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leighsartworks216 · 1 year

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The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 2

Ch 1 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: blood, violence, fighting

Word Count: 2197

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“Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!”

All suspicious, accusatory whispers about you died at the herald’s call. Heads whipped around to feast their eyes on the White Wolf of legend, to catch a glimpse of his white hair or even his dual swords. There was not a soul across the Continent who had not heard of the glorious battle at the Edge of the World - a fabulous tale of Elves and Fauns, no doubt concocted by the man next to him who carried a lute.

A bitter taste soured your mouth at the hypocrisy. They spat and scowled at your presence, but how quickly they could turn and lunge for the Nordling Witcher’s boots so that they might kiss the ground he walked on. You did your best to ignore his presence and focus on the job at hand.

No less than a week ago, Mousesack sought you out to propose a contract for none other than the Lioness of Cintra. She desperately sought a Witcher who could act as a guard at her daughter, Pavetta’s, betrothal banquet, for the sole purpose of disposing of any unwanted guests. Mousesack didn’t know who the target could be, or why, but the amount of coin he offered was more than you could shake a stick at.

So, on the day of, you appeared donned in leather and daggers, and accepted the contract face-to-face with her majesty. Before she left to settle disputes within her kingdom, she ordered you to change into more reasonable attire.

The silk and linen was unfamiliar and uncomfortable against your skin. Your heightened senses were distracted from the sensations of the fabric, though not so much you could not hear the conversation across the hall.

Mousesack and Geralt of Rivia were tucked away in an alcove, whispering to each other about court gossip and the favored bachelor. What caught your attention was not the Witcher’s deflection of royal scandals, but the druid’s sudden change of topic.

“There is another Witcher here you should meet,” Mousesack said, conspiratorially, as if he was revealing a great secret and a great danger all at once.

Geralt of Rivia frowned at the other. “Another Wolf?”

“No, no, no.” Mousesack shook his head quickly. “A Witcher from the South.”

Even from afar, you could see how that peaked his interest. “A Nilfgaardian?” He trailed off a moment, thinking. There were only two Niflgaardian Witcher schools. “A Bear?” he asked, hedging his bets.

“A Viper,” you interjected. Mousesack almost jumped at your sudden appearance, but Geralt only frowned. You turned to the druid, a slight, teasing smile on your lips. “It’s not polite to talk about someone behind their back, Mousesack.”

He chuckled good-naturedly and slung an arm around your shoulders. “My apologies; I didn’t know you cared so much about manners.” He turned back to the guest of honor. “Geralt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Geralt.”

Despite the easy way the druid introduced you, Geralt remained on edge. He crossed his bulky arms, pulling against the fancy garb he was also forced into wearing. The line between his brows only deepened as he looked you up and down.

“I didn’t think Vipers came this far North.”

“We usually don’t,” you agreed. You glanced at Mousesack, who seemed to be on edge from the interaction. “Mousesack tracked me down.”

“The Queen requested a Witcher to act as a guard,” he explained quickly. “They were the closest Witcher with the skillset she required.”

“Someone willing to kill humans.” It was not a question, yet the Wolf stared you down as he waited for confirmation.

You grinned at his unease. He was fighting back a scowl, though he hid it well enough. Wolves and Vipers - all Witcher schools, really - had a long standing history of distrust and conflict. With an adolescent sense of determination, you replied, “It’s what Vipers do best.”

His scowl revealed itself fully.

“Drop your trousers!”

All three of you turned your heads to a disturbance off to the side of the larger crowds. A lord had a well-dressed man - you recognized him as the bard Geralt came with - against the wall. Geralt sighed through his nose at the sight.

“I see you have business to attend to,” you teased. You ducked under Mousesack’s arm and backed away, bowing as you did so. Oh, if your mentors could see you now; you’d be reduced to sorting the library until Ivar Evil-Eye deemed it good enough. “Gentlemen.”

“Witcher…” Calanthe gasped. You couldn’t tell which one she spoke to. “Kill it.”

You should have leapt over the table. You should have drawn your blades the very second the disturbance began. You should have, but you couldn’t. Something kept your feet glued to the floor.

“No,” Geralt replied coolly.

“Viper, kill it,” she hissed, growing desperate.

The dark eyes of the animal-knight stared up at you. Briefly, you considered how grateful you were for the cover of the Queen’s throne.

Geralt half-turned to look at you. “This is no monster.”

He must have known that meant little-to-nothing to you. The Viper School was the only school to focus on hunting monsters, humans, and non-humans. Whether he was a beast, a man, or some other creature of the land did not matter. You were taught to accept all contracts on any head, and remain neutral. Above all else, take no sides.

“This knight has been cursed,” he tried again, a twinge of distress in his words.

Calanthe sighed irritably. “You’re as useless as the rest of them. Slay this beast!”

Your heart leapt forward. Your feet stayed put.

Take no sides.

Two more guards fell to the ground before Lord Urcheon drew his sword to point at Calanthe. “Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise.”

Take no sides.

In one motion, you vaulted over the banquet table and drew your twin blades. Geralt tried to grab your arm, but his fingers barely had time to brush against the silk of your attire.

One royal guard after another ran forward. Lord Urcheon skillfully deflected blows, redirecting swords with the momentum behind their swings. A guard collapsed to the floor, clasping his gut, after the knight sliced it open.

He turned and swung his sword down. It stopped dead in the air with a metallic screech, caught between two crossed daggers. Dark eyes full of fear peered deep into the focused gaze of the Viper before him.

You arched your daggers up and out, pushing his sword back. In the opening, your foot collided with his stomach in a powerful kick, knocking him to the ground. His sword skidded across the polished stone, far away from his desperate grasp.

The royal guards gathered to stand behind you as you towered over the defenseless man. Terror rippled through the party so intensely you could smell it.

You were exactly the monster they whispered about.

You flipped your daggers in your grasp. The knight’s heart raced.

Dual daggers raised into the air, smooth curves of metal glinting in the candlelight as they formed the deadly fangs of a snake.

You pitched your swing down, aimed directly for his heart.

The hollow sound of a dagger hitting the floor echoed through the room. Blood dripped down your knuckles as you stared into the eyes of the Wolf, his sword aimed at the hollow of your throat. Your silver dagger stayed in a tight grip by your side.

Movement caught your eye as the knight picked up your dagger. A protectiveness settled in your chest seeing the weapon in his hands.

“KILL THEM BOTH!”

Chaos. You and Geralt fought head to head. Lords and royal guards rushed in to stop Lord Urcheon. Sir Eist joined to help. Queen Calanthe was forced to sit by and watch. Swords clashed, blood spilled. Your heart pounded in your ears as adrenaline coursed through your veins.

Men fell left and right, but none were slain by the White Wolf. You were deadlocked. You would throw a swing at his side or neck, and he would deflect it with his sword. He would aim an attack at your chest or head, and you would dodge out of the way. Trapped in the futility of fighting an enemy matched to his abilities, he couldn’t help against the guards or lords. If he did, he would risk opening himself up to an attack from you.

His sword sliced horizontally through the air. You rolled under the blade, behind him, and whipped around to stab yours into his back. You stopped inches from driving the silver into the Queen’s neck. Her sword locked with Geralt’s. You stared, stunned, at the back of her head.

“Stop.” It was a plea. His sword slowly fell. Hers followed. “Stop!” she called to the rest of the fighting crowd.

Your eyes met the Wolf’s over her shoulder. His gaze was tense. It burned through you. Your dagger fell to your side once more, and then found its way back to its sheath.

A burst of energy shoved everyone back. Some went flying into pillars or banquet tables. The oxygen was stolen from your lungs as your back slammed against the wall.

A figure curled overtop your body, protecting you from the fierce winds brought about by Pavetta’s powers. You gasped and coughed as you fought to catch your breath once more. The figure came into focus as you did.

It was the bard. He was skinny, though not scrawny. Short, dark hair blew about and caught on his long lashes as brilliant blue eyes stared down at you. You hoped he did not see the confusion in your own.

Why would he protect you?

Shards of glass rained down as the windows shattered one by one. He pulled your head down into his chest and raised an arm to cover himself. Sharp pieces fell down your back and scattered into his hair.

When he relaxed his hold, you pulled away and pushed yourself to a kneel. The fragments dug into the rough skin of your palms and latched to the almost-dried blood that stained your hand red. You paid it no mind as you squinted to see into the vortex.

At the center stood the princess and the hedgehog knight. Loose chairs and food swirled through the air around them like a tornado destroying a village. Your eyes traced the crowd of people who all were forced to watch helplessly as Pavetta cast spells under her breath - all to protect her lover. Geralt and Mousesack were pressed against two pillars, closest to the whirlwind. Queen Calanthe and Sir Eist held each other on the floor as they hid beneath her banquet table.

Wood groaned and scraped across the floor as a table came barrelling toward the wall. As fast as you could, you pushed the bard aside and covered him with your body. You felt him flinch as the heavy wood slammed into the wall right next to you and splintered, narrowly avoiding hitting your back.

Just as soon as it started, it was over.

The wind stopped. The world fell silent. You slowly pulled away from the man to see what happened. It was dark. Every candle was out. Haloed by moonlight in the center of a circle of debris lay Pavetta and Lord Urcheon. Geralt and Mousesack stood a few feet away, panting heavily with exhaustion.

It was over.

Guilt setted, heavy and unwelcome, within your chest. Had you listened to Geralt, had you rejected your training and picked a side - All of this could have been avoided. Or, if it was truly destiny that brought the two souls together, perhaps it was unavoidable.

Your back ached as you stood. You would be bruised come morning, there was no doubt about that. The man you protected looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. You wondered why Geralt brought him along. Surely, he saw terrible things every day on the Path; he looked far more in his element amongst the royals and elites in the world.

You reached out a hand and heaved him to his feet. He shakily nodded his thanks. But even as the Princess stood and the Queen joined her in the circle, his attention remained focused on you. He wasn’t afraid. He did not wrench his hand away or spit on you. He just stared.

Before you could ask why, Calanthe began speaking. She held hands with her daughter, seemingly forgiven. Remorse and regret settled on her features. For a brief moment, you caught her eye. You would not be getting paid tonight.

How could she, with a clear conscience, pay the person she hired to murder her daughter’s love?

A glimmer of light caught your attention. Resting within the debris was your steel dagger, a beam of moonlight reflecting off of its sharpened edge. No one seemed to pay you any mind as you stepped forward and slid it back into the sheath at your waist. You said nothing to the man as you passed him, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the hall, and slipping out of the castle.

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Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lex-caspartine

@lastwandastan

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonssimp

#fanfic #fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #jaskier x reader #jaskier #jaskier the bard #witcher jaskier #the witcher jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt & reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gn reader #cross posted on ao3

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feathersontheclyde · 10 months

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what does your blood taste like?

melted dark chocolate

your blood tastes like melted dark chocolate. prominent flavors: mildly sweet, with a refined amount of bitterness.

Tagged by: @lcstinfantasy xoxo Tagging: @bccksmarts, @soughtbirthright, @chrissyfied, @entangledmuses, @ner0tic & youuuuuuuuu.

#( dash games. )#( ch: geralt of rivia. )#MHM!

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 2 years

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Tragic Kingdom: Part 3

18+ 🌶🌶

When choosing a suitable husband for his daughter, Kasper’s list of requirements were short yet non-negotiable. He must come from a family steeped in military tradition. He must be educated, not brutish. And, above all else, he must be respectful to women. After all, you were his only daughter. If your husband was a scoundrel, he most certainly would continue his lewd behavior even after you spoke your vows. He would not see his little girl embarrassed by some bumbling idiot who didn’t know his cock from his sword. Your only requirement was that your marriage would take you far away from Asgard. Given your magical background, Vanaheim and Alfheim were the two most likely realms to find you a husband.

Your parents alerted the matchmaker who went straight to work. The only daughter of a decorated general would be quite a prize. The matchmaker had no problem finding suitors. The problem came when she added that the couple would not be living in Asgard nor would he serve in Odin’s forces. That was until Prince Geralt Rivia Ivarson of Vanaheim entered the race. He was the youngest child of King Ivar and Queen Malin and their only son. His five older sisters had all but married off. He was the only one to carry the line of succession. He was well known to your father as he fought by his side many times. Because he was Ivar’s only son, his place was in Vanaheim. For that reason alone, he was perfect in your eyes. Truly, though, the decision to marry would be up to your parents.

You had been preparing for your betrothed all week. Vanaheim was a little bit rougher than Asgard but not without its traditions so you had to mind your manners especially with his mother. You heard from several other potential brides that Queen Malin was exceedingly protective of her son so you had to be prepared to be charming yet demure. Your corset was laced tight yet modest up top. You wore subdued earthy tones and had your hair done in traditional Vanaheim style with ornate braiding. Prince Geralt was your one shot at getting out of Asgard. You would not blow it.

Since you were entertaining the royal family of Vanaheim, the royal family of Asgard was required to be present. All of them, unfortunately. When you entered the Grande Hall they all gasped at your appearance. “Do I look hideous?” You were already feeling self conscious. The looks on their faces made you feel worse.

“No, elskan. You look stunning.” Your father had tears in his eyes.

Loki stared at you silently begging you to look at him. In the past, you would have wanted him at your side offering his support. You could not rely on him anymore. That hurt him to his core.

You took your place by your parent’s side to greet your new potential family. When they entered, you were taken aback at the sight of your future husband. He was tall and handsome with silver hair and eyes so pale amber that they nearly glowed . He was striking and overtly masculine. You bowed to his mother and father and then, when you turned to him, he bowed to you. Unheard of for someone of no royal birth.

“My lady, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His deep voice sent shivers up your spine. Yes, he would do nicely.

“I am pleased to meet you, your highness. How was your journey?“

“Mercifully short thanks in part to the Bifrost. Absolutely marvelous way to travel.” He held your hand throughout the entire exchange and didn’t even let go when he greeted Thor and Loki. His thumb slowly circled your palm as he spoke with the princes paying no attention to Loki’s clipped tone. You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly at Geralt when he spoke stealing glances at Loki. He held his head high though you felt the profound sadness emanating from him.

During lunch you were charming as ever. Queen Malin smiled several times and even genuinely laughed at a story you told about your childhood. She even suggested that the two of you tour Frigga’s gardens to have a chance to speak privately. Thor went along as a chaperone at your father’s request.

“Right. You two have fun. I over indulged last night so I’m going to fuck off this way. Wake me in an hour would you, sis?”

“Thor? Wait.” You muddled some herbs with a mortar and pestle, poured them into a tea strainer over a large glass and filled it with water. “Drink this. When you wake up, you will feel good as new.” He winced at the first sip of liquid but gulped it down feeling slightly better already.

“I hear you are a very accomplished healer.” Geralt marveled at how quickly your hands worked and your fast knowledge of medicinal herbs.

“It is a tradition passed down through all the women of my family.”

He closed the space between the two of you, “Then I shall plant you the most beautiful garden in all the realm. Would you like that?” His knuckles grazed your cheek which suddenly felt too hot.

“I should like that very much. You act as though we are already engaged, your highness.” You kept your eyes down out of respect. With a large finger hooked under your chin he lifted your face to look at his.

“It is already arranged, my dear. We are to be wed in a small ceremony on Asgard before we make our journey back to Vanaheim. Once the preparations are finished for your coronation, you will be crowned princess.” Your brows furrowed. You had not been informed of this plan. When he saw the look on your face he had a small panic, “By the looks of you, you were unaware. I offer my sincerest apologies. If you require more time….”

You snapped yourself out of your mood and smiled at him once more, “Nonsense. It is how things are done is it not? We should make our way back. There is much to do.”

He stepped back giving you a respectable amount of space. “You must think me so arrogant. I came here to meet you and I am treating you as if you were already mine. Our vows to each other are sacred to me. I do not take them lightly. And, while we have not yet fallen in love, I trust that we will given some time.”

Though the Prince was a stranger to you, your heart warmed at his earnestness. Perhaps he was looking for love just as much as a partnership between realms. You would give your heart to him today and hope against hope he does not take it for granted. You fear it cannot take much more.

With your hand in his you followed your well rested chaperone back to the hall to oversee preparations. Your parents looked thrilled when they saw their children smiling. They swept you away speaking of grand plans and perfect partnerships while Loki looked on regretting everything. “So it’s today then?” He asked Thor quietly.

Normally this would be the perfect time for Thor to lecture him but he looked so heartbroken that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he wrapped him in a bear hug and held him against his will. “I don’t want your pity.” Loki said as he struggled.

“I don’t pity you, little brother. I am truly sorry you couldn’t mend things.” In the morning you would leave Asgard likely never to return. He would not let you go still hating him. He could not. He had to find you. He loved you too much to leave things this way.

He stood in front of your door wringing his hands. No doubt your chambers were bustling with dress makers and handmaidens arranging your trousseau. He paced back and forth talking to himself piecing together what he should say. “Oh fucks sake, man, just go in.” He said to himself. His body wouldn’t move. He had broken your heart so thoroughly he didn’t think it possible to snake his way back into your good graces.

It was just you. His kjære. The love of his life. How could he possibly be….afraid? Well that was the first time he admitted it to himself. You are the only person (besides his mother) who has put up with his nonsense and loved him in spite of his dastardly ways. You were in love with him and he was in love with you too. He would tell you. He had to tell you right now before you went to Vanaheim and he never saw you again. He plucked up the courage to open that door and was greeted with your warm sunshine smile that melted his heart. You had never looked more beautiful than you had in your bridal gown preparing to marry a complete stranger.

“Ladies, may I have a moment?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Everyone, including the mothers, scattered from the room. Frigga patted his shoulder on the way out. “My Prince! How do I look? Please do not laugh. I trust your opinion.” He was shocked at your warmth. It was like his misdeeds were all but forgotten. He took a timid step towards you too afraid to trust his own ears.

“Devastatingly beautiful, kjære. Or should I say prinsesse? I can’t believe you’re leaving us.”

You took note of the look on his face and made very sure not to sound so excited. The fact was you were floating on cloud nine at the moment. Not even Loki could ruin this for you.

“I cannot stay locked in the library forever.” You took his hands, “I thought you would marry first. Thought I would be following behind you for eternity.”

“I should like you better at my side than on my heel. I have to say something, Y/N. This is not easy for me so, if you’ll indulge me, I would like to say it.” His heart was beating so fast he thought he might expire right there.

His feelings were overwhelming you. This had to be something huge or else he wouldn’t have such a hard time spitting out the words. “Norns, Loki. Out with it. You’re acting as though you’re in love with me.” His eyes widened and he jerked his gaze up from the floor. “No. That’s exactly what you want to say isn’t it? Why do you always seek to ruin my happiness? I have loved exactly two men in my whole life, Loki and because of you, I have shattered . And now, on my wedding day, you come to tell me you’ve loved me this whole time? When you have rejected me so thoroughly? How can you?”

You paced around the room ranting at him. He tried to speak but you would not allow it. Finally, he was so fed up with your rambling that he grabbed you and kissed you. You pushed him away pounding on his chest to release you but he held you too tightly. When he let you go your head was swimming and your dress suddenly felt like it was strangling you. “If you would just let me…..” he tried to say but your open hand meeting his cheek derailed him. And when you smashed your lips into him you completely disarmed him.

You kissed him like you had been wanting to do your whole life. His hands slipped down to your hips squeezing before resting them there. He thought you would push him away but, alas, you hadn’t. Testing the waters he allowed one hand to cup one round cheek of your behind causing you to moan softly in his mouth. The sound you made shot straight to his cock which was now uncomfortably hard. He pressed it against your hip to relieve some mounting pressure. When he felt your hand graze the front of his pants he knew he had to stop you. This was years of repressed feelings coming to the surface and he did not want his first time with you to be so rushed.

“Wait wait. Are you certain?” You continued undoing his buckle.

“Yes.” You were panting with need. “Yes, please, Loki. I want to.” You didn’t need to say another word. He lifted the many layers of your dress, pressed you against the wall and speared you. Something dark crossed his eyes that were now all pupil. He fucked into you like both your lives depended on him.

The coil in your belly tightened ready to snap at any moment. “Oh, pet. I’ve wanted this for so long. Look at you taking me so well. Like you were truly made for me. Such a good girl.” That was all you needed to push you over the edge. Your cunt fluttered around him bringing you closer. Your eyes met his and you fell apart in his arms. He was not far behind filling you with every last drop of himself.

“My godsI needed that!” you shouted as you smoothed your dress. “I feel far less nervous now. Thank you.” You walked back into your bathroom to make yourself look presentable. When you came back out Loki was standing in the same place looking quite confused. “When you go out can you send Hanna back in? She is going to braid my hair.” You were so casual after he poured his heart out to you.

“Wait. You’re still going through with this?”

“Of course.” You must have cast a spell on yourself. That had to be it. You used your seiðr to make you forget your feelings.

“Kjære, forgive my confusion but I just confessed my feelings for you. Perhaps you would like to mull this over for a moment.” The way your back stiffened he thought you were angry with him. But you laughed. Laughed hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Oh spare me!” you screamed. “You are simply upset that you no longer have power over me. Our whole lives you’ve treated me less like your friend and more like your property. And now you think it wise to confess your true feelings as if I will run to your waiting arms? I don’t deserve this!”

His heart turned to ash in his chest. “I have never said those words to anyone. They were always reserved for you.”

“Then you should have said them to me long ago. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

You dismissed him without a care. He stood mouth agape in the center of the room while everyone filtered back in. In all the excitement no one noticed. He looked at you longingly hoping for you to come to your senses but you were lost to him.

Loki attended the ceremony begrudgingly to keep up appearances. A crowned prince missing the wedding ceremony of another realm’s heir to the throne would look like a slight. That was not drama that Loki could afford at the moment. He slipped out after your first dance. Tomorrow you will be gone. Though the pain was gut wrenching, he had no choice but to let you go.

He watched from a darkened corridor when you and your new husband slipped into your chambers. With his seiðr he cloaked himself so that he may get closer to your door. His jealousy raged within him when he heard you giggling. Geralt’s deep voice coaxing you into your bed where he will undoubtedly fuck you without a care for your pleasure. He could not bear to hear any more. Like a beaten puppy he tucked his tail between his legs and skulked away. A cask of strong liquor and a few chamber maids should dull his pain.

Contrary to Loki’s beliefs, Geralt was a perfect gentleman. He danced you around the floor of your bedroom humming a tune while you smiled up at him adoringly. “You are a beautiful dancer, my dear” he said with a sweet smile on his lips.

“Why thank you, kind sir. You are very graceful yourself.”

“I endeavor to please, my lady. Which brings me to our next activity.”

Your laugh sounded like a bell. “And what, pray tell, is that, dear husband?” He pulled you closer to him and stilled your bodies.

His breath smelled sweet with cake and liquor warm against your skin. “Where I show you just how devoted a husband I am, prinsesse.” Without warning he scooped you up and carried you to bed. You moved to unfasten his pants when he gently removed your hands. “Slow down, my sweet dove. I intend to have you good and ready before you take me.” You wanted to say something ill-mannered but choked on your own tongue when you saw the impressive bulge in his pants. Upon further inspection, he was only half hard. You let out a tiny yelp which made him laugh deep in his chest. “I promise to be gentle, prinsesse.

“Dear husband, I say this will all due respect, I do not require gentleness.” With that he was feral. Your wedding dress was ripped from you and thrown on the floor a shredded mess. His large hands slid up the length of your legs as he knelt in front of you. Your cunt was dripping which made his breath hitch in his chest. Two fingers spread your slick around your lips barely skating over your clit. You moaned and arched your back trying to get more pressure. He continued his torturous ministrations until you were begging him, “Please, Geralt. Please touch me.”

“I am touching you, dove. Shall I do it harder?”

“Oh…yes, please.” He obliged, slipping in two fingers while his thumb pressed down on your clit. You could barely contain yourself. The coil in your belly was going to snap at any moment. When you thought you might burst, he bent down and kissed you so deeply that it pushed you over the edge. He swallowed your moans savoring each whimper and cry. “Please, fuck me. I need you.”

“My my, prinsesse. Such a filthy mouth. I don’t think you’re ready yet. Besides, I have not yet been properly acquainted with my sweet girl.” He gave you a quick peck and then settled himself between your legs. He opened you as much as he could and gave your pussy the same deep kiss that he did your mouth. One arm draped over your stomach holding you in place while the other hand massaged your thigh. His shoulders prevented your legs from snapping shut as you came over and over again. “Mine” he growled as you soaked his face.

“Yours. All yours” you moaned.

Pride swelled in his chest watching you fall apart for him. “I think you are ready for me.” You barely responded. “Don’t fall asleep on me now. We’ve only just begun.” He eased in letting you stretch around his girth. “So tight. Norns you feel amazing.” He moved slowly at first but you pressed your heels into his ass cheeks urging him to go harder. Deeper. He was too much and not enough all at once. You could feel him everywhere. You moaned nonsensically, your eyes screwed shut with pleasure. “Look at me, wife. I need to see you.” Your eyes locked on his and, with one final snap of his hips the two of you let go. There was no bed, no more room. Just the two of you intrinsically linked together until death parts you.

He would not allow you to move once you finally caught your breath. He ran a very hot bath and settled the two of you into the water. “I think you were right today, Geralt. I think we will fall in love.”

He kissed your temple and continued soaping your breasts and stomach. His smile was warm and you could have sworn he had tears in his eyes. “My dear, Y/N, I look forward to hearing you say those words to me and I to you.”

The next morning you woke in your husband’s arms listening to the soft crescendo of his breathing. Your joy could not usurp the grief you felt as you prepared for your departure. Geralt stirred gently caressing your arm. “Good morning, Dove. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. And you?“

“Exceptionally well. We will depart soon. Shall I leave you to have privacy with your parents?” Your parents weren’t the ones who needed a private farewell. You needed to see Loki. You needed to apologize for how you left things.

“Yes. Thank you.” Just then Hanna knocked on your door to help you dress. Sometime during the wedding your ladies packed away your life in preparation for your journey. She chose a simple gown for you in lush greens to honor the fertile lands of Vanaheim. Both of you sniffled a heartfelt goodbye before she left you for the last time. Both your parents joined you for breakfast. The conversation was light but there was tension in the air. After you ate, Geralt and the king and queen left you for a private moment.

It was your father who broke first. “I know you will be well but I cannot help but to grieve. Say you will visit.”

“Pappa, I will see you at my coronation in a few months. Please do not cry.” He embraced you and led you to your mother’s arms. You didn’t speak, only sobbed. A gentle knock on the door pulled you out of your state. It was Frigga and Thor coming to bid you farewell.

“Little sister, I will see you soon. Be well.”

“Same to you, you big oaf.”

Frigga ached for your mother. She gave you a quick hug and then drew her dear friend in for comfort. “He’s waiting in the library.” She whispered. So to the library you went.

Loki sat in your preferred chair staring into space. As you did on many prior occasions, you sat in front of his splayed legs. The weight of his grief was suffocating. “I am sorry for my behavior, my Prince. It was cruel of me to treat you the way I did. I do not wish to leave without that being said.” He did not speak for a long while.

“I am only sorry that I did not see you sooner. I am an idiot.”

“Of the highest order.” You both laughed, wiping away tears.

“What shall I do without my twin? My life…my heart…my soul. How will I go on without you?” Words evaded you at that moment. All you could do was curl up in his lap and hold him as he cried. He turned his tear streaked face to you and kissed you as hard as he could.

“For what it is worth, I love you too.” Those words were worth their weight in gold. He would hold them for the rest of his days. If no one else said them for the rest of time, he would still be loved.

When you left Loki in the library you left behind no part of yourself. You couldn’t. There was no longer room for him or Asgard in your new life. Geralt and Vanaheim deserved every bit of you. Without thought you would give yourself to your husband and the realm that you would one day rule at his side.

At the Bifrost bridge you took his hand, gave a final wave and entered Vanaheim never looking back at Asgard’s glittering spires.

As you stepped off of the bridge you were greeted by members of the Royal Council and some guards to help carry your things. Vanaheim was stunning. It looked as though you wandered into an enchanted forest. It was lush and green with sprawling hills and flowers everywhere. The garden your new husband promised had to be spectacular if it was to be the most beautiful in all the realm. Geralt wrapped you in his warmth allowing you to take it all in. “Welcome home, Dove.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader angst #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki odinson #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #marvel loki #loki show #loki series #frigga #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia #norse paganism #norse deities #norse mythology

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the-boy-king-rp-multi · 3 months

Text

It had been a little over a year now since hed lashed out at his bard and last seen him, and a few months since he had finally found and met Calanthe's granddaughter, Princess Cirilla.

After getting into contact with Yennefer once more after their last meeting- Hed had the princess sent off with the sorceress to meet up in Kaer Morhen with Vesemir, learning to control both control her powers and train her in the ways of the witcher- Fighting techniques, and he was more than sure Vesemir had her hitting the books often, as he had been made to do at her age as well. The thought made him chuckle absentmindedly to himself. When he wasnt hunting monsters he spent time with her teaching her one on one how to defend herself, to master the ways of the witchers swords- And not just fighting, but caring for them as well. She wasn't a traditional Witcher, so she didn't have the abilities he did.. but something told him she'd be alright once she mastered her own unique ones with the help of Yennefer.

After the last hed seen her he distracted himself hunting monsters to ignore the inner emotional turmoil- Between his fight with Jaskier, losing Yennefer only to have to reconnect with her so she could help train Ciri with her powers she undoubtedly had no control over and would cause chaos wherever she went until she did, seeing his mother again (albeit briefly) during his brief brush with death again after he'd been overwhelmed with nekkers- Had he not been found when he was he surely would've died, Witcher immunity aside. He was currently in a local pub after a recent kill, roach tied up outside in the town's stables.

As usual the witcher sat alone in the corner drinking away his sorrows, his black hood pulled up over his silver hair, head hung low. Little did he know hed soon see a familiar face (one, he admitted, hed missed). He was mostly back to his lonesome self these days as he had been before meeting the bard, unless he was at Kaer Morhen catching up with Vesemir and helping with Ciri. He stank of monster of his recent kills, helping the locals get rid of a banshee haunting a poor old women who was scared half to death of the creature.

#open #not mutual exclusive #sh: the witcher #ch: geralt of rivia #verse; the white wolf #otp; geraskier

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xradiant · 7 months

Text

He steels himself against the feeling that courses through him. Maybe he should let up on the kid but he also knew that Cahir needed it. There was something in the way that he cowered away from everything around them, did he go about life scared of his own shadow? Only Geralt knew that he wasn't actually scared. He had seen him with a sword in hand at the front of a battle. Then he had been strong, he had been eager, he had been just about one of the best men on that field. So why did life itself prove any different? Groaning lightly Geralt turned around to face Cahir with a drop of his shoulders and something knowing lingering there in his eyes. He wanted to make sure that this quest would go alright and that he would get the full reward once he returned to town. Touissant was full of wealthy people and they could take advantage of that. "Take a breath." He ordered gruffly. "Take a breath and tell me your extent of monster hunting."

@tothedevilsshow xxx

#interaction ; geralt & cahir #tothedevilsshow #ch: geralt of rivia

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nezmar13 · 11 months

Text

I never meant to lose you Ch 4

NEW CHAPTER

(ongoing)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47801140

Summary

One would expect that when the world starts crashing down, there would be explosions and fires and screams around. Geralt never expected that an empty apartment, missing things, and deafening silence would feel the same.

Jaskier had enough when Geralt again chooses his ex Yennefer over him and spends a night at her place. He had enough of constantly coming in second and being overlooked, disregarded and taken for granted by the person he loves the most. When his hurt became too much and his love was no longer enough, leaving was the only thing left to be done.

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Jaskier | Dandelion

Priscilla (The Witcher)

Witchers (The Witcher)

Eskel (The Witcher)

Lambert (The Witcher)

Vesemir (The Witcher)

Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Triss Merigold

Aiden (The Witcher)

Coën (The Witcher)

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Break Up

Post-Break Up

Smut

Sad with a Happy Ending

Heavy Angst

Cheating

but not really

Love Confessions

Falling In Love

Fanart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47801140

#geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanart #witcher geralt #witcher eskel #lambert #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #angst #witcher fanfiction

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hanzajesthanza · 2 years

Note

I saw your “thoughts on ______” post and I quite like reading your thoughts on witcher lore (especially your thoughts on Geralt’s hansa), but I was wondering what are your thoughts on Ciri in the witcher 3? Specifically her personality if you think it aligns with the books at all.

Thank you for your all of your posts on the witcher!

okay looong post haha :D

tldr: tw3 ciri and books ciri are very different characters.

i would say that the ciri of the books and the ciri of tw3 are both reflections of their respective mediums; ciri is the books and ciri is the game; or at least, she should be...

the witcher books are a narrative saga with a predefined story, and a tragic one at that; the witcher 3 is a game with storytelling, yes, but it changes based upon player interaction and choice. but there is no choice with ciri of the books. her destiny, and the destinies of all the other characters, have already been decided by fate, destiny, the hand of a great demiurge... conveyed via the divine medium called sapkowski's computer keyboard. ciri, like all the other characters, are bound by the same fate and doomed... they lose, in the end, having lost everything, they still lose... but in the witcher 3, fate rests in your hands as geralt. you choose the destiny, your decisions towards ciri affect the ending she has and who her character becomes.

both ciris have the opportunity to become witchers. but the books and tw3 treat the concept of a witcher very differently. for books ciri, she is given the entire series to meditate on the meaning of witcherhood. geralt teaches her the sword in self-defense, but the ability to kill consumes her.

ciri is beaten down, over and over again, from the slaughter of cintra to losing geralt and yennefer and landing in the korath desert and suffering utter humilating circumstances, hiding out as a criminal with the rats... in many ways she is like every other war orphan, but her princess side never leaves her, her dignity demands more, and for this reason she rages.

originally, she wants justice for the slaughter of cintra, and later, she wants justice for the torture and other wrongs done unto her, to repay evil... and she is well-beyond justified in her anger. however - her arc is about the extent which revenge and violence can take, because engaging in an excess bloodbath continues the cycle which she may never escape from. the sword has meaning and consequences in her hands. we get to see what it looks like when she has no control. when she kills and bullies and threatens indsicriminately, not to only the evil, but to the innocent as well, out of her own pain, misery, and contempt. the worst of everything that can hide in a person emerged from her, wickedness and cruelty... and soon, as a result of that, we see an even worse manifestation of evil following her footsteps, tracking her down - bonhart.

at the end of tower of the swallow, she's become a witcher again - she slaughters the mercenaries at dun dare, but she shows restraint on tarn mira and does not kill skellen, although he wounded her. but this is her revelation and personal philosophy that "witchers kill monsters". it's quite nice, actually, come to think of it, because as soon as geralt stops being a witcher (sometime in early october, his medallion melts away in the fire of the druids' wicker hag) ciri becomes one (at dun dare on saovine, the end of october). she is still considered "evil" though, and only stops being "evil" when she descends the marble staircase with geralt and yennefer at castle stygga; then, she becomes something else, which she doesn't know. but i think, from chapters 1 and 12 of lady of the lake, that she simply becomes a witcher girl, and that sailor of an archipelago of places and times that she is described as being in ch 7; a lone wanderer, eliminating darkness in her path... the new kind of witcher that the world needs, which geralt describes in rivia before his death.

this is a magnificent story. especially since it was well-written. it has all the virtues of what a seven-book series should be. but it wouldn't be as much of a good video game. its virtues as writing do not directly translate to the virtues of a game. and neither do the virtues of its characters.

because ciri's story (as it is in the books) is remarkably dark, exceptionally horrifying in many cases. it makes me weep, it makes me feel. and there's no happy ending. as nimue and condwiramurs say, "it's so... frighteningly realistic." it reminds me of my own life and growth and pain and an uncertain future. of my own past lives lost and my own bitter defeats and who i've had to take out on a boat on loch eskalott...

but would any of this be fun to play as a character in a game? when i first played the witcher 3, i was surprised at some of the darker storytelling elements (e.g., the bloody baron, carnal sins, the empress ending... which i won't touch on the empress ending for ciri because... apologies, but it's bullshit if we're considering the books canon, it's practically netflix's interpretation of the series... it's just so wrong i can't even start to explain why or how much retconning it involved)

but when i read the books? the books make the witcher 3 look like children's daytime tv programming. at least when it comes to ciri's story and character. this is necessary in order to make the witcher 3 game fun to play and not a horrifying endless nightmare of suffering and s*xual assault, which the books can sometimes end up being! at least in the ciri parts... but the witcher 3 is virtuous as a video game because it is fun to play. it treats being a witcher much more simply...

i think this summarizes it: you know in blood and wine when regis asks geralt, if you were reborn, would you choose to be a witcher again, or would you want to be something else? the first time i played the witcher 3 (and was new to the franchise) i was so confused why he would ask this. of COURSE i like being a witcher, i bought this game for like $25 on steam with DLC included and i've been having the fucking time of my life doing all these quests and riding around on roach. (i play on the 'just the story' mode :))... but after i read the books, and then replayed the witcher 3, and got to this part? geralt, would you want to be a witcher? there was only one answer in my (geralt's) heart - NO! god, please no... being a witcher canonically sucks, but the witcher 3 does such a good job at being fun that it makes you forget how terrible of a life it is. it's a game, it's not intended to feel real... but the books tell a very realistic story.

ciri in the witcher 3 is not so much a justified in her rage, fallen from grace, vengeful and spiteful victim, as she is... a spunky girl on the run from some baddies. don't get me wrong, she suffers much loss over the course of the game... but she suffers nowhere near as much as ciri in the books and has nothing to grow from or react to.

one such example is of her scar, her iconic scar. (well, first off, it's not even really in the right place in vanilla tw3...) ciri's scar in the books is the epitome of her loss of childhood, the horror and pain of it, and the later shame of it and need to conceal her trauma. she's marred, she thinks the scar is ugly, and she cries when she sees her reflection. she weeps for the death of her childhood. the unscarred child who she'll never be again. ... whereas witcher 3 ciri... uhhh... "avallac'h made me some ointments to make it better :D!" good for her...! the scar for her has little impact and little depth, unlike stefan skellen's orion, but much like she has on us as the audience.

it doesn't help that she's not the main character of the game, unlike in the books, where so much in the later saga is told from her point of view. game ciri simply doesn't get the screentime or narrative importance to be the center of attention. i mean, the part of the witcher 3 that always makes me cry is the isle of mists quest, where she finally is the center of attention and the themes of the books come in - the loss, the grief, the reunion... they play the scene from something more, to make a point...

so because of this, ciri in the witcher 3... is kind of bland. she does what the player wants, because the player's decisions are her. she, like many video game characters, lacks agency of her own (when compared to a character from a book) because her writing is dependant on the player. i'm not trying to hate on witcher 3 ciri, i think i'm being objective - but what does ciri in the witcher 3 have to learn from, what hard lessons does she encounter, what suffering does she endure, what is she wrong about and how does she suffer for her mistakes and imperfections?

it has been a while since i played the game's main quest, forgive me, but i can't remember any significant storybeats that ultimately defined her character asides from vesemir's death, maybe fighting the crones, and entering the tower at the end. and i still can't really picture what she learned from these storybeats, other than it being emotional and having to deal with a difficulty and move on. she doesn't change, and that's what makes her less of a character with agency and more of a static object that geralt and yennefer are tracking down. (i also don't wish to explain these differences away with "well, she's older, since the games take place later..." characters should not get more boring with age or timeskips)

witcher 3 ciri's personality is mild compared to books ciri. yes, she has her emotional moments, is a daredevil and sure of herself, but has none of that terrible teenage rage that books ciri carries, that determination and frightening bloodthirst, as well as her ultimate vulnerability, sorrow, grief, and childlike tendencies. books ciri has flaws, human imperfections, is sure of herself to the point of arrogance, feeling deserved, being hot-tempered, and she suffers for all of it. witcher 3 ciri... certainly... has a sword!

can y'all send some asks that are like “thoughts on __” (ask meme)

#ask #anon #the witcher books #analysis #c: ciri #the witcher games #ask memes

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