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writersblockedx · 10 months

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The End of What Could Have Been

Pairing - Jaskier x Fem!Reader Summary - Jaskier finally gives in at trying to flirt with his favourite barmaid - something that only makes her fall harder for him. Warnings - alcohol, mention of a brothel? Words - 2.1K

A/n - Hi, I’m back! I know I’ve been gone for a little while; writers block has been killing me. But I’m back at it again, hopefully back at posting regularly again.

Masterlist

It had become the cycle of the night. As the stragglers of the Inn began to make their way back to their own beds - or hay stacks for some of them - he would appear. Far too wide-eyed for this time in the night, lute strapped over his shoulder and a glistening smile most female bar keeps had never been able to resist. Well, most expect for yourself.

Jaskier was sweet, that was true, but he was equally greedy. And the whole town knew of it. The stories of his lewd behaviour with his several different partners were laced throughout his lyrics, right alongside the fantastical story of the Witcher and the many creatures the two fought off together. Though, with that very bard in front of you now, you struggled to believe he had the same strength of a Witcher.

"Same as always, Y/n." His elbows leaned against the wooden bar as he slid a couple of coins across for you. Always a couple extra for your own pocket.

You simply nodded your head in an act to show your acknowledgement of him before turning to gather a pint of beer for the bard. "Not in the mood for conversation tonight?" He questioned while you had your back turned.

You only said anything when the cup that was brimming with frothy ale was in your hand. "Not with you. Not tonight." Ever so bluntly, that snap in your tone slipped from your tongue as you placed the drink down in front of him with a thud.

He flashed his puppy eyes; he had gotten good at doing that. "And whys that?"

Your expression never faulted. You didn't dare. You had told yourself for almost a month while Jaskier had been playing at this pub that you wouldn't be one of the many to fall prey to his sweet smile and his even sweeter words. "Because the only conversation you want to have is one where it ends with you getting into my pants." You said it so sternly. So casual. Without a lick of embarrassment as if it were a passing comment, lacking any source of meaning.

But Jaskier's response had proved different. He stiffened and struggled to swallow the ale that lingered on his tongue. "Can't blame a man for trying." His response came a second too late - attempting to get over the initial shock that had stunned him too much to speak straight away.

"I can when, despite getting your answer, you're still trying." You didn't break. With every word, you lean slightly closer, till there were only inches between you.

"Well," He sighed lightly and leaned back, "I still haven't heard you tell me to stop."

You couldn't help but laugh, "I know you're a bard, but you're not stupid, surely."

"You didn't have to go there." He quipped. "I personally don't think you want...this to stop." His words were as cautious as one in a sword fight. One wrong move and he was frightened you were about to stab him in the back.

For the first time, you became hesitant. You were uncertain. Of course, you could admit Jaskier did have that sweet smile and the charm to accompany such. He also was easy on the eyes, had a slick manner and was, as much as you hated to admit it, the type of bachelor you could see yourself spending the night with - or several. But he was infamous for such behaviour. He travelled from town to town, bed to bed, and you were not about to the 90th woman on his list. That of such, was what you refused.

So you shifted, and slipped back into your stern facade as if nothing had ever happened, like there had never been a blink of uncertainty. "This," You pointed between the two of you, "Never even started." Words so sharp they cut through Jaskier's heart like a knife to butter. While the man was fine to break others' hearts, his was too just as fragile and sensitive. And to hear such from a woman he had grown to admire over the weeks shook his core. With the words written out in front of him, he knew he could no longer ignore them.

And so you straightened your back and stared at the boy you were forced to resist. "You finish your ale, I'll close up." You announced, without any input from him. Normally, he would last at least another three drinks. But tonight, neither of you wanted the company of the other. The air between you had become tense and rigid. Air of which you were not in the mood to breathe.

So you took it upon yourself to make that decision. You started stacking the chairs around the pub, cleaning the sticky tables and making sure everything was as it should be. The only thing left was Jaskier. He took his final sip. He placed the cup back on the bar and let out a deep breath; he knew this was the end. This was the point in which you had drawn the line, you had told him no once and for all. And you had given him no choice but to listen.

There as he stood, he turned to you. At first, he looked you up and down, taking in the last of what remained—this night marked the end of what could have been. He locked eyes with you. Neither of you moved. Neither of you said a word. After that moment of acceptance passed, he provided a nod. With that, he left the Inn without a trace. That night, in your lonely bed, you struggled to sleep, plagued by the ever-yawning question of if you just made a mistake.

By the next morning, you came to face the consequences of your own actions. You strolled in for your shift as you always did to find the Inn relatively empty. In fact, more empty than it ever had been in the past month. The only ones to occupy the Inn were the same stragglers which never seemed to leave. It didn't take you long to figure out why; the lack of strumming music in the Inn was likely the culprit. And, after that conclusion, you came to assume that it was partly the fault of yourself and a certain encounter from the night before.

"No bard today?" You queried your boss, the Innkeeper, as he stood cleaning the wooden bar.

"No bard anymore." He answered. A part of your brain was tugged with curiosity, the other knew that you shouldn't want to know. You cut the ties. You were at fault. You should leave things as they were. "Get used to how things used to be. Just the regulars again." That was one, if the only, good thing about Jaskier: the customers he brought. You could never deny his lyrical beauty and the lull of his lute. So brilliant, in fact, it almost brought you a pay rise.

Your head dropped in thought. No matter how much you wanted to accept this, a part of you wondered if this decision came from a reaction of the night prior. "Where is he staying?" You spat the words out before you could stop yourself. "The bard?" You added, suddenly aware of how strange that question may sound to your boss.

To be expected, the man raised a brow, "I'm not sure," He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "That cheap Inn up the road probably. Or a bench." With that, the grumpy old Inn keeper turned his back to you, going back to sort out the several types of ales.

For a moment, you stared. But the thought nagged you too much; Why not? He was leaving, what else was there to lose? He was sweet, admirable and you couldn't help yourself. You had only wished you had realised such fact the night before. Without thinking twice, you left. You took off without another word and headed to that cheap Inn your boss had pointed to.

By the time you arrived, you came to realise it was perfect timing. Jaskier was getting ready to depart. He had a couple of bags hung over his shoulder as he slung them over a horse. His expression was, until you came into his sights, set into a stern hold. And then, a glint of wonder reached his face, and the very corners of his lips twisted upright just slightly. He wouldn't admit it yet, but he was happy to see you had come back to him.

"And the barmaid returns." He gleamed, trying to not let that smile on his face grow any more than it already had done.

You tilted his head at him, "You didn't tell me you were leaving last night." You stated, choosing it best to ignore his greeting.

"You think that would have changed how things went?" There. You caught it right as it happened; that flirtatious speck in his pupils that never seemed to leave him - sometimes, no matter who he was talking to. When he received only a stern expression in return, he sighed and changed his tone as if he had never made that comment. "I didn't know I would be leaving until after I left." He answered, honestly.

A moment of silence passed as you settled in the realisation. You only needed confirmation: "Was it what I said?"

Another grin graced his face. But not flirtatious or cheeky, rather bittersweet. "I know you're just a bard maid, but you're not stupid." He reiterated your own words from last night.

For that, you swallowed the lump which had suddenly grown in your throat. Then, with a breath, you replied, "You don't have to leave, the money's good here, no?" You knew your boss must have been paying him a decent paycheck.

He shifted on his feet, "I don't like staying in the same place for too long." The boy admitted.

"Then why did last night change your mind?"

He took a moment and fought himself so as not to repeat what he had said prior. "Most of the time, I can find anyone to entertain myself with, no matter where I am. But," He paused, thought on his words as if they were of utter importance, "But just the way when I walked into your Inn-"

You cut him off, "You mean when I told you to piss off because we didn't like silly lute music being played?" Saying that now was laughable.

And Jaskier had let out a chuckle, "Yes, then. I thought you were a shell I wanted to break and I found myself not bothered with anyone else. Not even with the mistresses at the Brothal. I wanted to get to know you and, I don't know, I looked forward to every night when I'd finish my set and it would be just the two of us in the bar." He explained, him too going off the idea of what else was there to lose now? "You didn't want me and it made it all the more enticing. To fight with the idea of hatred boarding on love was something intoxicating and it only made me want you more."

And, honestly, you were at a loss for words. It wasn't often many people spoke to you in such a poetic way, with such romance trickled into their words as it rolled right off the tongue like smooth butter. Most of the time, you were only met with drunk stragglers, boarding their words on sexual harassment. So this was only a breast of fresh air and you were indulging in it like it was some sort of drug.

When you looked back to Jaskier, you were at a loss for words. You weren't quite the lyricist he was. "I think-" You took a breath as if it were giving you the courage needed in that very moment. "I think I did want you. Oh, I know I did. But a bard who, as you said is always on the move, wasn't something I could get involved in." Like that, a weight slipped from your shoulders like melting ice.

Jaskier took a step forward, cautious in his action. When you showed no sign of disregard, he settled. "You've no idea what I would change just so you would get involved with me." There, his flirtatious smile return. And, this time, you couldn't resist it.

He started leaning in and rather than stopping it, so did you until your lips met in a soft embrace. It was long overdue and you could see how addicted you could get to that feeling if you weren't too careful. But a part of you had started to put trust into Jaskier - you just preyed the bard would never break it. As now, this was the start of something. Something neither of you wanted to ever end.

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hanzajesthanza · 7 months

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Geralt: From now on, we will be using code names. You can address me as Eagle One. Yennefer, code name: “Been There, Done That.” Fringilla is “Currently Doing That.” Regis is “It Happened Once in a Dream”; Dandelion, code name: “If I Had To Pick a Dude.” Milva is... Eagle Two.

Milva: Oh, thank the gods.

#edit i changed it from triss and yennefer to yennefer and fringilla for more book accuracy #it pained me to do so but i imagine him speaking to the breakfast table in beauclair here #yennefer isnt present so she cant hear him say this and also his heart broke when he said it #i just wanted to make this post so i could say that for regis and geralt it happens in dreams. anyways #incorrect witcher quotes #also this is unrealistic because geralt would not remember or hang out with triss #much less mention their thing in front of yennefer #this is a difficult post to make when like a third of the most important characters are children or young adults #i could have said shani or coral but shani was once and coral is dead #i like how regis is named before dandelion and yet dandelion is ‘if i had to pick a dude’ like regis does not count as a dude #nonbinary flag fades in behind me from thin air 🥲#gerlion #geregis #not tagging as the others because multishipping is less common there #the witcher books

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mandos-things · 2 years

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Cold - Geralt of Rivia

Relationship: Geralt x gn!reader

Warnings: mild swearing, nothing but fluff

Gif by @kh-ael

~~~~~

"You're chattering."

"Am not."

Jaskiers snores ripped through the silence of the forest.

You, Geralt and Jaskier made camp not far from the main road. The night air was light, relentless. Despite the crackling of the fire, the air tore right through your covers and into your very bones.

"Mm. Suppose its a squirrel then. Must be dearly regretting not buying the extra skins their wise friend had suggested they buy only two towns over."

"F-fuck off," you shivered. You would've laughed at his Geralt-like attempt at a joke if you weren't so fucking freezing...

"Come here," the gruffness of his voice slices through your regret-riddled thoughts.

"Wh-what?"

He deeply sighs, and moves to hold open his thick fur coat. An invitation. One that any other day you would've had the sense to question.

But you would sacrifice your dignity for warmth tonight.

So you shuffled, albeit clumsily to where he sat, just next to a fallen log. You pretend you don't see the little smirk he makes as you trip and shake your way over to him.

"A-Asshat," you huff as you move to lay down, his arm moving to rest over your waist once you've settled.

You breathe a relieved sigh at the heat. His warmth hugged you tightly, shivers dying down with every stroke of his hand along your spine.

"Mmmthankyou," you sleepily murmur. He kisses the top of your head in response.

"We'll stock up again tomorrow."

His other hand rests lovingly along the side of your face.

"Rest now, little one. I've got you."

~~~~~

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geekynerfherder · 2 years

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'Yennefer' by Magali Villeneuve.

Cover art for the 2022 hardcover edition of 'The Time Of Contempt', book 4 of 'The Witcher' series written by Andrzej Sapkowski.

#Art Of The Day #Art #AOTD #Magali Villeneuve #Yennefer #Yennefer Of Vengerberg #The Witcher #The Time Of Contempt #Female #Feminine #Sorceress #Witch #Fantasy Art #Fantastical Art #Imaginative Realism #Books #Book Cover #Book Cover Art #Cover Art

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mischievous-thunder · 2 years

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A shopkeeper: So, what's the occasion?

Geralt: I'm looking for something to cheer up the wife.

The shopkeeper, glancing at Yennefer: Why don't I ask the missus?

Yennefer, pointing at a fuming Jaskier in the distance: Do you think our wife is in the mood for a conversation?

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whitewingsh · 8 months

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Just giving y'all green lights and say there is audience for The Witcher content

*wink wink* if yk what I mean

#the witcher geralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt fluff #geralt x reader #the witcher yennefer #the witcher x reader #geralt fanfic #geralt smut #geralt of rivera #yennefer of vengerberg #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #writers on tumblr #whitewingshbegging

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nnightskiess · 10 months

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everytime you leave, part four

₊° - 𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

everytime you leave, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

The moment Tissaia walked up to the distraught girl, sitting in the remnants of what had been her village, the mage had tried her hardest to close her heart off, to just treat her with a stiff lip and a harsh word, for it was the way mages learned best, in her opinion. Then her footsteps had carefully led her closer, the stench of burned flesh, wood and leather making her inhale with tiny puffs breaths. The moment the young girl had felt a shadow loom over her, she'd looked up with a tear-stained face, eyes red and big and filled with terror. With her tattered clothes barely still covering her body and her skin smeared with dirt, blood and ash, she looked half-alive. And perhaps, going by the look on the girl's face, she would have preferred being among the dead. But it was what was in the palm of her hands that had made Tissaia suck in a breath.

Tissaia swiftly looked around the scorched earth and saw the faint flickering of melted-down armour here and there lying among the people the soldiers had killed before coming to their own demise. There was no normal fire that could have melted a soldier's armour the way it had. No, it demanded another kind of fire, one with flames so heated that the warmth could be felt all the way to the Blue Mountains of Hertch.

With her mouth slightly agape from the shock, she quickly knelt down in front of the girl and rather harshly pulled her closer by her wrists. She turned the girl's palms open to her view, but let them go almost right after. She looked at her own leathered gloves, which had started to melt, leaving a horrible smell behind to mix with the stench of death all around them. Dazed, she stood back up almost immediately, sparing the young girl in front of her another quick glance, only to now be met with a determined and stern expression from the girl. As if she knew what she had done to her.

The realisation of the severity of the situation came as quickly as the heat that suddenly warmed her face and made droplets of sweat dance against her forehead. But Tissaia stayed put, straightened her posture and lifted her chin. She had made up her mind.

With her hand outstretched, she voiced, "Come with me."

The fear and distrust returned to the young girl's face as she stared at Tissaia's hand, before her eyes went back up to the mage's face. The woman had her hair high up in an elegant style, with leathered gloves and boots and a dress hiding beneath a mantel she was sure costed more than her entire village could have afforded.

"Come," Tissaia tutted, sending her a derogatory glare, "Where else would you go now?"

The strange woman's words cut deep, and the girl had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling. It was as if the woman was taunting her with the look in her eyes. As if to say, who do you have left to wait around for?

"Or do you wish for them to find you when they come to see what's happened here?" Tissaia retreated her offered hand and looked down upon the girl, trying her best to not let the intrigue and sympathy show through her eyes. "Follow me." Tissaia turned on her heel, expecting the girl to stand up and follow her, like they always did.

"I would rather die." The young girl spat out her words with a certain kind of venom that surprised Tissaia.

She stopped and inspected the poor thing on the ground; the fabric around her stomach and hip had been caught by flames and revealed the nastiest burns on her skin. The girl sat shivering from her injuries but with her head held high nonetheless. Tissaia tilted her head, "Poor pup, if that didn't kill you, then you'll never die," Tissaia spoke, knowing the young girl had no idea of the knowledge the mage held, or what she'd just done either.

Tissaia looked around at the scorched bodies, "It seems you sacrificed a great deal to hone that power. It would be a waste to let it fizzle out with you. Now follow if you don't want any of this to happen again." Her finger pointed out the destruction around them.

The inner turmoil of the girl was hardly masked from her face. It was clear she was battling thoughts and worries and dealing with guilt and grief all at the same time. But Tissaia wasn't surprised to see the girl stumble to stand on her two feet, for she'd heard her thoughts and the decision made before she'd made the movement to follow. Hot angry tears fell out of her eyes and dropped onto her cheeks.

"And stop crying, there's no room for weakness at Aretuza."

Tissaia landed the first of what would be many blows to Y/N's thick skin, but she knew it was needed in order to make the young girl into a strong and resilient mage. If anything, perhaps the most renowned mage there would ever be, if Tissaia would play her cards right and keep her under her wing. However, she would keep the story of what had happened here, of how she'd burned her hands from a simple touch and how her gloves had melted from even standing near, a secret. For if the Continent learned of a living and breathing mage who had survived using fire magic, the young mage would be a dead woman walking.

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Tissaia had been well aware that each and every step and choice that would be taken next, would have to be thought through in order for this to pan out well. From giving the girl the proper instructions to pairing her up with the right mages to fully hone and explore the depths of her magic. As she pulled the girl along through the cold and windy hallways of Artezua by her upper arm, her brain already racked with strategies and plots. But when a strangled sob escaped from the girl, she realised she was more than just a pawn for the Brotherhood. She was a young mage, hurting, grieving and perhaps utterly terrified, and Tissaia should have known better than to pluck her out of her life so harshly and dump her in her new one without any further explanation. Still, perhaps installing some fear would help keep the young mage quiet about what had happened, about what she could do. It will all be for the greater good, she had thought to herself, one day, the girl would look back and understand.

The minute the pair had left the burned-down village, the girl had been too exhausted to keep up her chaos, and the uneasy heat that she held around her had dissipated. Instead, silent tears started to fall at the realisation that everything would change. Still, the girl had held an everpresent frown on her face and her lips had snarled in hatred. Tissaia could feel the chaos bubbling beneath the girl's chest, even when weakened, and felt the power of it coursing through the young mage's veins. She knew exactly what to do with her.

Tissaia opened the door, led the young girl to her bed and turned back around, leaving no room for questions or coddling before she locked her inside. Immediately she could hear footsteps fast approaching before banging on the door echoed through the halls.

"Let me go, you vile bitch!"

So much for keeping her quiet, Tissaia thought, and immediately silenced the noise with a hushed spell. But three doors down, glancing between the tiniest crack of her door, young mage Yennefer of Vengerberg had seen it all.

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Hours passed and had left your knuckles bruised and tattered from trying to find a way out. The stretching of your burning skin hurt and it was damp from infection, but no pain would ever be as horrible as the breaking of your heart. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, so you had taken to kicking the door instead, but when your body had taken over to scream in exhaustion, you had fallen to the floor. As if someone had sensed your surrender, soon the door opened again and a young woman appeared in the doorway, an almost painful apologetic smile on her face as she took you in. Her red hair bounced off her chest as she quickly bent down to your height, her hands outreached. You recoiled at her sudden movement but saw the pain in her eyes double with that reaction.

"I don't know what you have gone through, but I am so sorry that it's caused you such great pain. It's okay now, you're safe here, at Aretuza," Though she tried her best to make you feel at ease, you were wary, "I'm Triss. Is it okay if I can touch your wounds to heal them?"

You glared at her outstretched hands as if the most dangerous insect of the Continent was crawling along her fingers. Heal you... what did that even mean? You'd heard of mages and their powers, but also heard of how they could manipulate the mind and the senses. Was this a trap? Would this woman let you do her bidding with just one touch of her fingers? You still weren't sure why the elegant but stern lady had found you and decided to take you back to her den full of witches. What were their plans for you?

You made a show to look behind and around her, then huffed, "Where are your bandages? Your salves and your ointments?"

The red-haired woman, Triss, only smiled uneasily, "I'm a mage, I use my chaos to heal, watch-" Her thumb hovered over the bruises on your knuckles as they disappeared slowly but surely, only itching slightly, "That was all. I can do it for all of your wounds, if you'd like."

A new wave of shivers crept up your spine at the heated burn of your wounds and you wiped a layer of sweat from your face. Glancing back down at your head, you realised there was no trace of the burn mark whatsoever, as if it hadn't even happened at all.

"It won't leave any scars, I promise," Triss reassured, sensing the unease.

"Then how will I remind myself what happened?"

Triss furrowed her brows," Wouldn't you like to forget?"

"Forget about what? My life? My family?" You raised your voice and pushed yourself to sit against the bed, away from the mage who clearly didn't understand at all. "What happened to them? What-" Suddenly, you stopped and looked up, "Did she send you?"

"Who?"

"That devilish hag?!"

Triss blinked rapidly and stumbled back at your tone, "Tissaia? What's she done to-"

"Thank you, Triss. You're needed elsewhere now." Tissaia loomed in the doorway, hands folded together and that same stiff lip on her face.

"But I haven't even-" Triss shut up and disappeared herself after just a look from her rectoress.

The ticking of Tissaia's heels echoed against your lonely room. She bend down and tightly gripped your chin in her hand, "Are you so bend on dying, weak pup?" She squeezed your chin, "Can't even accept help when it's offered to you?"

"I've learned that help is often offered only when one expects something in return." You did your best to keep your head high, despite the woman's efforts to pull your chin down.

"You're a clever girl, aren't you?" She let go and stood back, sending a half smirk your way before turning serious again. It was as if her eyes showed a sudden unease with the blow she was going to have to deal next, "So clever that you haven't even figured out that you were the one to burn your family to ashes. So naive," She tutted and shook her head in a derogative manner.

"What do you mean?" Your face paled even more at her statement, at what you had worried about but had pushed to the back of your mind during all the agonisingly long hours that had passed.

As if a flick had been switched in Tissaia, she smiled softly, "Oh sweet girl, you have no idea?" She watched the confusion on your face and continued, "There's a great deal of chaos rumbling beneath your skin, itching at it and travelling through the network of your veins. You just had your conduit moment today. They often happen when one's emotions are heightened, when one is in great distress or danger, for example."

"I'm a mage?" You stumbled out, not wanting to believe her but knowing that things suddenly started to make sense. From the unexplainable moments in your life to what had occurred hours ago.

"Some girls turn their siblings into pigs during a fight for their conduit moment, you just had to burn your whole village, didn't you?" The hostile tone returned, as if Tissaia couldn't let herself be softer with you than the others for longer than needed.

"I didn't! They pillaged and ransacked our village! Hurt the women and the children and killed the men. They were going to torch the place!"

"Yet you were the one to make it go boom."

"I wasn't- Surely I couldn't have-" Instead of granting you an answer or some explanation to help you order your thoughts, the woman kept silent to watch you connect the dots right in front of her. Your father had instructed the entire family to lock yourself up in the cellar, but when the pillagers had kicked down the door, slain your father and grabbed your youngest sibling and put a blade through them as if they were but a piece of meat, the only thing you could remember is seeing red. Then flames. Unrelenting tall flames. Then nothing, for a while, until Tissaia had stood in front of you to take your attention away from the destruction around you.

"Your disruption of chaos didn't just cause a ripple, it was a tidal wave," Frustrated, Tissaia grabbed your hands and opened your palms, "You hold a great power that can be dangerous to us all. The Continent will erupt in chaos if they know of your existence, for no young mage has ever lived to see another day after using fire magic. People will try and hunt you down. You are not meant to exist. Your chaos is destructive, it could start wars." She watched the horror on your face, "But it can end wars, too, only if you work on keeping your chaos bottled. But with your lack of control, I doubt that will ever happen-" The sympathy disappeared again, "Unless... you accept my help. I will keep you safe here at Aretuza. I will mentor you and help you control it."

You bit your trembling lip, hating how you were still stuck on the fact you had killed your entire family. Though the woman had previously made fun of your weakness, her eyes were less cold as she looked down on you now.

After a long train of thought, you grumbled, "So what do you expect in return?"

She smiled, giving you an accomplished nod. You were already understanding life as a mage, "To keep it all between us. You have never used fire magic. You survived after your chaos and conduit moment made the pillager's brains simmer out of their eyes."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I won't keep my end of the bargain." She stared at you with a look of finality, making it clear she did not condone any resistance to her offer.

A single nod of your head was enough to satisfy Tissaia, "I will send Triss back and you will accept her help this time."

"What if I don't want the scars to disappear?"

Tissaia examined you, trying to decipher the train of thought that went behind those words,

"Then they'll serve as a great reminder of what happened when you lost control."

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Yennefer walked into Aretuza's dining hall, approaching the first mage she knew and immediately opening her mouth, "They're holding an injured girl hostage."

Annika looked up at her, confused, "The Brotherhood?"

"No, yes, I don't know. I saw Tissaia bring her in, with my own eyes." Yennefer muttered with hatred laced in her voice, still not having found her peace and home within the walls of Aretuza.

"Then surely there must be a reason. Rectoress de Vries would never just-"

"She did it with me too, only shorter. When I first came here." Yennefer clarified and licked her lips, sending dangerous glares at the pair of older mages who she knew had been staring at the deformation of her back.

"Oh-" Sabrina approached, a smirk tugging at her lips, "What are you two gossiping about? Do go on."

And so the rumour had started, making Tissaia catch wind of it before the end of the afternoon. To say the woman was furious was an understatement. All Yennefer of Vengerberg had done since her arrival, had been to make things ten times more difficult for her, refusing to adapt. So, it didn't come to Yennefer's surprise that she was summoned to the rectoress office again. If anything, an accomplished glint in her eyes made it clear to Tissaia that she was happy she had disrupted her plans, even if the girl could not have any idea what they were.

"Sit." Tissaia's stern voice instructed when she heard Yennefer's uneven step enter her quarters. She kept her back towards the girl. "You seem to take a great liking to lighting all the fires I'm trying to put out, do you not?"

"Why are you keeping that girl locked up?"

Tissaia turned around, her eyes narrowed, "Why are you sticking your nose in the business of the Brotherhood? Are you so keen to dig through our dirt, piglet? Do you miss sleeping among those beasts so much that you've turned into one?" She saw how Yennefer angrily nibbled at her bottom lip, clearly hurt by the memories of her past.

"You're keeping her against her will, as you did with me. She's hurt." Yennefer spat back after taking a couple of seconds to recuperate.

"She is delirious from her injuries and her trauma. Triss is with her. Has that quelled your curiosity enough?"

"So that means you did take her involuntarily."

Tissaia locked her jaw in frustration, feeling anger bubbling, "She's safer with us, as you all are. Her chaos needs to be mentored as much as anyone else's." She examined Yennefer's face, sensed the intrigue still in her eyes and tilted her head, "If you're so drawn by her, go fetch her for me." With a look that told Yennefer to get up and leave, Tissaia kept her eyes burning in the back of the young mage's head as she left.

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The itching of your skin moved all over your body, where your burns had previously festered and bled, but where faint scars now coated your skin instead. Your trembling fingers traced the one on your torse and stomach, the bumps and unevenness of them still appearing to the soft touch of your fingertips. Triss had done her best to heal the wounds but leave the scars, without making them too unbearable to look at. You could see it pained the mage to not be able to heal you properly, that your need to hold on to your trauma was greater than the need to heal. Still, she knew that not every mage's conduit moment was smooth sailing, so she had kept her mouth shut and had only looked at you with a calm sense of understanding in her eye.

Suddenly, you felt the air change, felt your head fill with prickles that weren't yours and felt the power in your veins reappear once more, as if your mind had healed together with your wounds and made chaos invite itself back beneath your chest. It elevated your senses and made you hear your heartbeat pump through your ears. But then you noticed; you saw her piercing lilac eyes staring back at you through the crack of your door before she knocked to make herself known. She did not wait for your approval, nor did she seem embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Instead, she seemed determined.

Your eyes watched the girl, from her crooked jaw to the hunchback that made her garments fall unflatteringly around her body. It made Yennefer grow self-conscious. The girl quickly pulled her dress back on her shoulder but felt it slide off again just as fast.

She took a step closer, taking in your burned-down clothes even if you had a fresh garment waiting for you on your bed, "Who are you?"

"I could ask you the same."

Ignoring your question, she took another step forward. She licked her lips, "What happened to you? Why are you here?"

The life in your eyes left as soon as she reminded you of what had happened. Yennefer's stare was intense as her big lilac eyes examined you from head to toe, intrigued by someone who seemed to suffer the same kind of welcome she'd had.

"Did she take you away from your family too?"

Your heart panged and your fingers started to tremble again as if suddenly you could feel the heat that had coursed through them mere hours ago. You felt your chaos flitting all across your body, unable to be controlled. It worried you.

"Step back," You warned, with panic and shattered devastation. If you were to set the whole of Aretuza ablaze, then surely your secret would not be safe anymore.

Yennefer kept idle, staring at your sunken form. She'd been in that position not long ago and though her heart had hardened from her time at Aretuza, together with all the challenges her old life had given her, she could feel her heart break nonetheless.

"It's not me you should fear."

You finally looked up to properly look her in the eyes, sensing the sincere warning.

"What are you not telling me?"

Yennefer licked her lips, "You won't believe me anyway, you're too new. Are you going to try and escape?"

You rose your eyebrows and kept your eyes locked firmly on hers. Yennefer found solace in the fact you hadn't gazed at her deformities more than once, just to acknowledge them and then get on with it. Usually, people's eyes would linger on those more than on her own set of eyes, begging to be looked at.

Her words made a bundle of thoughts swarm through your head. You wanted to leave this place, yes, but where would you go without anyone left alive? Without anyone to care for you? You didn't even know to what part of the Continent Tissaia had transported you to. But as you let all those insecurities fill you up, you realised one more grave reminder; if you were to run, you would be left without the safety the rectoress had promised you. If she were to find out you had left and broken your deal, she could very well send the whole Continent after you simply for still being alive after what you'd done.

Defeated, you sighed, "No."

Yennefer grew impatient and now fully closed the distance as she stood right in front of you on your bed, "Giving up already?."

"I might be new, but I know that Aretuza was designed to imprison its students," You repeated, void of hope and motivation, feeling nothing more but hollow.

"What a backbone you have."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

Within a blink, you stood face to face with the girl, your hands palmed into fists.

Finally, Yennefer's eyes softened as they looked into yours, so up close. The trauma and the terror were evident to her. Whatever you had gone through, she seemed to understand. Her eyes flashed across your face, across the crease between your brows, the dip beneath your lips and the lashes on your eyes. She saw the dirt and the smeared ash on your cheeks, but as she glanced into your eyes again, she felt a power tugging at her insides. She found a certain kind of wisdom in your irises and felt a sense of peace as you kept your gaze on her. There was a switch that flicked within her, something out of her control, something to do with her chaos, she could tell. It started to coarse through her body, making her ears pop and her skin tingle. She could feel herself grow more powerful than she'd ever had before. The feeling was ecstatic, and she closed her eyes momentarily to let herself drown in it. It was as if she was floating. Then she looked back to you still standing mere inches away from her face.

"I'm Yennefer," She softly muttered,

"Yennefer of Vengerberg."

*⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

#yennefer x reader #yennefer of vengerberg fic #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer imagine #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #the witcher imagines #the witcher imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 9 months

Text

Fates Divine: Tomorrow is Another Day (Yennefer of Vengerberg x Reader)

Summary: Things never seem to go to plan.

Words: 2627

Warnings: Language, feelings, violence?

A/N: I'm in love with this story.

Series Masterlist

-X-

Drifting between the outer twilights of sleep, consciousness toeing the line of sleep and alert, you were awoken suddenly by pained whimpers and soft pleading. Eyes snapping open, gold leveled upon Yennefer slumbering a few steps away from you. Her long fingers were tangled up in the warm fabric of her blanket, beads of sweat clinging to her pinched brow. Her lips were moving – clearly trapped in a silent conversation – before another whine escaped.

Rising up from your bedroll, you cautiously ventured over to the sleeping mage. Settling on your knees before her, a gentle hand nudged her shoulder.

“Yen –”

Before you could finish her name, the air was stolen from your lungs, sending every nerve within you alight with adrenaline, as you stared into unseeing violet eyes, the taste of magic lingering in the stillness around you both. The unforgiving pressure tightening around your throat was stifling despite feeling no hand but you did not panic or flinch, forcing as much breath as you could through her unwavering magic. You could feel the familiar point of a blade digging into the juncture of your neck but she didn’t move.

So neither did you.

“It’s me, Yennefer,” you exhaled, relaxing slightly as the pressure softened somewhat. “You’re safe. It is just me.”

She blinked, realization dawning upon her slowly as she regained her senses.

“You were simply having a bad dream,” you promised, nearly gasping as the heaviness constricting your lungs disappeared abruptly.

Yennefer’s eyes were wide with regret, tears swimming in her waterline as she sat upright. “I am so sorry. I did not… I…”

Smiling kindly, you winked at the witch before taking a spot beside her. “This isn’t the first time a beautiful woman has held steel to my throat and I’ve always enjoyed a little choking here and there. Though it commonly involves less clothing.”

Yennefer laughed, though you could hear the emotion rippling through its steady burst. “Only you would say such things to the woman who almost killed you.”

“I have been known to prefer women that possess the ability to kill me,” you remarked with a smirk, shrugging nonchalantly despite the seriousness of the situation moments before. “There is something incredibly enticing about it.”

“You are an odd woman, Witcher.”

If someone else had spoken those words to you, you might’ve taken some offense to it, but staring into the moonlit violet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Maybe it was gentle affection glistening in her eyes or the intimacy of how she leaned into your side just slightly. Maybe you were growing soft with age.

Maybe she truly was just… special.

“Rest. Knotgrass Meadow will only be a few hours ride away come morning and we’ll need to be on guard if the rumors and bounties are true.” Gesturing for her to lie down, you did not move away even as she reclaimed her previously abandoned position. “I will stay here. No monsters shall harm you while I’m here.”

Her brow furrowed but you pressed a finger to her lips before she could argue your decision.

“Sleep.”

-X-

Knotgrass Meadow was a fairly calm town, home to many Halflings and other non-humans trying to avoid the idiotic persecutions they often faced. The inhabitants weren’t exactly happy to see a Witcher walking through their village but they overlooked it when you began inquiring about their werewolf problem.

Besides, Witchers were just as unfavorable to the humans so they could make an exception for you. Especially if you were willing to banish the monsters ravaging their home.

Yennefer lingered outside the town’s walls, stroking her newfound mare’s mane as she waited for you to return. Nimble fingers brushed through coarse strands, her mind wandering with thoughts of the Witcher accompanying her. You were an enigma to everything she’d ever known about Witchers. For a creature fueled supposedly by coin and nothing more, you certainly seemed… different.

“We should begin our search a little further north tonight,” you announced unexpectedly, startling Yennefer as you unwittingly dragged her from her thoughts. Offering her a loaf of bread you’d been gifted, you hungrily nibbled on the other. “A pack of ‘em are supposedly camped out in the woods not far from here. People keep hearin’ their howls. The halflings say we’re welcome to rest here until we drive out their beast problem.”

“A grand honor indeed,” Yennefer breathed, biting into the freshly baked good.

Grasping Lyrium’s reins, you led your companions towards Yrim’s Inn. The eyes of wary Halflings lingered on your form but you purposefully ignored them, refusing to give them another reason to be distrustful. It took everything in your power to ignore Yennefer’s warmth nearly pressed against your side, though, as she kept close to you in this unfamiliar territory.

Tying both horses to a post with ease, you gestured for Yennefer to step inside before following suit. As the inn doubled as the town’s tavern, a plethora of beady eyes landed upon you, the noise dropping to near silence while they waited for someone to react.

“(Y/N) of Vizima,” the barkeep greeted calmly, setting aside the ale glass she’d been meticulously drying. “It has been a long time.”

“Razmatha,” you returned the greeting with a smile, bowing your head slightly. “You look well. Not a scar in sight.”

The barkeep couldn’t contain her smirk, stepping around the edge of her bar to stare up at you. “Not for a lack of trying by that pretty silver sword of yours.”

Violet eyes traced the side of your head in confusion, baffled by the nonchalance you and the barkeep exuded. As if this was a completely normal interaction. It was impossible to tell if she was expected to be cautious or if she should be as relaxed as you seemed to be.

“Hey, I apologized! Bought you some good ale too. Can’t bygones be bygones?” you jested, grinning at Razmatha. “I spoke with the mayor. He said he would convince you to give us lodging.”

Her head lolled in acknowledgement. “He did. I did not realize, when he said Witcher, he meant you.”

Yennefer’s brows furrowed at the tone but you remained unfazed.

“What say you, Razmatha? Might we have a room?”

The Halfling’s face was impassive, studying every line and scar etched into your skin. You were different than she remembered. Calmer. Steady. As though your wild years had abandoned you, leaving behind a seemingly peaceful Witcher in its wake.

Gazing deeply into the unnerving gold peering back at her, she finally found what she was looking for and sighed deeply.

“There’s an empty room upstairs at the end of the hall. It’s all I can offer you and your… friend. Everything else is taken right now. Halflings have been coming through in droves hoping to get protection from the werewolves and humans alike.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I hope that we won’t overstay our welcome.”

“He did mention you were planning to hunt the wolves. I suggest waiting ‘til tomorrow night, if I was you. Save some energy. It’ll be a full moon and those ravenous beasts will be causing all kinds of chaos.”

You hummed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The room you’re in has a tub. You should bathe, Witcher. I can’t imagine your companion will enjoy sharing accommodations with someone who smells like they’ve been sleeping in barns since last winter.” Razmatha grinned, though you could feel the pointedness of her words, eyes drifting along your dirty attire and over your smudged flesh.

Grimacing, you chuckled awkwardly. “Duly noted, ma’am.”

-X-

Wringing the water from your stark white locks, you carefully stepped around the partition separating the tub from roaming eyes. Yennefer was sitting on the edge of the bed, her newly washed hair still damp and shining in the candlelight. You couldn’t help but note the scope of the bedding, realizing that if you were both planning to sleep, you’d be entirely too close to such a beautiful witch.

Gods, what have I gotten myself into?

Discretely glancing about, you tried to find a viable solution but there was little floor space and nothing you’d risk sleeping on lest you break the downsized furniture.

“They never expect human-sized patrons, I suppose,” Yennefer commented, capturing her bottom lip in thought.

“We are the first allowed to sleep within their home, I believe.”

Tossing your towel aside, you settled beside Yennefer.

“I am fine sharing a bed with you,” she mumbled, a faint hue darkening her cheeks as she peered into the unlit fireplace. “I see the worry in your eyes. Though I understand if you don’t wish to share with me, considering what happened…”

A callused hand landed atop hers.

“I have no qualms about sleeping with you, Yennefer. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Wincing at your choice of words, you nearly apologized but decided against it.

After all, it was a true statement either way.

Yennefer’s blush deepened but she didn’t shy away from the contact so you took it as a minor victory.

“I say we listen to Razmatha and get some rest tonight. A full moon will grant you the most potent werewolf saliva and if we’re lucky, you’ll have some to spare afterward.” You squeezed her hand before rising, nodding towards the door. “How about a drink?”

Razmatha was swift to accept your coin as you grabbed two meads from the barkeeper, passing a mug to Yennefer before snagging a nearby table. It was a bit too small, knees hitting the underside of the wooden top so hard your drink nearly tipped over, but you didn’t mind as Yennefer giggled, a tiny sheen of foam clinging to her lip.

“Never thought I’d see a clumsy Witcher,” she teased, smirking at the scowl marring your features, though it held no fire.

“And just how many Witchers have you met, mage?” you bit back, eyes lingering too long on her mouth as you watched pink flesh swipe at the sticky foam, mind wondering into indecent territories.

With that, conversation began to flow like honeyed mead. Stories of Aretuza and Kaer Morhen passed between you, the hesitation and secrecy you bore slowly tumbling away with every new tale. You even dared to mention your childhood, insignificant pieces of your past that you cared little about. Those moments held no real meaning now, your life as a Witcher far more intriguing.

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, setting aside your empty mug. “You’ve met Geralt of Rivia? The king of broody men? Who names his horses Roach? Not just one but all of them?”

“I have. He was quite handsome though his personality can certainly be… off-putting, at times.”

Pursing your lips, you rolled your eyes at the notion. “Geralt, handsome? What a vile thought, though his little witch seems fond of him.”

Yennefer paused, mug nearly touching her lips. “Who?”

“Triss… something. Real pretty thing. Keeps the big man in line whenever he’s not questing about the continent.”

“Merigold,” Yennefer finished knowingly. “I am not surprised she took a shine to him.”

Leaning back in your chair, you watched Yennefer finish her drink. Her eyes were glossy, mead threatening to replace the blood in her veins as she swayed just slightly to the sweet crooning of the Halfling bard.

You’d never seen a prettier sight.

Always having believed fate to be nothing more than a fictional hope, you’d never considered the idea that maybe there were some things in life that were inevitable. But a sliver of you couldn’t help wondering if this was fate. Meeting this incredible woman; helping her when she was in need. What if, in all the fucked up things you’d gone through and survived, meeting her was the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel?

Shaking your head as the thoughts ran rampant, you stood. Extending your hand to the wide-eyed mage, you peered over at the dancing patrons, all drunk on mead and high spirits.

“May I have this dance? Might as well act like locals for one night.”

Yennefer met your unwavering gaze, weighing the cons of such a decision. It was a single dance but she feared the ramifications. She’d only known you a handful of days but she couldn’t deny the truth. You could unravel every wall she’d built; touch pieces of her soul that she deemed forever lost.

“Y-”

Panicked screams echoed just outside the doors of the inn, drawing your attention immediately as the music ended abruptly. Hand flying up to grab the hilt of your sword, you rushed out the door and into the fray of madness without a second thought, regretfully leaving behind your would-be dance partner. Senses sharp despite the mead, you noticed a lone werewolf tearing through the village and coming rapaciously towards you while the Halflings flung themselves into safer spaces, desperately trying to avoid the monstrous, hungry beast.

Growling low in your throat, you readied your blade. Sidestepping the fiend, fur drenched in fresh blood, you dragged the silver across its bulging side in hopes of slowing its riotous pace but it only served to infuriate the wolf. Anticipating its charge, your blade slid between its teeth, sliding backwards as it continued to push you. Sharp incisors repeatedly clash against the silver, unfazed by the inevitable sting but you never faltered.

The creature froze, head snapping back to stare at its hind leg and forcing you to do the same. Tendrils of magic were anchoring it to the earth, but it only served to fuel its hatred. Releasing your blade and slinging you aside, you rolled onto your feet in time to see fur flying towards Yennefer. A shield met it mid-air but the beast shouldered through it as though it were parchment, startling you both. Yennefer was by no means weak, which meant…

“He’s enchanted, get down!” you howled, time slowing as you forced yourself to move faster than the werewolf. All you could envision was Yennefer, caught in the monster’s teeth, forced into a miserable existence or an early grave.

Your shoulder slammed into the beast, feet losing ground as you sent the wolf and yourself crashing into a vegetable cart. Ears ringing and blood oozing from your temple, you didn’t have a chance to react to the mouth latching onto your side until it was too late.

“Fuck!” you screeched, bashing the hilt of your blade into its head repeatedly before shoving it into the side of the wolf’s throat.

A garbled wail escaped its mouth as it freed you from the bite, crimson spilling from the wound and painting the ground around you. It thrashed its head about desperately before stumbling into the darkness of the nearby woods. You tried standing, determined to end the beast before it could escape your sight, but the fire in your side forced you down, bare hand turning crimson as blood seeped through the cracks of your fingers.

“Stop, Witcher,” Yennefer chided, landing beside you and pressing her hands delicately onto the raw flesh. “You’re losing too much blood. Death will take you before you ever reach him if you do not tend to it.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grunted, choking back a whine as gentle fingers probed about. “He’s injured. Now is the best time –”

“No! Now is not the time. Not if it gambles your life too,” she argued, ignoring the hiss of pain as she helped you unsteadily to your feet. “Tomorrow.”

Peering about at the terrified Halflings, clearly distressed by the night’s events, you swallowed another gasp. You didn’t take pleasure in their fear and you certainly despised the apprehension blossoming from Yennefer, knowing the wound only served to worry her.

You refused to consider why it upset her so.

“Tomorrow.”

#reader insert #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer vengerberg #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #the witcher imagine #reader imagine #the witcher

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