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ultralightpoe · 5 months

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Spellbound Part 3- Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Y'ALL I AM SO SORRY! I thought I scheduled it and I do monthly breaks from all social media! Omg I really screwed y'all over! I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY. How can I make it up birdies?

Word Count: 3093

Description: Part One and Part Two

Warnings: Heavy smuttt y'all

Enjoy!

Before Geralt had lost his entire life he was told as a child that there was always a beginning, middle and end. And though most people always thought that this merely pertained to stories his parents always told him that they belonged to humans too.

Every human had a beginning, middle and end.

Every monster had a beginning.

Every Saint had a beginning.

But none of them mattered right now, because all Geralt could think of right now was you. Your beginning, middle and end. He wanted to know more of your story more than he ever had before.

You had both settled down at a rundown inn, him covering his hair and you covering the bruises someone had left on your neck. The innkeeper, a straggly old lady that could barely turn to grab the key to the rooms, barely cast either of you a glance.

You kept close to him as you both made your way up the stairs, and Geralt was embarrassed to admit that a surge of pride crossed through him at this. You seek his warmth and protection, and he would give it. He would give you anything you wanted.

Yennifer had left as soon as she could, saying that she would be going to find Jaskier and letting him know they found you.

Geralt would keep you with him in the inn, per Jaskiers request. The bard pretends to worry about you with all the traveling, claiming that it would be best if he came to the two of you. Geralt saw the lie, he just could not give a shit.

Instead he started a fire, setting you in front of it and mumbling that he would be right back. You snatch to grab his upper arm when he moves to leave, but he merely nods, letting you know it is okay to let go. So you do, swiping your fingers under your eyes quickly, but it was too late and he had already seen the tears.

He makes the trip quick, buying you warmer clothes and heading back and ordering some hot stew from the innkeeper, heading back to the room when she tells him she will bring it.

You are right where he left you when he comes back in, this time a little closer to the fire and curled up a little tighter. Geralt, who had always struggled to sneak around, tried to lighten his footsteps as he neared you.

“I brought some fresh clothes. How about a bath and a change?” He asks, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but he does his best to keep it gentle.

You shake your head, the slightest of movement that somehow managed to clench his heart in his chest. “I’m too tired.”

“Allow me.” He whispers, holding out his hand for you.

“Allow you?”

“To bathe you.”

“You would do that?” You smile, the beginning of a laugh climbing up your throat at the thought.

“It would be my honor.” His tone makes it sound like he is teasing, but there is nothing but seriousness behind that comment.

“You won’t jest?”

“Never.”

And at the simple touch of your fingers reaching up to his own has his skin on fire, shaking slightly as he helps your stand, shuffling to the bathroom and leading you to the center of the room and turning to heat the bottom of the tub with fire as he waits for you to get undressed

But when he turns back to you he finds you waiting patiently, still in the gaudy thin dress, watching slowly.

You seem fazed out now, eyes shuttering as you reach to him and begin untying his own shirt. A moment of startlement crosses him before he reaches a hand up and stops you by grasping your own in his larger palms. He rubs softly as he tries to relax you, shaking his head.

“Not me. You.”

“You, with me.”

“I do not want to-”

“I don’t wanna be exposed alone.” It’s then that Geralt knows what you mean. You don’t want to be the only one naked and vulnerable. So he would join you. Anything for you.

He turns to undress as you undress yourself, and once he hears you get into the tub he turns himself, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you.

Your breasts are just barely covered by the water, and within that moment you managed to tie your hair up with a leather scrap, exposing the bruised neck and collarbone . In this moment you looked broken, and still astonishingly beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

He takes a moment to climb in, and suddenly he feels the stress from the last few months beginning to fade from his body as he nears you, sitting across from you knee to knee.

Silence fills the room, and Geralt stresses to find something to say as you lean forward to rest your forehead on his knee.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair.” He whispers, allowing you room to do so and beginning to work on your hair with the soap. “My parents used to tell me stories.”

“About kings and dragonslayers?”

“No, about monsters.”

“How so?”

“They used to tell me that the saints and the monsters of the world all had stories of their own, that everyone you come across has a beginning, middle and end.”

You turn slightly to watch him, and he does his best to seem relaxed.

“I spent most of my time stressed in impressing and protecting you.” He whispers. “I was gruff, which I do with most people. Keeping you and everyone else at arm's length.”

“I’m trying to see how this relates, witcher.”

“I want to know your story, I want to know your beginning and middle and I am desperate to be with you until the end.”

“Why would you want to know all of that?”

“I have found that, even with you mad at me, that I am nothing in this world without you.”

“I will tell you everything if you tell me everything.”

—------------

You fall asleep listening to him whisper the same stories his parents once told you, rubbing your hair softly as you keep your nose shoved into his chest.

You awake around midnight screaming, it takes Gerat a couple minutes to calm you down before he moves to start another fire, bringing you closer to it for warmth and letting you lay in front of it.

The days follow as this, staying by the fire in the cold winter air, whispering back and forth. Eating the stew and roasts the innkeeper made.

You tell him about your life, and he tells you about yours.

Finally you ask.

“Shouldn’t you be out there? Working for the people?” Your head is laid out on his thigh as he watches the snow fall from the window. “I have never known you to sit still, Geralt.”

His heart lurches at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I have spent the past few weeks working…..for you.”

“What do you mean?” You ask quickly, lifting your head from his thigh, eyes traveling his scarred abdomen before landing to his eyes.

“I was trying to buy out the contract. For you?”

“Why would you do that? How much money did that end up being?”

“Not enough. It seems that the monster of a brothel keeper and I can agree on one thing, you are priceless.”

“Then how-”

“Yennifer smuggled you out-”

“Then what of the coin?”

“It’s yours. It’s all yours if you want it. Enough to buy a cottage in the hillside for years and-”

“And what if I wanted to stay with you? And Jaskier? Or do you not want me?”

“There is nothing more that I want than you. But I treated you horribly-”

You snap to stand then, hair flipping as you stomp across the room to fling a pillow at him. “How so?”

“That night, you were under a spell and I was so close to absolutely defiling you-”

“I wanted it! If you weren’t so pigheaded you would know that those charms only work if the one wearing it is-”

“Stop.” There was a heavy force in the room, pressing through his chest to his lungs as he tried to catch his breath.

“Stop what?”

“This will ruin everything-”

“How. So.”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” He yells, rubbing at his forehead. “I would rather not have you than lose you. Do you understand?”

“Do you love me?”

“Y-”

“Do you love me as I love you?”

“Yes.” And just like that the tight feeling in his gut that formed the moment he had laid eyes on you. His body was lighter and his heart felt like it was righted once more. “I love you.”

“Then what does it matter?”

“You’ve….. You have had a long couple m-”

“I want you.” You whisper, slowly tiptoeing around the room. “I trust no one but you. No one has given me the truth more, and protected me more.”

“I was cruel and-”

“I understand now.” You smile, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve seen terrible terrible men-”

His fists clench at his sides, the urge to find every man that harmed you and smash their heads with a hammer, as he watches you move closer until your own hands find purchase on his chest.

The warmth fills him the second you touch him.

“But you, in all your gruff warnings and rude awakenings, have never been a bad man.”

“You deserve better.”

“I am a brothel worker. I deserve nothing. But this is not what I deserve, this is what I want. Desperately so.”

“You want me?”

“I need you, Geralt.”

His hands unclench, moving up until they rest at your cheeks as he gazes down at you. “I need you too.”

“Then show me.” It’s a simple whisper, but one he hears through his being all the same, moving you backwards slowly until the back of your knees are pressed to the bed. He waits for you to show him a sign of fear or that you changed your mind. But you merely smile up at him, fingers moving to slide over the scars on his abdomen.

“I trust you.” You whisper, the tips of your fingers sliding against his skin until they get to the breaches he wears and begin untying them.

“After what you have been through…”

“I want you to remind me of what it could be.” And he can’t help himself after that, moving to grab the bottoms of the night dress, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers graze your thighs while he lifts it up slowly, his heart hammering in his chest as you smile softly, allowing him to stand once more and remove the dress from you.

You allow him to watch you, the wild look in his eyes as he traces your skin slowly.

“You’ll tell me the second you change your mind?”

“The very instant.” It was like a cord snapping, a leash let go and suddenly Geralt could not help himself. In one quick swoop he reaches to toss you onto the bed, watching you with dark eyes while you scooch backwards to get comfortable.

He prowls above you, enjoying the excited gleam in your eye as he crawls between your legs to kiss at your lips softly, then the softness turns to hunger as his hand grabs your jaw and he devours you. Kissing you like a man completely starved of it.

A soft moan falls from your lips and he is nearly a goner, his breath lost as he pulls back to admire his work, a string of saliva keeping you both connected as you take a moment to open your eyes, lips swollen and red. He holds out his hand, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath before he orders you to “Spit.”

You comply easily, and he stops himself from growling in pleasure before he takes his hand and slaps your cunt harshly, a smile tearing across his face when you moan out before he is crawling back down the bed to shove his face between your legs roughly and lick a stripe between your folds.

The moment your thighs tighten around his head he vows that he will spend the rest of his life doing this, no matter where and no matter when. He would suffocate in this spot if you would let him. A low growl releases from his chest as you moan, fingers lacing themselves in his hair tightly and tugging as he laps at your clit.

Over and over, feeling you spasm with pleasure twice before you use your hands and tug him up by his hair, whining.

He drags his eyes up to you then, seeing the tears from pleasure streaming down your cheeks as he kneels in front of you on the bed.

“Are you hurt?” Even if he had the carnal urge to take you right here and now your safety and well being came first and foremost. You seem to realize this as you move up and reach to wrap your arms around his neck, his hands flying to your sides to help stabilize you. Rubbing softly as he peers down at you, him being twice your size.

Just the thought of it makes his stomach clench in anticipation as you lean up to kiss him, allowing him to lean you both back down onto the bed and lay over you, picking up the kiss just as hungrily.

He only pulls away from your kiss to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you reach down to line him up. He has to close his eyes and take in a shuddering breath the second you touch him and it takes everything not to finish there.

But it is all worth it as he pushes in, a growl once again ripping out of his chest as you moan out, foreheads pressed together as he pushes until he is bottomed out.

“So….. fuck.”

“Neverstop.” You whine, pressing your chest up into his with your eyes still closed. But that just wouldn’t do. How could he admire your fucked out look if he didn’t have your undivided attention. So he pulls your hair and orders you to open your eyes.

You don’t listen, instead moving your hips to gain some friction so he shoves his own hips down to keep you pinned into place as he orders one more. “Let. Me. See. Your. Fucking. Eyes.”

When you finally open them he begins moving, a slow pace at first, allowing you to gain pleasure slowly but the second he feels the tightness loosen up and you get wetter he is unleashed, pounding into you at a heavy pace.

The headboard hits the wall with each hit, and your face is thrown into one of pure pleasure as he keeps going. And Geralt cannot think of anything he has ever done to deserve this.

He would never actually deserve this, but he was so grateful that you had given him a chance, because this is what pure heaven was.

“You’re mine.” He grunts out, one fist tightening in your hair as he kisses down your throat, thrusting into you at a rapid pace as your hands fly to scratch down his back in a way that has him holding his breath to stop from finishing.

“I’m yours.” You moan out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m never letting y- FUCK- you leave again.”

“I’ll never leave again.”

“I’ll kill any man that touches you.”

“No one else.” You cry out, and he feels you tighten around him once more and knows you’re close so he reaches a hand and pinches at your nipple harshly. “Only you Geralt. My Geralt!” You come undone around him, eyes rolling back as he keeps you pressed to his chest and finishes inside you, keeping you as close as he can while letting you both ride out your highs.

By the time you both finish he lays you both down, his head laying on your chest with him laying between your legs as you play with your hair.

“I love you…..” You whisper, twirling some of his hair softly.

“I love you.” He replies, moving until his chin is laying on your stomach and he can look up at you. “And I will never let you forget that.”

—-------------

You are awakened by a boot pressing into your cheek as you grumble out and move to push it away.

“Geralt I swear-” But when you open your eyes you see none other than Jaskier with a cheeky little grin over his face as he stares down at you, a mug of what smells like cider in his hand.

“Not your lover, but your closest friend.”

“Roach wears boots now?” You laugh, moving to stretch as he rolls his eyes. It had been months since you escaped the brothel, and since everything has changed. Jaskier seems more clingy than ever which was something you only pretended to hate, and Geralt has gone from the stoic asshole to the stoic love of your life…… well in public.

Behind closed doors he spent most of his time worshiping you.

“Where is he?” You ask after surveying to find him.

“He took little one to get some water.”

Another thing that had changed, the young girl that you had smuggled out of a brothel months ago, who has slowly become like a daughter to you, well youngest daughter since you considered Ciri your daughter as well.

“We’re here!” Y/d calls, her pudgy hand held in Geralts as he leads the girls back, Ciri with a small smile on her face while Y/d rushes to you. “We got water!”

“And Geralt says we have to be off.” Ciri sighs, leaning forward to accept your loving touch as you fuss over her hair.

“Let’s get on the horses.” Your lover grunts, lifting y/d from under her shoulders and setting her on roach, moving to help Ciri before getting to you. A hand finds purchase on your thigh as you lift yourself onto your horse, smiling down at him.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“While you look like that? How will I ever break the love spell?”

“Guess your spellbound then.”

“Always have been.” He kisses your thigh while Jaskier is turned before turning to his own horse and jumping on, making sure y/d is comfortable before moving on.

(I AM SO SORRY, I REALLY THOUGHT I SCHEDULED IT BABES. How can I make it up? I'll do anything.....)

@sagelovesreading

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mvncesa · 2 years

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never forget that julian is canonically married in at least one verse

#( tell me to stop posting ; ooc. )#this makes it sound like it isn’t to a muse my friend writes #the fact that anyone looked at this little dumbass and went ‘yes. that one.’ like ?? are you okay ??#also the fact that he’s married to kat’s geralt … iconic … how did he manage it ??#all I know is he’s so smug about it all the time

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lassieposting · 1 year

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Okay so

In the last ep of S2, we see Jaskier asleep in a room at Kaer Morhen. There are three interesting details about this scene.

The room actually looks somewhat lived-in compared to the empty, spiderweb-ridden rooms Ciri explores in an earlier episode. Jaskier hasn't been at Kaer Morhen long enough to have a lived-in guest room.

When Yennefer gets him out of bed, we see him grab his coat, which is lying next to a mostly-empty bottle of booze. He also asks Yen if she's making a hangover cure, because he feels like shit. He wasn't drunk when Geralt asked him to take Ciri home, so we know that his first night at Kaer Morhen, he got white girl wasted.

He's mostly dressed in bed. Like, he's still got his boots on, even. The only thing he seems to have taken off is his coat. But he's not shivering or curled up like he's very cold. He seems quite comfy.

This makes me think five things.

Jask met Geralt's family for the first time and promptly got blitzed with them. That's why he's the only one in the keep with a hangover - they can't get drunk on his booze.

What do Jaskier and the Witchers have in common to talk about? Well, Geralt, of course. Not only do Vesemir and the boys get a detailed rundown of every amusing anecdote Jask has from his 20+ years travelling with Geralt (along with a heaped helping of Poetic Drunken Yearning - gods, where did Geralt get this walking bag of feelings?), but Jask also gets treated to Every Embarrassing Thing Baby!Geralt Ever Did.

The room looks lived-in because it's Geralt's. Everyone was too busy drinking and spilling tea to think about making up a guest room for the bard. So when Jaskier finally passes the fuck out, and Vesemir tells Lambert to find him a bed to sleep it off in, Lambert goes "Eh, close enough" and sticks him in Geralt's. Geralt's twink. Geralt's problem.

This is also why Jaskier is still almost totally dressed, boots and all. Lambert is so not going there: he's a Witcher, not a nanny or a nurse. He drops Jask on the bed, flings a blanket over him and calls it a day.

At some point post-S2, Geralt is going to wake up in a cold sweat at like 3am and realise that leaving his bard unattended with his family was a Terrible Idea and they definitely swapped stories and he's not going to hear the end of it from anyone for a really long time

#the witcher #the witcher headcanons #jaskier #geraskier #thats my theory and im sticking to it

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tielmamon · 3 months

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Geralt meets up with Jaskier at the marketplace only to find him unusually flustered by some merchant he's talking to. Strange, usually its the other way around. Rolling his eyes at another possible angry spouse situation, Geralt stalks his way towards them.

He couldn't really tell you why exactly he's more irritated now- when Jaskier is the one stuttering and blushing under the charms of this fucking nobody- and so he pointedly ignores the little twinge he feels in his chest .

The merchant stands to casually roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and smiling wider when Jaskier knocks his lutecase against the stall, thoroughly distracted.

With a low growl he didn't realize he was doing, Geralt lays a hand on Jaskier's shoulder once he's close enough. The bard squeaks, turning to Geralt and flushes a deeper shade of red.

"G-Geralt! I didn't hear you, my friend." The bard smiles, but his eyes are slightly frantic.

"Is everything alright?" He asks and before his bard could answer-

"Everything just fine, my good witcher! Was just asking Master Jaskier here to tell me a few stories of his travels." Geralt turns, eye twitching slightly at the interruption. He finally gets a good look at the fucker who seems to have his bard in a blushing mess. Dark wavy hair, strong build, piercing blue eyes, strong jaw and dimples as he smiles.

Nothing they hasn't seen before. Daresay, Geralt might even guess that this man- no, this boy was downright boring to look at, compared to all the other colorful people Jaskier surrounds himself with. Still, the child continues.

"I was just wondering if he had the time to tell me a few over dinner-"

"He's busy."

"Oh, well maybe at breakfas-"

"We leave at dawn."

A tense silence settles between the three. Jaskier's eyes widen upon reading Geralt's attitude. His witcher was thoroughly annoyed. Why? He's not so sure yet but with the snarl on his face and the clenching fists, Jaskier figures it's probably best if they leave now.

"Okay I think it's about time we settle back at the inn, wouldn't you say, Geralt? Right." He doesn't wait for a response, instead snaking his hand around Geralt's arm and tugging hard.

"Henry! Wonderful meeting you, of course. Thank you for your lovely company this afternoon but I'm afraid we have a contract bright and early tomorrow so we really must go. Goodbye!" Jaskier watches the young man startle from his frozen state to a disappointed look as they walk away. Jaskier is reminded of a kicked puppy.

Once they were a safe distance away, the bard turns to ask what the hell was all that about when he realizes that Geralt was straining his neck looking back at the man, eyes narrowed with one of those scowls Jaskier sees him use on people who think its a good idea to touch Roach, or one of his bags, or apparently now Jaskier himself.

"Will you stop that??" The bard all but smacks Geralt's face forward to stop him. The witcher, ever stubborn resists and only relents when he feels a palm cup his cheek to face him.

"What the fuck had you so enamored with him?" Geralt grumbles, like a grump. Jask stops them and shoots him a confused look.

"You don't see it?" He cryptically says, which only confuses Geralt as well.

"See what?" A beat of silence before Jaskier huffs an amused laugh and drags them into the inn, arms linked.

"Nevermind." Jaskier smiles.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geraskier headcanon #something stupid #geralt got a doppleganger #but he's an idiot #fanfic

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

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Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

__________________________________

“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh.

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

“Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it.

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away.

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body.

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.”

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation.

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze.

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you.

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run.

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.”

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet.

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything.

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were. “Hey, Geralt? I love you…”

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

#geralt knows how to please you lol #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #The witcher 3 #tw3 geralt #hurt/comfort #geralt fluff #Geralt hurt/comfort

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deandoesthingstome · 6 months

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Back to Reality - A Final Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter x Reader

Summary: Go get your wolf, girl!

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v (missionary), fingering, monster fucking (right?).

A/N: A little angst never hurt anyone, right? It'll all be okay. I swear. I wanted to get this out the day after Geralt, but life. At any rate, I think this is it for now. A real nice end to spoopy season with Walter.

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

“Hi.”

He wasn’t right there when you turned from the counter after picking up your coffee, but he was standing close enough that there was no mistaking who he was greeting. Had he been any closer, you probably would have sloshed your latte all over his chunky, dark blue sweater and you were glad you stopped short when you saw him. You didn’t think he’d want to smell like pumpkin spice the rest of the day.

“Hi yourself,” you smiled, a little shyly.

When you asked at the front desk if they really meant anything, and then again if they could get a message to Walter, you had no idea he’d show up at your regular coffee shop the very same day. As in the day after the night you'd just been with another man. It wasn’t as awkward as you’d thought it might be, but it wasn’t exactly relaxed either.

You'd been dreaming of this moment, but now embarrassment began to creep in and you wondered if you'd made a mistake. Several of them. Four to be exact.

"Would you like to sit and talk with me?"

The urge to sink right to the floor in front of him was hard to resist but you were still at a coffee shop and people were lined up to grab their to-go orders so you found an empty table in a secluded corner and sat yourself down across from him.

His eyes were melancholy and you imagined they matched the lonely howl from your night with August. There was no mistaking it and you wanted to wipe the sorrow from his face but how could you? You were likely the cause and he was probably just here to tell you to forget it as a courtesy since you'd stupidly put your business on blast at the front desk. Fuck.

"You alright over there? You look a million miles away. You sure you're okay to talk with me?"

You took a deep breath and let it rush out.

"It's really nice of you to do this in person. A lot of guys would just not call."

"Not call? What are you...? What do you think is happening here?"

"I mean, you came to tell me to back off, right? Like, you're flattered and all, but you wouldn't, couldn't be with me after everyone I've been with. I mean, you worked with those guys."

"So you know I don't work there anymore. That was the first thing I wanted to say, so good. That's out of the way."

Why would he want you to know that? Maybe so you knew you could keep going back to the hotel and not have to worry about running into him? He continued.

"But why on earth do you think I'm here to tell you to back off?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow at you.

It was as if all the air was suddenly knocked out of you and it was all you could do to gather your wits to answer him.

"Well, I just thought...I mean, you can't possibly want someone who..."

"What? Someone who isn't afraid to go after what she wants?" Now both eyebrows raised.

"Walter. You can't mean that. You...I'm sorry but you don't look like someone who's super excited about the prospect."

He paused.

"I know I look tired. I am tired. I've been up nights trying to figure this out. But, look, my exhaustion is also not all about this. I left the hotel for a few reasons. One was you, but maybe not why you think."

"Well, why did you?"

"It's not ‘cause I fell hard, though I did. And you might think that made it difficult to keep hosting, and you'd be right. But honestly I got torn. Torn between knowing you were having the time of your life, which you absolutely deserve to do, and dealing with the taunting."

"Taunting?"

"Some of the guys figured out how I felt, and one of them started giving me shit about it. Betting me he could steal you from me if you ever made it to his room, not that you were even mine to begin with. And, yeah, feeling the way I do made it harder and harder to host properly so I made a decision."

"You left."

"I left."

You thought back to your night with August and now you knew for certain he was referring to Walter. And after what Geralt had said, you wondered why August gave you an option to shut him out. It sounded like August wanted Walt to see, to know you were being satisfied by another man. You could understand how that must have felt. You had jealous thoughts, too, when you found all Walt’s time slots had been booked. Imagining him with other women, well, it wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world either. And yet, Walter indicated there were other reasons he left.

"But that's not all?"

"I was also studying part time and between all the bookings, I was falling farther and farther behind. I had to stay up late to finish assignments and I had an important test coming, so I quit to focus on that because I never wanted to host forever, but once you came along, I never wanted to do it again."

You were speechless. Awestruck. If anyone had told you that Walter felt the same way about you from the get go, as you found yourself feeling about him after weeks of experiences, you would have said they were crazy. And yet, here he was, spilling his guts. He gave it all up without even knowing if he had a shot with you.

"And you don't care I went back? To other rooms?"

Walter looked around the coffee shop, then turned and spoke cautiously to you.

“Can we…? Look, I know we don’t really know each other, and if you want to do this in a public place, I get it. But could we at least take a walk? I feel like everyone’s looking at us and I can’t think straight.”

This man was flustered and you were, too. Confused by all the feelings and emotions and confessions. Plus, what did you really know about Walter anyway?

“I’m going to text some friends and let them know where I am and who I’m with. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. We’ll just head across the way to the park, okay?”

“I’ll be right out.”

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning sendmeanangel: we’re having coffee and talking in the park across from a place called The Runcible Spoon. sendmeanangel: I’ll text again in an hour so don’t expect any replies until then

Then you shut off your phone and headed out to meet Walter.

MNstrluvr: Ohmygodddd! darkgothnightengale: it’s all happening!!! Where are you now? darkgothnightengale: hello??? I know it’s only been 20 minutes but how can you not have just admitted your feelings and jumped his bones by now? Give us all the details!

You found him on a park bench and sat, one leg drawn up with a foot tucked under your other knee so you could turn to face him while you talked. You wanted him to reach out and touch you as well, run his hand over your arm while you talked, but maybe you weren’t there yet. Maybe that would be awkward.

He took a deep breath and began.

"As to your question from before: I can't lie and say I don't care or wish I'd told you that very night how I thought I was feeling, but I thought it was way too soon to trust those feelings. And since you didn't know, and we weren't together, how could I expect you to just not do what you wanted? That's something else that's kept me up at night. Thinking about how to reconcile my feelings about you with both our pasts.”

Walt went on to tell you how much your night together had affected him. How he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He apologized for the locker room talk. He knew Sy had mentioned it and he felt miserable about it. It was just something they did, share notes in case a guest came back around so they could make sure to work any of their favorite things into the stay. They weren’t usually so personal with the comments, but he’d gotten carried away.

August had been particularly prickish about it, especially when it became clear how uncomfortable talking about the guests was making Walter, even going so far as to taunt Walter with the exact date and time of your reservation in his room. He’d given notice the next day.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You quit your job over me. Well, sorta. What are you going to do now?”

“I was already working towards my private investigator license. Ironic, huh? A PI and I couldn’t find the one person I really wanted. I asked the hotel, but they were not interested in breaking protocol or the privacy agreement. And until I got the call this morning, I thought I wasn’t on the best of terms with them anyway. I think I left them kinda high and dry. But the desk agent is a friend.”

“Yeah, Geralt mentioned something…” you trailed off, embarrassed to be bringing up your latest conquest.

“Who’s Geralt?” Of course he didn’t know.

“He’s a new host at the hotel,” you answered sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Walter looked away for a moment. “Of course.”

“Walter, I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings.”

“By going back there?” he turned to you again. “How could you know I had feelings to hurt?”

“Well, I knew I had feelings that hurt.”

He stared at you in disbelief as you continued.

“I thought about you almost every day after our night together. I kept going back to different rooms, because I’d had such a good time and I wanted to see what else was out there. And look, I did have good times. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“I hosted other guests after you. I can’t really say anything about it, can I?”

“Right. Okay, well. The more time that went by, the more hosts I met and experiences I had, the more I knew I only wanted you. And then I couldn’t find you.”

“Find me?”

“I tried to re-book your room for weeks. You were always full.”

“You tried… What?”

“I know it’s probably super odd for me to keep going back there the way I have been, and then admit that I also wanted to come back to your room. But it’s true. That’s what’s been happening.”

“I guess the only thing I can say to that is I’m flattered. And then to let you know that if you still feel that way, I’d love to take you out tonight. I’d love to stop talking about all this time we’ve lost and maybe see if we can move forward. Because it took me a while but I realize it doesn't matter either way. Whether you went back or not. You are your own person. You're allowed to experience life the way you want to. I'm just here hoping you want to experience it with me again."

sendmeanangel: okay, i’m back and still alive, but i need a shower. Gimme another hour. I’ll fill you in I swear! MNstrluvr: meana, where are you????? Did you already fuck him???

sendmeanangel: oh my god you guys are insane. It’s only been 45 minutes MNstrluvr: you can’t just drop that and run. You had to have to known we’d need more sooner sendmeanangel: i think i’m allowed to gather all the intel before i share it with you lol darkgothnightengale: you got your intel and then bailed for a shower! Boo! MNstrluvr: so what’s happening? Why are you stalling like this??? sendmeanangel: he’s taking me out on a real, honest-to-goodness date tonight MNstrluvr: YES!!! Where are you going? sendmeanangel: dinner and then a moonlight walk darkgothnightengale: isn’t it a full moon tonight? sendmeanangel: yep ;) MNstrluvr: you are so getting fucked outdoors!! sendmeanangel: Wait someone's at the door. I think it’s my lunch. Hold on. MNstrluvr: send them away and come back to finish this talk!!!

"Walt? What're you...?" you spoke with surprise, thinking he wouldn't be here to pick you up for dinner for another five hours at least. It had only been one since you gave him your address and left him at the park, floating home on cloud nine. Now he stood in front of you, a bag of food in his hand.

"I couldn't wait any longer. I had to just...can I...?" Walter dropped the bag and made a motion, hands out in something like a plea, knee beginning to bend with something like reverence. Nothing you understood until you nodded your head.

He stepped forward then, into your space, your tiny studio apartment that until now was always just fine for your needs but suddenly seemed three sizes too small for the man who was bending to kiss you and wrap his arms around your thighs, urging you to encircle his waist with your legs as he moved to kick the door closed behind him.

Your fingers tangled in his gorgeous locks as you relished the feel of his lips on yours once more. You'd only experienced that two times with Walter at the hotel, and the urgency of only one of those came even close to the feel of this one, and you suddenly wondered if he'd held something back when he kissed you goodbye back then. The euphoria blinded you to any other movement until you felt your body peeled from his and deposited on your sofa. And not that you minded couch sex, as previously confirmed with Mike, nor were you assured in the moment that couch sex was the end goal, but you wondered briefly when you'd have a moment to help him unfold the futon, since your studio only had enough room for a convertible bed.

For now, Walter simply slipped down to the floor and settled between your thighs, braced his arms tightly against your hips, caressed the bare skin between your shirt and pants with his rough hands, and nuzzled his face into your stomach. You held him close, hands still shifting through his curls and you could swear you heard a whimper, but whether from you or him it didn't seem to matter.

For a few beats, it was just this sweet. A man on his knees before you, somehow awed by your presence and content to be pressed against you, to feel you hold him close. And then it was more. Then it was his mouth, covering a clothed breast with warmth, teeth nipping at the flesh through your shirt, his tongue leaving saliva on the fabric so that it clung to your erect nipple protruding proudly regardless of your bra and top in the way.

When he noticed you staring down, as if surprised by your body’s own response, he simply smirked and moved his attention to the other side. When he tired of the barrier, he slipped his hands up your back under your shirt to unhook your bra, then lifted both articles of clothing up your body and pulled them off your arms, before returning his attention back to your chest and his hands to your hips.

Heat was building, and along with it, an urge to roll up into him. When he felt the movements of your hips, he drew a hand over one thigh to cup it against your clothed sex as he peeled his head back to gaze up at you.

"Just as eager as I am," he grinned. "I like that."

"Please, Walter," you begged, though for what exactly you weren't sure.

"I got you," he emphasized with a firm press of the heel of his palm, dragging it up and over your increasingly sensitive nub to hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. At your approval, he removed them and settled back between your legs, though he nuzzled a little lower than before.

He dragged you down, pulling your ass off the edge of the futon so he had a clear path to his objective. You expected him to dive right in, hoping he remembered what he already learned from before, and then he spoke and your mind exploded.

"Such a delightful sight," he said, tracing down the crease of one thigh and up the other with a finger you desperately wanted him to dip inside you. And he could tell. "She's so eager, positively dripping, isn't she?" He squeezed an inside thigh, then nipped and licked the other before speaking again.

"Yes, Walter. Please," you gasped, already anticipating the sensations he was going to create for you. You shuddered and bucked involuntarily at his low chuckle, putting your pussy directly against his lips and he didn't try to resist any longer.

His hunger was apparent, and it matched the desire building in you. He lapped eagerly, licked and sucked with need, tongued expertly at all the spots he already knew were favorites and then he found a few more, too. You tried to hold onto a fleeting thought about his technique before it drifted into the air above you as you found your fingers back in his hair, clutching and pulling him close to your core. Walter feasted like there was no tomorrow and you closed your eyes with the knowledge you were going to have as many tomorrows with this man as you wanted.

When you came it was with the cry of his name on your lips. He crawled up off the floor to settle on the futon beside you, scooping you onto his lap and hugging you close to help steady you.

He placed kisses on your forehead and spoke words into the consciousness you struggled to maintain as your chest heaved. "Shh, I got you. You're good. So good. So beautiful."

"Walter, that was..., jesus..., fuck...," you stammered, barely able to control your thoughts and you wished you could have sunk into the ground below you when you heard the next words out of your mouth. "Did Sy give you pointers?"

Walter's immediate laugh was hearty and heartwarming, dispelling the thoughts you had that you deserved to be tossed across the room for even daring to bring it up.

"I've always known clients prefer him for that over any of the rest of us. I took him out for beers one night and I may have begged for a trick or five. Sy's a good guy and he thought you deserved it, though I'm sure he never would have agreed if he thought I was coming back to the hotel." Walt bent to capture your lips and when he was done kissing you hard and deep, he spoke again. "I do, too. Think you deserve it."

"What about you?" you asked, aware now of a hardness pressing against your flesh through his pants. "Don't you deserve more, too?"

You wiggled off his lap and stood, hand out to urge him up. You swallowed hard as he towered over you, eyes full of desire and lust.

"I deserve whatever you're willing to give me."

"I'll give you everything, Walt," you admitted, fingers already working the buckle of his belt and buttons of his pants.

His lips crashed to yours as soon as he tossed his sweater to the floor and he held you entranced with his tongue even after you dropped his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. It was just a low growl but the sound from the back of his throat was enough to send a wave of slick down your thigh as you clenched around the space where you most desired him to be.

"Fuck, Walter," you gasped into his mouth and begged. "Fuck me, please."

It was a mad dash to remove his boots so he could discard his pants, though not before he grabbed the made-just-for-him condoms from the pocket, and then unfold the futon for a larger surface area on which he could move you around and manipulate your passion. It was no plush cabin bed, but it would have to do.

"Fuck, I wanted this outside tonight," he admitted, staring at you as he rutted into your core with abandon.

"It's a full moon tonight," you noted, as if he wouldn’t already know that.

"I still wanna fuck you under it," he growled, staring deep into your eyes.

You were losing control, falling up through space and time as you felt every inch of him against every inch of you and it still wasn't enough. You couldn't stop your eyes from closing as you begged him for more.

"Hey," he called, lifting your leg around his waist and when you opened your eyes you saw him smile as you wrapped your other leg the same way without prodding from him. You were mesmerized by the motion of his hips and barely caught the glint, a hint of change to amber, but you did.

“No!” He stilled immediately but you held on as he tried to withdraw from you. “No, stay with me, here just like this. We can do that again, later, whenever. Just,” you drew a hand to cup his face, “please. Like this. Like you. Just you.” You kissed him deep and rolled your hips to spur him on again.

You were prepared to feel less full, less fucked, though not by much, with Walter in human form. You were not prepared for the way he fucked you to feel just as animalistic as the monster. His assault was merciless, even as he grunted in your ear all the ways he was going to make you his. How he planned to take you softly in the moonlight so you’d know it didn’t matter what form he was in, you could have him any way you wanted.

When you finally came apart for him, he let loose with a loud growl and you were sure your neighbors were gonna call the landlord any minute. He hurried back to your side after disposing of the spent condom, curling around you and melting you in his warmth.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” he asked. “I still wanna take you to dinner, but I’d love to just stay here with you for awhile. If that’s okay?”

You were about to answer him, but your returning senses also meant you could hear the buzzing vibrations of notifications on your phone. Shit!

“Uh, no. I don’t have to be anywhere. Maybe you could grab that bag you left outside and we can see what else I can scrounge up for us to eat right now?”

You grabbed your phone as he peeled open the door, careful to tuck himself behind it as he grabbed for the food, lest a neighbor get a view they didn’t pay for.

sendmeanangel: okay look. He’s here. Right now. Can’t talk. All good. MMNstrluvr: MEANA!!! darkgothnightengale: GIRL YOU BETTER SPILL SOON!

You found some chips and salsa and split your sandwich with Walt, not that it looked like nearly enough food to tide him over till dinner. But he didn’t seem to mind. The next few hours flew by as you both sought to learn as much about each other as you could as soon as possible.

He explained that the special skill he had only worked within the confines of a vortex, over which the hotel had been built. It’s why he couldn’t bend time to allow him to study and work and wonder about you without losing sleep somewhere along the way.

After a shower, and some shower head, and then another shower, Walter asked if he could take you somewhere special for dinner. Somewhere not in town. He let you send GPS coordinates to your online friends with the promise they wouldn’t send you any details of the location. He wanted it to be a surprise for you. They were only to use it if you didn’t check in after dinner and again in the morning and once more when you were back at your apartment.

The sun was just sinking low with a burst of evening color when Walt pulled up to the lakeside cabin. He helped you out of his truck, then grabbed your overnight bags and the groceries from the backseat. You couldn’t wait to see the place in the full daylight, but you could already tell it was magical.

An a-frame cabin with large windows faced the lake. An oversized wooden deck made up a large seating area and all around landing pad in front of the entrance. A set of side steps allowed access from the driveway, but along the full length of the deck three stairs led to a narrower mulched path that in turn led to a wooden dock out onto the lake. A seating area was visible there as well, though there were no chairs.

Walt let you in first, then followed and set the bags down before closing the door.

He must have noticed you still admiring the sunset out the windows.

"I can make it last."

You blinked and turned, curious about what he'd just offered.

"Are we in a vortex then?"

"Yes, I got lucky finding this spot. Don't own the place, yet, so I can't come out whenever I want, but I made sure tonight was free."

"And, I mean, no. It's beautiful but I'm really looking forward to the moon. Can you make that last?"

He bit his lip and nodded, letting a smile and glance drift to the floor, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe his luck.

"Yeah, I definitely can," he grinned at you before sweeping you into his arms. He kissed you hard and deep and you could feel the way he held back.

"Don't," you said, pulling away from the kiss so you could look him in the eye.

"Don't make it last?" he asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Don't hold back."

He did not. Every ounce of your clothing was on the floor next to his in what felt like a heartbeat. He was pawing at every inch of your body and you were enjoying it, the way he caressed you, held you, molded you to his form.

"Outside?"

"Won't matter," he huffed between kisses. "She's not up yet. Later. After dinner."

"Will you do it anyway?" you asked, and nodded earnestly when he asked if you were sure.

He again didn't waste a moment. One second he was Walter, the next he was the wolf and he was at your throat. Then down your body, then between your legs.

He made you come on his tongue at least three times before he presented his enormously hard member to you and helped you work your mouth around the tip.

You wanted so much more. You gave it your best shot. But he was huge. Larger than you recalled. When it was clear you'd need your hand to cover him completely, he licked your palms and wrapped your fingers around his length.

He pulled you off just as you finally found the right rhythm, the right pressure, the right speed.

"You're gonna make me come," he growled.

"Kinda the point, Walt," you grinned up at him. "C'mon, lemme..."

"You asked me not to hold back. Sorta assumed you meant the fucking."

"I meant don't..." you licked your lips. "Hold..." then your hand. "Back..." And with that, you took him back into your mouth and kept working him to climax.

You swallowed him down and glanced up, marveling at the way he shifted. The hair receded, though clearly not completely. The nose shortened, teeth shrunk, though a fang still peeked from his mouth as he panted for air. His stature gave back the extra inches balancing on the balls of his feet gained him. And with claws retracted back into his normally large hands, he reached to bring you to his feet before him.

After the kiss, you admitted, "I just figured the faster we finish dinner, the faster we can get to her."

His laugh never failed to make you feel safe and at home.

"That isn't how the moon rise works, but I appreciate the initiative."

She was just at the horizon of the mountain crest behind the cabin when Walt cleared the plates from the table. You started a quick, warm shower just to freshen up and welcomed him into your arms when he joined you.

Then he dried you off, handed you a flannel of his to wear, escorted you outside where he shifted on the way down the steps and led you to the end of the dock. You sat between his legs, back against his chest, and let the heat radiating from him keep you warm. You smelled the chill in the air you knew would lead to frost soon, but not tonight, not tomorrow.

She peered over the tree tops and cast her gaze upon you. You felt her power and you felt his power and you arched against him as he moved his hand between your legs. He nuzzled down your neck, nipped at your shoulder, and carefully, with precision, made you come on his hand.

As you recovered, you unbuttoned the shirt, slipped it off your body, and laid it down behind you. You made your way to your back, letting the flannel shield your bare skin from the hard wood planks. And you pulled him to you, urged him inside you, and held him close. Your bodies moved in tandem as she shone brightly across the gentle rippling of the water, her reflection casting you in her glow.

Walt didn't lie about taking you gently. It was like nothing you ever imagined being with a wolf would be like. As sensual as any touch any man or monster had ever given you, and given your recent adventures, that was saying a lot.

But you could tell he was still holding back.

"I get it Walt," you whispered in his ear. "This doesn't have to be the way you say it though." You smoothed the fur along his face as he pulled back to watch your face. "Don't hold back."

With a snarl, he did as you bid, taking you apart as he had back at your place just mere hours ago. Though once the moon reached her peak, you could tell he'd halted time and it was gonna have to be you to beg him for mercy, plead with him to stop treating you to the most intense, overpowering yet intimate orgasms you'd ever felt. You had to urge him to finally come and let the moon fall how she wanted.

"I love you, too," you whispered to him as he collapsed beside you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS header created for me by my wonderful friend in fic, @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

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#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #werewolf!walter #werewolf!walter marshall #werewolf!walter x reader #werewolf!walter marshall x reader #spoopy season #back to reality #fantasy hotel #mine #deandoesthingstome

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 8 months

Text

Ribs

summary: You're not from the world where the Witcher takes place. So, to stay alive, you stay glued to your witcher - Eskel. Catching feelings for him was bound to happen anyway. Right?

Maybe a tiny, life-threatening encounter with a leshy is just the little push the both of you need.

notes: The title is inspired by the song ‘Ribs’ by Lorde, specifically the lyrics ‘And we’ll never go home again.’ Maybe a little more angsty than you expected, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!! I tried to combine both asks into one

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @lu-in-the-library @sunndust @ghostcatwhiskers (msg me to be added/removed to any!)

masterlist | based on this request

Eskel had been in the middle of a forest when, almost instantaneously, a figure appeared in front of him. Expecting a sorcerer, Eskel felt his hand grip onto his sword. Just in case.

Instead, he was met with a person that looked so utterly lost and afraid that Eskel knew this was something completely out of the ordinary, and no attack. The next thing he noted is that, when looking at his eyes, this person in front of him was utterly confused.

Without a single word being spoken, Eskel knew that you neither knew where you were, or what a Witcher was. Geralt or Vesemir would have asked for an explanation, but Eskel, stupidly emotional as he was (no matter what people thought about emotions and Witchers) felt something tug at his heart.

He could have left you in the forest, to be devoured by wolves or monsters. He could have left you in the next town, to be ripped apart by the people there. He should have, probably. Instead, Eskel took you with him, on the path.

Perhaps, his reasons weren’t entirely selfless. As he got to know you, Eskel became used to your company, your lack of prejudice. Your warmth, so freely given.

The more he taught you about his world, the more you told him about yours, and Eskel knew that. It made him feel better about keeping you with him, but he knew that, regardless, he should not be falling for you.

***

You held onto Eskel as his horse, Scorpion, began the climb towards Kaer Morhen. The fight against the Leshy had been equally terrifying for you and exhausting for him, and you tried to hold him from slumping forwards too much.

“Are you okay?” you asked him quietly. He nodded. “I am, you’re not. Your heart is beating too quickly.” He replied.

“I hate when you do that.” You shuddered. “Makes me feel like you can read my mind.”

Like you can tell my heart beats faster when you look at me.

“I can only hear your heart, and I’m afraid I cannot change anything about that.” Eskel said. “Why are you afraid?”

You sighed. “Just nervous. I’m practically meeting your family and I don’t even know… should I bow? Or curtsy? I don’t even know how to do that.”

Eskel laughed, shaking his head. He turned to look back at you, and you prayed your heart did not beat faster.

“They will like you.” He assured, before clicking his tongue. Scorpion sped up into a trot, and in the distance, you could see the outlines of what had to be Kaer Morhen. Unlike the few other castles you had seen, this one looked a little bit more like the ones back home.

It was almost in ruins.

As Scorpion walked into the courtyard, Eskel slipped off the horse, before helping you. Your feet hadn’t touched the ground since the Leshy. Eskel hadn’t wanted to stop, had insisted on riding to Kaer Morhen, where you would be safe, and you could feel the consequences of that in your legs now.

“Sore?” Eskel asked, and you nodded. He sighed, taking the bag you had slung over your shoulder to sling over his own. He tried to hide the wince, and failed miserably. If you’d asked him to take the bag, he would have refused, and one look at it was enough to confirm your thoughts. Eskel shook his head.

After he had put Scorpion away, he turned to you. A reassuring squeeze of hands from him had the opposite effect for you. His thumb stroked over the small scar on your left hand, one that you had gotten from hurting yourself early into your time on the Continent. Eskel had fixed it up.

You remembered how he had looked up at you, taken his time to soothe such a small injury while his entire thigh had been bandaged with soaked linen at the same time, crimson red. You thought that that was the moment you fell in love.

Eskel cleared his throat, already a few steps away from you, and you jogged to catch up, nervously laughing. As he opened the doors to Kaer Morhen you took a deep breath, rolled back your shoulders, and exhaled.

At the sight of his brothers, Eskel seemed to relax, laughing happily. The others cheered, and a man with white hair, presumably Geralt, got up to hug him. You stayed where you were, a few paces behind Eskel, wringing your hands as you waited for them to notice you.

Your eyes went over the men there. You thought you recognized Lambert, Coen and Vesemir, but the girl sitting at one of the tables made you pause. She couldn’t be older than 16. What was she doing here?

A wolf whistle ripped you from your thoughts, and you wanted to disappear.

“Eskel!” one of the witchers exclaimed teasingly. “Who is this?”

“A friend.” Eskel said. Oh how that stung. “Vesemir, we must speak.”

“Meeting the in-laws already.” Lambert shouted, and a ripple of laughs went through the men present. You made to follow Eskel, but he stopped you.

“You should stay while I speak with him. He may not be open to… what you are.”

Ouch.

You nodded, watching as Eskel, your only anker in this place, slipped away. Now, all eyes were on you, standing in the entrance, so obviously out of place. Even the girl that sat at one of the long tables stared.

Your skin prickled under their stares, and you gave a nervous smile that made you feel like an idiot. “Hello.” You said, your voice coming out rough, the tone weird, second half of it garbled. Good god, why did this always happen to you?

A few greetings were murmured back to you, and to your relief, many of the Witchers in front of you soon turned back to their conversations. You needed to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and look stupid.

Talk to a Witcher or a teenage girl? Witcher or teenage girl. Neither seemed like the lesser evil, both were incredibly fucking scary. But, the teenage girl seemed just as awkwardly alone as you, so you slipped over to her, sitting down on the bench.

“You look shaken.” She said after a few moments.

You laughed dryly, half out of relief, half out of the fact that you were incredibly shaken. The monsters here were terrifying, and that Leshy? You could still see the moment it had snaked a branch around your ankle, pulling you towards it, playing in your mind.

“All credit goes to the Leshy.” You replied. At that, a hush fell over the hall. Had you said something wrong? Witchers and their goddamn hearing.

The one with the white hair, or, probably, Geralt, turned towards you abruptly. “A Leshy?” he asked.

You nodded slowly. “That’s what Eskel said.”

The teenage girl next to you was no help, only shrugging when you looked at her. Geralt did not respond to you, even if his question had been urgent, leaving you dangling on a precipice of anxiety again.

You told them your name to fill the silence, trying to sound casually, pushing in a quick ‘by the way’ at the end. Finally, someone picked up on something you were saying.

“I’m Ciri.” The girl said. “Geralt’s child surprise.”

“That’s how children usually work.” You snorted, which caused some laughter from the people present, and a brooding stare from Geralt. Did he have some kind of stick up his ass?

“We’re not related.” He said, his voice clipped. He stared at you, and you felt like Geralt could see right through you, sniff you out like a dog.

“Then what’s a child surprise?” you asked. Immediately, you wanted to take your question back. You should have reserved that for Eskel, who knew. He would have understood. Instead, you were barked at by the man named Lambert.

“Have you been living under a rock for the past thousand years?” he asked, and you felt yourself crumble on the inside. However, no explanation followed his question, and all you could do was guess.

What the fuck was a child surprise? Did Witchers adopt? Did people sometimes have to pick up kids along the way? Was it a family heirloom type of thing?

You grabbed for the pitcher with ale, grateful when Ciri handed you an empty cup. Still, when you took a sip, you felt your lips purse. No matter how much ale you drank, you’d never get over the taste of it.

As time ticked on, and Eskel still did not return, you could feel worry imbue itself in your gut. Your knee began to bounce, nails digging into the palms of her hands. Most of the Witchers were gone. Geralt had taken Ciri with him, and the ones named Lambert and Coen were sitting in another corner, playing some kind of game and drinking. You felt a shiver go down your spine, and suddenly, you felt utterly alone.

The dress you were wearing had been bought by Eskel, and it was good. It fit well, the color was a beautiful deep blue, and it was comfortable. But it was nothing you’d have worn back home. Quietly, you drew your knees up to your chest.

If you had a clock, you’d have heard it tick, making the passing of time even more obvious.

At the sound of people approaching, you lifted your head from your knees. You’d almost fallen asleep, and the sudden noise had ripped you out of it. There, at the entrance of the hall, stood Eskel, together with Vesemir.

A relieved smile began to spread across your face, before you remembered what Eskel had said. He may not be open to… what you are.

As Vesemir approached you, the feeling in your gut tightened, anxiety making you shiver again. As Vesemir opened his mouth to speak, you saw Eskel behind him, deathly pale, and a feverish coat of sweat covering his forehead.

“You’re not okay.” You said, pushing off the bench and past Vesemir. Scary old Witchers be damned, Eskel wasn’t doing fine.

“Leshy wasn’t uh… a proper Leshy.” Eskel replied. When he took an idle step forward, you slung his uninjured shoulder around yours, ignoring that he was much too heavy for you to actually help.

Vesemir cleared his voice, and you steeled yourself to argue with Eskel’s adoptive father. “I think it better if we continued this on the morrow.” He said, handing you Eskel’s pack. With some effort, you managed to pick it up, pointedly ignoring Eskel’s grunt of protest.

“Anything else?” you asked Vesemir carefully.

“Make sure he gets his rest, stubborn as he is.” He replied. “Wake the entire keep if something’s wrong.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to swallow your fear.

Even in his delirium, Eskel helped you, directing you towards a small room. With the few skills you’d picked up from him, you managed to stoke the flames in the fireplace, lighting the candle next to the small cot with it. Searching through the pack, you picked out a blanket, preparing to get comfortable in the chair.

As you heard the bed creak behind you, you whirled around.

“Where am I?” Eskel asked you, looking utterly lost.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Kaer Morhen. You…”

“The Leshy?” Eskel asked. That much was just… gone?

“Dead. Really dead, you made sure. With fire, I think and… lots of stabbing.” You replied, and Eskel gave a weak smile. He made to get up, immediately gritting his teeth against the pain, and you stopped him gently.

“You’re taking the bed tonight, no arguments this time. Vesemir’s orders.” You said firmly.

Eskel’s brows drew together. “You met Vesemir?” he asked.

“Not really.” You shrugged. “We were both too concerned about you to talk about me. But he didn’t try to kill me, so there’s that.”

Eskel gave an exhausted laugh, grunting in pain as the bandages tugged on his wounds. “Your heart is… faster.” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Stressful day.” You lied.

He nodded, too tired to insist on sleeping on the floor. For once, you were glad for it, not having to fight over whether or not he would take the bed and you the floor (he never let you, insisting that Witchers didn’t need sleep anyway).

***

Your neck was stiff when you woke up the next morning, and it took some effort to push yourself out of your chair. Eskel had sat up at the end of his bed, looking at you tiredly.

“Morning.” You said, your mouth sticky from sleep. You grabbed the pitcher from the bedside, taking a sip of water.

“You slept on the floor.” Eskel noted. “Never wanted you to.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re looking better, that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, but Eskel only shook his head, pulling at his shirt. You turned away, giving him some privacy. Instead, you rummaged in your pack, looking for the potion he’d need.

“I wanted you to always be comfortable.” He said. You paused, trying not to overthink his words. The potion in your hand felt uncharacteristically cold. Keeping your eyes peeled to the ground, you set it down next to Eskel.

“I always was comfortable. I only have a stiff neck.” You replied. Eskel moved behind you, his hands already beginning to work the knots out of your muscles. You reached up to stop him.

“Eskel, I appreciate it, I really do, but you need to take care pf yourself.” You said firmly. When you looked at him, he had an expression of rejection on his face. Immediately, you regretted your words.

“I’m sorry, I only meant-“ you began.

Eskel interrupted you. “Yeah, I know. You want me to make sure I’m alright. But…” he trailed off. “I want to take care of you.”

There wasn’t a world where you wouldn’t have mulled over his words, hoping that there was more meaning to them. And so, you took his hands into yours, smiling at him nervously.

“Thank you, Eskel. That means the world to me.”

“Yours or mine?” he joked, and you felt yourself smile at his stupid joke.

“Both.”

Eskel paused at that, and immediately, you felt stupid for blurting it out. His hands held yours a little tighter, and a knot formed in your throat. There was a small part of you that was hoping, not just that you hadn’t said anything wrong, but that he would reply to this what you wanted him to say.

Instead, Eskel dropped your hands, turning back to the bed and making it mechanically. You missed the blush on his face entirely.

In the afternoon, you took care of Scorpion, watching as Ciri trained in the yard by herself, a frustrated expression on her face. After a while, you led Scorpion into the stables, walking back out into the yard, and smiling at Ciri. She gave you a strained smile back, and you noticed the irritated skin on her hand.

“Eskel wraps his sword grips with fabric to make them more comfortable in winter.” You told her, nodding at her reddened hand.

“My grandmother never needed any of that.” Ciri only barked out.

“Well, maybe she didn’t have dry skin.” You replied, and Ciri stuck her sword into the snow a little more aggressively than necessary.

“What are you training for?” you asked, idly twisting on a bracelet Eskel had gifted you once.

“I want to be as good as Geralt.” She replied.

“He’s very good, from what I hear.” You said. “But I think you need to take a rest as well. You’re neither a witcher, nor a man. Not that that’s a bad thing. Enough rest will make you better.”

Ciri sighed, handing you the sword. “Could you help me with the grip?”

You nodded, tucking it under your arm and walking towards the dining hall with Ciri.

“So… you and Eskel?” Ciri asked after a while. You almost tripped, regaining your composure quickly.

“No, we’re only friends.” You replied. “We just spend a lot of time together, like you and Geralt.”

Ciri scrunched up her nose in disgust. “I’d hope not. We don’t look at each other like lovesick idiots.”

You almost scoffed indignantly. “We do not look at each other like lovesick idiots. I also doubt that Eskel is in any capacity in love with me.”

“So you are in love with him?” Ciri asked.

Fucking teenage girls.

You didn’t reply to that, and Ciri’s smile widened. “Don’t even think about saying anything.” You bit out. “I just helped you with dry hands.”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Can I tell Geralt? He’ll give Eskel a kick. You know, he firmly believes that you’re the one not in love. If he finds this out… he’ll have a field day.”

You buried your face in your hands. “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“Apart from the occasional grunt, no.” Ciri replied, not that that was much of a reassurance. You knew she was probably still going to spill your best kept secret to Geralt.

“Only Geralt. No one else.” You assented, and Ciri skipped away, leaving you with her sword. Sighing, you dragged yourself up crumbling stone stairs and into your room. Eskel had gotten it ready for you while you’d been out taking care of Scorpion. It felt strange to have one to yourself again after so long. Still, it turned out you didn’t have to be alone for long.

Only a few minutes later, Eskel knocked on your door, carefully checking in on you. You knew it was silly, but it was the things like this that made your heart flutter each time.

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, setting down Ciri’s sword.

“Better.” Eskel said. He noticed the sword with a confused smile. “Are you training? You should’ve told me.”

“Oh no, I was just helping Ciri. Her hands are too dry because of the cold, kind of how yours get sometimes.”

“You remembered that?” Eskel asked.

“Yeah of course. Why wouldn’t I?” you replied, smiling at him.

“I’m in love with you.” Eskel said quietly, then. Your heart stopped for a good second. You stared, blankly, trying to comprehend what Eskel had just said. He paled at your silence, already beginning to back out of your room, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

“I- Me too. I am in love with you too, is what I’m trying to say. I didn’t realise that wrapping a sword would be what it takes to hear it but I really, really, really like you. A lot.” You rambled. “I mean, you’re sweet, and caring, and-“

Eskel stepped forward, hands that were made to kill gently cradling your jaw. He hesitated, eyes asking for permission. When your hands steadied themselves on his chest, he closed the bridge between you, his lips softly meeting yours. You sighed into the kiss, deepening it impatiently until your hands tangled in Eskel’s hair.

After a while, you broke the kiss, heart racing in your chest.

Eskel noticed. “Your heart is…”

“It’s fast, I know. Most of the times you pointed it out, it was because of you.” You confessed. His eyes widened.

“Since… Since I fixed up your hand?” Eskel asked with sudden realisation, and you nodded. He gave you a small smile.

“We’re such idiots.” You laughed, and Eskel joined you. The sound of it was so beautiful you could not help kissing him again.

#eskel #eskel x you #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #x reader #reader insert #witcher eskel #witcher eskel x you #witcher eskel x reader #the witcher #eskel witcher #eskel fanfic

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 1 year

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if you have time i would love to see what you do with prompt number #5 “i can’t believe i married you” with geraskier please!! i feel like geralt would say this when jaskier is being silly and ridiculous but also jaskier would use it when geralt gives him only one good morning kiss instead of two lol. but only if you have time!!!! 💖✨💖✨

Jaskier is still half-asleep as he shuffles to the fridge, his eyes bleary and unfocused after a late night of composing. Hoping for a few slices of last night’s leftover pizza, he opens the fridge, only to let out a little shriek of surprise when he finds a pair of bulbous eyes staring back at him.

“Geralt!” he yelps. “What the fresh fuck is in our fridge?”

His witcher appears in the doorway, already dressed and ready for the day. “A drowner head.”

“Right, good,” Jaskier says. “Let me rephrase. Why the fuck is it in our fridge?”

“It didn’t fit in the freezer.”

“Geralt!”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “Its brains are useful for potions. I’m going to harvest them later.”

“Not in our kitchen, you’re not.”

“Would you prefer the bedroom?”

“Geralt, I swear to Melitele, if you get drowner brains on the duvet—” Seeing the grin on Geralt’s face, Jaskier breaks off, scowling. “I cannot believe I married you.”

“Hm. Jask, we’re not married.”

Ah, right. They’ve been together so long, Jaskier forgets that sometimes. Their friends and family are always complaining that they act like an old married couple anyway. “And if you keep putting drowner heads in the fridge, we won’t be!”

Geralt comes to press a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “Go take a shower and I’ll make coffee and deal with the drowner.”

“You’ll make the coffee before you touch drowner brains, right? Avoid cross-contamination?”

“Drowner brains are good for you. Protein.”

Jaskier huffs and turns on his heel to leave the kitchen. “I want a divorce.”

“Again, not married.”

Jaskier starts up the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Then we should get married just so I can divorce you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” Jaskier makes it to the top of the stairs, then pauses, registering what they just said, and turns around. “Geralt?”

From downstairs, there’s the rumble of Geralt’s answering hum. “Hm?”

“Did we just get engaged?”

“I think that’s traditionally what comes before marriage and divorce.”

Jaskier hurries back down the stairs so fast that he nearly trips over his own two feet. He finds Geralt standing right where he left him in front of the fridge. “Do you really want to get married?”

Geralt looks at him like he’s started singing in gnomish. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Jaskier lets out an exasperated laugh. “Geralt, my love, this is one of those things where I’m going to need an unequivocal yes or no from you.”

Geralt leans against the front of the fridge, frowning slightly. “I never thought you wanted to get married.”

“What?” Jaskier is bewildered. “When did I say that?”

“Back when you were dating Vespula.”

“Geralt, I was twenty-two when I dated Vespula! That was nearly a decade ago! Of course I didn’t want to get married.” Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I never thought you wanted to get married. All that witchers walk alone bullshit.”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “I think that ship has sailed by now, Jask. I think it sailed about five minutes after we met.”

“Well yes, probably,” Jaskier says. “So, Geralt, will you marry me?”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just so you can divorce me over drowner brains.”

“Darling, you should know by now that it’s going to take more than drowner brains to get rid of me. I told you when we first moved in together and I’ll tell you now, you’re stuck with me.”

“Romantic.”

“You know you love it.”

Geralt’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jaskier’s nose. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The few times Jaskier has pictured proposing to Geralt, he’s imagined grand gestures: singing a love song in front of a crowded stadium of fans, holding a sign as he jumped out a plane, a moonlight boat ride and a four-string quartet. But standing with Geralt in the kitchen, still in his boxers with a drowner’s head in their fridge, somehow feels more right than any of those fantasies.

They just hold each other for a moment before Jaskier pulls away. “Want to go get breakfast to celebrate?”

Geralt’s eyes are soft with fondness as he watches him. “Did you propose just for an excuse to go get pancakes and mimosas?”

“Like I need an excuse to get pancakes and mimosas.” Jaskier is smiling stupidly. “Let me go get showered. I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

“See you in an hour.”

“Har.” Jaskier turns and hurries up the steps. In the bathroom, he draws back the shower curtain, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his shriek at what he finds inside. “Geralt!”

“What?” Geralt calls from downstairs.

“What the fuck is in our shower?”

“Oh,” Geralt says. “That’s the rest of the drowner.”

“Excellent. Just so you know, I’ve changed my mind about that divorce!”

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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inanoldhousewrites · 10 months

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(you'll never) guess who's coming to dinner

It was clear as soon as Geralt walked in the door that something was bothering Jaskier. When he gave a kiss to his wife, Yennefer kissed back, but when he kissed the top of Jaskier’s head walking past, Jaskier leaned into it, but didn’t say anything. Quite the change from his usual response of dramatically demanding more. Geralt raised his eyebrow at Yennefer in question, but she just shook her head and shrugged.

Dinner was stilted. Jaskier was clearly distracted, but didn’t want to bring up whatever was bothering him. As soon as dinner was cleared away, however, Jaskier made a pass at them. It was not uncommon for one of them to work out their feelings through a round (or more) of vigorous sex, so Geralt and Yennefer followed him to the bedroom.

It was only after they’re sated and snuggling that Jaskier brought up what was on his mind.

“I know you don’t mind me sleeping with other people,” he begins, and Geralt tries not to tense because that was not the direction he expected. “But would you be okay if I maybe wanted to date someone?”

“Are you getting serious about Vespula?” Yennefer asked. “I thought you were currently off again.”

“No, it is. It’s not Vespula. I… met someone.”

“Hmm,” Geralt encouraged.

“He’s, well, he’s different. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I really like him.” Jaskier looked strangely vulnerable between them, nervous as he thought about his feelings for this other man. Geralt, as always, wanted to give him everything.

“Well, ask him out and when you feel like he’s ready, invite him to dinner so we can meet him,” Geralt told him, and that was that.

The next day, Jasker texted them ‘He said yes! Date tomorrow ❤️’ and from then on they heard about nothing but Jaskier’s new boyfriend.

“Raddy has the best taste in wine.”

“Raddy looks so good in furs.”

And once, looking particularly rumpled as he came back to their apartment after a date, hickies showing under his collar, “Raddy loves my new song.”

It’s just under two weeks from their first date that Jaskier finally tells them “Raddy is eager to meet you, so I invited him to dinner tomorrow night.”

Yennefer was pulling dinner out of the oven while Geralt set the table, so she had her back to the door when Jaskier walked in with his guest. “We’re here! I’m so excited for you to meet!” As she closed the oven door, she heard Geralt make a noise of surprise and shock. Curious, she turned to see for herself and her jaw dropped when she recognized Jaskier’s guest.

After he quickly introduced everyone, Yennefer linked her arm around Jaskier’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you excuse us for a moment?” She tugged Jaskier into the bedroom, leaving Jaskier’s two boyfriends making awkward and stilted conversation in the kitchen.

“Isn’t he great?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes,” Yennefer answered, as calmly as she can, “he’s really something. But tell me, Jaskier, in the past two weeks, you’ve called him your spoon, a knife, the only music critic worth listening to, and even your ‘little love rat.’ So I ask you: why did I have to wait until he’s standing in my kitchen to find out that you are dating the crown prince of Redania?”

#the witcher #radskier #jaskovid #jaskier x radovid #geraskefer #jaskier #radovid #yennefer #geralt of rivia #modern au #will crosspost to AO3 whenever it's up again

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jay-arts-t · 10 months

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Sometimes I just like to think about what it could've been if Geralt had gotten Ciri right after Pavetta and Duny died. If Calanthe was so weighed down by grief she realizes she can't take care of Ciri. So she orders Moussack to go find Geralt to collect Ciri. Imagining Geralt in a random tavern somewhere in Temeria, slowly making his way up to Kaer Morhen for the winter as autumn is approaching. Him having a gut feeling he should head up early, he thinks it's because something is wrong with Vesemir so he's anxious to make it through. But Roach needs to rest and well, it wouldn't hurt to get some extra supplies for the winter. Certainly wouldn't hurt to get some extra booze so he has relief from Lambert's grating voice on his ears. Besides, he and Eskel can stay up late and drink to their hearts content up in his room like they used to sneak around when they were teens.

Then out of the blue he sees Moussack, and dread fills his entire body. He doesn't keep up with news outside of what Dandelion tells him. So when Moussack is telling him Calanthe is summoning him he's thinking "oh fuck, she's changed her mind and is going to execute me."

But Moussack reassures him he's not going to be harmed. Calanthe is asking for him because of his child surprise. And now Geralt is really worried. What happened to them? Are they okay? Are they hurt? Did they die? They're only a few months old, there's so much that could've gone wrong. So he agrees to go with Moussack.

Calanthe looks a mess when Geralt sees her. Eist is by her side as always, trying to comfort her. Pavetta and Duny are nowhere in sight and it's making Geralt extremely antsy. Calanthe tells him the news, her voice is hoarse from all the crying she's been doing. Geralt sympathizes with them, gives them his condolences. And then that's when he realizes "oh. OH. OH NO". Sure enough Calanthe tells him she can't take care of herself, how could she care for a baby. Geralt refutes telling her "they're your grandchild, I don't want to rip them away-" and Calanthe tells him then it's a girl. And for a split second his brain gives the helpful thought of "oh I have a daughter" and Geralt is having an internal meltdown right there in the throne room. But he can't refuse. His entire basis for not coming back and claiming her is because she has a family who cares about her. But now that family is saying that they can't care for her, not because they don't love her, but because they do. So Geralt agrees to take her.

The first time he meets her he is entirely captivated by how small and precious she is. The moment he holds her he feels overwhelmed with such a fierce protectiveness and he can't help but absolutely adore her. He is trying so hard to stay stoic and unemotional but the moment he's alone with Ciri back in that old tavern he'd been at he just holds her and smiles. If he'd been a normal man, he probably would've burst into tears by how happy he was. (he did later once she got settled into Kaer Morhen, when he and Eskel did end up drinking up in his room. They're talking about the usual things, and then he looked over to her in her makeshift crib and just started bawling. Eskel freaks out and asks him what's wrong and he replies "I just love her so much."... Yes Eskel teared up.)

Then he has to go through the lovely moments of "how the fuck do you raise a baby" which Vesemir watches with so much amusement. Geralt raided most of Kaer Morhen's library and Nenneke's office for books about parenting. (Kaer Morhen has none, unsurprisingly.) He eventually asks Eskel to go to Oxenfurt and grab Dandelion and any books about parenting, childhood development, psychology and women's health he can find. (He is DREADING eventually having The Talk with Ciri but he won't be unprepared.) Dandelion is completely awestruck with Kaer Morhen of course however, nothing shocks him more than seeing Geralt looking bone tired with a 5 month old baby wailing in his arms, trying to soothe her.

"uh... What ya got there, Geralt?"

"H e l p."

Where's Yennefer? What about Yennefer?? Geralt is hesitant at first to even tell Yennefer he has a kid. But she sends him a letter one day, asking him where he is now that it's coming up on spring. (Ciri's first bday!!! Yay!!!! Also oh gods planning a birthday?!?!?!?? That's a thing??????) So he does tell her, and she understandably to her character demands to see this child surprise. So again, sends Eskel on out (pls Geralt, he's your childhood best friend, not your errand boy.) to go get Yennefer. Yennefer storms through the main hall, not even acknowledging Lambert and Vesemir, and right up to Geralt. How did she manage to find her way through the halls without ever being there before? Geralt doesn't know and he's scared by it. Yennefer spots Ciri, who's doing her tummy time. To which she's very fussy about and gives the nastiest glares an almost 1 year old can to her father. Yennefer is absolutely gobsmacked that Geralt was being genuine. She points to Ciri, then to Geralt, then back to Ciri, to Geralt.

"YOU?????? HOW????"

"I'm really bad at making jokes."

Yennefer adores Ciri, but Ciri is a little skeptical of her. Who is this strange woman????? Where is her dad?????? Where's her other dad (Dandelion)???? How dare she smell nice and be warm???? Ugh as if she'd let her feed her!!! No way! Yennefer is always completely drenched with baby food whenever she attempts to feed Ciri. Geralt tries so hard not to laugh at her. Ciri is absolutely seething by the end of it and is only contained when Geralt picks her up and holds her securely. Then it's like little devil Ciri never existed, she's all smiles and babbling happily to her dad. Yennefer gets really disheartened over it. Late at night she ends up crying over it, thinking it wouldn't matter if she was able to have kids or not; Ciri proves she'd be a horrible mother anyway. Geralt doesn't know what to say at first, but he knows it's not true. Yennefer is trying her best, it's just that Ciri is really fussy. She even fusses sometimes when Dandelion holds her. He tries to comfort Yen, and ends up deciding the best thing to do is hold her and tell her that she's doing amazing. He doesn't think she believes him because she's still got a very somber look on her face the next day. She becomes reluctant to take up care of Ciri because of the incident. Well about after the third day of this Ciri gets fussy again. Geralt is taking a well deserved nap day. He's back in his room snoozing away. Yennefer and Dandelion are with Ciri in the library, one of the warmest places in the keep. Dandelion wipes his hands of the ink that stains them and picks her up and checks if she's soiled. She isn't, so he asks if she's hungry. She thrashes around in his hold and turns in search of Yennefer and starts grabbing towards her. So Dandelion hands her over to Yen. The moment Ciri's resting against Yennefer she settles down.

"huh, guess she just wanted her mommy." Dandelion comments and Yennefer starts crying. (Dandelion's face morphed from aww to OH FUCK)

The bigger Ciri gets the more rambunctious and energetic. Geralt couldn't be prouder that they're all raising her to be genuine to herself and that they've broken the generational trauma. Vesemir pats Geralt on the shoulder one day and tells him "I'm proud of you, Wolf" and damn, if that doesn't make him want to cry. He doesn't of course, only meeting Ciri made him cry from joy. And oh how she gives Lambert a run for his money. It's hilarious to see a 60-something year old argue with a 4 year old. They get into the most stupid arguments too. "blue is better than red!" Or "I'm taller than you" which is the most absurd because it's always Ciri who starts it. Geralt thinks it's because Lambert is the shortest besides Vesemir. But Vesemir has only become short due to his old age, and Ciri already gives him a hard time for that. ("Why are you so fat and old? Aren't you a Witcher like Daddy?" She said once and Vesemir just paused and looked at her like "why would you say that to me". She burst into a giggle fit at his crushed expression.)

The argument will always, without fail, go:

C: I'm taller than you.

L: no you're not? I'm 5'11!

C: well I'm 8 feet tall!!!!

L: more like 2 feet tall!

C: NO! SEE

Then she'll stand on the chair so she towers over Lambert.

L: fine well I'm older.

C: no??? My birthday is first

L: NO ITS NOT?

C: YEAH IT IS

L: NO APRIL IS BEFORE MAY. AND IM 67, YOU'RE 4

C: uhhhhh I hate to break it to you, but no you're not. You've been lied to your whole life.

L: W H AT WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE????

C: uhmmmmm god.

Then when Coën finally meets one of the Wolves and comes up to Kaer Morhen he's shocked to see someone so young. At the time Ciri was around 7. She calls him ugly and walks away to the stables. Coën is just left flabbergasted while Lambert and Eskel are laughing their asses off. Geralt apologizes to him, while trying to hold in his laughter. Coën becomes like an older brother to Ciri, and he gets on her good side by helping her prank Lambert.

When Ciri hits 12 she does get her period, and Geralt is like "OH GOD OH FUCK HOW DO I TALK TO HER ABOUT THIS I DONT WANT TO MAKE IT-" and Yennefer walks into the room and goes "I told her, we're good."

Then comes the "boy talk" Where Ciri brought up that a character in a romance book was attractive and Geralt went into "No one is good enough for my baby girl" dad mode and brashly announced "you're not allowed to date boys until you're 21."

Yennefer slaps him on the arm and Ciri looks at him almost offended.

"jokes on you I don't even know if I LIKE boys. Maybe I just like this character's personality." She replies sassily. Geralt cannot argue with that logic. (And yes 2 months later, she goes on a day trip with Yen and talks to a girl her age. She comes back and Geralt asks her how it went and she says "I definitely like girls." And walks up to her room to take a nap. Geralt celebrates as soon as she leaves "YES!!! I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT SOME BRUTE MESSING WITH MY DAUGHTER FUCK YEAH" Yennefer reminds him that some women are just as bad and he crumples to the floor in agony. Now he has to worry about brutish women hurting his daughter.)

Essentially, I just love that Geralt has a daughter, and that he's so proud of her and loves her so much. Their relationship is just so 🥹❤️ I adore them.

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artistsfuneral · 11 months

Text

part 15 - sorry it took a while

When he turns, Geralt is standing right behind him, golden eyes wide with something like shock as he rings for words. "Ciri. Her name is Ciri."

Jaskier gasps, a frsh wave of tears falling from his eyes, "What- ?" Once again it's all too much for him. The constant mix of hurt, pain and confusing hope makes his head feel weird and fuzzy. He just wants his husband back. His Geralt, his sweet lovely Geralt, who always says he cannot bear to see Jaskier in distress, who panics when he cries, who hugs him, holds him, tells him he's safe and that everything will be alright. He misses him so, so much. Never- never having that again, never having his Geralt again, makes him-

He tears his wrist out of this Geralt's grip and wipes away the salty tears that just won't stop streaming down his cheeks. "What?" He repeats again, more stammering than actually pronouncing the word.

Geralt isn't doing much better. "I uh-," he looks just as helplessly shocked as Jaskier feels, "I don't know, why I- Her name is Ciri, isn't it?" Jaskier nods, hiding his face behind his hands for a moment. He has no idea what on earth is going on. This has never happened before. At this point in time, Ciri shouldn't even be a thought and yet somehow Geralt knows her name. "She likes to dance," the witcher speaks slowly as if trying to piece something together in his mind. "She made Lambert slow dance with her. I- I don't know-," he lets out a long shaky breath. "Why do I know that?"

Jaskier shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers, voice hoarse from his emotional outburst. "You never remembered anything before."

Geralt frowns. "How many times have you done this?"

"I don't know."

"Have you done anything differently this time? Said something, or done something? Playing around with Chaos is a terribly stupid idea!"

"I'm not stupid, okay?! Just because I have no idea why you can suddenly remember Ciri's name doesn't mean I jumped heads over heels into this mess!"

Geralt sighs again, looking at least somewhat remorseful as he apologizes quietly. "It just feels like you must've done something differently for me to... remember these things.

remember to like and reblog if you voted! :D

you just came here to look for another round of banana bread, didn't you? pfffft you fool, you buffoon, now you have to tell me your favorite color(s)!!!

tell me if you (don't) want to be tagged :)

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#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Whoreson Prison Blues

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader (Ft. Geralt)

Warnings: Violence, language.

Inspiration: Season 2

Summary: Imprisoned and alone you find yourself bonding with your cell mate only to realise that this wasn’t a mere stranger.

It wasn’t exactly how you planned the day to go but there weren’t any regrets. Being beaten and thrown into a cell was a common occurrence recently, in fact you still had bruising from the last entanglement with the knighted patrols.

The third day had nearly passed and a guard tossed a small bowl of water into the cell which spilled onto the floor. He jeered through the barred doors and then turned away when he heard a commotion. To you, it sounded like two guards struggling to detain another unfortunate individual.

“Well, well. Looks like you have a friend.” The duty guard chuckled and then disappeared from sight to open the cell door on the opposite side of the brick wall. There was a harsh shove and somebody hitting their knees on the floor.

“Maybe this will make you think twice about helping the elf-bastards.” A second guard laughed.

The cell doors slammed and you heard the keys jangle as the lock was fastened. Still cackling, all three sounded like they were jesters and decided to walk out and celebrate their win privately. This worked in your favour allowing you to plan an escape until you heard a small mumble through the crack in the wall.

“Reminder to self, file a complaint for these hideous cells. Oh, great - an audience of rats.” The voice sighed.

You didn’t know why but the stranger made you smile. “The rats are pretty decent company.”

“That’s funny. I had a friend who would have said something like that. They were a real badass. We used to travel with this broody, moody, muscled fellow who liked to act complicated.”

Hold on. Now that you listened to the voice more carefully, it began to match a face that you hadn’t seen in months.

“Jaskier?”

“…Yes?” The bard replied. “Who’s asking?”

“Y/n - you wonderful singing fool!”

“And how do I know that you’re who you say you are and not some trick by the guards to lure out information?”

You rolled your eyes but commended that he was being more aware of people in strange lands. The bard used to be far too trusting.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. Original composer of Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. You have a tendency to woo married women - even tried your luck with me too. You tried to kiss me after getting drunk in Cintra and then again when we were dealing with that werewolf-“

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t believe you’re here. What are the chances?” Jaskier wondered aloud. “What have they got you in here for?”

You paused for a silent second and stared at the metal cuffs around your wrists. It was probably best not to get into detail about what you had done to wind up on the hate radar of this town.

“Better question, what are you in for?“ You deflected.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t hesitate to answer and if he was curious, he chose not to follow up on it. He let out a long sigh and you could imagine the look on his face.

“I helped a wanted criminal escape.”

You laughed at the idea of the humble bard being involved in something so prickly. Jaskier didn’t appreciate the reaction and there was a scoff. “It’s true! I’m very close with the Sandpiper.”

The Sandpiper was a name not loudly spoken, so you figured that he wasn’t telling tall tales.

“Alright, I believe you. You’ve been wandering very interesting circles. The Bard and the Piper - you must tell me of the stories one day.” You smiled and rest your head against the stone wall.

Your stomach began to rumble just as the main doors swung open and two guards walked in. You heard a metal tray clattering and recognised that it was the final meal of the day. When the guard approached your cell, you watched as he entered and carelessly tossed the tray down. You had refused to eat anything that was given in fear that it had been poisoned by one of the many people you had pissed off.

You could hear Jaskier trying to salvage what hadn’t touched the floor and was about to tell the guard to jump off a cliff when a round ball of stale bread flew and hit you in the face quite harshly. It rolled off your lap and settled on some hay. You turned to the guard and glared daggers.

“Eat that or get a taste of my blade.” He threatened.

With a huff, you chose to ignore the guards presence all together. It wasn’t long before he left and you took up the measly portion that was more dirt than bread and tore off a piece.

“This isn’t so bad.” Jaskier commented. “Could use some seasoning.”

You stared at what you were eating and wondered if it was hard enough to concuss the guard on duty…

“So how’s the broody fellow?” Jaskier wondered.

At first, you frowned but then remembered who he was referring to. The Witcher who took a lot of patience.

“I don’t know. We parted ways not long after you left. He was being increasingly difficult so I told him as much.”

“How did he take that?” Jaskier wondered, knowing exactly how the man could behave.

You exhaled. “He told me to ‘fuck off’ and left me in a swamp.”

The memory of that day was leaving a bitter taste in your mouth…or maybe it was the bread. Either way, you didn’t want to clutter your mind with something useless.

Jaskier seemed to have silently agreed.

“Well, screw Geralt. We don’t need him.” He said and began tapping on some spoons.

There was a loud clang against the cell bars as the guard slammed his palm across it to get the attention of them both.

“Will you both shut up? You sound like fucking spurned lovers.”

Jaskier laughed at the thought and you were glad that he was fated to be your cell partner. As the guard piped down, the rats scurried over to the bards cell where the spoons clanged a little louder and with a bit more rhythm until Jaskier had a catchy tune.

“It's been a long time travellin'

On roads that lead to nowhere

With hopes and dreams that always rot…” he began to sing softly, pausing every so often to form the artful words.

You waited for the next bit but he seemed to have a bit of a block. Without thinking, you leaned back and looked at your surroundings.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell to remember how shitty the world is.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Jaskier told you and began tapping again.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell,

The tricks and tales, the traitors' tell,

To help you see that freedom is all you've got.

So lock me up and sock me up,

And throw away the key.

Go fuck yourself, you whoreson.

'Cause you're through fuckin' with me.”

Jaskier was a bard of many talents and you had missed him all because of a falling out with a mutual friend. It must have been the exhaustion of being locked up that you started singing along to the song just to keep occupied.

“Go fuck yourself, you whoreson! Cause you’re through fuckin’ with me.”

A few more rehearsals and you and Jaskier had the duty guards on edge each time you switched shifts. They might be brutes but you couldn’t help but credit their creativity with the death threats.

Another day passed, you were still locked up, Jaskier was now doing solo renditions for the rats, and the bread hadn’t improved in taste or quality. You began to think of a way out of the cell and devised the start of a plan that included stealing the keys with Jaskier’s help. It wouldn’t be easy but if you got your hands on a sword, the guards would be unmatched in skill.

Then, there was an unexpected commotion in the hallway during Jaskier’s song.

“Fucking hell. You know what? We’re trying to rehearse in here.”

You heard the bard complain and then apologise to the rats for the interruption. “Good sir. You would not know talent if I shoved it up your … Geralt.”

You scoffed to yourself and wondered if Jaskier had finally gone mad. “I thought we agreed never to mention that broody grouch ever again?” You called out.

There was silence to the question and some soft talking that you couldn’t quite understand but Jaskier’s voice rose for a second. Then there was a shuffle of feet and you were drawn to your own cell door where a familiar man with white hair and broad shoulders showed his face.

Geralt unlocked you door and walked in. He bent down and worked his Witcher magic to free you of the cuffs.

“I’d say I’m shocked to find you here - but I’m not.” He said, helping his friend up.

You rubbed your wrists and dusted your pants. You looked at the man and shrugged. “You know how it is - chaos doesn’t just come in the form of magic.”

Geralt smiled and you couldn’t help but notice that something was a little different about him - like he was content, almost happy.

“I have no right to ask this of you but I could use your help.” He requested.

You could very easily have told him to shove off and be rid of the man for the rest of your life but Geralt was a friend through so many difficult quests. Plus it wouldn’t hurt charge him the fee of one apology.

“Just to be clear, I’m pissed at you for about a million things but I can’t resist a call for help.” You told him honestly and raised a finger. “One condition, Jaskier comes along.”

As if on cue, the bard walked in. “Say no more, I have no plans to leave. Oh…” his eyes travelled to the locks and chains laying on the floor. “Why the fuck were you chained up?”

Clearing your throat, you pointed to the exit. “Story for the road?”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x reader

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 18 days

Text

Jersey

Masterlist

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Mike x reader

Summary: Mike thought it would be a good idea to teach you how to skate. It wasn't — so he has to come up with a different plan.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected (at least condomless) sex, creampie, and a very needy, desperate, slightly pushy and arrogant Mikey.

Bingo: "Is that my shirt?" (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: As always, we blame @geralts-yenn for putting the idea of Mike as a hockey player in my brain. Not the field kind, the cold and violent kind. Of course.

It's also the third entry for my @henrycavillbingo card! I know I didn't exactly use the phrase of the prompt — although I did imply it — but a jersey is sort of a shirt, I guess, so it counts :")

Enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Don’t let go of me!” Who knew ice was slippery? You. You knew. Everyone knew. Yet here you were...

“I won’t let go,” Mike answered with a smile. He was the one who had assured you it would be fine. ‘Skating is fun, Sweetcheeks’ your freezing ass...

“Mike! You just almost dropped me!”

“I didn’t,” he snorted. “You almost fell, that’s not the same thing. Ow! Would you let go of my arm, before it falls off?”

You reluctantly relaxed your grip, panicking when he moved your hands from his upper arms to just below his elbow.

“What, no!” You scrambled to get closer to him.

“Babe, you won’t be able to move like that. Come on. Nothing’s gonna happen!”

“Are you sure you’re okay going backwards?” you asked. Of course, you were hoping he’d say ‘no’ and you could go back inside.

“Sweetcheeks, I’ve been doing this at least twice a week since I was six. If there was a way to skate sideways, I’d be okay doing that.” So, there was really no way around this, then? He really wasn’t going to let you off the hook?

“You said you wouldn’t let me fall!” you said, shoving Mike’s shoulder and pouting up at him. “That hurt!”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Mike mumbled. “Are you okay?”

You rubbed your elbow and nodded. “I’ll live. But I’m fucking cold.”

“Yeah, when you do it right, this is exercise...” Mike said with a grin. “Sweetcheeks, that was just a joke! Come here, please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this,” you muttered. “I know you love it, I just...”

“Babe, babe, babe, stop.” He put a hand over your mouth. “It’s okay! I thought this would be fun but... I’m clearly not a very good teacher.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen you coach the little ones! You’re great with them!” You trailed your fingers over his cheek. He didn’t wince at the cool wetness of your glove. “That said, I really don’t think this is my scene.”

“Alright, let’s get you off the ice and in front of the fireplace,” he said, laughing. “Don’t move.”

You stayed still while he got up, and then he pulled you off the freezing surface you were still sitting on.

“My leggings are soaked,” you noted, shivering as Mike pulled you along to the edge of the lake.

“I really didn’t expect you to fall this much, babe,” he chuckled.

“We can’t all be hockey superstars, jerk,” you retorted.

“No, but most people can at least stand upright on skates!”

“I’ll stand upright in the shower, thanks,” you grumbled, “and you are not invited.” Of course, that would have had more impact if you hadn’t encountered the edge of the lake at that precise moment, causing you to lose balance and tumble face-first into the snow.

“Sorry Sweetcheeks,” Mike said, in between fits of hysterical laughter, “but that was... You looked...” He pressed his hands to his side — a well-deserved side stitch if you ever saw one! He didn’t lose his balance for a second. Jackass.

You furiously pulled the laces on the skates but they wouldn’t come off. Why wouldn’t they come off? A cry of frustration escaped you before you could help it, and... Was that a tear? Great.

“Sweetcheeks, are you cr—”

“Only out of frustration,” you snapped before he could ask. “Nothing to do with you.”

Mike helped you up and helped you walk to the rock he’d cleaned off for you when you had arrived. It wasn’t as wet as the pile of snow he’d plucked you out of, but it certainly wasn’t any warmer.

You stayed still while he took your skates off, successfully avoiding any accidents, and watched impatiently while he traded his own skates for his shoes again.

“Can you at least try to hurry?” you said, no longer able to keep your teeth from chattering.

The hot water of the shower was an absolute godsend. You’d stuck to your threat to not invite Mike. He’d have to think of another way to keep you warm — and he would. You already knew what you’d be walking into; you could already feel his hands on your hips, his face buried in your neck, exploring every inch of your skin, eager hands scrambling to grab as much boob as he could manage — arguably not your favorite part but he was cute, so you’d forgive him — and then finally...

You forced yourself out of the shower before you got to the kind of stuff you’d rather have Mike do, and dried off. As you looked around the room, you noticed a jersey hanging from the back of his desk chair. After a quick inspection — it smelled mostly clean — you put it on before making your way downstairs.

A nice fire was waiting for you there, complete with a content-looking, shirtless Mike — admittedly your favorite flavor of Mikey — lounging in front of the fireplace. “Hey, come here, it’s nice and wa—” He stopped talking mid-sentence when he finally looked up at you. “Is that my... Baaaaaaabe... You took my jersey!”

“I did,” you said. “Want it back?”

You watched him shake his head, while he dug deep to find the ability to speak. He still hadn’t managed by the time he rolled over, scrambled to his knees and crawled over to you, grasping the hem of the jersey and pressing his lips to the inside of your knee. And then, finally: “Hot. So fucking hot.” It cost him to speak, even those four little words.

His lips moved up the inside of your leg at a glacial pace — atypical for Mike, to say the least. When he made it about halfway, he seemed suddenly plagued by an epiphany: “You’re not wearing anything else, are you?”

Blue puppy eyes widened even further when you slowly shook your head, and Mike sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with force. A strangled moan stumbled out of his mouth, and you knew what you’d find if you could see the front of his sweatpants right now.

Then, he was up, slinging you over his shoulder in less than one second, and at least somewhat carefully putting you down again in the nest of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. His lips found your neck — and so did his tongue and his teeth, his sloppy kiss causing you to arch your back off the ground, arms desperate to grab as much of him as possible. He had other plans, though.

He sat up on his knees between your legs and looked down on you as he planned his next move. Except Mike couldn’t plan. Like, at all... So you let your knees fall to the side and pulled the jersey up so it wasn’t covering you. It was enough to throw him off his game.

He shrugged in a ‘yeah, I could eat’ kind of way and dove face-first between your legs, wasting no time whatsoever. No teasing, no slow start, nothing. Just his eager mouth on your pussy, tongue flat against your clit — just the way you liked it — settling into an easy rhythm that would definitely get you where you needed to be.

A focused, goal-oriented Mikey was a rare sight to behold. In fact, you’d go as far as to say there were two possible scenarios in which he came out to play; on the ice, and between your legs doing exactly what he was doing now. The discussion of the subject had gone about as Mikey-esque as possible. According to him, if he lost focus in these situations, someone would get hurt — you personally felt there was some kind of a difference between a cramped jaw and a shattered kneecap or other serious injuries, but he didn’t see it that way. Not that you were going to complain about it, because focused, goal-oriented Mike got the job done. Quickly.

He moaned — a sexy, sweet little sound — when you grabbed his head, weaving your fingers into his dark curls before clenching them into a tight fist. It wasn’t that he needed the guidance as much as you needed something to hold on to...

“Fuck, Mikey...” He had you on the edge already, but you knew better than to tell him you were close. Any time you’d tried that, it had fried something in his brain and all consistency in his technique had disappeared like snow in July. Not good. So, you’d learned to keep your mouth shut so he could keep that gentle, diligent rhythm intact, until... “Oh god, yes!”

Every muscle in your body tensed and you screwed your eyes shut as he pushed you over the edge. You barely noticed the satisfied little hum that came from him — standard procedure, and nothing compared to the other signs of his elevated sense of self-importance. In other words; the least unbearable part of the cocky attitude that bubbled up whenever you came on his tongue.

You groaned when he threw himself on top of you, probably sort of accidentally crushing you with his full weight, but you forgave him when he kissed you silly, giving you plenty of opportunity to taste yourself on his tongue before he moved on to delivering sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded, grabbing your wrists as you reached for the hem of the jersey. “That stays on. Get on your knees and turn around.”

“Do you have—”

“No, I don’t. I need to feel you,” he whined — you almost felt bad for him.

“Mikey...” you warned. If you went there with him, there was no way you were ever turning back.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined again. God, those eyes were killing you. “You know you’re it for me, right? Fuck, you’re wearing my name, my number... You had to know that would drive me at least a little nuts, right? Please, please, please, pretty, pretty please, let me... Just... Please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, grinding his hips against you.

You’d seen him needy and desperate — of course you had! If you kissed this man’s neck twice at a party and whispered a single even remotely sexual thing in his ear, he’d already be begging to let him take you home. This, however, was next level...

His mouth stopped begging, but his eyes definitely didn’t, and the brutally possessive grasp on your hips didn’t relax either. He wasn’t going to quit until he got what he wanted, that much was obvious. That left only one question: were you going to give it to him?

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not kidding,” he muttered after a few moments. “Come on... Face down, ass up—” You clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence, and as you did so, you realized something.

“You don’t seriously want me from behind because you can look at... Oh my god, that’s why you don’t want me to take this damn jersey off, isn’t it?” ‘Vaguely indignant’ would be an accurate description of your tone. Maybe more than ‘vaguely’.

“Ehhhh...” The sound of a man who had been well and truly fucking busted. “Okay so, out of all the times I’ve looked at you and thought ‘woohoo, she’s mine!’, right now you’re so, so, so the mine-est... My name. My number. My sweet, perfect, wet little pussy. Okay? Mine.” He dragged you down to the floor, where he latched his mouth onto your neck again, this time with so much tongue that you begged him to stop. “Only if you let me fuck my pretty girl from behind!”

“That’s blackmail!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yup! Now surrender!” He grabbed your boob with one hand and tickled your side with the other before reaching between your legs. “Come on, you’re soaking wet and I know you need me as much as I need you, so... Let me bone you already!”

“I have one demand!” you said, wiping the tears off your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. No one could make you laugh like your professional idiot.

“Hey, we’re negotiating! That’s progress!” he teased, pinching your nipple through the fabric of the jersey.

“I get to be on top, first,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Mike, who didn’t see, because he had his face buried in your neck.

“Deal!” He snapped his head up, almost head-butting you in the nose. “Sorry! But yeah, deal, deal, deal! Fucking deal!” He scrambled to his knees and got comfortable in front of the couch, leaning his back against it and reaching his arms out towards you. “Here! Get over here, now!”

You crawled towards him, slowly, giving him your best fuck-me eyes as you let your hands slide up his legs — agonizingly slowly, of course — and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. “You want me, baby?”

The sweetest whimpers escaped him when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, but they turned into pitiful whines when you leaned forward. “No, I don’t want you to suck my cock!” Words you thought you’d never hear from this guy... “I need you to turn around and fucking sit. On. It.”

“Beg for it one more time, baby, please?” you asked sweetly. “You’re so cute when you beg for my pussy.”

“My pussy,” he teased. “Please, please, please, please, please come here and ride me.”

You paused for a moment, locking eyes with him, taunting him as you decided whether or not that was good enough, and quickly coming to the conclusion that he hadn’t been wrong when he said you needed him, too. So, you turned around, revelling in the sounds of eager anticipation from Mike as you moved to where he wanted you. Seconds later, you felt his tip at your entrance, and you knew the time for teasing was over.

“Fuck,” he said, twice, three times... You lost count, what with being a little too busy relishing the feeling of his skin on yours for the first time since you’d met him.

“Good?” Stupid question...

“You’re killing me, Sweetcheeks,” he moaned, clenching his fists tightly around the bunched up fabric of the jersey at your hips.

You moved slowly, knowing he would go absolutely crazy over it, and it wasn’t long before he was begging you for more. As far as you were concerned, he could forget about that, but he had other plans. He pushed you forward and quickly wormed his way out from under you, getting on his knees behind you, hurrying to get back inside.

“Can’t do this, Sweetcheeks,” he huffed, adorably out of breath. “Show up like this and then tease me. It’s not fair. Bad girl!” He playfully smacked your ass.

“Don’t act like you hate it,” you said as you reached for a pillow — playtime was over, and you were going to need one to scream in.

Lo and behold, he didn’t even pretend to hold back on the first thrust, much less any of the ones that followed, and you were left crying and moaning into that pillow as he railed you into the next century. You could tell from his breathing and his soft swearing that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Babe, can I— oh fuck...” This idiot. The answer would have been ‘yes’, but still... “Please tell me I’m not gonna be a dad...”

“I figured it would be better to see if you’d grow up first,” you laughed as he pulled out and lay down next to you with a hopelessly adorable concerned look on his face. Slowly, a smile broke through as you assured him it was okay.

You snuggled into his side, and he pulled a blanket over the both of you. “Hey, Sweetcheeks,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sighed.

He pulled on the jersey to get you as close to him as possible. “And you’re so totally wearing this to my next game.”

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #mike hellraiser #hellraiser mike x reader #mike x reader #mike hellraiser smut #hellraiser mike smut #hockey au

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shanastoryteller · 2 years

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happy pride!! geraskier? 🏳️‍🌈

Yennefer doesn't think anything of the silver ring on Geralt's left hand. He's a witcher, for fuck's sake.

She keeps not thinking of it until she stumbles on him at a pub, which wouldn't be too strange except there's a semi-talented bard belting out a tune, jaunty and uplifting enough that the whole place is rowdy with it.

"I didn't know you liked music," she says, sliding into the chair next to him with a goblet full of mead.

He doesn't seem surprised at her presence, but he never does. He almost smiles at her, the closest he gets when they're still clothed. "I don't really have a choice."

She's still trying to puzzle that out when the bard careens towards their table and plops himself in Geralt's lap, continuing to play and sing from his new position.

Yennefer freezes, waiting for Geralt to shove him aside or start yelling or even draw his sword. Instead he smirks, pointedly turning his head away to drink his beer. The bard goes so far to lean back into his chest, his head falling over Geralt's shoulder and singing directly into his ear.

The volume can't be comfortable if nothing else, but Geralt doesn't so much as flinch. Neither do the other patrons, laughing and shouting and no one screaming obscenities' or going green at the sight of a witcher.

For a moment, Yennefer almost thinks that she's not speaking to Geralt at all, but she dismisses the thought just as quickly. Her magic would sense if he were a doppler or under a glamour.

The bard only stands once he's finished, bowing to all the clapping patrons and accepting several beers when he refuses an encore - or a second encore, based on what several people are yelling.

People eventually dissipate and the bard drops into the seat next to Geralt. "Who's the pretty lady?" he asks, taking Geralt's beer instead of any of the full ones littering the table.

"She could eat you," he says but the bard just laughs.

She notices a familiar silver ring on his left finger and her eyes drop to Geralt's hand. They're identical.

"Sorry that he's so rude," the bard says, holding out his hand. "I'm Jaskier. You're gorgeous."

She doesn't take his hand, instead slowly moving her gaze between them. "How do you two know each other?"

Geralt sighs. "Don't-"

"Carnally," he says, "physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, metaphysically-"

"Do you even know what that means?" Geralt asks.

"Alchemically," Jaskier continues, "holistically-"

"I'm going to divorce you," he says, which at least answers that question.

Jaskier shrugs. "You can try. How did you two meet?"

Yennefer stills. She's not pleased with being the other women, but she's not about to get in the middle of anyone's marital business, even Geralt's, so she'll just agree with with whatever lie Geralt tells.

"She put a curse on me and now we sleep together," he says.

Jaskier looks her over, but less like a jealous lover and how she's used to men looking at her. "Nice."

He holds his hand up for a hand five which Geralt ignores. Jaskier pouts.

A very pretty barmaid comes over, holding a cup of the same mead Yennefer is drinking. "Hello, Jaskier," she says shyly, the lines around her eyes taking nothing away from the lush curves of breast and thigh. "You have such a lovely voice. I'd love to hear more of it, later, if you're free."

Jaskier looks to Geralt with a raised eyebrow. Geralt shrugs.

"No time like the present, my lady," he says, bouncing to his feet. He takes the mead in one hand and settles the other on her hip, leading her toward the stairs.

Yennefer stares. "You're just going to let him do that?"

He shrugs again. "You can sleep with him too if you want. He's the one that taught me the thing with my tongue that you like so much."

Interesting, but not currently her focus. "Why didn't you tell me you were married?"

How the hell is a witcher married? To a bard, of all people?

"You didn't ask," he answers, and then says nothing else.

Okay, just for that she is going to sleep with his husband.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #kourasmenos #witcher

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 5 months

Text

A snippet from a very long wip im working on, hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure this will work?” Geralt says nervously.

“Of course not,” Yen drawls, “if he rejects you, he rejects you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he growls as they step through the portal Yen had made and into a strange room filled with obscurities.

The room is filled with every color imaginable, shining and blinding in every corner.

“What is this place?” He asks Yen.

“You’ll see,” Yennerfer says, coming up to the front desk and ringing a bell that had been sitting unassuming on the counter.

Immediately a small man, about up to Geralt’s hips, comes walking in, so you can only see the top of his balding head, and hikes himself up into the chair, “what can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a dagger,” Yennerfer says, “handmade.”

“That will take sometime,”

“As quick as you can, we’ll pay,”

“What kind of dagger?”

Yennerfer looks at Geralt expectantly, “broad, short, practical.”

“How romantic.” Yennerfer says snarkily, she turns to the man, “the hilt will need to be decorated quite lavishly with carvings and stones.” she turns back to Geralt, “have you picked a stone?”

Geralt remembers the small book Yen had passed him and the many worn pages of their significance and meanings, it felt overwhelming. He’d looked endlessly through the blue stones, wanting one the particular shade of Jaskier’s eyes but also with the right intent. There was one that made him think of nothing but Jaskier’s dancing eyes.

“Hotez,” Geralt says firmly.

“For his eyes, really?” Yen drawls.

The mans hums thoughtfully, “quite a meaningful gem, many cultures use it for love or honesty and I believe the elven meaning is ‘I can’t live without you’ or rather ‘our love is eternal’.”

Geralt can feel his face warming at Yennefer’s intense stare. “Well,” she says, “I’m glad you at least gave it some thought rather than picking a random one.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he growls.

“Wouldn’t you?”

The man cuts in, “Along the hilt? Would you like engravings as well?”

“Yes,” Geralt answers sure of himself, the engravings were the part he knew exactly what he wanted, “A wolf and a…” he looks at Yennerfer who arches an eyebrow at him, “a lark,” he finishes lamely.

She actually laughs, “Oh Geralt you’re simple but you’re sweet.”

“Is that supposed to be a complement?”

“That’s as close as you’ll get with me I’m afraid.”

Yennerfer pulls Geralt to the side while Jaskier and Ciri enter the dining hall.

“What?” he hisses.

She gives him a look that says don’t ever take that tone with me again and he listens, his tone is much more subdued when he asks “what’s the matter?”

“The dagger, it’s arrived, you can do this after all. Tonight. Come with me.”

“Yen,” Geralt calls after her figure leaving down the hall, “Yen!” He has no choice but to follow.

She brings him to her room and balks at the interior, “really? You used magic here? To make your room nicer?"

"What they had just wasn’t cutting it," she says shrugging.

"You know the point of the simplicity is to be humbled."

"Well I’m not exactly the humbled type."

He she tosses a paper wrapped package at him that he manages to catch, he frowns at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, go on, look at it, do you know what I had to pay to have this specially ordered and on a deadline and you just had to have one of the rarest stones-”

“Okay i get it,” Geralt says annoyed, “I’ll pay you back.”

“Please, like I need your money, besides I’ve seen what your salary looks like, I’d be dead before you could ever pay me back."

“Yen,” he says annoyed."

“Consider it a gift, for good will towards your love,” she waves him off but he feels a warmth pooling in his stomach.

He carefully unwraps the dagger, the paper rustling, as he reveals the blade of it, it’s broad like he’d asked and smooth. It shines brilliantly in the candle light, flashing as he turns it this way and that.

“The hilt,” Yen says, telling him to hurry up.

He unwraps the hit, met immediately with that striking blue that drew him in and he feels embarrassment crawl up his neck as he thinks of the stone’s meaning. “Do you think he’ll know what it means?”

“Someone as romantic and poetic as Jaskier? He’ll know what it means.”

Geralt runs a hand over the bumps of the crystal blue stones, shaped so their sides flash brilliantly and that’s when he turns it over and sees it, the carving of a wolf arched towards a bird, a lark.

“Well?” Yennerfer says.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Really what has he gone and done to you, you’re never this courteous."

“I really mean it Yen, for helping me with this, even if he says no, I know how much you and Ciri have put into this, it means a lot.”

“My gods he’s good for you, don’t you ever let him go if he says yes.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

“I’m serious."

“So am I,” he doesn’t buckle under her piercing gaze and when she’s satisfied she turns her attention back to the matter at hand.

Do you need to practice what you’re going to say? He makes a face at the thought of telling Yen what he’s been repeating in his head for days, “No.”

“Very well she says, and you remember what to do?”

He nods.

“Okay then here’s the last piece,” she waves a hand at her bed where there’s something draped on it, as he draws closer he can see it’s fine clothing, clothing that makes him want to die on his own sword to be seen in but finely made clothing of high grade silk and carefully embroidered, something Jaskier would love. “you weren’t really planning on going in your usual clothes?”

“Isn’t this a bit too dressed up for such a place?”

“You think he won’t be dressed up?" She’s right, gods he’s been saying that too often these days. “Besides Ciri and I will be dressed up also so you won’t feel alone."

Geralt feels the dagger burn against his skin through the pocket of his pants. Jaskier has just finished a set and walks over to him.

“Jaskier,” he draws Jaskier’s attention, those blue eyes turning to burn into his. He’s a little sweaty from all the movement but it’s not unpleasant, his hair a little mussed.

“Well aren’t you well dressed,” Jaskier says, an easy smile gracing his lips, “you must absolutely hate it,” he laughs, eyes creasing with his delight.

Geralt feels mirth rumbling up from his chest. This is Jaskier, he steadies Geralt even without meaning to do so.

“I bet Yen had to hold you down while she squeezed you into that. It must have been quite the sight,” there’s teasing to his voice and a glint in his eyes that holds Geralt captive.

Geralt’s voice is quiet to even his own ears, “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” Jaskier says, smile faltering.

“These two weeks have been amazing,” Jaskier stares at him with pure confusion, “I feel that I’ve grown to know you better than I ever have. And the more I’ve grown to know you, the more I’ve grown to appreciate your friendship.”

“You’re awfully talkative tonight,” Jaskier says, trying for another laugh to break the serious tone.

Geralt stares at him with a determination that rivals anything he’s ever felt in his life, “I have thought long and hard about my intentions towards you. There’s nothing that frightens me more than losing your friendship or your respect.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier looks scared now.

Geralt brings his fingers to his side, he watches how his fingers tremble as he unsheathes the silver dagger, the stone encrusted hilt flashes in the low candle light.

He draws it out before turning it in his hand, grasping the delicate blade and pointing the hilt towards Jaskier. He finally brings himself to look at Jaskier who’s staring down at the hilt offered up to him, eyes wide and glassy, mouth opened in shock. Geralt knows he’s completely caught him off guard.

The seconds stretch by painfully, drawing them both apart with each moment that passes. And then there’s blessed movement as Jaskier brings a hand up to grasp the hilt, and Geralt moves without thinking, pressing his palm into the sharp edge of the blade and pulling back quickly. The sting of blade biting into flesh barely phases him, only knows he’s done it because he can smell the copper in the air.

Jaskier’s eyes flick up to him, swimming with fear and trepidation, he looks so lost. Geralt wants nothing more than to rush forward, to embrace him. Geralt grits his teeth not because of the lowly stinging of his palm. He opens his fingers revealing the two slice marks welling with scarlet blood, it represents the seriousness of his proposition. Jaskier’s eyes drink in the cuts eagerly like he’s starving for the sight of it.

Geralt takes this as a good sign and drops his hand back to his side. It’s now time for Jaskier to make a decision. He must place the dagger back into the sheath on Geralt’s side and either leave it there in rejection and Geralt must not approach him again or unbuckle the sheath from his side and wear it himself. A sign that he’s being courted and not to be approached by any other suitors.

Geralt can feel the blood slicking his fingers and imagines it must’ve begun dripping to the floor.

Jaskier’s movements are stuttered as he brings the dagger to Geralt’s side, his hand grasped determinedly around the hilt. Feeling, Geralt imagines, the stones and their intent digging into his palm.

Geralt closes his eyes for a moment, listening painedly to the whispering of the blade against leather as it slides into the sheath. He opens them, staring into those cornflower blue eyes. The most beautiful color Geralt’s ever seen. He watches as Jaskier’s hand moves and prepares for him to draw it back to his side, for him to step back away. He hears it, not sees it, when Jaskier’s fingers pull at the buckle, metal tinkling in the air and the rushing of leather pulling free as it whisks through the buckle. And like that the firm pressure of the band around him slides away, held firmly in Jaskier’s delicate hands as he pulls it back to himself into Geralt’s eyeline. Geralt feels like it can’t be real, watches in a daze as Jaskier pulls the band around his hips, the sheath coming to rest against his side and shaky fingers bringing the buckle to meet the notched band before sliding it through and firmly buckling it. Geralt can see his fingers shaking, but Geralt can do nothing but stare as the downcast eyes flick up to his own, watching, waiting.

Jaskier gives him a hesitant smile, “did you really think I’d reject you? I don’t think there’s a world where that happens.”

And like that Geralt crumbles apart at Jaskier’s feet, leaping forwards to grab Jaskier around the waist and hoist him up into the air, spinning him. Jaskier’s laugh is pure delight. He stops, dropping Jaskier against himself, arms crushing him in a hug. Jaskier returns it, laugh sweet in his ear.

Then there’s Ciri’s shout, “he accepted!” And just like that they’re surrounded. The women of Alietza cooing over Jaskier, bustling him away from Geralt as they make him pull out the dagger so they may admire the jewels and intricate designs in the hilt, it’s then that Jaskier seems to notice the engravings, he runs his fingers over it admiringly just as Geralt had done hours earlier.

“Hotezes,” they gasp. “We hope your courting will prove fruitful.”

He feels like his legs are going to give out from under him from the way the adrenaline racing through him leaves him in a rush. And yet he feels more content than he’s ever felt in his life.

“Congratulations,” comes a sly voice behind him, he turns to meet assessing lilac eyes, “you managed not to fuck it up.”

“Yen,” he says with a smile on his lips.

“You’re both going to be disgustingly romantic aren’t you?” Yen asks, a look of disgust on her face and Geralt’s laughing. He’s laughing so freely that Yen’s face morphs into one of shock.

He’s suddenly blindsided by an armful of Ciri, she hugs him tightly, her arms around his neck, her hair tickling his nose. She pulls back, flushed and delighted, “Congratulations!”

“He’s only accepted my request to court him,” Geralt tells her seriously.

She punches his arm, not lightly, “yeah but this was the hardest part! Now you get to shower him with affection.”

“For Geralt that is the hardest part,” Yen says into her glass of wine.

“I’m not worried,” Ciri says, and her eyes are filled with something loving and kind that shines in the candlelight and Geralt feels his heart ache with the love he feels for Ciri.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier #geralt jaskier

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