and Joel.

It wasn't long before you started hearing whimpers and gasps of runners inside. You whispered to him to follow you into the section behind the register, pulling out your knives and starting to clear the infected one by one. If Ward didn't grunt or groan too loudly, you imagined things would go more smoothly with patrols as he drew too much attention. He fought very angrily, like a Berserker, all the time; but he had it under control a lot more comparing to his first times.

It went well for the most part, carefully clearing the whole floor took as long as Kiki and Joel to get out of the house they were searching. When you were looking for a way to the second floor that wasn't barricaded, Joel stepped inside the library with his mask on: "Everything going okay?"

"Yup, this floor is cleared," You started walking towards him, Ward following suite. "I can still hear some infected upstairs though, but all the stairways are closed off–"

You suddenly stopped, the abruptness making Ward halt as well. Suddenly realising how unstable the ground was, you looked down very slowly, the squeaking of rotten wood beneath your feet making you tense up.

"Dolly?" Joel took a step towards you.

"Wait, no!" Your head and hands shot up to stop him. He stood right on the line where the wood and concrete connected: "Oh, fuck."

"What?!" Ward looked around.

"We're gonna fall if we're not careful," You spoke, on edge, alerting everyone and suddenly wondering where Kiki was. "Ward, you're closer to that counter, right?"

"Yeah," He turned around without moving his feet.

"Okay," You carefully put a foot forward and felt the wood shift unnervingly. "At the count of three, we jump."

"What's going on?" Kiki suddenly appeared out of nowhere and walked in, startling all of you.

"Stay back!" You cried out when she stepped right on the edge of the wooden surface, a step ahead of Joel.

As if she was doing it on purpose, with an ugly expression on her face, she took a particularly harsh step forward: "I don't understand, what's–"

A loud crack made your head shoot up, bewildered eyes meeting Kiki's at first, then Joel's panicked ones. Now or never! your brain screamed as you extended an arm out for Joel, and jumped forward.

————

Joel extended his arm out the same time you did, quickly kneeling down and leaning forward to grab you, but the wood was quicker. The distance between you two was too far, so the rotten ground swallowed you before your fingers could brush against Joel's.

"(Y/N)!" Joel shouted when a fearful shriek left your throat, watching you fall into the darkness. He quickly raised his head with great fear only to see Ward hanging on the edge of the counter, struggling grunts spilling from his lips. He tried to climb, but his hands slipped, and it caused him to fall in with you.

"Ward!" Kiki screamed. She had stepped back, but did nothing as she watched you both fall. Joel was too out of it to pay attention to either of them, he yelled your name desperately into the hole on the ground when it got quiet, the insufficient amount of light frustrating him. The dust and spores which rose with the commotion made it harder for him to see, even with his flashlight.

You were gone.

Slipped out of his touch the last second.

————

Your soul left your body when the makeshift floor gave out and you felt yourself fall. You couldn't reach Joel in time, and the look of terror on his face got branded onto your memory with hot iron at that exact moment.

"Oof!" Your chest hit what you assumed to be a bookshelf after you fell some distance. It gave out and two shelves broke under your ribs, which knocked the breath out of you, then you felt the slow collapsing of the bookshelf backwards. You panicked, then fell a second time on your arm. A pained, howl-like sound left you when you did, a few books falling on top of you. A particularly thin but open book's pages cut your bare shoulder as you shielded your face to protect your mask while everything fell, and fell, and fell.

Then, suddenly, there was another loud crash with a painful shout, which let you know Ward couldn't make it out and fell with you.

Then, there was silence.

You heard Joel shout your name once, then twice. Your head was spinning, and there was an irritating ringing in your ear which mostly cancelled out every other noise around. When you realised your consciousness remained, by some miracle, you checked your mask for any cracks before trying to move out of the fetal position you were in.

An all glass mask still intact, you didn't seem to have broken any bones (except for a few ribs probably) and you were still conscious– Some luck, huh.

Still kicking.

"I'm okay!" You shouted once you made sure everything was in place, but you were, in fact, not okay.

"Oh Christ," you heard Joel cry out and realised you were trapped under the collapsed bookshelf, but you were able to drag yourself out of there and stand up. Suddenly, you began hearing the growling and gasping of infected, but you couldn't see them.

"Where's Ward?!" Kiki shouted and you immediately began searching for him, turning on your flashlight.

"Here–" You heard a growl from a few feet away from you. From the sound of it, he was struggling as if he was being crushed. Your head was spinning, but you still tried to locate him.

"There's infected down here," You spoke. "We need to get out of here ASAP, where are you Ward?"

"Under– Here–" He coughed and you saw a fallen bookshelf move to your left. As quietly as possible, you skipped over to him and helped him lift the shelf off his back.

"Shit!" You immediately pulled out your pistol when you saw a stalker spring free, and fired two shots into it's face before it could reach Ward.

"(Y/N)?!" You heard Joel again. "That's it, we're coming down there, hang on!"

"No!" You walked back to where he was kneeling and a small wave of relief washed over you when you saw his face. "Stay there, we'll find a way to get out of here."

"No (Y/N)–!"

"She's right!" Kiki suddenly tugged at Joel's arm and it took all of your might to yell at her to back off, so you bit your tongue: "We're making too much noise, we don't know what's down there."

It became quiet again, which was when a door across the place you were in crashed open with the obnoxious clicking noises, followed by drawn out chokes and gasps.

You and Ward stood very still at the sudden intrusion, one hand going to your knife and the other to your pistol, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

————

"We're going to cover for them if anything goes wrong, ready yourself," Joel growled at the woman beside her and got in position, his rifle at the ready, aiming it at the clicker closest to the his wife and Ward.

Kiki did as he told and aimed her pistol at a runner. They quietly watched as the pair sneaked around, but it was proving to be very hard because of the pieces of wood and books everywhere. Joel watched you motion Ward to go around the other way, no doubt to cover more ground.

Soon, a runner spotted you mid-takedown, and launched itself in your direction. Joel's rifle went off without hesitation, while Kiki was keeping an eye on her husband. It all went to chaos in a matter of seconds.

After a few torturous minutes, the infected in the area were cleared, you stepped out to the light and spoke: "Okay, I think I see the light from the other side of the door they came in, maybe there's a way that'll lead us out of here."

Joel sighed, and gulped: "Are you okay– Clean? How hurt are you?"

"I'm fine, Joel, we're clean," You looked back at Ward briefly. "You should go and warn Walt and Bruce... we'll come back with a full sweep team another day."

"Okay, just be–" Joel spoke worriedly, only to be cut off by a loud, monstrous growl from below.

"Shit!" He saw you turn your head away and at that moment, a bloater put a hole through where the door was.

His heart dropped at the sight: "Be careful!" He immediately got up and started firing at the bloater, drawing its attention to him while the both of you hid and ran. Kiki followed suit and fired a little more, but Joel stopped her: "Save your bullets, let's go grab Walt and Bruce."

They ran out — the sun had almost disappeared by the time they made it to the street of the grocery store.

————

The fire Joel and Kiki opened drew the bloater's attention enough for you and Ward to sneak behind it, but it didn't take the bloater too long to hear your footsteps.

You desperately looked for a place to hide, or a higher ground– anything that would buy you some time to prepare a molotov or two. As you did, you also found a an extra bottle and some cloth lying around: It was mandatory to carry a bottle of mixed gasoline and oil in case people were stuck in situations similar to yours, and you'd never been more thankful for the rule.

The bloater came through the hole just when you'd grabbed the bottle, so before you could prepare anything, you started running again. Ward was aimlessly firing behind you two, so you stopped him: "Save your bullets!"

He did as you asked and followed you through an L shaped, long corridor: "What the hell is that?!"

"It's a bloater!" You turned the corner, tucking a rag into the bottle you found and began taping the cloth in place. It was hard, but it was also second nature to you. "These things are fucking hard to kill— You gotta make each bullet count, you hear me?!"

A soft exploding sound made you gasp, watching in slow motion as Ward ducked the spores launched at him. The bloater had stopped at the corner as you both ran to the other end where there were dual doors.

"Don't stop running, we gotta knock those doors down!" You yelled and braced yourself, Ward doing the same. Your eyes quickly darted around the door to see if it had any locks that would prevent your launch, and it didn't, but you knew then that the door was locked from the other side.

Before you could stop yourself, not realising you were too close to the door, you slammed into it and fell back with much force– as you had predicted.

Ward met the same fate, but he just stumbled backwards. You realised the bloater was getting closer: "We can't let it corner us, check that door!"

There was a wooden door to the left, which Ward opened without effort, and you rolled inside right before a spore bomb hit you. He quickly closed the door behind you and pushed a vending machine in front of it as you instantly collected yourself and poured the mix through the small hole on the neck of the bottle with shaky hands.

Not long later, the bloater walked through the wall next to the door as if it were nothing, making Ward curse. You immediately pulled out your lighter and set the rag on fire, and with a cry, threw it against its chest. While it was distracted you started firing into its head, not realising what Ward was doing– With incredible power, he pushed the vending machine towards the bloater and overthrew it. The bloater stumbled backwards and growled, Ward's actions making you panic.

"There!" He yelled when he turned towards you and pointed at a big hole on the wall behind you– he quickly boosted you through and jumped to the other side while the bloater was still recovering from the fire.

"You need to cover me so I can make more molotoves," You said and started making another while looking around. You were in a bigger and more spacious area, and you saw a way out immediately: A small drawer shelf and another vending machine next to it – a makeshift stair which led to an upper floor, where light came in.

But before you could even point at the place, the bloater came crushing through the wall, making you both jump and run away.

"Over here, you ugly bitch!" Ward hollered and drew the bloater's attention while you made quick work of a second molotov. Too focused on it, you almost didn't hear Ward shout: "(Y/N) look out!"

You quickly rolled to the side as the bloater ran towards you, trying to grab you. The bottle you had prepared got crushed, which made you curse, but you still had one more bottle left. It was already prepared, but you had to be careful. You started firing again, until Ward shouted: "There's a door!"

You kept the bloater distracted as you dodged the spores, while Ward opened the door and motioned for you to get in. You ran past it as fast as your legs allowed, and threw yourself inside.

Ward cried as he pushed something heavy in front of the door– you couldn't tell what it was in the dim lighting but it did a good job stopping the bloater from going through, which let you take a deep breath.

"God dammit," You growled quietly and held the side of your ribcage. "We're trapped, we gotta move quickly– we've only one shot at this. You saw the way up, right?"

"Yeah, I did," Ward panted.

"Right, I'm guessing that this corridor leads us to the door on the other corner of the area," You tilted your head towards the L shaped corridor behind you. "I'm gonna make another molotov– The moment it spots us, I'll throw it. It'll buy us some time for us to climb out of here."

Ward listened and watched as you made another molotov with hands shakier than before: "You okay?"

"I will be once I see the moonlight," You groaned and pulled out your lighter. "Let's go!"

————

Blam!

"Looks like we got here just in time," Joel grunted, wiped his forehead, then extended Walt a hand to lift him off the floor after shooting a stalker –which was on top of the redhead– in the head. "Y'all okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Walt nodded and fixed his posture. "Why are you here, somethin' wrong?"

"(Y/N) and Ward are trapped below the library with a bloater, we gotta move quick; come back here some other time with a bigger crew." Joel started sprinting back the way they came after he made sure everyone was ready to go.

"What's up with all the infected?" Bruce chimed in, out of breath. "I mean, all these other infected I get, but a bloater?"

"We need to come back with a full sweep team," Walt agreed. "Let's get (Y/N) and Ward."

————

"Go, go, go!" You whisper yelled at Ward after checking and making sure from the other door that the bloater was still trying to break down the door you two escaped from. As soon as you both stepped out, the bloater heard Ward's heavy footsteps and started charging at the both of you. Following the plan one by one, you threw the molotov and set the bloater on fire again, slowing down it's movements.

Your mistake was to think it was beginning to die after its movements slowed down.

You fired at the bloater, emptying what little ammo you had left, all the while Ward climbed his way up: "(Y/N) come on! There's the exit, this way!"

The horrifying realisation of the bloater not being dead poured down on you like iced water, which made you run towards the makeshift stairs like hell. The abomination chased after you with a disgusting noise, which made your fear level rise all the more. You practically threw yourself on the drawer, but miscalculated your steps and slipped, almost falling off the vending machine.

Trying to get up allowed the bloater to catch up with you and before you could jump towards Ward, it grabbed your ankle. A shriek left you as he caught you by the wrists: "Hold on!"

————

"You know a way around to the back? They went through there—" Joel pointed at the huge gap on the wall down where you and Ward fell, but suddenly heard the echo of your shriek from far away. He tensed up, turning towards Walt and shouting: "Do you?!"

"I think I do, come on!" Bruce exclaimed and led the group of four out.

————

You desperately stomped on the bloater's head with your free foot as its big, fungi covered hand gripped your ankle tighter and pulled. Ward was doing everything in his power to pull you up, and for a second you thought his grip was stronger than the bloater's– that your wrists were going to come off.

The man suddenly grabbed you from under your armpits, partly hugging you as he leaned forward and emptied his pistol into the bloater's face. With a final kick from you, the bloater let you go. The sudden move sent you flying with Ward, his back hitting the floor, hard. You rolled over him and landed facedown, the both of you letting out cries and grunts at the impact. You groaned, realising that your mask finally broke when you landed on your face, but thankfully there were no spores around.

You remained in the same position as you breathed heavily, Ward panting beside you, groaning as he also remained on his back. The noises from the bloater started to fade away. You couldn't move, the shock of everything tied your tongue and a knot to your stomach– you felt as if you looked Medusa straight in the eyes just a second ago.

————

"Look through there," Bruce pointed at the backdoor of the storage of the library, Joel sprinting towards it with Kiki behind him. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw your rigid form on the floor. You were on your side, one hand supporting to keep you up, your left  arm resting on the curve of your hip. Right then, Ward got up in the same position from behind you, and equally confused and tired look on his face.

The sight was quick to send a shiver down his spine: The bridge of your nose was bleeding, your mask was broken, and Ward laying behind you unintentionally reminded him of the time he had accidentally walked in on Tommy and his then girlfriend before the outbreak. The memory was funny, but for some wicked reason Joel himself didn't understand, it didn't help the scenery in front of him.

He never said it, but he never liked the amount of patrol time Maria had assigned you and Ward (and him and Kiki). The reason he didn't speak up was because how he got off on the wrong foot with his sister-in-law all those years ago when he tried to get Tommy to leave with Ellie.

He wouldn't admit but Joel was a jealous man. There never were any fights between you and him because of his jealousies –or between him and some other person– and he also never thought badly of you. The years you spent together and the things that occured in the past few weeks... he was more than assured that you loved him and that you'd do anything for him: He hadn't felt like how he felt with you alnost his whole life.

It wasn't you that made him angry – when he took your words about Kiki and the couple in general into consideration, it was Ward's presence behind you and so close to you that got him angry.

But it wasn't the first thought that came to his mind.

Your mask's glass was broken.

After you slipped out of his grip... thinking you may have died and that he might have had to collect your body from down there, seeing you alive and in one piece made him run towards you without a second thought.

————

The heavy footsteps from outside made you panic and turn to the left onto your side, Ward repeating your move but to the right, rising his upper body up to see past you. Ward had a hard time figuring out who that was with the dim lighting, but you immediately knew who that was.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, he ran towards you with incredible urgency. You instinctively reached an arm out to him and he (unintentionally) harshly grabbed you and pulled you into a rib crushing embrace, also dragging you slightly away from Ward with the suddenness of the move. You hugged him back immediately with one arm and took your mask off with the other, tears finally strolling down your face as soon as your chin met his shoulder. You inhaled his scent– your chest hurted a little from how tight he was hugging you, but you didn't stop him: not a single sound of protest from you was heard.

"Ward... Ward!" Kiki called out and ran past you both towards her husband, who pushed her away. Walt and Bruce walked in last and their hearts warmed at the sight of you and Joel. People outside your inner circle rarely saw you cry or be overcome with negative emotions, so this was a little new for them.

"Joel..." A whimper left your lips.

"I know– I know baby," He rubbed the side of his face against your hair, his own tears warm against your bare shoulder. He finally pulled back after a moment, cupping your cheek and taking a proper look at you: "Are you– your mask–?"

"It broke just now," You nodded and gulped. "Landed face first after Ward pulled me out of there."

Joel gave the man in question a look of sympathy and thankfulness: "You saved her."

It was more a statement than a question, but Ward still replied: "She saved me too, y'know, she's–"

You turned around with a smile, getting up with Joel's help: "If it weren't for you just a few minutes ago I would've died, Ward. You pulled me out," You extended a hand over to him: "Thank you."

He looked between your face and hand, then grabbed it, pushing himself up with an awkward but genuine smile, Kiki completely forgotten: "I thank you too."

You hugged Joel's side after giving Ward's shoulder a pat, you husband's arm wrapping around your waist: "You did good today. We did good."

Ward smiled a bit more fully this time, appreciative of your comment but completely beaten. Joel placed a kiss on your temple after he turned the both of you around to leave, and you pressed yourself even more to his side.

"Let's get y'all out of here," Walt tilted his head towards the door after looking down the area you both climbed out of before, the bloater making it's way back to the hole on the wall to the right.

"Will there be a long period of time where I won't be seeing you in here, (Y/N)?" Katherine smirked when you and Joel entered the examination room.

"Perhaps when I'm as old as Eugene, but that's not stopping him, so..." You both chuckled as Joel helped you sit down.

"What was it this time?" Katherine put her gloves and medical mask on, taking a seat across your bed.

"A bloater, a dozen other infected," You squinted when she lit a flashlight into your eye. "Oh, and, I fell through the floor and onto a bunch of bookshelves. My–"

"Ribs are probably broken. I guessed," She chuckled, then pointed at your nose: "And this?"

"My mask shattered when I– don't worry, there were no spores," You said immediately when her eyes went wide.

"And your ankle?"

"The bloater tugged on it."

"It what?" Katherine and Joel blurted out spontaneously. You proceeded to tell the whole story from your fall to Ward dragging you out as the doctor finished her examination.

"I don't know how you do it, but you're damn lucky you got outta this with two broken ribs, a grade one concussion and a few cuts." Katherine threw her gloves and mask away after she completed treating your nose and other cuts. "Take some painkillers for sleep and you'll be on your feet tomorrow, but you already knew that. Try not to lean on your ankle for a few days and take it easy with your ribs."

"Thanks Katherine," You smiled sincerely, which she returned as you grabbed the box of painkillers from her.

As soon as you reached home, Joel prepared a nice hot bath for you and washed the dirt off, kissing you everywhere he could and being extra gentle with your wounds like he always did. He was lightly scrubbing your back when he murmured: "I hope we're not calling them over for dinner again."

You turned your head to the side, looking at him over your shoulder with a brow up: "I hope you're not. It wasn't my idea."

He tsked, a phantom of something near embarrassment present across his face: "Yeah, you're right."

"Why the change of heart?" You grinned lightly, with a hint of bitterness to your tone. "You're finally listening to your wife?"

He stopped scrubbing altogether, leaning back a little. You turned to your side with a serious expression and watched his face morph into shame and guilt. He huffed and lowered his head: "I'm sorry (Y/N). I–"

"I know you are," You said casually. "I just wanna know why the change of heart." He blinked at you: "It can't be Ward– the man saved my life and hasn't been really trying to send us subliminal messages, so I'm assuming it was something Kiki did."

Both of them, Joel wanted to reply but you were right, mostly it was Kiki, so he just nodded.

He went back to scrubbing where he left off and you turned to the side again, putting your chin on your knee: "One more patrol, Joel. Then we're done with them for good. Then, we will talk."

#joel miller #the last of us #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x oc #joel x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanficition #tlou x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 4- Four Marks

Summary: Your travels have taken you to a tavern where you meet the most unlikely of individuals. Then as per usual, trouble ensues.

Warnings: getting manhandled by some elves

Masterlist

Laughing into your mug, you catch the annoyed gaze of your silver haired lover who sits quietly to the right of you on this wooden bench, your backs resting against the stone wall. Its been a couple long weeks since either of you have had moment like this to just sit around and drink with each others company. Geralt may not particularly enjoy the surrounding company of the other tavern goers who fill the hall with their loud speaking voices and obnoxious laughter. But he knows just how much you love the easy entertainment of the civilians living their lives as they have a merry go of it.

"Did I not tell you my seductive powers would work wonders with that idiot from Bruna?"

"You did." Mutters Geralt humorously as he side eyes you.

"Ha, exactly. He had not a chance, try and steal Roach again and you will sorely regret it." You boast happily before taking a swig of your drink, "Hmm, this tastes not half bad either. I've had better of course, but this, not a terribly shit drink in all honesty."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it then."

You smile brightly at your stoic Witcher, he appears rather unenthusiastic but you know what emotions lay behind those two golden eyes of his. He's greatly content having you sit next to him and ramble on about your cleverness in the face of mortal men. He'd have no one else in the entire Continent do such a thing but you, and that's why you love him.

"Right? Great mead, anyways I am a force to be reckoned with, and you know he might have even pissed himself once I gave him a fright. It's what I like to do, lure them in with coy beauty and.." You scrunch your nose while making a fist, "...I got them in my clutches. They never even saw it coming."

"Not once." Agrees Geralt as you lean an elbow against the table to lazily look up at his handsome face.

"You know what?" You ask slyly, scarlet irises trailing all around his face.

"Hmm?"

"You actually look very nice in this lighting, the way you just look around at everyone like you hate the world. It's very sexy." He raises a brow as you smile, "Aside from the stench of horse, sweat, and blood that seems to ever linger on your skin..there's just something about your particular scent that I cannot quite put my finger on."

"You tell me this monthly."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Maybe it has to do with my blood?"

"No. Witcher blood tastes like old mule piss." You add before caching yourself, "Which I wouldn't have the slightest idea personally why. However I know a vampire or two who have divulged in that luxury and have lived to tell me....Not that it's a luxury as in a positive sort of mind, more so, an experience of indulgent sumptuousness for my kin." You're really trying to make this sound less horrendous.

"Drinking Witcher blood?"

You shrug half defensively through a sheepish grin, "What? I never said they killed these Witchers. Okay, okay, that also sounds bad. I promise you though, if they would have killed one of your brethren they would have boasted about the bloodshed. It's what vampires do. So no worries, your friends at Kaer Morhen are most certainly still breathing." Geralt simply holds back a grin as he shakes his head at you and your rambling.

He doesn't care if you know what Witcher blood tastes like, he wouldn't even care if you personally have tasted Witcher blood against your own tongue. He just doesn't want you to stop speaking, it distracts him from the sounds of the tavern goers and that bard. Geralt hums, "Y/N that could have happened three hundred years ago for all I know."

You pause a moment to think, eyes glancing from the window to him as you give a casual shrug, "It might have."

Soon the not terribly horrendous sounds of a bards singing fills your ears with the sweet tunes of an old lute giving what it can to the world as other tavern goers throw bread at the singing man. Oh right there's a bard here. You keep your witty comments to yourself as Geralt keeps his tense stare down with the wooden table while he tries not to grab anyone's unwanted attention, when you glance over to the bard again he's notably walking your way, drink in hand. What now?

Bringing your drink to your lips, you eye up the brightly colored bard as he saunters over, a peculiar smile playing at his features while he leans against a wooden pillar, "I love the way you two just...sit in the corner and brood, minus you my dear lady, what an odd place for such an exquisite creature to..."

"We're here to drink alone." Interrupts Geralt gruffly, you set your drink on the table, a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

The bard nods, looking down for a second before his blue eyes scan over you and Geralt once again, "Good. Yeah, good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except.." The curious bard walks around the oaken pillar before sitting down across from you and Geralt, "for you two. Come on. You don't want to keep a man with...bread..in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less." Inquires the cheerful bard, a smile upon his bright visage as he waits patiently for an answer. You pull your legs up onto the bench, leaning your right side into Geralt's strong body as you relax a bit more, amused by this bards bold questioning.

"They don't exist." You finally answer, tucking your hands under your arms as you attempt to get a little bit more comfortable. The bards give you a quizzical look, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"What...doesn't exist?" Ponders the bard as he raises a dark eyebrow at you.

"The creatures in your song." Retorts Geralt bluntly.

"And how would you two know?" Vouches the bard with a smile, excitement upon his face at this little guessing game he's just thrust upon himself, "Oh, fun. White hair...two very scary looking swords.." He quietly proclaims turning his attention now to you, "Hmm marvelous, irises the color of roses...dagger at your hip..." Geralt suddenly begins to get up, done with the bards never ending questions. You stand up yourself, the bard just continues to look at you two like you're the most interesting beings in the whole world, "I know who you two are." He confidently rules out while happily watching you both from his chair.

Geralt walks past him as you follow at his side, the two of you heading for the door as the bard jumps up to trail along, "You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia....and you're the dhampir princess, Y/N of Alkatraz. Called it!" Concludes the bard enthusiastically, much too loudly for your liking. You ignore the turning faces of the other tavern goers before a curly haired young man rises to his feet before you can reach the door to freedom.

"A job I've got for ya's. I beg you." He pleads almost nervously, you halt your movement as Geralt does the same, the two of you abruptly turning to face the man, "A devil...he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you. A hundred ducat." His eyes nervously shifting from you to Geralt.

"One fifty." Chides Geralt, the man immediately pulls out a small sack of coin previously hidden within his coat, a hopeful smile upon his pimply face.

He flashes you a warm grin as his gaze shifts from you to Geralt once again, "I've no doubt either of you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear." He gives Geralt the sack of coins, the bard watching intently in the foreground, time to kill a devil then.

——

You were able to walk bard free all the way to the gates of the small mountainous tavern and twelve feet into the gravely dirt road before the bard had tracked you two down. Now here you are, a good distance onto the road as you head for the hills where this devil hides, Geralt leading Roach as you walk in front of them, the bard trying to converse with Geralt to his immediate left.

"Ah. You guys need a hand? I've got two. One for each of the, uh, devil's horns." Confirms the bard breathlessly, trying to keep up with yours and Geralt's quick pace up the hill.

"Go away." Grumbles your annoyed Witcher.

You snicker, just imagining what Geralt's face looks like right now as the bard continues to pester him, "I won't be but silent back-up." The bard cheerfully exclaims, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis, you turn to look at him with an amused grin upon your face.

"Yeah I bet you really know how to muzzle that continuous yapper of yours." He smiles back at you, turning his attention back to Geralt.

"I heard your note, and, yes, you're right, maybe real adventures would make better stories..."

"That's if you survive them." You interrupt with a smirk, glancing back around, catching the animated face of the bard.

He smiles to himself as he holds onto the strap of his old lute, "Yes well, you two, smell chock full of them...amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion?" You turn your head to give him a questioning look, he gives you a quick nervous smile before continuing, "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak, not for you two of course it's just a meaning..."

"It's onion." Mutters Geralt.

"Blood." You add.

"Right, Yeah. Yeah. Ooh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia and his dangerous lady Y/N of Alkatraz...the-the Butchers of Blaviken!" Bellows the dreaming bard, throwing his hands into the air, Geralt suddenly stops moving, turning to face the smiling idiot.

In one quick motion he punches the bard in his stomach, sending him staggering back onto the dusty road in a coughing and sputtering mess. Geralt turns back to you with a nod before he and Roach continue on past you, you give the bard a diverted look as he slowly picks himself up.

"You've been punched by a Witcher, how's that for your first taste of adventure?" You muse, raising an eyebrow at him.

Clearing his throat of dust he grins at you, "Better then I had hoped." He replies while letting out a small chuckle as he follows you up the road.

——

"Geralt of Rivia, the-the White Wolf or-or something. Mind if I hop up? I'm not really wearing the right footwear." Suggests the bard as he attempts to reach out for Roach's rider-less backside. You sit upon the mare in front of your man, Geralt kindly letting you lean into his leather armor clad torso as he holds her reigns.

"Don't touch Roach." Warns Geralt, the bard immediately pulling away.

"Yeah, right, yeah." He disappointingly replies as you lightly chuckle at the two of them. Soon you and Geralt reach a small tree, where Geralt jumps down to tie off Roach, you sliding off to take a sharp look at your rocky surroundings. The bard watches intently at what your plans are next, deciding to deliver some historical information about the landscape as he tells you how elves called this place Dol Blathanna before they gave it up to the humans. You let him ramble on, unaware you already are educated on the history of this part of the continent, you are almost five hundred years old after all.

You raise your head to find an opening in the large rock formation where the trail appears to lead. Geralt walks past you, sharing an annoyed look as you both listen to the bard rambling on about something you're not listening to. Geralt lets out a huff before turning around and walking down the dusty trail, you trailing after him as the bard lingers in the background.

Your crimson eyes trail over the nearby clusters of tall grasses as the bards loud voice fills your ears, "Geralt? Y/N? Wh-where are you two going? Guys, don't leave me. Helloooo? What are we lookin for again?" Inquires the bard noisily from behind the two of you while you walk past straggly protruding rocks and tall green grasses on either side.

"Blessed silence." Mutters Geralt.

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that. Have you two ever hunted a devil before?" He wonders as both you and Geralt stalk silently towards wherever this devil lays hiding in the brush.

"They don't exist." You add, pulling out your large silver dagger as you listen intently for any unusual sounds.

The bard continues to ramble on while you catch the sight of something tall hidden in the grass, you can hear the rapid heartbeat of this nervous creature. A second later a tiny stone shoots from out of nowhere, slicing Geralt on the forehead as the bard cheers excitedly about how "act two" of his adventure has begun. You watch as his eyes go wide once they spot the devil rising from out of the greenery, you turn to squint at the creature, unsure of what it truly is from here.

"Oh fuck." You whisper before it launches another stone right at you, with supernatural speed you shift to the side where the stone flies past your head, this time knocking out the chatty bard in the process. You and Geralt share a confused glance as you turn to search for this horned fucker before he ends up bloodying you next time. With the beast lost from your vision, you zero in on his thudding heartbeat, not even fifteen seconds later does the devil burst forth from the tall grass. Launching Geralt a good couple yards back as you watch in bewilderment, to taken aback to help him with his unexpected assault.

Within seconds your Witcher is on the hooved half-man, pinning him to the ground as they exchange clever insults with one another. You catching the creatures name to be Torque the Sylvan as it yells at Geralt before he punches the Sylvan in the face to daze him.

Suddenly you can hear the irritated thumping heartbeat of an unfamiliar being when something cracks you across the side of your head from seemingly out of nowhere, sending you staggering to your knees as a small trail of blood trickles down the side of your temple. Your hands catch yourself on the rough gravely dirt as your knees jab into some rocks while you land. When you look up again a large shadowed person is standing above you before they violently bash you in the face with their boot, then darkness.

——

When you wake up again your hands are chained to the wall and a steel collar has been tightly locked around your neck. Your eyes slowly look up to find an unconscious Geralt tied to an equally unconscious bard. The small stony cave prison smells of recent activity in the tell tale scent only an elf could have, shaking your head in agitation you listen to the quiet clinking of your chains. This is not how you intended for today to go.

When you try to pull at your restraints for the first time, you're welcomed with an intense burning sensation flaming the flesh of your left wrist. It appears whoever has taken you prisoner has coated this specific constraint with silver, so whenever you move it just right the metal makes contact with your exposed wrist, fantastic.

After waiting another ten minutes and listening to the bard complain once he finally awoken, Geralt at long last stirs, his eyes going wide as he desperately tries to look around the small stone room. Clearly in a panic and unsure how he got here in the first place.

Letting out an irked sigh you kick his foot to gather his distracted attention, "Oh good you're finally conscious, I thought I was gonna have to kick you awake." You quip at Geralt as the bard chuckles from behind him.

"Now, this is the part where we escape."

"This is the part where they kill us." Grumbles Geralt.

"Who's they?" Asks the bard before an elven woman races into the room, she smells almost sickly and looks even more furious as she kicks them in the head, quickly shutting them up as they grunt in pain.

"Beast." She fumes in Eldar, kicking Geralt once again as you hiss at her, gaining a satisfied smirk upon her elven features, you'd rather enjoy smacking that off her face. A dark curly haired one walks into the room, immediately his eyes catch the bards old lute laying on the floor next to your dagger and Geralt's sword.

You can't see as the bards eyes go wide in fear, "Oi, that's my lute, give it back!" Whines the bard as Geralt gives the she-elf a furious glare, "Quick Y/N, do your scary vampirey thing!" He quickly urges, you'd love nothing more then to shift into a half bat creature and scare the flesh right off this she-elf's bones, but a little problem called silver is preventing you from doing so.

"Shut up." Grumbles Geralt as the she-elf first kicks you in the legs and then Geralt, you're more pissed off then in actual pain from her brief assault.

"You shut up!" She barks in Eldar.

"My Eldar speech is rough. I only got part of that." Replies the bard as you roll your eyes.

"She said shut up." You implore before getting kicked again, the burn of the single silver handcuff sending fire into your wrist as you bite back the pain. The bard then replying to you in broken Eldar as you tell him to "fuck off" back in the same language, Geralt flashing you a confused grimace, unaware that you're fluent in Eldar.

"Do you wanna die right now?" She sasses, staring them down.

"As opposed to later?" Growls back Geralt as she kicks him harshly in the stomach, doing the same to the bard as he cries out for his now broken lute.

"Leave off!" Barks Geralt as she walks around to fiercely punch him in the face.

Your eyes shimmering blood red as anger flashes through them, "I'll slit your fucking throat you elven cunt!" You hiss as she whips around to thrust a boot into your side, the silver chain sizzling your broken flesh at the jarring impact sending you into a flurry of muffled curses, Geralt's eyes softening as he watches you grimace in pain, wishing he could do something about it.

Weakened with this one silver coated cuff, you're not even strong enough to break out of here. Damn silver.

The she-elf scoffs as she glares at the three of you tied up, "You don't deserve the air you breath!" Smack, directly into your Witcher's cheek, "Everything you touch, you destroy!" Another blow straight onto his face in the same moment that the curly haired elf breaks the bards lute in two. Well there goes that.

"You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!" Screams the bard angrily as you lift your head up higher so your steel collar can't completely suffocate your windpipe, the sting in your wrist keeping you alert and ready to fight.

She sneers at him, "Do you like my palace? Hmm?" She grins maliciously, crouching down to take Geralt's fuming bloody face in her hand, "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" She challenges quietly before you pull on your chains, striking her roughly in the nose with your boot, the burning of the silver worth her pained gasps as she stumbles backwards. Falling onto the sandy floor of the stone cave as she sputters and coughs, spiting out a glob of blood while the bard laughs.

"Yeah, take that, pointy!" He cheers as she coughs and wheezes some more from her pathetic spot on the ground, the bard suddenly looking concerned, "Wait, what's-what's wrong with her?" He wonders, trying to twist his head around to find you and Geralt. Suddenly a blonde haired elf and the Sylvan enter into your small stony prison.

"She's sick." He simply states, reaching down to kindly tend to his fallen companion from the ground.

Giving him a bewildered look you lean against the stony wall, "And who the fuck is this?" You snap, lightly pulling on your chains in frustration.

"He's Filavandrel, King of the Elves." Quickly answers the Sylvan as he rushes to the fallen elleths other side.

"Not a king by choice." Affirms the elven king Filavandrel as he glances over the three of you.

Geralt's brows furrow in thought, "You were stealing for them." He concludes with a sneer, blood still present on his lips, the Sylvan turning to answer him.

"I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."

"Forced out? No, they chose..." Starts Geralt.

The elven king snaps his attention over to Geralt, "Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" Angrily interrupts Filavandrel before turning his attention back to the she-elf, "Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" She sneers, a messy trail of blood dripping down from her nostrils.

"One human. And you can let him go." Protests Geralt with a nod in the bards direction.

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die...on both sides." Insists Filavandrel as he stands, walking over to look down at Geralt and you.

"The lesser evil." Replies Geralt as he raises his head to look at the elf king in the eyes, "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." The elven king crouches down, almost at eye level with your fuming Witcher, he's in a perfect position to crack across the back of his scull, but smartly you think otherwise.

"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary." Implores the elven king.

"I understand. As long as you understand...that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Replies Geralt dramatically.

The elven king scoffs, "Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been." You finally add, he turns to look down at you, "Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, I say destroy." Corrects Filavandrel, anger lacing his every word.

"You are choosing to starve. You're cutting off your ear to spite your face." You vouch back, his face morphing into one of great resentment and irritation.

"You think this is about pride?" He yells, "My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. "The Great Cleansing," humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow...our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else....I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavendrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing down to human sovereignty....They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children." Explains the elven king, sadness and hatred coating his very words, you truly do feel for him and all his kind have endured at the greedy hands of humans.

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be." Argues Geralt, trying to help these elves see the light.

"Like you, Witcher?" Whispers Filavandrel.

"I have learned to live with them." His golden eyes suddenly finding yours before he looks back up at the elven king, "We both have, so that we may live." The she-elf, Toruviel jumps to her feet.

"Please my king. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight! Let's take back what's ours. Starting now." She insists confidently, Filavandrel pulls his dagger from its sheath and your breath catches in your throat at what he may do next.

"Don't fucking touch him!" You growl, pulling at your tightly restrictive chains, the clink and slink of the metal sounding throughout the stony room, right as the Sylvan races to the kings side. "Wait!"

"Torque, stand aside!" Shouts Filavandrel sharply.

"The Witcher could've killed me. But he didn't. He's different. Like us." Swears Torque the Sylvan, Filavandrel simply pushes him aside as you pull on your steel chains, it almost feels like you can't breath with how tight the collar is around your throat, the fiery burning of your wrist oozing red hot blood from beneath the silver cuff and onto the dusty floor.

Your Witcher simply watches Filavendrel's every move, a defiant look his his golden eyes, "If you must kill me...I am ready." Pledges Geralt softly, staring down the elven king the whole time, no this cannot be the end, not now.

Pulling even harder on your iron chains, you growl at the king, "If you end his life I will coat the walls of your golden palace in the blood of every living creature that crosses my path!" You scream furiously, tears welling up in the corners of your scarlet eyes as you violently yank on your chains, more blood seeping out from your silver cuffed wrist.

Geralt sadly glances to you before looking back up at the elven king holding his dagger, "But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human." Continues Geralt as Filavandrel moves to his side for a better angle to slit his throat. To your absolute horror Geralt locks eyes with you before tilting his head up, opening up his neck for a clean shot of his jugular.

Your face falls before turning into a wolf-like snarl, "I cannot promise you a clean death. But by god, I will let you watch your people suffer!" You cry desperately as the elven king raises his silver dagger, wet salty tears unknowingly begin streaming down the sides of your cheeks as your eyes go wide in hopeless dread. Filavandrel gives you one last look before thrusting his dagger upon your lover.

——

You sit silently upon the back of Roach as she's guided by Geralt who keeps one hand on the leather reins and the other hand across your waist. Your fingers hold onto his muscular arm tightly as a white bloodied cloth covers your left wrist where the silver cuff burned and tore at your flesh. It still stings and most definitely wont heal for awhile, but your pain doesn't matter, all that's of your concern is the fact that Geralt's alive and so are you.

"Credit where credit is due." Starts the bard as he walks beside Roach and the two of you, "That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way." Says the bard before comically imitating Geralt's gruff voice, "Kill me. I'm ready." Geralt glares down at him before the bard continues, "Oh and you Y/N, with those incredibly convincing bloody threats, genius, they looked terrified.." He boasts for you, "That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Filavendrel's lute not a charming enough gift for you?" You wonder, the bard swaggers with each step, a bright smile upon his dirty face.

"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she? I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again? Be reborn." Suddenly the bard begins to sing, "Will the elf king heed, What the Witcher entreaty? Is history a wheel. Doomed to repeat? No that's...that's shit." Surmises the bard, squinting his eyes as the sun beams down brightly upon the three of you on the dusty dirt path.

"This is where we part ways, bard, for good." Remarks Geralt as you lean into his body, turning your head towards the bard.

"I promised to change the public's tune about you two. At least allow me to try." He politely insists as he whips his lute around to gently strum her cords, "When a humble bard. Graced a ride along. With Geralt of Rivia..." Sings the bard, happily strumming away at his new lute as he makes it up on the go, "And so cried the Witcher. He can't be bleat..."

"That's now how it happened." Grumbles Geralt as he quickly halts Roach, "Where's your newfound respect?" Wonders Geralt as the bard turns to look at him, an unbothered smile creeping onto his face.

Shaking his head he looks up at Geralt, "Respect doesn't make history." He corrects before turning around once again, "Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plenty. O Valley of Plenty, oh-oh-oh. Toss a coin to your Witcher. O Valley of Plentyyyyy." He sings loudly, continuing to delightfully strum at his prized lute while taking the lead down the dirt path, out of earshot from your whispering.

Hugging Geralt's strong arm that's lazily casted over your abdomen, do you lightly laugh at the bards antics and Geralt's moodiness, "It's a bit catchy isn't it?" You muse while craning your neck to catch his annoyed golden irises, "Why not keep him around...until he gets sick of us or...maybe eaten by a werewolf, who knows."

Geralt raises a single eyebrow to you, "Our nights under the stars are about to get uncomfortable." He simply replies, hugging you pleasantly closer as he clicks his tongue for Roach to walk again. You chuckle at his adorably concerned remark, glad that today didn't end in sorrow and death for once.

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #the witcher x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Geralt of Rivia #geralt of rivia #Geralt #falcor the luck dragons stories #of Monsters and Men fic

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Honor him. Younger Mercenary Oberyn Martell x f!reader fanfic. #Writer Wednesday 05/26/2021

Summary: You receive the worst news, Oberyn Martell died, your first lover and the first adventure you lived.

Once when you were younger you ran away from your house escaping an unhappy engagement and the promise of a dull life. But your family hired an elite force of mercenaries to find you not knowing that their leader is a Prince of Dorne.

Word count: 6,5k (ups sorry)

Warning: Blood, violence, Oberyn’s death is mentioned as canon in the book and show, Ophidiophobia(fear of snakes), unhappy arranged marriage, alcohol. +18 SMUT (it means no minors, pls) virgen f!reader, oral sex (f¡ receiving descriptive, male receiving mentioned) p in v sex (unprotected cos there’s no durex in Essos BUT USE PROTECTION IN REAL LIFE PEOPLE) grieving.

A/N: I'M SORRY I'M LATE this is for #Writer Wednesday, the challenge created by @autumnleaves1991-blog

I read the books a long time ago, yep, I’m one of those people that said “I’ll finish them when George publish them all” so I got ASOIAF wiki and run with it, so buckle up for some bad geography from Essos and inaccurate cultural stuff. I think this is the longest thing I’ve written and the smuttiest, so sorry if it’s cringy.

Honor him

“Apparently he won the combat but the wounds were too severe and he died”

You raise your eyes from the book. One of the young servants whispers to another collecting the dead leaves on the ground.

“What is it?”

They rise from the ground nervously expecting that you will scold them for gossiping

“We heard the news from the world. A bard was chanting them on the market, my lady” she approaches the fountain; you’re seated on the ceramic tile, feet inside the water, refreshing from the blazing sun in this part of Essos.

“And what did he say?”

“He said there was a trial in Kingslanding. For the death of king Joffrey, and it was his cousin...”

“His uncle, the imp” clarifies the other and the other girl rolls her eyes

“Yes, his uncle was on trial for his murder. And Prince Oberyn from Dorne was his champion”

“The imp asked for a trial by combat, you see, my lady” adds the other

“He battled the Mountain; he crushed the prince’s skull apparently”

“But! but! His blade had poison on it so the Mountain died too” says the other girl excitedly

“Oberyn died?” you mutter, your hands are limp and you don’t realize that you have drop your book until you hear the “blop” sound in the water and it splashed your tunic

Your mind travels to years past in an instant: A journey through the vast empty lands of this continent and how you loved for the first time.

The pages of your book are getting more and more transparent while the black trickles of ink disappear in the water. You wish to scream, to rip your clothes and your hair out of your scalp but you do nothing.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the girls look at each other when you don’t move or try to retrieve your book from the water.

You always thought the greatest pain he gave you was leaving you at your father’s door many years ago, but now he’s gone forever. You always thought, while looking from your window at night, that you will see him one day, coming back on his dark horse ready to steal you away again, but now that he’s dead that small hope, that tiny flame that you kept in your heart is gone.

Your childish hopes and dreams of reviving your first love are shattered. It’s true that your life has changed, you’re a grown woman now, wiser and experience but you still fantasize over him, seeing his face and his hands on your lovers.

“We should call physician” you heard them whisper, but so far away

“Where is he anyway?”

“At his clinic, you silly girl, run”

“You do not need to call him” you mutter “I’m fine. Excuse me”

Not caring for splashing water all over the house, you run to your chambers and collapse into your bed. Buried in the soft pillows, you cried, muffling your howls with them so nobody could hear. Late in the night the moon and stars shine bright casting bluish shadows in your room.

Your body is tired but restless and in the night shade a timid ray of white light illuminates that small scar in your forearm in the shape of a half-moon. And you kiss it, at least you will always have something of his carved in your skin.

Many years ago. Essos.

“You’re cheating, boy” the big man slams the table, the wooden pieces and the coins that all the players have laid at the center fall down. He points at you spitting from a mouth full of crooked black teeth “Show me your arms, boy, I know you’re lying”

“I’m just lucky, sir” you raise your blouse’s sleeves and your arms up innocently and somehow it makes him angrier

He insults you in whatever language he speaks and slams the table up, the players run and the loud tavern suddenly gets quite, waiting for the next movement. You’re an ant in front of that enormous giant, when he stands tall and walks menacingly towards you, you freeze, he doesn’t listen to you when you apologize, it doesn’t matter anyway, you just did to gain time and look for an exit but the room is too crowded.

“Here, boy, I’ve also many tricks under my sleeve” he has a dirty bag hanging from his belt and takes it and throws it at you. It lands at your feet and for a second you smirk not knowing what a bag could do to you, but then it moves and in a blur you see a green and yellow thing twisting until you feel it pressing and slithering over your body. The snake, a beautiful, shiny creature with vibrant colors faces you hissing and shows its fangs. Everything happens to fast. Out of instinct you protect your face with your arms and the animal understands this as a threat and it bites. The pain rings like a bell all over your body every nerve in your body aflame.

In a second, cold blood wets your face and you gasp when you see the snake’s head slide to the side separated from its body with a clean cut.

“I’m sorry for the demise of your little friend” A tall lean man stands beside the giant. You can’t see his face, since he’s covered with black turban and his body is in full armor. One of his arms still holds a curved sword that has snake blood on it; the other has a dagger pointed to your enemy’s neck.

“That viper was worth more than you or your little friend and you will pay for it”

“I doubt it. You know my little friend here” and he points his sword to you “it’s worth a lot and if I don’t tend to her wound rapidly she will die and that’s a shame. So, decide now, do you want to be a setback or do you want to keep living your stinky life longer?”

By brute force, the giant decides his fate and tries to disarm the man who in a swift movement cuts his throat and his blood and destiny joints that of his pet.

“You’ve been quite difficult to find, child” he opens the fabric covering his face. His eyes are dark, dark beard covers his defined jaw line and an amused smirk graces his handsome face. “Let me see that arm” he lowers his weapons, shamelessly cleaning his dagger on the back of the dead tall man and walks to you until your back is pressed against one of the tavern columns. Sheathing his sword, his hand takes yours and raises your arm, evaluating the wound and he hums deeply “Oh, sweet child”

“Am I going to die?” you cry

“Probably”

“If it’s my father who commands you to find me, I beg you to let me die; I do not wish to go back. Death is better than that dreadful place” you shake your head determined but terrified at the same time. He looks at you with his brow troubled

“Death is never better than anything” and he drags your arm to his face. His dark gaze fix on you while he sucks on the wound so hard that for a moment you think he’s drinking your life away. But then he lets you go and spits to the ground “Let’s hope that’s enough. You will come with me so I can give you the antidote”

“I told you, I have no desire to return to my home”

“It’s a pity, then, that I don’t care about that” he grins.

He gave you so many small jars to drink. Some tasted sweet some bitter and some other made you want to vomit and not drink or eat ever again. But you’re alive. A few hours passed, and then a day, then two, and you’re irrevocably getting back home.

You’ve learnt that your father, in an attempt to find you, has commissioned this elite group of mercenaries to retrieve you; and he’s the leader. It’s a small company but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. All of them seemed to have many different skills, weapons hidden at every corner of their body, they speak languages you don’t know and you ride your horse tied to it watching each one of them with a suspicious look. After two days riding with them you have decided that there’s no way you could escape now. There’s always one of them standing guard and just a small glare your way gets every thought of escaping out of your head. So, even if it’s dramatic, you decided that your best option is to die. A few days in the desert without water and food and your father will receive a corpse.

“Drink, little girl, you’re withering like a flower” the leader, the man that saved you, says handing you the waterskin

“No, thank you” you turn your head, seated under the shadow of a very thin and dry bush. The orange and violet light announces the immanent sunset where you have stopped for the day.

“You’ve been refusing water all day. You have to drink” he says and pushes the waterskin to your face once more.

“No, thank you” you repeat and he sighs. Thinking you’ve won as he throws the waterskin by his side, you smile subtly until he’s close, crouched down, knees over the sand, looking at you.

“Maybe being a spoiled little flower works for your father, but not to me. Drink or I will make you” He takes your chin and raises it to meet his eyes

“I’m not thirsty” you say, your lips are already dry and they hurt, your tongue is thick inside your mouth and your body screams for just one drop.

“Don’t challenge me, child” he lowers his voice and you gulp

“I’m not a child” you protest, he keeps calling you that and honestly you don’t think he’s much older that you

“Then why do you behave like one? Drink, for the last time” His mouth is a fine line now and his grip on your chin is a little bit firmer

When you don’t answer he opens the waterskin and tucking on your lower lip he pours a small trickle of water in your mouth. The liquid taste sweet, your body works on it own and you open your mouth to drink more with desperation.

“So you weren’t thirsty...stubborn girl” he smirks and you want to slap his smug and beautiful face

He stops pouring water and laughs when you rise up drinking the last drops before he puts the cap on it.

“Look at you, not a withering flower anymore” the mercenary brushes his knuckles over you cheek and you feel them burn “What else do you want?” his thumb caress your chin gathering the small drops of water on your skin and spreads it over your lower lip.

You feel your bones burning, a tension in your lower belly that you haven’t feel many times and that makes you ask for something you don’t even know, so you just answer a timid yes and let him guide you to the fire and the rest of the company.

One of the mercenary is skinning some rabbits, methodically pulling the skin off with blood hands and a deathly gaze fix on you “So she decided to join us” she says

“Oberyn can be really persuasive” another, a big bald man with a beard tinted in blue, adds

So his name is Oberyn, where have you heard that name before?

“Remember that her father is paying for the whole of her, untouched he said” a lean blonde woman, with her face full of black and blue tattoos, is lounged over the bags sharpening her knives

“Well, I hope he doesn’t see her arm, that viper left her with a beautiful scar” Oberyn sits down and helps the mercenary skinning the animals and impales them and puts them to roast on the fire

“I’m not talking about that kind of viper...” she says and the company laughs

“I’m right here” they stop laughing looking at you as if you have done something they deem impossible

“So she speaks” the bearded man says

“She does but it may take some convincing” Oberyn smiles at you over the flames that illuminate his striking and sharp features “If you wish to eat, sweet flower, why don’t tell us how did you escape? We love a good story while we camp”

“Your father was convinced some ragged boy had stole you from your palace” adds the blonde woman

You smile, feeling some kind of pride for your plan, that, looking at it from perspective, did not grant you what you wanted but at least you had a good run. You tell them about how you disguised as a ragged boy lurking a few nights prior your escape so that the servants suspected about somebody being guilty of your disappearing. And how you ran away the night of your betrothal and made it look as if somebody had kidnapped you.

“I ran out of money in Lys so I had to beg, or steal, or gamble for a few coins. And then you found me” you finish your tale, sucking on your fingers, the meat is the best you ever tasted but yet again it must be the hunger from this days refusing to eat or drink.

“I’m almost tempted to let you go, young one, you seem a very resourceful girl” the beard man that you now know as Uhlan smiles at you proudly

“Think about the money” the blonde woman, Rikan, chew on a bone and toss it to the fire

“I’m always thinking about it, why do you think I’m a sellsword?” he jests

“Because you were a street rat with a broad back as broad as your stupidity and it’s the only thing you can do” Rikan spits and Uhlan laughs, a deep and low chuckle that resonates as a thunder.

“She’s a little princess, she couldn’t have survived much longer” the other woman, Shifa adds, the rest of the company has changed the way they look at you, but her. She still squints at you

“There’re princes that have survived worse” Uhlan counters and suddenly there’s a heavy and uncomfortable silence over them. You look at all of them trying to understand and you see Oberyn looking at his feet until he claps his hands together “Let’s get some sleep, we have a long way ahead”

It’s surprising what food, water and company can achieve. You’re smiling more, you almost forget that you will be delivered to your father and future husband within days, Uhlan tells you about his many adventures, how he almost die in Yiti, how he rode once with a Khalassar and that he had seen the great shadow in the East. Rikan has gifted you a knife “a girl needs to defend herself” she said and proceed to show you how to kill a man in many different ways “If you want to kill your husband though, you must ask Oberyn, he’s the one that knows about poisons and how to kill somebody without raising suspicions”

“How does he know that?” you ask, leaning to the right so you get close to her horse, Oberyn rides beside Shifa before you; both of them speaking in a language you don’t understand

“He has studied many things; he’s been all over the world. He was almost a Maester once, but preferred to travel, fight and fuck the world before he gets back to his duties”

“Duties?”

“He’s a prince” she whispers a mischievous smile on her lips “he doesn’t want to talk about it, because it makes people treat him differently or underestimate him. So don’t tell him it was me, blame the big rat”

“Did somebody call me?” Uhlan screams at the back

“You do have a sharp ear when you want, my friend”

You arrive to Myr at dusk. The city is still vibrating, the merchants offering everything you could imagine and the streets smell like thousands spices. And you absorb it all with wide eyes and open mouth.

“It’s a beautiful world, my sweet flower, and you wanted to end your life” Oberyn raises his voice over the people chatting and selling stuff

“If only it could always be like this” you answer, your smile dies in your mouth remembering this is a passing thing. The adventure will be over soon.

“Life gives us many opportunities to dwell in its pleasures; you have only to acquire a keen eye to recognize the perfect moment to seize it”

“Are you implying that I will have another chance to escape?” you scoff

“Maybe...if that is what you want or maybe to enjoy your life as a married woman, who knows”

You sigh deeply trying to ignore the thoughts about your future husband, that drunken bastard, boring and dull that your father chose.

“Or you could run away and avoid your responsibilities; you can create your own destiny, my sweet flower”

“And that’s what you are doing? Avoiding your duties?” you stop in your tracks and he watches you for a moment, chewing on his lower lip

“Maybe” he answers finally

“I’m tired of being treated as if I was overreacting being a spoiled child while you are here doing exactly what I did, ran away, from the duties of a noble life. I’m not overreacting; all I want is to decide if I want to live my life bearing children for my fool husband and maybe die giving birth or out of boredom and disappointment or try my luck in the wild world. Isn’t that what you are doing? Travel, fight and fuck the world? What’s the difference between me and you?” The people surround you, the company has already enter the tavern in front of you knowing they shouldn’t meddle

“Travel, fight and fuck the world seem a pretty good title for a book. Maybe when I’m old I will write my adventures under that title” he laughs

“I’m glad I amuse you” you spat with your arms crossed

“I apologize if I made you feel that I was underestimating you. Do not confuse my laughter with mockery, I know how you feel and I understand.” He comes close to you, each hand on your arms, pressing them lightly “Believe me, I wouldn’t have accepted this job if your father didn’t pay so well. I have to get back home and I want to leave my company with enough resources so they can continue on their own” he explains, he bends his neck so you are so close you can smell his scent, leather, horse and the dessert. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy ourselves while it lasts” Oberyn smiles and passes his arm over your shoulders “Have you tasted the wine from Myr?” you shake your head “It’s the sweetest”

The wine is starting to play with your mind, your smile falls languidly over the corner of your lips and you don’t know why you’re laughing but whatever song Uhlan is singing is the funniest thing you’ve heard. Rikan laughs by your side, her laugh is actually sweet and high making her look less menacing. Shifa is the only one that doesn’t look amused at all and he drinks from her goblet eyeing the tavern, especially you, with hatred.

“C’mon, Shifa, we know you can smile” Uhlan grabs her in a bear hug but she squeezes herself out of it

“Let me alone, you brute”

“You haven’t talked much since we retrieve the little girl over here, tell us what’s going on in that little twisted mind of yours?” the man jokes and the other mercenary glares at him

“I’m going to my chamber” She drinks the rest of her drink and strides to the rooms, pushing the drunken people in her way

“Leave her, Uhlan! She’s just jealous that her prince is not directing his attentions only to her lately” Rikan says winking at you

Oberyn has been absent having a conversation in another table until he comes back with a serious expression

“I’m partially offended that you think our company it’s not worth your time” Uhlan says sliding to give him enough space to seat by his side

“Huh, so I guess Shifa is not the only one jealous” Rikan drinks looking at him over her goblet

“Shut up!”

“Where is she?” Oberyn asks

“She went to her chamber” Uhlan serves him wine “So what was about those ugly bastards that got your attention; I thought you had a very refined taste”

“Those are Westerosi men; I wanted to get news of the world. Some of us still appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, my friend” Oberyn taps on his big shoulder

“I appreciate the pursuit of a good fuck better, my friend. Let’s see if those Westerosi want to share some news with me, Rikan are you coming? I’m always lucky with you around”

“I don’t like Westerosi” she snarls

“I don’t care, I just need you to be there so they take a good look at your ugly face and they get convinced that fucking with me is the good option of the two of us” he jokes with one of those thunder like chuckles

Rikan laughs and she follows him, waddling towards the men’s table.

“I should go to my room” you say, rising too fast and the whole room twists and turns

“You liked the wine, I see” he observes you grab the wooden table for your dear life until you find your balance

“Too sweet, I haven’t noticed it until it was too late”

“Let me guide you then”

Oberyn grabs you by your waist and helps you climb the stairs to the second floor. People gather around the aisle, laughter and moans fill the air and the heat of Oberyn skin over yours and the boldness giving by the alcohol make you pressed your body against his a little tighter than its necessary.

“This is you” he says opening the door for you

“Is it true what you said about creating our own destiny?” you collapse on his firm chest, your hands brushing over his neck

“Yes, sweet flower”

“Sweet flower” you mimic his accent “Say it one more time” your glossy lips, sticky with wine, leave a kiss on the tan uncover skin of his chest. His laugh makes you raise your head

“You need to sleep, child”

“No, no!” you slap his hand away when he tries to push you inside the room “Don’t call me that, I’m not a child. I’m a woman” you try to fix your posture to seem taller but you body stumbles to one side almost falling down

“What you are is a very inebriated girl. Good night, my sweet flower” he says closing the door

“Are you going to Shifa’s room?” the words escape your lips before you can think and he lingers on the door with an eyebrow raised

“Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t want you to go to her” again the words are out before you process them

“And what do you want me to do?” Oberyn closes the door behind him. And you breathe deeply a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Stay with me” you mutter

“Believe me I would, but you don’t know what you are asking. It is the wine speaking”

“No it’s not” you pout again falling into his arms, hearing how you sound like a spoiled little girl, you cough “It’s not” you repeat

“Right, let me take you to bed then”

You gasp looking at him with wide eyes. Oberyn hugs your body and walks towards the simple bed at the corner until you both fall down on the soft mattress

“Oberyn” you whisper “I have to tell you something before we...”

“Tell me, sweet flower” He lays beside you, posing his head over his fist

“I’m...I’ve never...” you stutter

“No need to worry” with his free hand he starts to brush his index finger from your brow to the tip of your nose so slowly and softly that you feel your eyes closing down

“Are you trying to make me sleep as if I was a puppy?” you slur

“Shh” he continues until the room goes dark and you cannot open your eyes for much that you try

“Sweet dreams, sweet flower” you hear before you blank out.

The sun pierces your eyes as if its rays were daggers. The company laughs at your expense, but yet again, Shifa hisses and insults you in some language but it’s evident that she said something nasty because Oberyn glares at her.

“No more Myr wine for you, little girl” Uhlan laughs helping you get on your horse

“Never” you murmur

The pain in the back of your head and the unstoppable thirst you have makes you moody, and it doesn’t help that you know you’re one day away from your home. But everything is worse with the hard sting of jealousy. It’s not that Oberyn does much, but he rides along side her, speaking in that stupid language you don’t understand, and she makes him laugh, he watches with attention whatever she points at during the way. He looks at her, talks to her. All you want is to rush your stupid horse and take her place.

It gets worse when Shifa sees you observing them; knowing damn well what you feel, she becomes softer, leaving touches on his skin, whispers things on his ear. And you can see the intimacy, the camaraderie that they share and that you will never have. And she’s a woman not a little girl, fierce, independent, and strong; and you cannot stop comparing yourself to her.

You arrive to a small town in between the domains of the two free cities, just hours away from the gates of Pentos.

“We will spent the night here, we need to be presentable for tomorrow”

The town has a small and humble bath house. The simple exterior made of red brick doesn’t show the beauty it has in its interior. The garden inside is made of brick and ceramic creating beautiful arches that frame the pool in the middle; green vines crept over the walls and the tender murmur of water is the only sound you can hear.

“We have rooms to accommodate you for the night once you’re done with your baths” the lady, owner of the house, announces and snaps her fingers towards the servants so they get everything ready.

“Thank you” Oberyn says bowing his head “Wash away the dust of our journey, my friends. Specially you, Uhlan” he jokes, slapping the big man’s belly

“You’re as stinky as me, my prince, but the Gods didn’t give me a beautiful face”

The company strips shamelessly, you think that they’re so comfortable around each other that they don’t think twice before submerge their naked bodies in the fresh water.

You stay by the side, taking off your shoes and rolling your sleeves so you can wash your feet and face. You avert your eyes when you see that Oberyn’s armor is on the floor. Your eyes fixed on the water and the blue tiles at the bottom, but you cannot stop from raising your eyes just a little.

His magnificent, strong, and tight body, his beautiful golden skin is marked in scars in some parts, you see the muscles on his legs tensing and relaxing as he gets in the pool. Your eyes travel through the room to avoid seeing him in his full grace.

“C’mon child, you don’t want to be stinky when you meet your father” Rikan splash water at you

“I-I”

“Let her be, she’s scare of my big cock” Uhlan laughs

“That thing that you can barely get up? C’mon, child, it is harmless” The blonde mercenary swims towards you and grabs your hand to pull you in

“Rikan, leave her, let’s finish and we will leave her some privacy” Oberyn says under the small waterfall brushing his skin with a small piece of soap

“Your husband’s eyes will be the only ones that will see you naked” Shifa says and she swims towards Oberyn. Her body is toned and muscular. She joints him under the water stream and when she tries to touch him, he moves away.

You don’t want to smile, but you do, until you remember that he refused you the other night and tonight is the last night you’ll spend with them. Shifa will have him for whatever time she wants.

Eventually they leave the pool, putting on some fresh clothes and rubbing some scent oils on their skins and they look different, less mercenary and more like elite warriors with a thousand adventures to tell. You will miss them; they are the only friends you have ever had.

“Thank you” you say stopping their banter over who’s going to take which room, they look at you confused “Thank you for rescuing me” you say with a trembling voice

“It’s nothing, child” Uhlan says and you see his big eyes shine

“We will give you some privacy” Rikan nods

When they are away you take off those stinky clothes you’ve been wearing since you escape. You moan feeling the water soften your muscle and you enjoy the strong cascade of water hitting your back until your bones feel like liquid inside your skin.

“I never expected you to thank us for getting you to your father” his voice gets you out of the trance, and you don’t open your eyes when you hear the soft sound of clothes hitting the ground and the splash of water when he gets inside the pool again.

“I didn’t thank you for that, but for rescuing me” you answer still your eyes closed under the waterfall “And saving my life” you pass your hand over the now healed wound, a moon shape scar where he suck the venom out of you.

Oberyn fingers grab your wrist, raising your arm towards his lips and planting kisses alongside your veins until he arrives to the thicker skin of the scar, sucking again on it.

“Do you still believe that it was better to let you die from the snake’s bite than to be back home?” he whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you over your pulse

“I still can run away” you open one eye. Oberyn looks amused at you

“Will you?” he asks saving the distance between you

“I don’t know. Will you come get me if I do?” You approach him, intertwining your hands on his neck

“The world is big and beautiful; it will be a shame that a sweet flower like you rots in a place like this all her life” he turns his head and leaves a kiss on each of your arms

“So that’s a no” you laugh but the pain in your heart is real

“I have to leave Essos soon, I guess the time for adventures is up” he exhales deeply

“Just the last one then” you’re surprised of your boldness when you rise on your tiptoes to kiss his lips

It is soft at first. Just tasting him, tempting him to show you more, and he does. Oberyn opens his mouth and sucks on your lower lip and when your mouth is open he savors you with his tongue. He holds your face on his large palms guiding you softly until the kiss deepens and your hands leave his neck roaming through his back and he reciprocates. His hand caresses every inch from your neck to your arms. You moan in protest when he breaks the kiss but then his kisses move to your neck nibbling your skin. He pampers every part of you with his attention, soft kisses and bites over the top of you breast.You cry out laughing when he grabs you and rise by the waist so he can access your tits. You circle his waist with your legs and you hold yourself on his shoulders.

Any good sense in you, any coherent thought gets lost one his mouth sucks on your nipples and you kiss his head trying to control your panting. The sounds that come out of you seem so far away, his low grunts and moans over your breast melt you and you feel the heat gathering between your legs.

“My sweet flower, you have the sweetest tits” he moans and he lowers you so he can kiss you one more time. You run your fingers over his dark hair, his impossibly close to you but you need more. You need him like those drops of water he poured in you the first time. The hunger, the jealousy and desire you felt these past days have reached its peak and you think your heart will collapse. You repeat his name on his lips like a plea.

Oberyn carries you to the side of the pool, and you feel your cheeks burning, your body in goose flesh feeling exposed and at his mercy now that the water is not covering you. He takes his time admiring you, his brow eyes eating every pore of your skin. Kissing your legs he parts them grabbing you by the hips he positions you just at the edge of the pool. He palms your breasts one more time, gracing each nipple with a small pinch that makes you moan loudly. You get flustered, gaining a bit of your conscience back

“No need to be shy, my love, let go. I wish to hear every sweet moan, drink every drop of this sweet cunt” he plants a kiss on your navel, before lowering his face. His first lick between your lips makes you marvel of the unknown sensation. His eyes are fixed on you while he licks faster and sucks between your small lips, when you tense, every single fiber of your body burning, he changes his rhythm, lapping languidly all your sex and back again, fast and slow, and never too much. Until you’re gasping for air and pushing him away

“Please, it’s too much”

“Let me show you, trust me” his wet mouth bites you inner thigh before he starts again. This time you reach the point of no return faster. A wide abyss before you where you skin burns and you heart beat faster until you fall, crying his name. And he holds you, planting kisses all over you body, every part he can reach. The gasps lead to laughter

“What happe...how?” you ask

“I have many things to show you my sweet flower” he smiles

Oberyn lets you in his room. The warm night breeze moves the white curtains and the moonshine casts its rays so you can see him get on top of you with the warmest of smiles.

“Do you still want this, my flower?” he asks

You grab him by the neck and let your lips answer for you. Lowering your touch you push his back so he presses his body against you even tighter.

“Please, please” you beg on his ear

He reaches between your bodies and brushes the tip of his cock on your lips coating it in your arousal, before pushing gently. You gasp at the intrusion; it’s not pain what you feel but definitively a bit uncomfortable at first

“Let me in, my sweet, relax for me” Oberyn bends his neck to kiss and bite your tits. The pleasure turns your body into a withering mess until you’re full of him.

He moves lazily at first letting you grow used to his length and width while he observes your face

“Is it alright my love?”

“I need more” you murmur

“More?” He rises, pressing the weight of his body on his knees and opens you wider grabbing the soft skin on your hips “Like this?” he thrusts deep and fast with each word and you nod biting your lip. His pace is unforgiving, and you cannot think, all you can feel is him, and his sweet words and praises combined with the slaps of wet skin and the creaks of this old bed. Your fingers scratch softly on his chest trying to hold into something when you feel that abyss again, but this time you let it go and it hits you harder. Oberyn collapses over you letting your cunt squeeze him even tighter, slowly dragging himself in and out until he sense his release coming and he pushes harder once, twice until he spills his warm seed.

You kiss his brow, wet from exhaustion and the pool, in a way the cage he’s forming with his body pressed against the mattress is the freest you have ever felt.

The dawn wakes you up, many years later, a harrowing pain in your chest remembering how he kissed you a thousand times, how you slept caged in his arms for a few hours and then woke up with his face between your thighs

“Does it hurt?” he asked and you flinched, feeling the swollen and sensitive skin “I will kiss it better” he said. And you made love again, he moved you in the bed showing how to touch your body and how to touch him, how to pleasure him with your mouth as he did to you. Until the sun invaded the room and crashed your safe space between the shadows. You could no longer hide from your destiny, it was time to go.

He left you, a small and decent kiss on your hand and bid you farewell wishing you a happy life.

You remember running, not paying attention to your father’s complaints and your mother’s cries while you soon-to-be husband drank wine unbothered by the whole thing. You ran to the balcony watching his dark horse taking him out of the city.

He never looked back, and with his parting figure you promised you will live your life happy even if you have to run for it. That you will live adventures on your own until life gives you the last drop of its joy and pleasure. In a way you promised to honor him without knowing one day it will come true.

So you woke up, older, wiser, in your own house, after many adventures lived, and after a sleepless night mourning him, you grab paper and ink and write:

“Travel, fight and fuck the world: the Adventures of an Unusual Lady”

#writer wednesday #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #ASOIAF Fanfic

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au -4

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3  Inspired by @spielzeugkaiser art here

So. Geralt knew.

He didn’t know how long Geralt had known for. Didn’t particularly want to know.

Had he just worked it out from his scent as a bear? Had he recognized the lute that was smashed on Filavandrel’s floor? Had he used his Witcher senses to figure it out when he was a lark with a broken wing sleeping in his saddlebag? Was it some little tick that had given him away of there months together?

He didn’t want to know.

He woke up the morning after the incident and promptly shifted into his human form. Packed up his part of camp and waited.

Waited for the questions, for the false promises, for the placating words.

‘I wont tell’ ‘How does it work?’ ‘You’re still Jaskier’

Geralt groaned, sitting up slowly. Blinking sleep from his bleary eyes that rare way he did when he felt safe upon waking. Found him across the burnt out fire.

He tensed.

Geralt nodded and slowly set about disassembling camp.

The world skewed slightly to the left as they set off.

He waited for Geralt to snap at him to ‘just turn into something Roach could carry’ when he complained about his feet hurting too much.

Waited for Geralt to tell him to ‘shrink into something more manageable’ when the bed at the inn was too small for both of them to reasonably share.

Waited for Geralt to request he turn into something useful- to help track down a monster or carry his weight or or or-

It was easy to not shift. He went weeks without shifting as he waited. Waited for Geralt to make some attempt to be reassuring about how he ‘knew’ what Jaskier was or some request that made it clear Geralt thought he was some party trick or. Or something.

And still Geralt was silent on the matter.

It was annoying. It was so damn annoying.

That’s all it real was. He was annoyed. Annoyed that the song he’d worked on for two weeks had gotten a tepid reaction and that his chemise kept static sticking to his arms and it was hot and the bar was loud and and and-

And he wasn’t entirely sure why he was yelling at Geralt but he was and Geralt didn’t even have the decency to look affected by it. Just said his name warningly. And sure maybe he’d be embarrassed about acting like a tantruming toddler later but he wanted to hiss and scratch and draw maybe just a little fucking blood. So that maybe- fucking maybe- someone would understand just how pissed he was.

For the first time in weeks he wanted to shift. Shift into the angry tomcat he felt like. Small and angry in a world that was so much bigger and more dangerous than him but that still had claws. Could still yowled and scratch and make bleed because he might have been small but that didn’t mean he was helpless.

But he couldn’t. Because they were in a bar and everyone was staring at him or pointedly not staring at him and Geralt was throwing him over his shoulder and hauling him to their room. His fingers digging into Geralt’s shirt as he struggled to keep them from becoming claws ripping little pinholes into the fabric. He couldn’t shift because there were people and he was still yelling because he was still so fucking angry-

The door slammed closed behind them and Geralt shifted him so he was holding him up by the armpits and at least he had the decency to look a little irritated but he didn’t want to be held so he shoved a hand at Geralt’s face to push him away and-

And the shape collapsed under him.

He shoved his orange paw against Geralt’s face and lashed his tail and hissed all the same.

Orange. Most of his forms were brown. Because brown was the color of his hair and he liked his hair. But someone told him once that all orange cats were male and whether or not that was true he liked that. Liked that when people saw this form they’d know he was a boy.

Sometimes that felt important.  Because most people couldn’t tell what gender most animals were and would just pick one for him. Usually it didn’t matter because he didn’t care but sometimes he did and he liked that maybe his gorgeous long orange fur made that more obvious.

But now Geralt wasn’t even looking irritated anymore! Even with his paw unsheathing claws threateningly against the stubbled skin of his cheek.

No he looked surprised and then it melted into a disgustingly soft smile. Swear to gods If Geralt tried to pet him right now-

Geralt glanced down at his tail, lashing back and forth without pause.

“Ah.” He was swiftly deposited on the bed, Geralt settling back on the floor. “The bar was loud wasn’t it.”

Well he didn’t know what that had to do with anything but Geralt just sat across from him, staring at the wall above his head. Not attempting eye contact.

That helped. He needed to watch Geralt but eye contact would have been too much for him to handle right now with every too loud noise from the bar still scraping at his skull.

Slowly his tail settled behind him and he let his eyes sink close. Safe in the knowledge Geralt wasn’t going to do anything.

He’d explained cat body language to Geralt several months back. Because Geralt had explained (heartbrokenly complained really) that cats didn’t like him. Because he was a ‘mutant’ and they knew it.

Which was complete hogwash.

They didn’t like him because he was a big unfamiliar person approaching feral cats who were better acquainted with the toe of a shoe to the belly then the gentle curl of fingers under their chin. Because he tried to approach them like dogs and didn’t have the time to win over anything but the cuddliest of cuddle slut and there just weren’t that many of those around.

Lucky for Geralt he was a proud member of the cuddle slut kitty brigade. After he’d concluded his lessons on how tail lashing was not like tail wagging on dogs- it meant they were highly stimulated and which could easily pass into Overstimulated- and how to introduce himself and all the best places to pet he’d taken his leave of Geralt for the evening.

Approached him as the cuddly fluffy orange cat he was within the hour. Making his home on Geralts lap and purring as loud as he could demanding all the cuddles he’d been denied in his human form.

That. That might have been when Geralt figured out what he was now that he thought about it.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had given him away. Especially if he couldn’t change it- like his scent. Or if he could- because then he’d have to. To stay safe.

He jumped off the bed and head-butt Geralt’s hands until Geralt started petting him. Laid down across his lap as Geralt gently covered himself in his fur with each soft stroke.

He should look into a white form. So he could really mess up Geralt’s all black color scheme.

Geralt’s hands eventually stilled and he begrudgingly shifted up. Tucking his head into Geralt’s neck he mumbled, “Shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Seemed like a bit of an overreaction to me eating the last mushroom.”

“You know those are my favorite.”

Geralt snorted and ran a hand through his brown hair. “It was my plate.”

“I have no idea what your point is.”

“Right.” He nuzzled into Geralt’s neck. He couldn’t really smell how they mixed together as a human but the shapes that could always found comfort in it. “You.” He paused. “Transformed again.”

His heartrate picked up and his gut start churning. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever really. He’d never had to and he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t want Geralt to say something that would make him angry or sad or break his heart. He just wanted to be a human for Geralt. Simple and easy and human.

Not that he was simple or easy. Or human. Probably.

Whatever he was it probably wasn’t human. Not really. But he wanted to be. For Geralt.

Geralt’s other hand came up and squeezed lightly around the long healed bone.

“I wont ask.” Geralt said as Jaskier swallowed a sob. “But I’ll help. If you want.”

“It’s not a curse.”

Geralt hummed acknowledgement.

“It’s just me. It’s always just me. Okay?”

Geralt made a noise like he maybe understood. A little. But not much.

“I can.” It felt weird to say it out loud. “Shift into anything so long as it’s still me.”

“Anything?” He saw the smirk and pointed stare he was making at the chair.

He smacked his shoulder. “If it’s me.”

He was living. Living and breathing and moving and thinking. How was he supposed to be something that wasn’t?

“Not like a Doppler then.”

“Would have thought the bear shape rather gave that away.” Dopplers could become anyone- but were restricted by mass. He wasn’t. Sure he shifted down or up in steps normally but that was because it was easier. Because feelings normally built in size instead of appearing all at once.

Geralt conceded the point with a nod. “Does-“ He stopped.

When it became clear Geralt wasn’t just collecting his thoughts he nudged him. “Ask.”

“Does it hurt?” Geralt wasn’t looking at him and his face was flat but he could feel the tension under his hands.

“Nope!” He reassured. Geralt tensed further.

“In the woods-” He started.

“Those were extenuating circumstances! I’m sure it looked terribly grisly from your perspective but I just couldn’t find a form that fit because.” He stopped.

“Because you were scared.” He nodded into Geralt’s neck. “Of me.”

He stopped nodding.

“Everything’s not about you Geralt.” He pulled back enough to glare at him. Geralt returned it. “It’s Not. Sure I was scared of you but I wasn’t scared of you. I know you wouldn’t lock me up and sell me to a circus to turn tricks or a mage for experiments or anything. I know that. There’s just a difference between knowing and knowing. Okay?”

Geralt studied him before slowly nodding. He tucked his head back into Geralt’s neck.

He wanted to stay here. Here with Geralt. It pulled a question from his gut that he didn’t want to ask- that filled him with fear even as it spilled from his tongue.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to the bard.

“Come now you must have a preference.” A voice that was cocky and sure prodded. A voice that was his but was not his. “A shape you’d prefer me to be?”

His face turned and he felt distantly as his eyes glittered and a smile blazed on his lips. Feeling terribly out of control as he begged his heart to race. To respond.  To fight whatever power directed his body without his command.

As Geralt’s lips began to form words he could feel the magic preparing to shape him. Bind him in that form. Lock him without shackle or key into whatever Geralt wanted him to be.

“What would it matter?” Geralt said, face relaxing into a small smile and raising a brow. “It would still always be you.”

He sank into Geralt’s shoulder as the compulsion faded, taking with it his fear. He didn’t know what that was and he didn’t particularly like it but- “It would be.” He agreed.

It would always be him.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #shapeshifter au #today Geralt gets to pet a kitty #The kitty is Jaskier of course but still #also establishing the rules if your into that like i am #geralts a bit softy and that is all #writing

[moonrainbowfish]

Hi hi~! I was wondering if it’s alright to request for a male matchup for the hobbit and LOTR please 😅👉🏻👈🏻? I’m 22 years old, but people often mistake me for being a few years younger. I have short pixie brown hair, but green eyes, and I have a few piercings. I also have a slim thicc body type.

I’m very shy, anxious, and awkward around strangers. I have major social anxiety, so meeting new people face to face freaks me out. It takes me awhile to open up and trust others. Once I’m comfortable around someone I’m the complete opposite. I’m more talkative, bubbly, sarcastic, feisty, outgoing, dorky, cuddly, crackhead, and I have random bursts of energy 🥴. But there are times I can get super moody, insecure, sensitive, and emotional because I overthink EVERYTHING 🙃. A true Gemini, I literally think my personality is split into two. The shy and sweet side and the sarcastic firecracker side lmaoo. I’m not afraid to use my voice and call people out when needed lol. My friends would describe me as the “innocent and cute friend that need to be protected at all times” lmaoo. In friend groups I’m usually the oldest, but I often get mistaken as the youngest because of my youthful nature and looks 🥴. I love to help others and make sure everyone is being treated fairly. I’m the youngest in my family, so I’m used to being pampered and taken care of, but I also love to take care of and spoil my friends and partner~! Very forgetful! You could tell me something and I’ll forget about it in like 15 minutes 🥴. I can get annoyed and mad easily, because I can get overwhelmed and overstimulated easily too. But I don’t stay that way for long! People say I have a calming aura when and it makes them feel super comfortable and safe when they’re around me. In relationships I’m the clingy and cuddly partner. I LOVE to cuddle and hug, but only with people I’m comfortable with and with my s/o. Being touched by someone I don’t know very well makes me feel anxious and nervous to the point it almost gives me panic attacks 😅.

I love animals and kids, but babies kinda make me anxious lmao. I also ADORE anything cuddly, cute, soft, and fluffy like pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. I enjoy taking naps, baths, watching trashy shows, drama, video games, makeup, musicals, shopping, nature, making others laugh, tarot readings, going on walks and drives, and singing. I DESPISE Spiders, waking up early, loud noises, getting yelled at, crowds, and confrontation even though I love drama LMAO.

Thank you so much and I hope you stay happy and healthy~! 💜💜

The Hobbit:

I ship you with: Bard!

Bard was quite fascinated with your piercings at first. They are not very common in Middle Earth. He also loves your short hair and your gorgeous green eyes. He thinks you're the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life.

He was a bit hesitant to approach as he didn't want you to get freaked out, or scared. He gave you lots of time to open up to him and when you finally did, he was so overjoyed.

The fact that you love kids makes Bard really happy, as he himself is a father of 3 children. It didn't take long for him to finally introduce you to his family.

His children, especially his youngest Tilda adore you. They often ask when you're going to come back everytime you have to leave. Sometimes they would even try to set you up. Asking when you and their dad are finally gonna get married.

Because of your social anxiety. He often will do the talking for you, ordering for you for example so you don't have to. And your love for eachother just grows more and more each and every time you spend time together.

Bard really finds your random bursts of energy quite endearing. He's very devoted and loyal to you and will give you lots of words of affirmation and smiles when he sees you getting flustered.

He would spoil you just as much as you would spoil him. He babies you literally, but he still is amazed how you are so good at calling people out on their bs.

Lord of the rings:

I ship you with: Pippin Took!

He often saw those random bursts of energy you got from afar and he was the one who made the first move. He felt so drawn to you. You're such a beautiful and wonderful person.

He often invites you to tag along with him and Merry in one of their newest shenanigans. With you it's always so much fun. There's never a dull moment.

He loves your talkactive and bubbly side and he is very good at bringing out your outgoing side. In my opinion Pippin totally is a Gemini too, so that's definitely something you can bond even more over.

In his opinion, he thinks your quite cute and your on the receiving end of all his love and attention. He's very lovely towards you and he will give you lots of cheesy compliments to make you feel good.

Pippin is totally fascinated with your all interests and hobbies and he would love to cuddle with you all day, every day. You enjoy being lazy, simply enjoying each others company, taking a nap.

He really enjoys talking with you and learning more things about you. And he will often buy you new cute stuff. Your favourite activity to do together is to go for walks and to cause some harmless trouble together.

I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting!

xoxo

-Freya

#bard #pippin #the hobbit matchup #lord of the rings matchup #matchup #ships #matchups from freya #hobbit x reader #lotr x reader

[jaskierswolf]

The Shape of Love Pt.6/6

Previous

Kaer Morhen was brilliant. The old keep was somehow caught in time itself, both ancient and yet so very present as it loomed in its corner of the mountains. Jaskier could only imagine what it must have looked like in its prime. Even with crumbling walls and barely functioning rooms, the keep was impressive. Vesemir, Geralt’s sort of father figure, greeted them as they reached the great doors of the keep.

Jaskier had travelled up the mountain as a thick furred tiger, one specially suited to cold weather. He’d read about the animal in a book at Oxenfurt and decided it would be his best bet for travelling through the harsh conditions and bitter cold up to Geralt’s home. Before they’d reached the keep he’d shifted back and gotten dressed so he could meet the other witchers as a human. Having been attacked by Lambert when he’d been a wolf he didn’t want to risk any more miscommunications.

“So, Wolf,” Vesemir grunted, and Jaskier was beginning to realise where Geralt had inherited his social skills from. “A human bard.”

Geralt hummed back.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and patted Geralt’s arm. It seemed as if it were down to him to explain their situation. “You have questions?” Jaskier asked with a tilt of his head.

“Geralt’s never brought a friend back before.” Vesemir huffed.

“Well then, I am honoured to be the first” Jaskier smiled brightly. “but I supposed you’re wondering why?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, his witcher gave a small nod so Jaskier shifted. He always shifted into a smaller animal first if he hadn’t changed first. After tearing through too many clothes as a child he’d learnt that it was easier to crawl out of his clothes than to keep replacing them. He shifted into mouse and squeaked as he was suddenly engulfed by his silvery blue doublet. The pile fell to the ground with a soft thud and he braced inside the fabric as he landed. He heard Geralt’s soft chuckle and the ground vibrated as the witcher stepped closer to his clothes pile.

“He can portal?” Vesemir guessed. “But only without clothes. How strange.”

Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt a hand digging through his clothing, the movement tickled his whiskers. He bit Geralt gently on his finger and crawled onto his palm. His nose twitched as Geralt pulled him out the clothes. He squeaked as his eyesight adjusted to the outside world. He could barely see but he flicked his whiskers and managed to orientate himself on Geralt’s palm. He sniffed and scurried up Geralt’s arm, perching on his shoulder.

“He’s a mouse?” Vesemir’s voice rumbled in the air.

Jaskier squeaked and leapt at the older witcher. As he leapt he shifted into a falcon. He swooped and circled around Vesemir’s head, delighting in the return of his vision. It was sharp and he knew that in this form the woods surrounding Kaer Morhen would be a playground. He flew high into the sky with a loud cry and then bombed back down towards the ground, landing on Vesemir’s outstretched arm.

The older witcher stroked his feathers with a finger and he preened under the affection. “How remarkable. Are there any limits?”

Geralt hummed. “He only has one form per species. He wouldn’t be able to change into me, he’s not a doppler, but as far as I’m aware the only limit is his imagination.”

Jaskier launched into the air and shifted again, landing as a jaguar. He yowled at Geralt and nudged his leg. Geralt scratched between his ears and he shifted into a cheetah so he could purr as he rubbed up against Geralt’s leg, not so subtly marking the witcher with his scent.

“His eyes.” Vesemir breathed and reached out a hand. Jaskier head butted Geralt one last time before prowling over to the older witcher.

Vesemir held Jaskier’s face gently in his hands. “Absolutely remarkable.”

Jaskier let the older witcher study him for a few moments, until he started to feel like he was back in Lettenhove castle being treated like some kind of freak show in a circus. He yowled suddenly and jumped back to circle behind Geralt. He shifted back into a mouse and scurried up Geralt’s leg and found a nice warm crevice in his armour.

“Jask?” Geralt sounded concerned but Jaskier was caught up in the sudden wave on anxiety. He wanted to trust Geralt’s family. That was why he’d displayed his abilities but the way Vesemir had looked at him was so like the healers from his past.

“I’ve upset him.” Vesemir noted cooly. “When he changes back ask him why.”

“I will.” Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt the rumble in the witcher’s chest mixed with the steady vibrations of the medallion.

“Go. I’ll handle Roach. Your room is set up but I wasn’t expecting a guest. He could stay in Eskel or Lambert’s room until they arrive.” Vesemir said and Jaskier felt a shift in the air nearby, Roach snorted and stomped her foot.

“It’s fine. He can stay with me.”

Jaskier squeaked. Of course he would stay with Geralt. They always shared a room. At first it had been because Jaskier had stayed in animal form and couldn’t get a room on his own without shifting to human, after that it had just been habit.

Neither witcher nor bard questioned it.

Jaskier didn’t shift back for almost a week. The anxiety was easier to handle in animal form. He settled as a wolf and Geralt was almost always petting him whenever he wasn’t busy with chores or training. Jaskier helped out by going out to hunt. He managed to take down a small buck and pulled the carcass back through the forest to the keep. Geralt had far too much fun dumping a bucket of water over his head to wash the blood out of his fur. He snarled at the witcher but allowed him to brush the gore from his fur.

Lambert was the next witcher to arrive.

The redhead took one look at the russet wolf curled up by the fire and threw himself across the room.

“Jaskier! You bastard. How’s the head?” Lambert grinned and buried his face in Jaskier’s fur.

Jaskier wagged his tail and barked.

“Leave off.” Geralt grumbled and shoved Lambert back. “Get your own.”

“Oooh, alright grumpy.” Lambert laughed. “I was going to ask whether you wanted a drink but you can get your own.”

Jaskier rolled onto his back and howled, wagging his tail.

“Shut up.” Geralt growled but rubbed Jaskier’s belly with a small smile on his face.

Eventually, Jaskier shifted back. He was curled up on the bed next to Geralt, with his head on the witcher’s chest when he decided enough was enough. He let out a long sigh and let his magic ripple through his fur. Geralt’s hand stopped in his hair.

“There you are.” Geralt murmured into the dark room.

“Hmm.” Jaskier agreed, taking a page out of Geralt’s book.

“What happened?” Geralt asked as his hand began to thread through his hair once more.

Neither of them cared that Jaskier was now lying naked on Geralt’s bare chest.

Jaskier had accepted a long time ago that he was in love with the witcher. He’d never had a friend that he could be himself around before and it was so easy with Geralt. The witcher didn’t bat an eyelid when Jaskier shifted between human and animal forms. He didn’t treat Jaskier differently between forms either. The witcher had struggled at first when Jaskier had shifted to human. He’d been so openly affectionate when Jaskier had been an animal but hadn’t quite known how to express that when Jaskier was human but after months on the road together Geralt had gotten better. He often let Jaskier snuggle up to him in human form, and petted his hair just like he would when Jaskier was an animal.

Geralt wasn’t as talkative when Jaskier was human but he didn’t mind. Jaskier could talk enough for both of them. He was just happy that Geralt had let him stay.

He explained the anxiety that had overwhelmed him when Vesemir had studied him so intently. He kept the part about his past as vague as possible. Geralt already knew some of the details and it wasn’t easy for Jaskier to remember.

Geralt was silent as he listened, letting Jaskier explain without interruption.

When Jaskier finally ran out of words, Geralt hummed.

“Come here.” He murmured.

Jaskier frowned and sat up so he could see Geralt’s face. The witcher was staring at him with warm amber fire in his eyes. Jaskier couldn’t breathe under the intensity of his gaze. He felt his cheeks heat up and his mouth dropped open.

“Geralt?” He asked, his voice wavering.

Geralt sat up, cupping Jaskier’s face in his hands, and kissed him, so gently that Jaskier wasn’t sure that he wasn’t imagining it. His heart was hammering in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to shift back into an animal, any animal.

He whimpered helplessly against Geralt’s lips.

Geralt chuckled and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Is this ok?” He breathed, warm air tickling against Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier laughed, almost hysterically. “Ok?!” He cried and flung his arms around Geralt’s neck before pulling him into a hug. “Gods Geralt. I’ve been wanting to do that for months!”

“Hmm.” Geralt nuzzled into his neck. “Why didn’t you?”

Jaskier sighed. “I didn’t think you’d want to.” He admitted. “It’s, it’s a bit strange considering the whole…” He let go out Geralt to wave his arms. “animal thing. I’ve never kissed anyone who’s known about that before.”

“Why would I care?” Geralt scowled. “You’re still you."

Jaskier shook his head. “Only you would think so, my darling.”

He smiled sadly at Geralt before leaning in to kiss him again. The kiss was longer this time, growing deeper with every second that passed. Jaskier threaded his fingers through Geralt’s long silver hair and hummed into the kiss. Geralt tasted faintly of the stew they’d had for dinner but Jaskier didn’t care. He was kissing Geralt of Rivia, and Geralt wasn’t pushing him away, quite the opposite in fact. The witcher’s hands pressed against his back pulling him closer.

Jaskier pulled away to breathe and Geralt growled, pushing Jaskier back against the bed and kissing down Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier was suddenly very aware that he was naked.

“Geralt.” He tugged at the witcher’s hair and forced the man to look at him.

Geralt’s normally golden eyes were dark with lust. He frowned and tilted his head with a grunt.

“Are you sure about this, dear heart?” Jaskier asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Yes. Are you?” Geralt growled.

Jaskier’s heart fluttered at the sound. “Gods, yes.” He pulled Geralt into a fierce kiss as if to prove his point.

He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

____________

The next morning Geralt and Jaskier had sheepishly slunk into the dining area for breakfast. Witcher hearing didn’t allow for many secrets in Kaer Morhen and Geralt had explained that both Vesemir and Lambert would know what they’d been up to the night before.

Luckily Jaskier was shameless.

He greeted both witchers with a wave and a brilliant smile. Lambert whistled and cheered loudly, whilst Vesemir just smiled into his drink.

“So is this a new thing?” Lambert smirked.

Geralt punched him in the arm. Jaskier put a hand on Geralt’s chest. “Geralt.” He chided softly. “I’m sure he’s only asking because he cares.”

Geralt snorted. “I doubt it. He’s a bastard.”

Jaskier smirked. “Oh believe me, I am very aware of that.”

“I am right here!” Lambert crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Look, I’m happy for you. Just keep it down next time. I really did not need to be serenaded to sleep by a sonnet about Geralt’s dick.”

Jaskier laughed. “How about a ballad?”

“No!”

“An epic retelling of—”

“Absolutely not!” Lambert put his hands over his ears.

Everyone was laughing by the end of breakfast, even Vesemir. Jaskier hadn’t seen the older witcher so care-free before. Jaskier felt pretty smug about it. Jaskier offered to help clear the plates whilst Geralt and Lambert started their chores around the keep. That was when Vesemir cornered him in the kitchen.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier almost dropped the plate his was holding but he recovered pretty quickly. “Ah, Vesemir. What a surprise!”

“I’m sorry, about before.” The older witcher held out his hand and Jaskier shook it, still bewildered by encounter. Vesemir had taken great care to avoid Jaskier whilst he’d been an animal so he hadn’t expected the witcher to approach him so soon after turning back into a human.

Jaskier waved his hand. “Nothing to worry about. There’s, there’s no problem.”

“Hmm.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh well, umm, maybe there was a teensy problem. Just, umm. Just ask Geralt.” Jaskier’s fingers were playing on unseen lute strings. “It was a bad memory, that’s all.”

Vesemir nodded and patted Jaskier on the back. “You’re alright, pup.”

Jaskier tilted his head at the nickname, realising that he’d been accepted into Vesemir’s pack.

“Thank you.” He nodded, barely able to conceal his grin.

The next witcher to arrive into the keep was one that Jaskier had never met before. Geralt introduced them with a quick wave of his hands.

“Eskel. Jaskier.” He grunted.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and bounded up to the new witcher, hugging him tightly. “Hello!” He sang happily.

“Geralt?” Eskel asked but returned the hug tentatively.

“Geralt’s boyfriend.” Lambert explained. “Ow!”

“Geralt!” Jaskier let Eskel go and spun round to poke Geralt in the chest. “Play nice.”

He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head as he glared at his witcher. Geralt gave him a small smile and hummed.

“You got yourself a human?” Eskel asked, still a little stunned by Jaskier.

Jaskier sighed deeply. Normally he preferred that most people saw him as just a human but he wanted to be honest with Geralt’s family and honestly it was getting tiring having to explain the truth every time. The wolf witchers were going to have to get used to his nudity if he had to keep shifting between forms whilst he was at the keep for winter. He didn’t mind staying as an animal but Geralt’s room was at the top of a tower and he really didn’t want to have to fly up every time he wanted to change back.

So he started to pull off his clothes.

“What the fuck?” Eskel covered his eyes.

Lambert cackled and Geralt just sighed. The silver-haired witcher opened his arms and Jaskier dumped his clothes in Geralt’s waiting hands before walking to the centre of the courtyard.

Geralt tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at him.

Jaskier smirked and winked at his witcher before letting his magic loose. His skin rippled into red scales and felt the fire burning in his chest. His front talons hit the ground with a loud thud and he roared, letting loose a burning pillar of fire into the air.

“Holy shit!” Lambert yelled.

“He’s a dragon?” Eskel stared up at him in awe.

Geralt just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Jaskier, stop being so dramatic for once in your life.”

Jaskier snorted a smoke ring at Geralt and launched into the air. The colours were amazing in this form and he could see for miles. The burning in his chest was uncomfortable so he let out another geyser of flames as he flew above the keep. He could smell the salted jerked meat from the panty and his stomach rumbled loudly even though he’d already had breakfast. He snorted and looked around in the trees below until he spotted a doe grazing on the banks of the river.

He dove down without thinking and scooped the animal up in his talons. He roared as he returned to the keep, landing in the courtyard with a thud. The doe was already dead in his talons so he snapped up his meal in two bites.

“Fuck…” Lambert breathed and Jaskier turned to snarl at him.

Geralt jumped between them and placed a hand on Jaskier’s snout. “Jaskier.” He said slowly and calmly. “Maybe a dragon isn’t a good idea.”

Jaskier looked down at his bloodied talons and shifted immediately into a cat, his tail flicked as Geralt picked him up.

Eskel pointed at him. “He can change!”

Jaskier meowed and rubbed his head under Geralt’s chin. He suddenly felt very full. He would have to change again soon, into a bear or something with a larger stomach until he could digest his dragon meal properly. His magic compensated for the sudden change but it still ached.

“Can you become a goat?” Eskel grinned and crossed his arms.

Jaskier yowled and looked up at Geralt.

“Yes.” Geralt answered for him.

“Amazing.” Eskel nodded. “Welcome to the family, Jaskier.”

Jaskier purred happily and pawed at Geralt’s face.

Family.

After years alone on the road, he had a family.

All because he’d found one very lonely witcher on the path.

He purred and nuzzled into Geralt’s chest. For the first time in his life, he was found.

______

Next story!

#the witcher #geraskier #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #jaskier pankratz #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #witcher lambert #witcher eskel #vesemir #dragon!jaskier #the shape of love #wolfie's witcher writing #wooo it's finished #kaer morhen

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER. 

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 13

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Geralt could feel what you also feel and he was cursing the Djinn for making you both feel this way because it was a feeling that was certainly irresistible for one man to ever control. You were in heat, and it doesn’t seem to be such a good idea for the witcher to try and resist. 

Warnings: This is just a filler chapter for the smut in the next chapter. Ahonhonhon! Kind of Jealous Geralt too? Lowkey? Hehehehe. A cute bard and Cirilla having the period-syndrome (I’m having it too rn and I’m thirsty for Geralt or any of Henry’s character. DAMN IT) I’ve given a name to the Djinn they’ve found because I’ve tried searching but found no name for every Djinn they find in the witcher? I think? Reader being so needy and in heat. (The animal type of heat for reasons..) Also, reader is...a virgin. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: You probably want to strangle me so hard right now, bb’s. I’m in the phase of a writer where I’m procrastinating stuff but not exactly a writer’s block. Just want to do things besides writing all day or I’m prolly just sleepy with no damn reason since last week. 😅😒 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! 

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Well, you're in a greater bad mood right now, rat." Jaskier frankly stated, wiping his lute with a cloth.

The night was serene with your heart strings balled up in a yarn. Your emotions consisting of woe with a face as if you lost a shit ton of money. You sat together with Jaskier in the middle of the vast leigh, knees touching against each other as the bard quietly sat with you in silence.

A bright purple evenfall draws nigh along the sky, stars finally becoming visible as you admired how beautiful their skies were. Less pollution and more aesthetic, though a lot more eccentricity happening around more than earth.

You've exhaled one last sigh, mouth in a tight frown as you took notice of the moon that was in replete. A perfect shape of a circle as it shines bright.

"Is the witcher being an imbecile again?" the bard ceased his cleaning, giving you his sole attention as he watched your face contort in utmost upset. But, you chose to just let the sorrow go for a moment, admiring the stars and skies like it wasn't laughing back at you from how delusional you were for having strong feelings for the witcher, "Don't start, Jaskier."

"Your cantankerous attitude shown in your cherubic face tells me that you are gradually adapting Geralt's crabbiness because you accepted the position in being his lover---," Jaskier has managed to bluntly say, carefully placing his lute on the grass as he narrowed his eyes at you, "---Though, it does seem like a sacrifice, small rat. Your kindness shall be missed. I would like to see you try and let Geralt adapt to your naivity and sweetness. The vision is pretty hilarious, if you ask me!"

Your frown even grew tighter when he mentioned the word 'lover', shoulders falling from how dismayed you were from hearing it.

"I'm not his lover."

The bard couldn't help but raise a skeptical brow back at you, remembering what he saw last night. He knew he wasn't hallucinating nor daydreaming, "Oh, so kissing under the moonlight is considered as a friendly gesture in my era now? If so, then this means you wouldn't mind kissing me too!"

He puckered his lips, making smooching sounds as slowly tried to teasingly close the gap between you both as Jaskier pouted to act as if he was about to give you a kiss on the cheek when you've yelped and immediately had your palms over his mouth, gently pushing his face away from you, "Jaskier! What are you even---?!"

He comfortably sat back down and had his knee over his chest prior to the position he had now, which was in criss-cross as he playfully shrugged. His pretty baby blues looking at the darkening sky, "A shame. I've been told by countable lads and lasses that I do kiss like I take their breath away,"

You tutted at that, shaking your head from his teasing and tried to send a hostile sally, "You suck then. Do you want them dying because of lack of breath?"

Your animosity has been curved by the bard. He seemed like he was acting like he didn't hear you as he let his eyes flicker to you again; going on with his jests, "Thank you by the way. I've been sleeping much soundly since the couple of days and you seemed to be having such wonderful dreams every night,"

Bawdy indications were hinted in between Jaskier's words; making you give him a glare that obviously made him grin like he won the lottery; thinking that your previous rendezvous back in Geralt's room when he wasn't around had some provocative explanations.

He didn't know your symbol was hurting a lot more on those nights where Geralt wasn't around.

You brush off his ribald comment, "I didn't do it for you,"

"I thought you were actually asking for forgiveness by calling me a horse's arse minutes ago? You're knowing the blasphemy of our language but totally naive of every monsters and places we have here. It doesn't seem to be such a thing to be proud of,"

Jaskier continued his blathers without even letting you talk, freely letting you give him death glares because he seemed to be more mouthy as days go by. You turn a deaf ear to exhale an exasperated breath, "I'm taking it back. You're still annoying as heck," before unabashedly laying your head down on his lap.

His yakking has been brought to a halt when he'd felt your head fall on his lap, the bard suddenly uttering quizzical gibbers that you continued to ignore as you felt the bracing wind hit your body; appreciating the eventide in quietude.

"Alright, alright! I'm not complaining...Ughm," Jaskier cleared his throat, anxiously scratching his head as he tried his best not to look at you.

The fullness of the moon has been drawing you in again. In a tranquil night, it was as if the stars began to whisper sweet nothings, lately realizing that their soft whispers has actually been your wishes; albeit, you've broken them down together, your whims willing and having no desire for you to actually come back in earth.

With only one thing in your mind, it was to stay with Geralt and his family.

But, do you really mean it? If you would choose earth or their dimension, were you serious that you wanted to stay?

Though, for him; you weren't that sure if he also wanted the same thing. If Geralt wasn't around, you were probably already dead, have been sold by noblemen or eaten by their monsters.

But, the stars seemed to jump out of the sky when you've heard a loud thundercrack of a door that came from the inside of their house, snapping the bard quiet as the noise tugged you out of your happy place; a place that you hoped Geralt came with.

The night has went slower, time ticking a lot more deliberately when one person is probably upset with another. Especially, when the person you were upset with lived in the same house as you and even was the owner of the bed you sleep on.

You were beginning to feel rickety as seconds pass by while Jaskier tried worming out whatever he had asked to Cirilla whom was feeding Kolby with a basket full of obsolete bread.

"Tell me why the back door is now broken off its hinges?" he asked in incredulity, hands on his hips as he had seen the brown, wooden door hanging with all its life, trying hard not to fall.

Hence, as they continued their talk; you couldn't help but massage that aching part of your chest, the one where the symbol laid upon the valley of your breasts as you heavily breathed.

It was attacking again.

The weight and fiery phantom of fingers grasping your heart more severe rather than the nights you had it felt like a rabid monster wanted to come out of cage. Their cold weather suddenly all swelter; as if you were walking on burnt out coals with one person clouding your mind.

Geralt.

You needed him, wanted him and yearned for his presence.

Cirilla gave a blatant shrug of her shoulders; sounding completely phlegmatic as she answered, "I don't know, bard. I didn't scream if that will make you any less more worried,"

Jaskier had his eyebrows furrowed as he keenly pondered as to why their door was broken all of a sudden, "Has there been a beast?" his slim, calloused fingers moved restlessly; dwelling onto what has raided their own home. The bard looked anywhere, continuing to be in distress while Cirilla patted the Hirikka's head with utmost care as she watched him devour everything in the basket, "You mean, Geralt?" she gave Jaskier a once over before turning back to look at Kolby, thoroughly undisturbed that it was the witcher's doing, "---He went out for a second and then came back, breaking the door off its hinges. But, he promised to fix it,"

Jaskier's head veered to where she was crouched in the middle of the living room, his baby blue eyes full of concern as he opened his mouth to tell all his inquiries but was instantly shut closed when he'd seen you hunched in his peripheral vision, palms on your knees as you were breathing like you were being chased by another Alghoul.

The latter took heed of those sweat drops falling on the side of your face as you were heaving deep breaths. Your head was darkening in assailing images of those familiar amber eyes you've grown to be thoroughly fond of; longing to be consumed by those glowing golden aureate.

You've heard someone walking closer to where you stood, seeing Jaskier crouch to give you a scrutiny of his baby blues. Bright azures. You didn't yearn for that. All you wanted was golden. His golden and you couldn't help but whimper, your chest has giving you agony as if you were being pricked in the heart by small needles, "You're sweating like a rabid---rat, are you alright?"

Another deep inhale of your breath; you breathlessly muttered, "I am Jaskier---It's just---" nevertheless, those train of thoughts couldn't be completed by the excruciating pain that ignited a troubled mewl. You straightened your back, making Jaskier stand up as well to scan your face for any signs as to what was happening to you, but only had seen your face painfully contorted in a way that tells him you were in agony.

"It's hot. Too hot," pause. You swallowed the tight knot of confining sensations wanting to be let out, "---Abnormally hot. Hot in two different ways; like I wanna be impaled or something!"

At your most forthright honesty, your statement has made the bard blink rapidly from how blunt it sounded, being taken aback by how outspoken you suddenly become; a thorough change of your bashful self, "You're actually revealing lewd facts that should be kept to yourself. You are certainly not alright!"

You could feel yourself grow hotter, the heat being scorching and aching at the same time. Your legs began to weaken and you can't help but fold like a paper, squat down and the position was utmost impuissant; totally vulnerable with your palms on your ears as you tried to shut down the restless whispering that went on and on; ceaseless as you had no power over it.

Jaskier began to panic; his face brimful of dread, "----GERALT? WE HAVE A PROBLEM DOWN HERE!"

The soughing of breathless whispers were relentless, no matter how you tried to cover your ears; they just keep coming. It was incessant, never ending despite of how they were giving your chest a pain that seem to be unyielding as they went on and on.

Witcher. You wanted the witcher. You needed him, you longed for him.

"Stop saying the word witcher, Jaskier!" you abruptly scolded, sounding too jarring and ear-piercing; void of kindness as you could feel the aggravation going to your head with the additional non-stop rustle of voices. The bard eyed you skeptically as he added, finding your rebuke rather surprising and odd because he never said anything about it, "I wasn't even uttering a word!"

Warm, slender fingers fell on your shoulders; trying his best to comfort you while the witcher wasn't coming down from his chambers yet. Nevertheless, from the moment he'd touch you, the toubadour has received a harsh slap of his hand being pushed away.

"Jaskier!" you harshly spat, your nose scrunched from how discomforting you were feeling.

He was quick to haul his arms up in surrender, stepping a foot away as he looked at you in horror, "Alright---I'm not touching you then!"

Another strained bleat left your lips as you were now fully sat on the floor, holding your chest as you continued to heave, shaking your head from the perpetual torment that tries its best to scream blandishments that sounded abridged. Some were incomprehensible and other words sounded lucid.

Destiny has it's price. It sounded just like a rustle of the winds as the shushed voices continued its onslaught. Two souls, together as one. Bound for eternal rest or a life forever. Zephyr shall protect. You cannot outrun death.

Your whimpers started to gradually increase, mewling in the process when you've exhaled a sigh as the needles seem to turn bigger, "It hurts, I swear it really hurts!" you screeched, body feeling like you were dropped in hot, molten lava as you were hearing foot steps treading in haste, "Geralt's coming, don't worry, rat."

Kolby prowled to where you sat; eternal mewls never ceasing as sexual, pent-up aggression was starting to travel to your head, but you tried to fight them off. Though, it ignited more pain as you struggled. Cirilla suddenly snapped her head to where you were, a tight lipped frown etching her face as she jogged to where you sat.

"Is she okay?" the pretty child asked in worry, watching you battle with something they couldn't see nor feel. Jaskier raised a brow; looking sardonic as he acknowledged, "No, she certainly isn't, Princess Cirilla."

She gave him a lour as she snarled; her riposte sounding a lot like the witcher because of how harsh it sounded, "I'm not in the mood for your sarcastic nonsense, bard."

Jaskier was unfazed as he took her retort like it was nothing, "Ooooh, is this how period--is it called period---does to a lassie?"

They're retaliations had them unaware of Geralt's presence who came marching down the stairs with an unfathomable expression on his face; the trepidation never seen in his features as it was emotionless, never giving anybody the panic that Jaskier, Cirilla and Kolby has been feeling when you've suddenly began bawling your eyes out from the thumping pain.

The witcher hurriedly crouched before you, his glowing amber eyes thoroughly scanning your features if there was anything weird happening; but to his discontent, Geralt noticed none.

He felt everything. Your frustration, pent-up aggression; venereal desires or not, the twinge of scorching ache that can't be relieved due to constraints given from the latter himself when he'd chose jurisdiction over his carnal wishes that you also wished.

But, he'd been bull-headed for his reasons; Geralt was not bargained for the repercussions held because of having no permanent proof that you were also suffering every night.

Just like him. Hence, the both of you needed relief. Corporeal appetites released for the betterment of both.

"She's in heat," Geralt rasped, trying to hear what you've been begging for and he sensed that you were hearing voices that continues to assault you, paining your chest as you were unaware of his presence that loom before you.

"What? Oh, Geralt! Cease the utter balderdash!" Jaskier exclaimed, eyeing the witcher who squat down in front of you.

Geralt's amber eyes has been searching for yours, but you've never let him see as you continued your hushed begging. He had his chiseled jaw clenched so tight, every breath he takes was also giving his chest a potent congesting pain that he can somehow resist. His medallion was vibrating wildly, alarming him that there was magic surrounding him.

Therefore, he knew the pain wasn't just one to disregard because he knew your pain has explanations that is needed to foresee.

Was the Djinn still in there? Keeping you as a host?

No. Impossible. The witcher thought at the back of his head because there were times that his medallion doesn't vibrate whenever he's around you, it only happened now and back then when you were possessed.

It was impossible that the Djinn was keeping you as its master as well. You could die if that ever happened. The seal was gone and never found back in the swamps, meaning to say it was already gone; broke free from its confinement because you already had three of your wishes.

Jaskier couldn't help but notice how clean and fixed Geralt's hair was. Hence, he'd started to acknowledge the aesthetic difference he claimed, "Also, did you just braid your majestic chalky white hair all by yourself?! Or did you do it, Princess Cirilla?" he bargained, utterly stunned from Geralt and his hair being braided, dubiously eyeing the lion cub of Cintra.

But, she only gave a nonchalant negation, "No."

"Oh, the rat did! She did a great job at making you look so feminine tonight, Geralt!"

Geralt paid no heed to Jaskier's teasing compliments, wanting nothing but to roll his eyes but ceased to do so as your fingers began to shake, his mind now in a perturbed fret as his gaze shifted anywhere to see what was causing your whole situation because he sees nothing. A tight furrow of his eyebrows tightly creased his forehead, "---The Djinn has given her effects for whatever the symbol does to her, bard."

Jaskier crouched beside where Geralt is, receiving a truculent glare that made the bard move away for an inch because his bellicose aura was radiating off him too much, "Symbol? What symbol?"

"I'm not showing you her chest." he bluntly chided as a low growl vibrated through his chest, giving Jaskier a hostile look in his glowing peepers.

The toubadour did a double-take, his mouth turning into an offended 'O' as he held a palm on top of his chest as he gestured to your squatted form, "I wasn't even asking you if I could see her breasts!"

"Then, shut up and stop asking."

Jaskier huffed, sulking beside the witcher because of how he'd suddenly become such a grump.  

You've muttered a soft mewl, tightly closing your ears with your palms as you suddenly talked out loud, "I need Geralt. Where's Geralt?!" it was the only name you could hear, echoing inside your head as the heat traveled through your veins, searing and extremely scorching all of a sudden.

Your heartbeat was loudly drumming out of your chest. Sweat dripping down your face as the pain and heat was starting to make you feel lightheaded, his scent crashing through your senses. Earthy, pinewood and a mix of mannishness.

Geralt.

"Don't touch me!" It felt like you were burning; but also finding some aid to the ache as it soothed your heated skin like ice to the fire. You've felt his thick, rough fingers fall on your shoulder, making you jerk back as you looked at him; completely mortified for a second, "I'm here, midget." before the witcher tightened his hold on you, those fingers clasping around your feeble arm as he gazed upon you in deep concern.

"It's alright. Calm down, it's me." Geralt gently hushed your frantic state, softly grabbing the side of your jaw to make you look at him.

When he did, your eyes were dark and dilated, filled with carnal.

"You're having a hot spell," he roughly forced the words out of him, heavily swallowing whatever you were feeling because he's also having the same problems, but chose to restrain himself; doing a better job than any most men would, "A--A literal spell?" you didn't catch his drift and feel yourself breathing deep, his scent soothing your nerves as it also does the same for him.

Geralt shook his head, his fingers strapped on the side of your neck making his hand feel the pleasuring jolt. You've felt his fingers slightly tremble as your eyes were beseeching, those dilated pupils of yours tormenting him, "No. You're in heat, midget." pause. he lowly growled in displeasure, amber eyes pooling in keen, "---which explains your cravings for touches and the need for coition,"

Your face scrunched in pain and a mixture of pent-up frustration, the voices inside your head slowly dying down as it was now drowning in the witcher's unique, baritone timbre of his that was making you feel giddy before a jolt of pain rose up your chest again, "What am I---an animal?! Geralt, make it stop!"

Jaskier and Cirilla listened in silence. However, the bard fidgeted with the hem of his tunic; his mindless frets seeming to come up with such suggestions that will make everyone's mind boggle.

He raised a hand, not before taking a good look at you who had eyes pure of anguish and need which now focused at Geralt before he'd loudly cleared his throat, turning his head to see the witcher in distress from what other methods he could think of other than the impaling,  "I have a proposal and an utterly brilliant idea to make the pain stop!"

Cirilla hushedly snorted, "His ideas are always nonsense. Don't listen to him, Geralt."

Jaskier placed his hands on his hips, pointing a finger at the princess, mouth opening before he was immediately ceased by Geralt himself.

"The princess is right, bard."

The sonneeter noted his lukewarm response, sounding like he actually opposes what Cirilla has reprimanded because all Geralt ever wanted and what clouds his mind is having his way with you, "---Give the small rat what she wants, Witcher. What if the pain carries on as nights go by? Give her the rumpy pumpy since that is always the answer to why an animal is in heat. It wants coitus, or if you've become one soft, romantic witcher; then I suggest to use the word, 'make love'." he emphasized, quoting the word 'make love' with both hands, his middle finger and index one folding as he said the last word with ardor.

Geralt was quick to scowl at that, exhaling an exasperated breath out of his nose as he hummed in protest; giving the bard his meanest glare, "You're saying she's an animal. You want me to take advantage of it?"

"No?" Jaskier quickly shook his head, groaning out; palms faintly hitting his forehead as he tried to act as if he was slapping it from Geralt's unreasonable assumptions. He continued, languidly blinking back at the frowning witcher, "---I didn't even say you would take advantage of the idea, you nincompoop! Then, do you want me to mate with her?"

It took him a second before he'd seen the latter started giving blazing daggers that had fire in it, his words seething as Geralt gruffly barked, "Absolutely not, bard!"

His glowing, amber eyes were boring holes at Jaskier before he lowly rumbled; more so to himself, trying to convince himself that there was another way.

He was dithering the idea of having you; not because he didn't find you pleasant, fetching, alluring or beautiful. Geralt found you in many types of wonderful adjectives he could tell, though mostly was kept inside his mind. The idea of having you, only to himself; ravishing you in ways that he ought to please kept him faltering because of one thing in his mind.

Vulnerability.

The witcher was thoroughly cautious of vulnerability because whenever it happens; once the walls have been broken down, there was always hindrance coming in his way and with the person he'd promised were important, or a person he loved because he knew that once he has you, Geralt was done for no matter how unstable he was.

You'll be seeing things you've never seen nor felt from him as he does the same way.

Especially, that you never came from their dimension and that the feelings he had for you was too strong to even control. But, the voices at the back of his mind was pulling him away from even pouring those emotions down because firstly, he didn't know how to show and second, there was a huge chance that you would also leave.

What if you leave? a person he'd treasured so much begins to leave him again?

Geralt mindlessly gritted his teeth together as he grumbled and grouched, avoiding the bard's eyes as he watched you shakily grab onto his palms that tenderly rested on the side of your face; leaning onto his touch as you looked at him; utterly lovestruck, "We'll find another way," pause. "---There has to be."

Though, it seems like the bard hasn't heard his beseeching and continued with his witful suggestions, "The only way is to impale her to cease the sufferings that the spell has cast upon her by the Djinn," Jaskier promptly stood up on his feet, his anxiety making him blurt out mindless blabbers he could ever think of, "---There is nothing to lose on this one, Geralt. Especially that you're...no offense---"

Geralt cut him off in haste, surly spitting out his words, "There is, Jaskier. Her purity."

Jaskier pointed back at the witcher, completely looking taken aback as he opened his mouth like he was stunned, "Oh." was the only thing he managed to say for the first few seconds before he quietly muttered, "OooooOh. She's a?"

The Ivory haired man gave a brief nod, "Untouched." he frankly informed as Cirilla quietly listened in the background with Kolby howling loudly in the middle of the night like a wolf in disguise, "---Oh! This is an unorthodox for the series of women that you have had, Geralt! Also, she's a rare one indeed!"

Jaskier couldn't help but feel dumbstruck from his suggestions, shamefully scratching the back of his nape as he has given the whole responsibility to Geralt because he could never help. He always never does because of some sorts that he couldn't explain, probably because he wasn't taught with these magical phenomena that Geralt expertly knows.

When the witcher has given you his attention, you've abruptly attacked him in a bear hug, arms tightly wrapped around his thick neck that you wanted to softly pepper kisses. As you were caging him in your arms, his delicious scent wafted through your nose, welcoming how it was indeed mouthwatering for your blazing appetite or carnal greed.

"I want to have you, Geralt. I--I need to have you! These thoughts inside my head...It needs you, I--I need you," you begged, softly pleading like there wasn't anyone around you; not noticing Cirilla, Kolby nor Jaskier as there was only one person in your mind. Geralt of Rivia. Your Geralt. Your witcher. The only person who gives you fluttering butterflies and wild ants inside your stomach and chest.

You've tucked your face in between your arm and his braided hair, breathing the back of his ear like a wild woman as Geralt stood still and heard your whimpers that went straight to his stronghold, his will in finding another method to help suddenly wavering from how soft and provocative it sounded that clouded his mind.

He turned relaxed in your arms, accepting the bear hug and probably loving how close you both were together after hours of not talking to each other. You've felt his calloused palm caress your clothed back, soothing your pained mewls that came after your sensual whimpers as it was unstable. Geralt gently unlatched your arms that surrounds him, his golden peepers meeting your baffled ones before he had no problem in scooping you up in his arms, like newly wed couples.

"We'll think of other ways, midget. Come. Let's help you with the heat,"

Cliffhanger before the smut? I’M SORRY, BB’S. LOVE MEEEE STILLLLLL! 

Taglist: @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthor​r @carrieannewaywardson @plantingmum​, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​

#muse: geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt smut #geralt #geralt of rivia x female reader #geralt x reader #geralt x female reader #the witcher #witcher #witcher au #witcher fic #witcher jaskier #cirilla of cintra #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fluff #the witcher oneshot #Witcher of the night #witcher of the night series #WOTN #seb-owns-these-tatas #henry cavill #white wolf #butcher of blaviken

[flowercrown-bard]

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - bonus chapter

for @ban-aard  <3

read on AO3

previous

this takes place way before any of that fake-marriage nonsense. This is the real moment Geralt realised he was in love. So it can be read as a stand alone one shot

content warning: mention of animal death (falsely assumed by a character. No actual death)

“And who’s this lovely lady?“

Geralt rolled his eyes. “That‘s Roach.”

Jaskier snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Listen Geralt, I know that it’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, but I am fairly certain that I remember Roach being a lovely shade of brown and not grey.” Jaskier let a moment pass before he gasped, clutching his chest in that overly dramatic way of his. “Geralt! Are you cheating on her?”

“I lost my old Roach.”

Immediately, Jaskier’s playful demeanour dropped and his grin was replaced by a furrow of his brow.

“Oh,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Geralt, I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have made fun of it if I’d have known. I know you loved her.” He took a step closer in the way one would approach a wounded animal. “Are you alright?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Jaskier reached out to touch Geralt’s arm, just for a heartbeat, just long enough to make it clear that he was offering comfort, before pulling away again. It was strange, but after being apart from Jaskier for so long, it felt…nice. Geralt almost found himself wanting more of that touch. Which was a ridiculous thought, of course.

Before he could do something stupid and catch Jaskier’s hand mid-air, Geralt grunted and turned away, but something about the crestfallen expression on Jaskier’s face made him stop.

“She didn’t… she’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Geralt said awkwardly. There was something uncomfortable of having Jaskier’s eyes so intently on him. It made his heart beat harder against his ribs. Geralt found himself wanting more of it, but he turned away harshly, leading Roach over to a tree he could fasten her reins onto. It bought him enough time to get his heart back under control enough to go back to Jaskier.

“She’s not?” Jaskier’s eyes lit up as if he had just been announced winner of a bardic tournament. No, that wasn’t right. Geralt had seen him at such an event once and the look Jaskier had on his face now was so much brighter than it had been back then. It did something to Geralt’s chest that he couldn’t quite name, didn’t want to name. “But you said you lost her?”

Jaskier said it so tentatively, sounding almost as if he was truly concerned for Geralt or his horse.

Geralt huffed, rolling his eyes. “I lost her at Gwent.”

For a long moment Jaskier just stared at him, before he narrowed his eyes. “You’re shitting me. Geralt, you can’t joke about Roach like that.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“Come on. I watched you play and listened to you get all excited about all the strategies and tricks of playing Gwent for years and in all that time not once have I seen you lose a game.”

Geralt shifted and crossed his arms. He didn’t need to justify himself to Jaskier and there was no need for his stomach to twist in that way when Jaskier mentioned listening to Geralt. After all, it wasn’t as if Jaskier had ever complained about Geralt talking about Gwent. In fact, he had always seemed rather interested in what Geralt had to say and he had only ever seemed disappointed when Geralt realised that he was getting carried away and shut himself up.

Jaskier cocked his head. “Alright then. Who was this mysterious Gwent champion who defeated you?”

“Why do you need to know?” Geralt said, sounding perhaps a little more self-conscious than he wanted. He quickly tried to cover it up by adding more playfully, “About to write a sing about how I lost a game?”

“No,” Jaskier said, his face set in determination. “I am going to challenge that person to another round of Gwent and win Roach back for you.”

Something in Geralt’s chest stuttered and his mind was unable to form words. He could only stare at Jaskier.

“You really mean that, don’t you.”

“Of course,” Jaskier said without hesitation. “Roach is your friend. So, who is it? Who has Roach?”

It didn’t make sense. There was no reason for Jaskier to get so worked up over Geralt’s horse. The bard had never even gotten along with her, always complaining about her almost nipping his fingers or chewing on his expensive doublets. But thinking about it…despite all of his complains Jaskier had never stopped approaching her and trying to win her over with treats, silly songs about her beauty and the promise of scritches.

“Roach is with a farmer,” Geralt said slowly. “A retired one whose old fields are now over run with wild flowers and all that.” There really was no need to add that, but seeing a smile spreading across Jaskier’s lips and getting wider with each word made it impossible to stop himself. “The farmer’s son played me for Roach, saying his mother needed her to get to the market every once in a while. And that she could need a companion.”

A strange look passed over Jaskier’s face. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable and yet it made Geralt want to look away. Or to keep looking until he understood.

“So…” Jaskier drew out the word, his eyes searching Geralt’s face. “Roach is on some old farm somewhere happily munching on some flowers and keeping an old lady company?”

Geralt hummed.

“Well then. Maybe…maybe I won’t challenge anyone to a game of Gwent anytime soon then.” Jaskier gave him a lopsided grin. “After all, how could I defeat someone even you lost to? Which I am sure didn’t happen because you were wilfully holding back.”

“Of course not,” Geralt growled, his weak pretence of being annoyed fooling no one, even if he weren’t already betrayed by the smile tugging at his lips.

“However, if you were willing, I would play a round of Gwent with you?” Jaskier said, fiddling with the hem of his doublet.

Geralt’s eyebrows rose. “Since when do you actually want to play?”

“Since I have something I want out of it.”

“Oh?”

Jaskier raised his chin in a challenge. “If I win you are going to tell me everything you know about your new Roach so that I can already begin to befriend her?”

Geralt’s lips twitched and he pulled out his deck, shuffling it.

“And if I win?”

Jaskier heaved a heavy sigh. “If you win, I promise to grand you some blessed silence and not to sing at all until we reach the next town.”

Geralt smirked at that. He was almost tempted to make the game quick and brutal, just to watch Jaskier’s cocky smirk change into that pout he sometimes got. And a small part of Geralt didn’t want to tell Jaskier about how to bond with Roach.

It hadn’t exactly been a bad experience to watch Jaskier coo over his old Roach and do his best to get her to like him. If Geralt was being honest with himself, those evenings where Jaskier’s face lit up because Roach had let him stroke her mane were ones he had thought of often when he had found himself at Kaer Morhen and strangely enough missing the presence of the bard who had somehow wormed himself into Geralt’s life.

He would love to add more such moments to his memory, of Jaskier trying to gain his new Roach’s favour all on his own. But on the other hand, the way he looked at Geralt so hopefully now made his throat tighten. And for some reason Geralt couldn’t shake the thought that it was important that Roach and Jaskier got along. They had to, if they all were to travel together for the next couple of years.

The thought sent a strange pang through Geralt. The next couple of years.

He risked a glance at Jaskier who rolled his eyes and marched over to Roach, holding his hand out to her and watching with bated breath as the grey mare came closer and nuzzled into the touch.

Geralt couldn’t fight his smile when Jaskier turned back to him, a huge grin on his face. A sudden tightness in Geralt’s chest made it difficult to breath.

He didn’t want to lose that grin in a couple of years. He didn’t want to lose the shared laughs and the songs around the campfires at night. He didn’t want to walk the Path without knowing Jaskier would be there waiting for him at an inn with a worried look and the gentleness of his hands as he stitched him back together.

He wanted to keep all of it. Wanted to keep Jaskier.

How could he not want that, when for years Jaskier had been his best friend, the person whose ridiculous outfits and endless tirades about his bardic competitors made Geralt’s heart skip a beat. When Jaskier was the one Geralt –

Oh.

Geralt’s hands stilled and his heart clenched.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jaskier who by now was throwing his head back laughing as Roach tried to eat his hair, his eyes twinkling in mirth.

Oh.

How could Geralt not have known before? How could he have ever been stubborn enough not to give a name to that feeling he got every time he saw Jaskier again after a long winter? Every time Jaskier accidentally bumped shoulders with him or gave him a smile when others only scowled at him?

Seeing Jaskier now, it was so easy, so obvious.

Jaskier was an idiot. He was ridiculous and loud and gods, Geralt loved him.

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier called over, interrupting Geralt’s thoughts, though the shout couldn’t take away the warm feeling flooding Geralt. “Are you done shuffling your cards yet? I’d almost think you want to buy yourself some time until your second defeat.”

Jaskier gave him a wink and poked the tips of his tongue out.

Geralt froze, transfixed.

“I’m ready,” he said, hoping Jaskier didn’t notice how strangled he sounded.

-

Geralt lost the game.

He accepted Jaskier’s gloating and bragging with a roll of his eyes. When they were back on the road and Jaskier was composing a new song about how Geralt had been defeated by a bard, he allowed himself a smile.

How could he not? Geralt’s deliberate loss at a game was not a bad price to pay for seeing his love happy and maybe having him in his life just a little bit longer.

#I scream a truth you hear a lie #geraskier #falling in love #geralt #jaskeir #geraltxjaskier #witcher #witcher fanfic #fic #my writing

[gothgirlmahi]

Prize

Dark!Thor x reader

Summary: You’re found by a hunting party in the woods. The king wants to take you as a trophy. Warnings: Non con, dub con, Thor’s huge...hammer

The bindings dug into you, leaving angry red marks of blood and bruises across your skin. Sharp edges of tree bark cut into your back any time you tried to move and even when you didn’t. You had no idea how long you’d been there. The only direction you could see was up, to the tops of trees and the sky above. Your throat was dry and aching from rope burn and thirst. The darkening sky stared down at you, mocking your pitiful situation.

A virgin sacrifice. That’s what they called it. Your people were religious, perhaps overly so. The rainy season had come and gone without much rain. This year’s harvest was minimal and people were starving. So they picked up a time honored tradition to kill two birds with one stone. A sacrifice would appease the gods and give them one less mouth to feed. And it had to be you.

Your fear picked up as night fell. They had truly left you here to die. There were no gods in the forest. The only end for you was a slow death, either from starvation or an animal happening upon you. You laid there for hours, shaking from the cold in your flimsy white gown and hoping, praying for a swift death.

When the sky was black and tear drops wetted your cold cheeks, you heard a noise in the forest. The rustling of leaves, the breaking of twigs...the whinny of horses? You didn’t know hunters came to this forest. To be fair, you hardly knew there was anything on the planet other than this forest as you had never been anywhere else.

The bindings didn’t allow you much room to move your neck, so you couldn’t see where they were. It seemed that they were approaching from somewhere behind you. You couldn’t tell how many there were, but there were several voices speaking amongst each other jovially. Maybe they weren’t hunters. They were much too loud to be. 

You were caught in what you should do. Perhaps call out for help and possibly be rescued? At the same time, that posed heavy risk. A group of men out at night, coming upon a virgin woman tied to a tree? Some might take it as an invitation. They could take turns violating you and kill you anyway to cover their tracks. The risk was too likely. You knew no one out at this time made it a habit of saving waylaid maidens. Your best option was to stay quiet and hope they didn’t see you.

As they got closer, your heart pounded in your chest. It seemed they were still headed in your direction. Out of all the ways they could take through this gods forsaken forest, it had to be the path that led directly to you. You tried to still yourself from shivering against the cold, not wanting to make any movement that could alert them, but your body was aching, sore and you were so hungry. Maybe you could barter with them. You supposed your virtue wasn’t worth slowly starving to death.

“Help,” you tried to call out. Your voice was faint and you could scarcely hear it yourself. You tried a few times more, getting louder with each call and you heard their conversation stop. Their horses got closer to you and as they rounded the tree, you could look down and see their faces, the tops of their heads and armor. The blond one in front, strong and handsome, was staring at you curiously. There were four men on horses behind him, looking confused and intrigued.

“What do we have here?” The blond asked, smiling a bit. One behind him scoffed, a black haired man that looked indifferent the whole situation.

“A sacrifice perhaps. Virgin. Boring.”

Boring? You could be boring. You would be whatever got you out of these restraints.

The blonde laughed before dismounting his horse and disappearing from your view.

“Don’t be so mean. Clearly this young lady has had a rough night,” he said from somewhere below you.

“Please. Help,” you repeated.

“Hush, now. I’m only getting my knife.” You heard him unsheathe the knife and felt him move closer. He cut the rope around your neck first, letting your head fall forward and you cried out in pain. Now you were able to look down as he cut the rest of the ropes. You were caught between staring at his hair, his elegant armor and the way his strong hands let the knife glide through your bindings. By the time he had untied you, you had hardly recognized that you were falling.

You screeched, thinking you would tumble to the unforgiving forest floor but instead you were caught and pulled into his warm chest. When his hands touched your skin he frowned.

“You’ll freeze to death like this.” He laid you down on the ground and you nearly cried from the pain and numbness of the cold. Then you saw him taking his cloak off. He picked you up gently again and wrapped you in his furs. The warmth relaxed you immeasurably though you were still scared of what would happen. 

“Thor, can we move this along? We do have a schedule to keep.”

You were starting to not like the black haired one.

“Loki, shut up,” the blonde chided before picking you up and setting you on his horse. He got on in front of you and urged you to put your arms around him. You did so weakly and the party marched on. The horse was quick, quick enough to make you feel a bit ill but you tried to distract yourself from your nausea. Your distraction came in the form of your own exhaustion as you fell asleep, holding tightly to the man in front of you.

After riding for a while you were in a half sleep state and noticed lights in the darkness. When you looked up, your eyes were drawn to a shimmering palace in the distance. You thought for a moment it was a figment of your unconscious mind and didn’t think further as sleep caught you once more.

You woke up again after hearing voices.

“What’s this?” A man asked. You still didn’t look up, just kept your head buried in the fur of the cloak. Thor shifted slightly in front of you.

“A prize. Half dead but a lot prettier than a buck. No complaints from me.”

A prize. You were his prize. 

You all rode a bit further before stopping again. Thor dismounted the horse and pulled you off as well. He didn’t even let you attempt to stand, just pulled you over his shoulder and started hauling you away. You looked around, noticing you were in a stable. Stable hands scurried around, taking the horses of the men and tending to them. Thor was taking long strides and soon you were out of the building and into another. You passed through an ornately decorated but empty corridor.

Finally Thor stopped at a door and peered in.

“Excuse me,” he announced his presence. You couldn’t see as you were slung over his shoulder and your head was bouncing around near his back, brushing his armor.

“Good evening, your majesty. May I assist?”

“Yes. Take this woman and bathe her, dress her well and bring her to my table. Can you do this?”

“Of course, your majesty.”

“Treat her well.”

“I will, your majesty. You can put her on the bed and I will bring her to you.”

Thor walked across the room and gently put you down on a soft surface. You basically collapsed from exhaustion and sprawled on the bed. He leaned down to kiss your cheek before rubbing his cloak between his fingers.

“Take care of this for me?”

You nodded. He patted your shoulder and left. You turned and noticed the older woman next to you, looking very stately in her lavender gown and intricate hairstyle. She looked at you disapprovingly. 

“I’ll run your bath. You smell like the woods. You’ll be a proper woman in no time.”

And she was right. She very roughly cleaned you, enough that parts of your skin were raw. You were doused in oils and perfumes. You hair was washed and styled. The woman dressed you in a deep red gown, with a neckline much lower than you would ever be comfortable with. You stood in the mirror awkwardly admiring how beautiful you looked but being uncomfortable at the same time. Before you could ruminate on your appearance further, she was dragging you out of the room by your arm. The quick movements had you dizzy and unsteady on your feet but you kept pace with her. You approached a set of doors and she stopped abruptly.

“You will dine with the king. He likes red so I do hope this appeases him.”

She pushed open the doors to a sensory overload. The golden chamber was filled with people talking, laughing and drinking. A bard danced about in the corner playing a song. At the center of the room was a large table covered in things you could never even imagine. A bountiful table filled with food. Meats you had never seen.  Vegetables that couldn’t even be grown in your stupid village. And there was just so much of it. To think people lived like this as you spent years starving somehow made you even less hungry than you were. 

Across the room, you caught sight of Thor and headed towards him. The drunken masses paid you no mind as you traversed the chamber. Thor’s eyes met yours and he gave you a smile, beckoning you over with a hand wave. You hurried your gait until you were no more than a foot in front of him.

“Oh, my sweet flower. Don’t you look good enough to eat. Though I suppose I should save that for later. Take a seat and dine with me.”

Thor pulled you down on his lap and pulled his plate to you.

“Eat,” he commanded. You listened, inspecting your choices and picking through. Thor seemed content enough to watch as you ate. You had to admit you were starting to feel a bit better. Even before being left to starve in the forest you were still hungry.

You ate until you couldn’t anymore and Thor laughed when you groaned, putting a firm hand on your thigh. There wasn’t a time you could recall being full. It wasn’t a comfortable sensation, but you liked it better than being hungry. Your eyes were drawn to the bard and his song.

“Drink,” Thor said, close enough that you could feel his breath in your ear. You nodded again, taking down some of the bitter liquid in his tankard. Warmth pooled in your belly and you sighed at the sensation. Thor’s hand wandered further down and below your gown. You tensed. He ignored your reaction and trailed up your leg slowly, stopping when he got between your thighs.

“Don’t stop feasting on my account,” he whispered, placing a finger on your clit. You gasped and tried to clasp your thighs together but Thor pulled them apart. His fingers gently rubbed at you and you could feel your arousal growing. Your cheeks burned in humiliation but no one seemed to be paying attention to you anyway. Everyone was concerned with their own entertainment.

His hand dipped lower, pushing into you slightly and gathering some of your juices. He pulled back up to rub against your clit and you moaned, holding onto the edge of the table. The only person who had ever touched you like that was yourself and here was this stranger doing it better than you ever could.

You ground into his hand and he quickened his movements.

“So docile. Compliant. Innocent and sweet. When I take you, you’ll scream for me. Scream for your king. But for now I’ll make you come on my hand. Because you’re that desperate for it. Because it’s what you need.”

You were close, panting and your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. Stars exploded in your vision and before you could scream, Thor’s hand was over your mouth muffling it. You thrust against his hand, twitching and shaking as you rode out your orgasm against him. He kissed your neck before pulling his hand from under your gown.

“I think I’m ready for bed. Aren’t you, little one?”

The trip to his chambers was a blur. He pulled you over his shoulder again before walking out of the room. A quick goodbye was said by a few but there was mostly no reaction to his hasty departure.

He threw you on the bed and started to undress himself.

“From the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted to take you. A perfect maiden, left out for me to find.”

You were panicked and teary eyed as he pulled his trousers down, revealing his manhood. There was never a point you imagined losing your virginity like this. Maybe with your husband. Maybe even a lover you chose. But to a man who found you in the forest? A man who didn’t even know your name.

He undressed you just as quickly. You made attempt to cover yourself but he laughed and pulled your arms away. Thor stepped off the bed and pulled you with him, forcing you to kneel in front of him. 

As you became eye level with his cock, you wanted to scream. You had never seen a man like this before. You weren’t even sure how that thing could fit inside you. There was just too much of him. 

“Come here, sweetling. Give it a kiss.”

You crawled over to him, clumsy and shaking. He smiled. Your hands set carefully on his hips and you stared up at him.

“Put it in your mouth. Be careful with your teeth.”

Your hands shook as you held him, but you opened your mouth and went down until you could feel him hit the back of your throat. His length was immense in your mouth and you were sure you could only fit about half of him.

He moaned, sliding back and forth between your lips for a while while you tried to avoid hurting him with your teeth. He grabbed the back of your head and tried to push you further. When he went past your throat you struggled, trying to push against him but he kept going until you were choking and sputtering around his length. He stopped when he was mostly down your throat and held you sternly.

“Stop. Breathe through your nose. Relax.”

You tried to comply and it got a bit better, allowing him to slide the rest of himself down your throat. His hips were at your face, blocking even the air you got through your nose. Before you could panic, he was sliding out again. You took the opportunity to breathe before he slammed back in roughly, finding a quick pace to fuck your face.

Both of his hands held the back of your head as he fucked your throat. The moans tearing from him were sinful and the noises of his pleasure spurred your own. You were already wet from him playing with you at dinner so this only added to your arousal. You knew you shouldn’t have been turned on by it but the raw power of him was enticing. 

A mixture of saliva and tears glided down your face and neck as you let him use you.

He stopped abruptly and pulled out. His face was flush with pleasure but he looked frustrated as he picked you up from the floor and threw you on the bed again.

“As much as I love your mouth, that’s not where I intend to cum. I want to leave my seed deep inside you.”

His words stirred something inside you. You laid back compliantly, legs open, waiting for him to act on his desire. 

His eyes strayed to your unblemished thighs and the virtue held between them. You were his gift, given to him and he intended to make full use of you. You trembled as he approached and stroked down your calves gently. When he got to your ankle he tugged and pulled you closer to him. He was laid in front of you between your thighs, just staring. If you weren’t so aroused, you were sure you’d be mortified to have this god of a man staring at your soaked core. 

He gave a few kitten licks to your clit and you instinctively pulled him closer by his long hair.

“Thor, please,” you pleaded. He looked up at you, smiling as he used his thumb to rub at your clit. 

“You don’t have to beg, kitten. I’ll let you have your release. Just not with my mouth. I think it’s time we solved the issue of your maidenhood.”

He pushed himself to kneel between your thighs, stroking at his length as he stared down at you. You unconsciously held your breath waiting for him to move. Tears were still running steadily down your face.

Thor slammed into you completely, his hips meeting yours and you screamed like you were being murdered. It felt like you were being killed, anyway. Being split in half. Being impaled by this man. You cried and screamed but Thor pet you gently and whispered soft words in attempt to calm you. When you regained your sense, you pushed at him. All you wanted was him out of you. It hurt too much.

Thor took both your hands in one of his and pushed them above you.

“Shh. I know it hurts. It’s better to just get through with it than prolong the pain. I promise it will be better soon.”

You whimpered and shook in pain for what seemed like hours and Thor patiently waited for your sins to subside. When they did, he pulled out and thrusted in again gently. He did it until you stopped crying out and picked up a rhythm. His hands released yours and went to your hips, grabbing tightly enough to bruise. He drove into you like a man possessed and moaned his own pleasure.

“So fucking tight around me. Perfect. A perfect woman. My woman. You’re mine. You belong to me and I’m keeping you.”

One of his thrusts had your eyes rolling back. He repeated it when you groaned in pleasure.

“Oh, is that it? Do not worry, your king is generous and will provide for you.”

He kept pushing into you from that angle and brushed his thumb against your clit. Your back arched and you squirmed around, honestly not knowing if you wanted to get away from him or get closer. It just felt so good. You could feel your climax quickly approaching.

Thor pushed one of your legs over his shoulder and pushed himself even deeper into you while groaning into your skin.

“Dirty girl. You won’t be so innocent soon. Not after you come on my cock. Not after I fill you with my seed. I can’t wait to see you, growing with my heirs inside you. Breeding your tight cunt night after night.”

You were delirious, babbling his name and spasming around his cock as you came. The pleasure had your legs shaking and back arched so your chests were firmly pressed against each other. Thor groped one of your breasts and bit into your leg gently.

“Your cunt is squeezing me so tight. Such a good girl for your king. Such a pretty little prize I found.”

He groaned again and you were filled with his hot seed, so much that it spilled out around your thighs and onto the bed. Thor pulled you on top of him without pulling out of you. Your sweat soaked skin stuck to his and you squirmed in discomfort from the ache in your lower regions.

“You’ve done well, sweet girl. You’ve served your king well.”

#thor x you #thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #dark!thor #dark!fic #marvel x reader #dark fic

[mrobrotzly]

sometimes it feels like a blessing

for @geraskierhalloween

Magic + 5+1 + Knotting - 11k

Or 5 times Jaskier and Geralt could see the effect of magic on them and 1 time it took them a little to realize it.

One day, in the middle of spring, Geralt had a contract for some unknown creature and, obviously, failed to convince Jaskier to stay at the inn, it had been a decade since they met and Geralt was never good at getting the troubadour to obey any of his commands - even if they're to keep him out of harm's way.

Fortunately, the creature wasn't dangerous, a hybrid of several animals, but - 'cause it attacked him and almost hurt Jaskier (which was what most infuriated Geralt, if the creature hadn't come close to the bard, it would probably be alive now, but he would never say it out loud, obviously, it wasn't like he cared, was it?) - it's no longer breathing at the moment.

The problem was - and seriously, Geralt should have thought of it earlier - that hybrids don't just exist freely, they're created. And they're usually created by people who're mostly crazy and who're, even worse, mages.

"My poor Delilah!" the sorceress was in front of both of them, eyes shining with anger and unshed tears, she prepared to release her chaos, but Geralt drew his sword quickly, making her hesitate.

“You killed her! My own creation!" Geralt watched her carefully, she was clearly not someone with a sane mind "Do you know what it's like to love something, Witcher?” she spat out the last word, making a face of disgust "I don't think you know, shame!" she laughed a bitter and hysterical laugh "I would love to destroy everything you love."

Her growl made him clench his fist in the sword's hilt, unconsciously taking a step to the side, hiding the bard behind his body.

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side, watching him for a few seconds and smiling, a smile that made the Witcher felt an unpleasant feeling grow in his body.

"Pretty little thing you’ve there, uh?!" she purred and Geralt felt a growl rumbling in his chest “A bard? Would you play for me, dear?”

Jaskier stuttered, Geralt didn't need to look at him to know that his blue eyes were wide.

"Leave him out of this" he said firmly, his voice lower than usual.

She gave a cynical laugh.

"Why, Witcher?" and she tentatively took a step forward, Geralt clenched his teeth, his knuckles white for gripping the sword's hilt “Your pet for mine. It seems like a fair exchange…” she tried to move again, Geralt's body moved together to stop her “The things I would do to him…”

This time he snarled and the sorceress narrowed her eyes, anger returning to her face.

"Let's do it in the difficult way then."

And she raised her hands, sending a pulse of magic at the same time that Geralt casted Quen, protecting him and Jaskier, he could hear the bard's surprised gasp and the sorceress' disgruntled noise for not having succeeded in the spell.

He pushed Jaskier aside, behind the nearest tree, as he went towards the woman, she was good at dodging, but not attacking and her magic wasn’t powerful enough to hurt him badly - probably the power she has was only for breeding creatures and hybrids, not for battles.

She danced - and had no better word to describe what she was doing - around him and even without causing significant damage, he felt her chaos tiring him every time it came in contact with his skin, making him even more irritated 'cause it's delaying his movements.

She laughed, dodging a blow from the sword and snapping her fingers "In a moment the magic will fully affect you, Witcher, and you'll no longer be able to move."

"Not if I kill you first" he grunted and, honestly, he didn't want to have to kill anyone that day, he only accepted the contract 'cause it seemed easy, but of course Destiny would laugh at his face.

He dodged a spell, one of the weakest he has ever seen or feel and he would have laughed at it had it not been for the yelp he heard coming from behind him, the spell had chipped a piece of the wood.

"Jaskier!" he called, without taking his eyes off the enemy.

"I'm fine!" was the answer, but he didn't have time to feel relieved 'cause the sorceress moved her hands again, this time deliberately missing Geralt, trying to hit the tree protecting the bard.

"Your fight is with me!" Geralt grunted, sword passing very close to the woman's chest.

"I don’t think so" she laughed and moved quickly, now closer to where Jaskier was "Let's see if you'll like to feel what I'm feeling."

As she raised her arms he heard Jaskier choking, as if trying to breathe while someone tightened their hands around his neck and he felt his whole body go cold, memories of the moment when he saw the bard spitting blood, his purple and swollen throat and Geralt being unable to do anything to help him...

The only thing that kept him from being still and unable to react was the years of training on Kaer Morhen, the woman was focused on the spell, frowning and the Witcher realized it was a difficult spell for her, so it would be the perfect time for he to attack.

When she realized he was approaching it was too late, he already had half the blade of his sword buried in her stomach.

"You" she said, widening her eyes as he pushed the sword deeper, her arms falling limp beside his body "One day, Witcher, you'll lose everything" she whispered to him, laughing and looking at him hysterically “They're going to leave. And you'll be alone like you truly deserve” she tried to spat blood on his face before falling forward when he pulled the sword out of her body.

And on the ground, meters from where her creature was, the sorceress stayed.

"Are you alright?" a soft voice asked, Geralt turned, seeing Jaskier behind him, looking at him with concern.

"I should be the one asking you that" he said.

"I'm. Thanks to you” the bard smiled at him and something in Geralt's chest calmed down, he felt a wave of relief relaxing every part of his body as he looked at Jaskier.

That was until the bard widened his eyes and opened his mouth as if something was very wrong.

"What?" the grip on the sword's hilt tightened, he looked around.

"Geralt!" he exclaimed taking a step forward "Look at me."

The Witcher looked at the troubadour, frowning in confusion, the feeling getting worse when he saw a smile spread across Jaskier's face. Did some magic hit the bard and he's going crazy? Geralt frowned, feeling concern wash over him.

"Okay, this is amazing!" Jaskier laughed, delighted with something, his face lighting up in a way that made Geralt's chest warm and he didn't want to understand why.

"Bard" he said warningly.

"Oh, no, don't bard me" Jaskier pointed a finger at him, but was still smiling "This is fantastic, Geralt."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he started to get annoyed, Jaskier not going straight to the point getting on his nerves.

"Okay, okay" he raised his arms in surrender "No need to be angry."

"I'm not" maybe a little.

"Yes, you're, it's on your face" he gestured with his hand "literally, Geralt, your eyes are red."

He blinked, staring at Jaskier to make sure it wasn't a prank, if that was true it meant that magic had affected him in other ways besides physical tiredness. Was this the only side effect? Or would there be others?

“They're turning orange now... Look, I learned a lot at Oxenfurt and I'm very wise in several subjects, but, unfortunately, not the meaning of colors, so you've to tell me: what are you feeling, Geralt?”

"I don’t-"

"Don't what? Have feelings?” the bard laughed wryly "Come on, Geralt, I've known you for a decade! I know very well that you feel and how much you feel, well Yennefer is a proof of that.”

The Witcher pressed his lips at the mention of the sorceress, refusing to look away from Jaskier, the bard raised his eyebrows.

"Black?" he brought his face close and Geralt held his breath. "It wasn't what I was expecting when I mentioned her."

He felt the irritation build up again.

"I'm not an experiment for your fun, bard" He practically spat, turning and starting to walk towards the camp, sword, still stained with blood, in his hands. Jaskier sighed.

"Okay, I admit, it wasn't fair" he followed Geralt and maybe, just maybe, the Witcher was walking more slowly so the troubadour could catch up "But you can't blame me for being curious, I'm a bard, Geralt!"

He didn't answer either that or the dozens of other things Jaskier said before they got to the camp.

And it was a little uncomfortable to sit on the forest floor and clean his swords while the bard stared at him like that.

"How long do you think the spell will last?" he asked.

"I don't know, she wasn't a very good witch."

Jaskier laughed and he felt the sound melting all his annoyance, he frowned at it while cleaning the iron blade with a cloth.

"Don't you want to see?" Jaskier asked "You know... your eyes."

“Why would I? I can feel the magic, I don't need to see it to know it's here.”

The bard shrugged.

"I dont know. I always wanted to know what I would look like if my eyes were a different color, maybe green or brown.”

Geralt stopped what he was doing, lifting his head and looking at Jaskier's face. The first thing he thought was "why?"

Why change such beautiful blue? Blue that he adores to look at, that seemed to shine every time the bard smiled or performed in places where his music was appreciated, blue like an ocean that want to pull him, drown him and he knew he wouldn't try to resist these waves. Eyes so beautiful that with one look the bard have him in the palm of his hands. Eyes that, for some reason, now stared at him with delight.

"That's a beautiful color..." Jaskier whispered so sincerely, smiling in such a way that Geralt had to bend his head and watch his dim reflection on the blade.

And he saw pink, a light and soft pink.

He swallowed, suddenly wanting to run away from there.

The truth was that he knew the meaning of colors, he'd read about it in one of the books he found in Vesemir's personal collection when he was a boy and, thanks to whatever made his memory flawless, he remembered it very well.

He stood up turning his face away, hiding it from Jaskier and looking towards the forest.

"I'm going to get us dinner."

And left without waiting for an answer. Ignoring not only the confused look the bard had on his face, but also the felling that growed up in his chest, this would be just one more thing he would bury and try to forget.

(Continue to read on AO3)

♡ if you enjoy my work, you can support me & buy me a coffee ☕️

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geralt x dandelion #Jaskier #dandelion #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher netflix #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier hallow

[ahh-fxck]

ok but i just saw this AU "My incredibly stupid cat just jumped out of my apartment window after a bird and you caught her in your arms like a baby and looked up, stared me dead in the eye and said "I think you dropped something" and this is geraskier y/y? :D?

Yes! Yes I love this so much! So much that I accidentally wrote five pages about it!

Please enjoy :D It is also here on ao3.

(Also please pardon the no beta, I will come back and edit this but I got excited and wanted to post it!!)

Also also- The song I quote is a real Ren Faire song and is pretty fucking funny if you’re into that kind of thing.

Also also also- Holy shit I am the kind of nerd that will spend two hours researching 500+ year old slang for pussy because I wanted to make a throwaway joke in a fic.

And finally: Yes! I am willing to write more of this if enough people are into it. :) Let me know!

~♡♡♡~

Jaskier threw his leg up on the couch, strumming his lute and singing his heart out. He had just gotten his first shitty apartment for the summer between college semesters, and he was massively behind on practicing for the Faire. August was only a month and a half a way, and he had at least twenty more songs to memorize into his repertoire. It was his first summer as an adult, and he’d finally been allowed to act as one of the wandering bards. 

If all of the girls were bells in a tower

And I was a clapper, I'd bang one each hour

Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over

Roll your leg over the man in the moon.

If all of the girls were fish in the ocean

And I was a wave I would teach them the motion.

Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over

Roll your leg over the man in the moon.

The young bard-to-be resumed striding around the room, practicing his struts and flourishes. Nothing less than perfection would do. If he didn’t impress the first week, he would be relegated back to the fairy chorus again, and the fucking leggings itched in the August heat. 

If all of the girls were little white rabbits

And I was a hare, I would teach them bad habits.

Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over

Roll your leg over the man in the moon.

If all them young ladies was up for improvement.

I'd give them some help with a ball-bearing movement.

Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over

Roll your leg over the man in the moon.

As he paced back and forth, he tossed his head to throw a sweat-sticky curl of hair off of his forehead. The merciless summer heat had started early this year, and by June it was in full swing. The windows of his little apartment were wide open, and a standing fan was turning back and forth, stirring lazy eddies in the arid air. Nearby, his elderly cat grey cat, Pipkin, lazed in the cool shadow of the table. 

If all them young ladies was little white kittens

And I was the tom cat, I'd give them new fittin's 

Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over-

As he spun with particular exuberance, he landed wrong and staggered onto the cat’s tail. Flailing backwards, Jaskier flew one way and the cat flew another. He hit the floor near the ratty couch with a crash, all the breath rushing out of his lungs. Nearby he heard a ‘bang!’ and then a howl of fury and fear as the ancient screen gave way under her considerable weight. Jaskier’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Pipkin!” He screamed, scrambling over to the window and looking frantically downward. As he scanned the sidewalk for his cat, he saw a man with white hair and golden eyes staring up at him. His hammering heart did a complicated skip as the man locked eyes with him and smirked, gesturing with something in his arms. 

“I think you dropped something,” he called up, his voice a gravelly baritone. In his arms was Pipkin, who had such a look of shock on her face that it was almost comical. 

Despite his terror, Jaskier gave a slightly hysterical titter. Oh shit, it was his drop-dead gorgeous neighbor. “I can’t believe you caught her. Oh Melitele, thank you!” No such goddess existed anymore, but in his upset he had forgotten to drop out of character and used the ancient name. 

Below him, his neighbor’s eyebrows went up. “It’s fine,” he said, but he sounded a little thrown. The cat, recovering from her shock, began to struggle in his arms. She gave a surprisingly deep snarl for such a tiny animal. Lashing out, she spat at her rescuer and tried to claw him. Dodging easily, he fixed his eyes on the little animal and gestured in the air above her. “Hush,” he said, though Jaskier could barely hear him. With a slow blink, the little cat settled down in his arms. 

Jaskier gaped at this exchange from above. When the stranger’s compelling golden eyes returned to him, it sparked him suddenly back into motion. “Sweet goddess are you ok?” Leaning out of the window, he peered down at Pipkin. “Pipkin, you be good! What is wrong with you?! I’ll be right down.”

The big man holding his cat smiled a slow smile, shaking his head. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d better bring her up to you. She’s not going to be very happy when I let her go.” 

Jaskier blinked at him, puffed, and then nodded. He wasn’t expecting guests and his apartment was a mess, but he imagined his neighbor was right. It was odd to see her so quiet, though. Feeling a stir of unease, he called, “Okay! I’m in 503!”

“I know,” the white-haired man replied with a crooked grin. He walked around the side of the building to the entryway and vanished out of sight. 

Struck by a sudden panic, Jaskier slammed the window closed and flew away from it. He began frantically cleaning his apartment. Pizza boxes in the trash, empty soda cans in the recycling, oh sweet goddess his socks were everywhere. “Why am I like this?!” He groaned, running a pile of dirty laundry across the apartment and flinging it into his bedroom.

He’d watched his blisteringly hot neighbor move in less than a month ago to the apartment next door, and since then had become a little obsessed. Not only was he gorgeous, he had some weird habits. He kept odd hours. Sometimes he’d leave around twilight one evening and not show up until noon next day, limping into his apartment with a long, dark jacket on, even in the heat of summer. Others, he’d be out at dawn with a large pack of some sort on his back. Then he’d come back in the middle of the day, looking like ten miles of bad road. Sometimes Jaskier could swear there was blood on the carpet, but every time he’d go back to look later, it had vanished- scrubbed away, or never there?  

He never seemed to mind the noise Jaskier made, either. While other philistines railed at his 3 AM renditions of “Roll Your Leg Over,” banging on the floor and wall of his apartment. On one memorable occasion, they had even sent an exasperated police officer to bang on his door. Never the white-haired stranger, though, no matter how loud he was being. 

Just then, knocking interrupted his frantic cleaning. Dropping the lute onto the couch and swearing, Jaskier ran to answer the door. It was only after he had flung the door wide and the white-haired man had stepped inside that he realized he was still only in his boxers. Mortified, he froze to the floor as his neighbor slipped around him and punted the door shut with his foot. He hadn’t even cleared away all of the empty soda bottles, and he’d forgotten his pants.

The big man glanced at him as he entered and smirked. Cradled in his arms, no doubt getting his black jacket all furry, was Pipkin. She had a vague, dazed expression on her face, but her tail swished calmly as he turned to close the door. When he released her on the floor however, some sort of spell seemed to break. She blinked, spun around yowling, and whacked the man’s thick calf-high leather boot three times in quick succession. Then she sprinted away into the recesses of Jaskier’s apartment, vanishing in a trice. 

“Pipkin!” Jaskier gasped, the shock of seeing his usually friendly cat smack the man jarring him into motion. “I am, so sorry,” he quavered, grabbing a yellow, furry jacket off of the coat hook near the door and wrapping it self-consciously around his waist. “She’s normally very sweet, I promise. Are you all right?!” He looked down at the unharmed boot and back up into shocking golden eyes, bright and intelligent, glittering with amusement. 

“I’m fine,” the stranger drawled, removing silver-studded black leather gloves and putting them into his jacket pocket. Closer up, it was possible to see that he carried something bulky under the black duster, strapped to his back. What it was, however, was unclear. 

“That’s… that’s good, I’m glad to hear it,” Jaskier bubbled awkwardly, at a loss. He couldn’t just bolt for his trousers without introducing himself first, but he didn’t want to introduce himself without trousers. Dithering, he clutched the jacket to his waist and stared with wide blue eyes at the black-clad vision in front of him. Tall, white hair, long black jacket, some sort of… was that biker’s gear? The pants appeared to be leather with thick plates sewn into them, perhaps to protect from road rash. He also had some sort of sturdy leather vest or something peeking through the opening of his jacket. A tingle raced across the back of Jaskier’s arms. Whatever he was, this was no normal neighbor. 

“Want to go grab some pants?” A dry voice cut through his dithering. “I’ll wait.” Bright eyes tracked across the fluffy yellow jacket, the smirk widening slightly. 

“Oh thank you,” Jaskier gasped, fleeing before he even had a chance to think. “I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder, vanishing into his bedroom. He blindly grabbed for the first pair of pants he could find in his drawer and staggered into them. They were a pair of high-waisted blue trousers that tied at the back- part of one of his Faire outfits. 

Then he peeked under the bed for Pipkin, who he found in the closet. She was hiding in an empty shoe box, and emitted a peevish growl when he gently fished her out, cooing softly to her to calm her. Once he had satisfied himself that the struggling creature was uninjured, he gently returned her to her nest. Then, too flustered to grab a shirt, Jaskier bounced back out into the living room.

His guest greeted his return with a slightly stricken look, though it was hidden quickly behind a look of guarded amusement. He eyed Jaskier up and down, taking in the thatch of chest hair, the bare feet, the blue trousers. “Cat ok?” He asked, his voice a deep, pleasantly gravelly baritone. 

“She’s fine,” Jaskier shuffled awkwardly, then stuck his hand out. “Thank you so much for being there to catch her. Um. Gosh, I wish I’d met you under better circumstances, you’re really um… I mean.” He stopped, swallowed, catching his breath and reeling himself back in. “My name is Jaskier, it’s nice to meet you.”

The man eyed his hand for a moment that was slightly longer than Jaskier was actually comfortable with, before grasping it firmly. “Geralt,” he introduced himself. “Geralt z Rivii.” 

His hand was warm and held a truly surprising amount of strength; Jaskier very rarely felt someone deliberately being gentle with him, but he could tell the big man could crush his fingers like bird bones if he wanted to. It made Jaskier’s bones feel like they were melting like butter, to feel that strength. “Wow…” he said, eyes wide, then mentally kicked himself. ���I mean, uh. Nice to meet you,” he burbled, before trailing off awkwardly into silence, kicking himself the entire time for sounding like an idiot. 

The corners of Geralt’s eyes crinkled as he squeezed Jaskier’s hand delicately. “Nice to meet you too.” Turning, he scanned the apartment, his expression unreadable. “Why did you name your cat Pipkin? That’s… an unusual choice.” 

“Uh… Well, funny story…” Jaskier blushed. Normally, he loved telling this story, but somehow it seems silly and small under that bright gaze. “It’s sort of a play on words. People call their cats ‘pussy,’ so I named her… uh… another word for pussy. An old word. Pipkin.” Damn. He hadn’t even managed to make it funny this time. 

“That joke’s more than five hundred years out of date,” Geralt noted, tipping his head to the side and fixing him with a warm, amused look. 

“How- How do you know that?” Jaskier sputtered, astonished. The slang was from the 17th century, no one outside certain academic circles had any business knowing that. “Are you… do you do the Faire?”

Shifting the pack on his back, which concealed two swords- one silver, and one steel, Geralt snorted. “I really don’t.” 

#ahh-fxck writes #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher #the witcher

[silence-burns]

Don’t Trust The Chicken //part 4 (the end)

Fandom: The Witcher

Summary: Luck is an irreplaceable part of every good adventure. Geralt wishes he had some more often—right until some is brought straight to him.

Geralt believed in few things. Belief was, in general, not something overly encouraged during the training of young not-yet-witchers. The ways of steel and blood were much more favored among the teachers, and Geralt had spent enough years living by their word not to question things openly. There was no room for belief in a witcher's life. Things either were or were not.

Still, Geralt couldn't help but believe himself to be a man of simple pleasures, one of which, and by far the greatest, was the power of sleep, silence, and an average amount of comfort only a bed could offer, applied over the course of a few hours. It did wonders not only to one's mood, but to their general well-being. 

Geralt needed it. But Geralt was not to be granted rest. 

Geralt's life, as always, got overly complicated the moment Jaskier and you arrived, almost knocking the door to his room off its hinges, and leaving mud all over the floor. 

"Alberto’s lost!" Jaskier screamed into the witcher's ear with all the might of his trained voice. 

"He was hunting some mice and ran off to the woods and we can't find him!" Your elbows dug into Geralt's chest, but he still refused to leave the comfort of his bed. 

"Good riddance," he said instead. He meant it. 

The old bed squeaked when two bodies fell on it and knocked Geralt's breath away. He was forced to finally open his eyes, if only to stare from very up close at his companion's faces. 

"Geralt, please," you pouted. "You're the only one who can find him." 

"He's just a little chicken, lost in the woods, completely vulnerable to wild animals," Jaskier added, playing with Geralt's hair. 

Geralt sighed. 

"I was able to lay down on an actual bed for the first time in a week, and it lasted for only 15 minutes. Why are you always doing this to me?" 

"Oh, no, no. Don't you forget that you were only granted this bed because of the luck Alberto gave  you." 

Geralt sighed again. He didn't want to have that discussion again. He still stood firm that there was no luck to be found in whatever creature Alberto actually was. 

His arguments did not change even when they had arrived at the village a few hours ago, and when Alberto wandered off to a seemingly random building before they managed to stop him. And there was no luck in finding the last spare room for renting in that same building. 

There was no such thing as a lucky chicken. And now that there was no longer a chicken, things should get easier. 

Geralt, as often lately, was wrong. 

He heaved his tense body off the bed with a moan of struggling muscles. Rest was a blessing that no one wanted to grant him.

"It's getting dark. If we don't find that thing before night, I'm calling this off," Geralt warned, and was thanked by two pairs of arms wrapped around his midriff. 

"You're the best," you kissed his right cheek. 

"I knew you didn't hate Alberto that much," Jaskier kissed his left one. 

Geralt wasn't so sure about that, but he stayed silent. 

He was still silent when he strapped his sword on his back, and his silence continued as he followed the road leading to the forest. Geralt was silent when he dropped to a knee to check the fresh marks in the mud. 

But that didn't mean his companions followed his example. 

"Could you please shut up?" he finally snapped. 

The forest was dense, and the canopy stretched far over your heads in a thick blanket hiding most of the sun. The evening colored the trees orange, with deep reds shimmering here and there. 

Only when his companions finally ceased their chatter did Geralt realise how silent it actually was. 

His hand reached for his blade. 

Your eyes darted behind his back. "There's his feather!" 

There was nothing silent in your rush, or Jaskier's that followed half a second later. Geralt watched with a sense of detachment as two pairs of knees dropped to the ground, effectively smudging any and all tracks that might've been there. 

Lovely. 

Geralt looked around, trying to judge the passage of time by the light that was slowly getting weaker. They had to venture quite deep into the forest, following the meandering tracks of the pet. The witcher wouldn't be sad if they lost it, but unfortunately, another feather was soon found not far away. 

Geralt followed Jaskier and you to a small ravine, hidden in the bushes. The leaves were thick and plumpy, and packed so close together that they almost completely hid the treacherous ground and small rocks on the edge of a drop. 

Carefully, Geralt pushed the springy branches to the side and-

"Alberto!" 

Before he managed to stop Jaskier, the bard squeezed himself into the hole. On the very edge of the ravine, sitting on the dry roots sticking out of where the ground used to be, was Alberto. Lucky for him, the ground didn't drop when the bard stumbled there and gathered the chicken in his arms. He brought him back to safety with the biggest grin on his face. 

The chicken didn't look happy having Jaskier rub his face into the feathers. If anything, the chicken's attention seemed focused entirely on the ravine. 

Geralt frowned. 

And slowly turned back to the ravine. 

There it was, almost hidden among the stones and roots of the bushes that had long since fallen into the drop several feet deep. The ground there was dark and covered in shadows and moss in places where the light couldn't reach even during the day. 

And there, among the shadows, shined a pair of eyes. Big eyes. 

"Leave. The chicken. There." The witcher growled between clenched teeth, not moving his eyes from the target. 

You froze hearing the tension in his voice. Your smile faltered as you saw what Geralt already noticed. 

"Jaskier," you whispered. "I think that's actually a good idea." 

Jaskier, who for a few minutes was the happiest man alive, thought you must've lost your mind, or maybe were playing some trick on him with Geralt. It wouldn't be the first time when your jokes were almost indistinguishable from the truth, so Jaskier wasn't alarmed at first. Neither was he at second. 

Then he followed Alberto's gaze. And swallowed. 

The shadows of the ravine were deep and hard to discern. A lot of things had fallen in there over the years, and as the bushes covered the edge, some animals must've missed it and fell to their unexpected deaths. Their bones were yellowed among the stones and branches and leaves the wind had left there, piling them up over the thick mud. 

The eyes that shone among them were the first thing Jaskier noticed. What he thought were leaves moved a little, forming a large, feathered body that blended in with the shadows and mud almost perfectly. The clawed legs were perfectly capable of leaving the traces they'd seen around the camp for the past week. 

"What the hell is that? A basilisk?" Jaskier squealed, holding onto Alberto for dear life. 

"It's not a basilisk," Geralt whispered, angling his sword. "And not something that I've ever encountered before, but one thing is certain - that is not a chicken and neither is Alberto." 

"I think this is Alberto's mom," you elbowed Jaskier. "Give her back her child." 

"Over my dead body! You've got no idea if it's actually true!" 

The beast prowled a little closer, hiding in the thick shadows obscuring the edges of its huge, bulky body. The closer it drew, the bigger it looked. The huge, hooked beak was a rusty, dark shade of old blood. 

Geralt was breathing very slowly. He did not turn from the pair of unblinking eyes of the beast. "Jaskier, once we're back in the tavern, I'm gonna break your lute into sharp, tiny pieces and fit them all, one by one, into your stupid, stubborn arse if you don't-" 

"Okay, okay, alright … " 

The bard sighed. Even though his pulse was rapid, and his hands shook, he was still reluctant to put the chicken down into the mossy ground. The weeks spent in its presence flashed before his eyes, making them suspiciously wet. 

"Goodbye, Alberto," he sobbed into the thick, brownish feathers. "Thank you so much for the shoes." 

"Bye, chicken," you waved the beast goodbye as it, at long last, left Jaskier's arms and walked over to the edge of the ravine. 

The look it gave Geralt was anything but warm, but you could've sworn that when it turned back to look at the bard one last time, there was no malice in its eyes. And then it was gone, reunited with the bulky shadow of its friend, or mother, or whatever the other creature was. It didn't matter, because they looked happy together as they crawled back into the depths of the forest without making a sound. 

"That was sweet," you brushed the tear away from your eye. 

Jaskier was weeping openly. Geralt finally sheathed his sword. The slap on the back of the bard's head was loud in the forest's silence. 

"That was the last time you get a pet. From now on, you're not even getting close to any chicken, cow, cat, or a horse. If I see you feeding even a tiny little mouse, I'm gonna tie you up to Roach and lead her behind me until you get your brain back."

The bard snorted through his tears. "Who cares about the brain, if my heart has been shattered to a million pieces? You can't even grasp the depth of my grief! To be parted with such a mighty companion is a despair you won't ever-" 

"Don't you even think of making a ballad out of that!" 

"YOU CAN'T STOP ART!" 

You smiled, watching the two of them banter on their way back to the village. The sun was almost gone by then, and only the thinnest rays of light illuminated the trees. You looked at the stray, brownish feather in your hand and put it into your pocket. 

#Don't Trust The Chicken #geralt x reader #geralt x you #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #geralt x jaskier x reader #the witcher #geralt imagine #jaskier imagine #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia

[notsosensational]

This is my classpect master post for Danganronpa 2! It's been a while since my post for the first game, mostly because I was stuck on a few characters (it was much harder overall for some reason), but I'm finally done, god bless. I’m hoping to start and finish V3 soon to work on the next classpect post

Hinata Hajime- Page of Hope

-actively exploits and is served possibilities and positivity. Hope was easy for Hajime, because even though he's more of a "realist" than our other hope players, he's a fantastic beacon of encouragement to the people around him. Somehow he just knows the right things to say in order to lift people's spirits. He definitely didn't start out with much hope himself though. He was bitter and futureless, attending the Hope's Peak reserve course as more of a conciliatory prize than anything. But Chiaki bumped into him and gave him the belief that he's not any worse by not having a talent. And later, he was given a huge opportunity to take part in the "hope cultivation plan". There's a lot of self-denial going on with him, trying not to admit to others that he's only in the reserve course and trying to convince himself that he doesn't care that much, which runs rampant in pages and knights.

Kamukura Izuru - Muse of Hope

-passively embodies possibilities and beliefs. On my previous classpect post with the DR1 characters, I said I didn't do the master classes but I've changed my mind. I'm not going to go back and edit my post but I'm definitely sorting Junko as a lord and Izuru as a muse. There's nothing else he could be. Extreme passivity and preoccupation with personal belief and possibilities (what is interesting, what is boring, is there anything I can't do?). He *is* possibilities in that he has so many talents, he can do nearly anything. Also, this just goes to show that no class, aspect, or title is inherently good or bad. Some might be more inclined to, uh, moral confusion, but we all make our own choices.

Owari Akane- Mage of Life

-actively understands and guides energy and growth. Life seems a pretty solid fit for her, as she's basically grown up overcoming obstacles, metaphorically and literally as she does parkour and gymnastics. Her relationship with food is all about energy and not about quality (... she eats crushed flowers after Hiyoko tells her you get more protein when you crush the food). What really sold me on mage though, was her intuition. She's really noted for her accurate gut feelings; she can tell when someone is strong even when they don't look it and I learned after reading her wiki that in the "ultimate talent development plan" she could sense Mukuro and Maki weren't who they appeared to be.

Komaeda Nagito- Bard of Light

-passively destroys information and fortune. A lot of people say he's hope but while that could fit, light fits so much better. His cycle of good luck & bad luck makes sense as he's drawn to luck as a light player but then destroys it as a bard. Most importantly though, the way he wields information like a weapon to confuse and undermine people really solidifies it for me. Somehow, someway, he always knows (or acts like he knows) much more than everyone around him. His dialogue is endless exposition and self-centered but all his information is given to manipulate people and tear them down.

Pekoyama Peko- Knight of Doom

-passively serves systems, restrictions, and suffering. She serves the system she's always known. She is a tool to be wielded by Fuyuhiko and nothing more. Her feelings and desires are pushed down because there's no point in expressing them. She's very good at what she does though, she definitely exploits the rules she adheres by enough to be called an Ultimate. And even though she doesn't express her emotions, it's clear that her suffering has made her empathetic, as she's respectful and one of the few people who holds basic decency towards Nagito.

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko- Prince of Blood

-actively destroys through relationships and bonds. He's destructive and he acts like it; heir was the only other class I was considering but he's very active and more into intentional destruction than unintentional changes. Obviously he destroys nearly any chance of close relationships with his classmates, but as a yakuza his job is to use his connections to lead, which often involves tearing down other gangs and ties. And finally, he destroys his only real relationship after Peko is executed after he orders her to kill Mahiro.

Hanamura Teruteru- Maid of Rage

-actively creates rage and limitations. I think maid fits well from the start, as he's a cook and that's all about creation. He definitely inspires rage in people, and the doubt and disbelief of rage is very evident in his constant denial of his surroundings. He created a lot of fear and negativity in himself because he wouldn't settle on believing or refusing what was going on- he needed to know the truth and that drove him to acting out. His insistence on being called "chef" and that he's from the city both fuel a sort of self-delusion that seems to be common with rage.

Nanami Chiaki- Rogue of Blood

-passively steals and relocates relationships and bonds. She is very focused on interpersonal relationships, and not just those centered on herself. To some extent, she's able to connect with everyone including reserve course Hajime, and black sheep Nagito. In the game, she's *really* good at redirecting people. If they're focused on arguing with someone, she manages to turn it around for the better, like with Hiyoko's shrine to Mahiru. She also fits the rogue archetype well, as in the anime she was an outcast in the beginning, and- this might just be my opinion- honestly I don't think anyone ever seriously got close to her as well as they did with some of the others.

Tanaka Gundham- Witch of Hope

-actively changes beliefs and possibilities. Honestly, I could see a bit of everything in him. I think witch fits very well with his aesthetic, but it also fits his choices. Witches are highly active but often off doing their own thing instead of cooperating with everyone; he spent more time looking for his earring than investigating for the first trial. Hope very clearly fits the zany belief system he has, but it also fits in other ways. It's not obvious because of his vernacular, but he has a crazy amount of optimism; he gets regular remarks ranging from "politely shunning" to "outright hurtful" and they never seem to seriously bother him. I view his act in chapter 4 as a grand example of changing his classmates' hope.

Sonia Nevermind- Knight of Breath

-passively exploits and serves through freedom and direction. While she is a princess, she definitely does not act like a prince. Instead she considers her title to essentially be a servant to her people. She isn't above them in anything but position, and she needs to direct them to a better future. She is cooperative and helpful to the rest of the class but not in the healer way a sylph would be, more in the useful motivator kind of way. She serves the team by keeping a composed head and encouraging everyone to stay calm and work towards the goal. She expresses the motivation and direction aspects of breath more so than freedom but it still shows in her detachment from everyone else due to her status. She's never really had close bonds before Hope's Peak.

Saionji Hiyoko- Thief of Time

-actively steals time. I went through several different titles for her in between analyzing other characters. She definitely fits the role of thief with a personality comparable to Vriska and Meenah. Dancing is a time activity as you need perfect timing for a routine, and traditional dancing even more so since it's lasted for centuries. Personally, I think because of her upbringing she is not quite acting as she wants to, and is ghosting the knight of space. She wants to be bold and confident, able to take up the time of others and act meaningfully, but she's hesitating; serving others space to keep them away and is pretending she's more capable than she is. She was kept spoiled and helpless growing up which means she developed the personality and drive of a thief, but not the skills needed for one.

Mioda Ibuki- Sylph of Heart

-passively heals emotions and sense of self. To me she is very clearly a heart player. She's very sure who she is and doesn't mind expressing it, and all of her free time events with Hajime are centered around helping him with his identity. She's friendly and gets along with pretty much everyone in some way, including "Byakuya", Mikan, and Hiyoko; all of which are not so easy to hold friendships with. I think it's interesting how much she likes "Byakuya" considering his constant identity crisis and I wonder if she can sort of sense that. She's loud and she stands out, but she's a pretty passive person concerning her actual actions and mostly helps people individually.

Souda Kazuichi- Page of Space

-actively exploits and is served space. I like space for him; I think the creationistic, physically-oriented, free-flowing structure of space suits his nature well. He's more concerned with the journey rather than getting to the perfect end results, as shown by the examples we have of his machines. One of his inventions automatically draws the lines on a soccer field but it had no stopping mechanism and escaped from the school grounds- it was quite a success to him though! He dreams of creating an incredibly fast bike that he can't even ride and he enjoys every step of the process even though it's taking him a while. He has created an intimidating physical persona for himself by dying his hair and wearing contacts to give him a punk look, but others comment that it doesn't quite match his jumpy, anxious personality. This is on-par for pages, who often feel the need for a mask, because he is now served space by strangers due to his appearance.

Koizumi Mahiru- Seer of Space

-passively guides and understands space. I struggled with her a bit as we really don't know much about her. She's kind of plain compared to the other outlandish personalities and she says she doesn't open up to Hajime as much as she would with a girl. Space is about creation, physicality, location, and enjoying the moment. Her interest in photography satisfied all of those especially with how she views it; she captures pictures of people smiling to create a record of the current moment. She's very level headed and is good at seeing the whole ~picture~ (hehe). She's not a very active person but she's quick to give her opinion and advice if she thinks someone is on the wrong track.

Tsumiki Mikan- Bard of Rage

-passively destroys through negativity and limitations. Rage was easy for her; she's surrounded in negativity and it tends to annoy (and occasionally enrage) those around her. It provides a unique contrast with Nagito, as she subverts the usual motive for killing (hope of getting off the island) and kills only for despair. It is, of course, expected for a bard to flip their lid, but she also acts as a bard before remembering her prior life. She does destroy some of the limitations through the first two trials by providing autopsies when the Monokuma files didn't cut it, and she very clearly represses her own rage at her abusers nearly 24/7. I think it's also worth mentioning that on a fictional level, rage and hope both are often associated with a sort of hand-wavey deus ex machina bullshit which I'd say applies to her ability to retrieve the memories of her past life due to the despair disease, even though it didn't work that way for anyone else.

Nidai Nekomaru- Heir of Mind

-passively changes actions and logic. The English translation of his ability is "team manager", but when he explains his skill, he doesn't focus on teams, he focuses on the athlete themself, so "coach" or "trainer" would be more apt I think. And a trainer is focused on changing your actions, getting you to perform better and better. Despite his loud and boisterous personality, he tends to be pretty level headed. He's able to clearly ascertain what each individual athlete needs to improve and create an orderly regiment for them. It took me a while to decide on heir, but it fits better than any other class I feel, as he does inherit the title from Daisuke, a team manager he shared time in the hospital with who later died, and his personality is similar to the other heirs we know in Homestuck.

Ultimate Imposter- Maid of Void

-actively creates nothingness and secrets. I was originally gonna go with heart because of identity issues, but after reading their wiki because I didn't want to rewatch the anime, most of their issues stem from feeling like they don't exist, feeling like nothing, which is spot on for void. Not to mention they need to keep their secret while impersonating someone, and they have to basically create secrets whenever people ask them personal information about whoever they're portraying at the time. They are made of nothingness, with no name, no background, and they create more of it when providing falsities to their classmates. Even without the pun of "made" and "maid", they're a very kind and helpful person no matter who they're posing as.

#homestuck #danganronpa #danganronpastuck #danganstuck #drstuck #classpects