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anna-pixie · 3 years

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padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part three}

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hello!! i have written and rewritten this part a lot, and i still can’t decide whether i am completely happy with it, so honest feedback is encouraged!! ty all so much for your love on the last part, i hope you enjoy <3

summary: you and obi-wan head out on another mission, but something has got him in an awful mood (lmk if you guys figure out what his mood is about before the next part!!)

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader

warnings: mentions of sex

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“Y/N, when you said you were serious about your training I expected I would see you there on time each morning.” The familiar lilt of Obi-Wan’s voice jerks you up from your incredibly deep sleep. You wipe away the drool from the corner of your mouth and gaze around your room with bleary eyes.

There’s nobody there.

Then a knock sounds from your door and you realise that your Master is too respectful to just barge into your room without permission.

“Come in, Master.”

You hear the hiss of your door sliding open and smile sheepishly as your favourite bearded face peers around into the unhomely expanse of your room. Unlike the Jedi Masters, padawans weren’t encouraged to decorate their rooms. That’s a privilege earnt through time and experience. You’re thankful that you went to bed wearing a large jumper last night, though as you stretch the material exposes your stomach ever so slightly.

“I broke my datapad yesterday…” You trail off, knowing that this is the third one you’ve gone through this year, “I didn’t have anything to set an alarm on.” An innocent smile graces your lips as Obi-Wan sighs, sitting next to you on your unmade sheets as he returns it with his own wry grin.

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Padawan?” You know your Master well enough by now to be able to tell what he is feeling by the tone of his incredibly expressive voice, and thankfully right now he doesn’t seem too annoyed by your lack of care for your datapad. However, you also know that you’re treading on very thin ice, that you’re going to have to start putting a lot more effort in unless you want him to give up on you like everyone else has.

It’s been a few weeks since you met Ahsoka which gave you the motivation you needed to get back on track. To say it’s been a hard few weeks would be an understatement. You’re up every morning before the light, fighting and learning and meditating with Obi-Wan. The two of you spend a lot of time together alone in the mornings and evenings when most other people in the temple have already retired to bed, but a lot of your time in the day is shared by Anakin - he thinks it is a great idea to train you and Ahsoka together.

Now that was a kick in the teeth.

You like Ahsoka, you really do, but it’s so humiliating to be trained alongside someone so much younger than you. Especially in front of the man you’re head over heels in love with. And, as another cherry on top of the cake of your shit life, the senate has been quiet as of late, which means Padme has plenty of free time to come and oversee your training sessions. Keeping an eye on the Jedi Temple, she says, but everyone sees the smiles exchanged between her and her Jedi. It makes you feel queasy.

How are you supposed to focus on training when your biggest distraction is hanging in front of you everyday?

You have to give it to Obi-Wan, he tries his best to steer you away from the pain caused by seeing Anakin and Padme together. He stands directly in your eyeline when he knows they are near each other, so that you can’t see anything except his smiling face. When Anakin suggests lunch with Ahsoka and Padme, Obi-Wan regretfully informs him of the non-existent prior engagements the two of you have with a sneaky smile your way.

With all the hardship of the past few weeks, you’re happy with how close it has brought you and your Master.

“Can we just leave it for today, Master? Please.” You flop back down onto your bed, your eyes remaining on Obi-Wan as you send him your best pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Sadly, we’ve been called away to war so I’m afraid that isn’t an option. It seems as though this is going to be a long operation. We’re first needed in Umbara, it seems as though General Krell has been executed by the clones. After that we go straight to Mandalore.”

“The clones executed a Jedi General?” Your voice is high as you stand up, heading over to your small closet and quickly rifling through your clothes to find something that would hold up for a few days.

“It appears that he was a Separitast sympathiser. He turned two clone units against each other, forced them to kill their own.”

Your eyes are wide as Obi-Wan continues to explain the situation awaiting the two of you on Umbara, and your heart clenches as you think about what the Clones must have been gonig through during their time there. You know attachments are forbidden as a Jedi, but you can’t help the close relationships you have formed with some of the soldiers. Captain Rex is like a brother to you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later, you’re holding onto the bar above you as your ship takes off in the direction of Umbara, Obi-Wan looking more jittery than you’ve ever seen him as he paces around next to you.

“You okay, Master? You seem shaken up.”

“I’m fine, young one.” He dismisses you with a shake of your head, “Come with me, we may as well get some training in whilst we’re enroute.” He doesn’t say anything else, just turns away and heads out of the bridge with not so much as a glance back to make sure you’re following him.

What on Alderaan is going on with him?

His mood doesn’t let up during training, you’ve never seen him come at you so relentlessly. If it wasn’t for the fact that they knew you so well, the passing clones would probably assume that the two of you were fighting to the death in your training room.

A cry escapes your mouth as he knocks the saber from your hand, as it clatters to the ground and rolls somewhere you don’t bother to look for, you expect him to stop. However his saber remains active, and he seems to be in a trance of sorts as he swings for you once more, only stopped from making contact with a part of your body when you swing your leg out from beneath you, causing the two of you to fall to the ground with a low grunt from him. His saber falls from his grasp in the same way yours did, and you work on figuring out how to calm him down as his body cages yours into the ground.

The only noise in the room is the sound of you both breathing heavily, and when your eyes finally look up and meet his again you almost feel as though he has used the force to steal your breath away from you. His blue eyes capture yours, not letting up as his gaze seems to only darken the longer the two of you lay there.

You can’t help but be reminded of a similar situation you found yourself in with Anakin a while ago, the two of you ended up tangled on the ground after a round of playful sparring. It was all heavy breathing and dark looks and you remember that all you could think was how much you had wanted him to kiss you in that moment.

So why, Maker tell, do you have the exact same feeling now? You thought that your crush on Obi-Wan had been a silly, fleeting thing back when you first began training under him. You didn’t think it would return with a vengeance, your mind silently asking him to lean down further as you struggle to pull your eyes away from his own. When you and Anakin has been in this same situation, you had hoped that he was going to kiss you, so it was humiliating when he finally tore his gaze from yours and pulled himself away from you with an awkward cough.

You think that Obi-Wan will do the same. Of course he will, he’s the most rule abiding Jedi you’ve ever met.

That’s why, when you feel his lips being placed softly on yours, you think you’re just hallucinating. It takes your mind a moment to catch up to what is actually occurring, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls away and then presses his lips to yours with more fervour once he realises that you aren’t going to push him away.

The hand that almost struck you with his saber minutes before reaches up, holding onto your jaw whilst the other keeps him steady on top of you. He breathes heavily as he kisses you, your breath minging as you savour the feeling. This isn’t your first kiss, you had snuck out to the clubs of Coruscant before and kissed random boys before, but this was different. This was your first kiss since you had fallen in love with Anakin. All those nights you had spent dreaming, hoping, praying that he would be the next person you kiss. Yet here you are, your lips moving feverishly against your Master’s as you thread one of your hands into the long hair at the nape of his neck.

You must stay like that, basking in the feeling of each other for a good few minutes before a loud bang from the corridor snaps you both out of the spell you had fallen under. Obi-Wan quickly gets up, sticking out his hand to locate his saber, unable to look you in the eye as you slowly rise from your position. Your mouth tingles and your eyes are wide as you stare at the side of Obi-Wan’s head.

He smooths his hand over his beard and mumbles a quick, “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Padawan.” before leaving the room hastily. You flinch at the way he says the word Padawan, like he is reminding you both that what you just did was not only forbidden but also extremely morally wrong. You’ve never been one to care about such trivialities, but Obi-Wan is definitely a fair bit older than you, to say the least.

As you catch your breath and find your lightsaber, you think to yourself that it’s good that you were interrupted, because if you weren’t then you might’ve been found by a soldier who would’ve reported what he saw back to the council. You ignore the part of you that wishes you would have continued, that thinks of how well your lips worked together and how at home you felt with his body on top of yours. And most of all, you ignore the part of you that wonders if him kissing you had anything to do with his sudden mood change since departing for the trip.

The rest of the journey is slow and quiet, you take some time to meditate and gather your thoughts, knowing you’re in no state to be dealing with anything important right now. A soldier offers you something to eat but you have to decline, with the way your stomach is turning you know you won’t be able to stomach any food.

Obi-Wan seems to have retired to somewhere quiet on the ship, you don’t see him until you touch down on Umbara. The capital has been captured now, and that is where you will spend the night before heading to Mandalore, however you must first deal with the execution of General Krell at a nearby facility that was taken by the clones.

You walk silently alongside your Master, an awkward tension in the air that is an extreme change from your usual playful banter and general good moods. As you approach Captain Rex and his troopers, he shoots you an inquisitive look, which you quickly brush off with a whisper that you’ll talk to him later.

The situation is resolved quickly, you and your Master both know you can take Rex’s word for the events that transpired, and you make sure Krell’s body is properly taken care of.

“We’ve only got one spare speeder on us, General, so Y/N will have to ride with one of the boys.” Are Captain Rex’s departing words before his gunship takes off towards the capital, leaving you, Obi-Wan and a few more troopers to travel back via speeder.

“You can ride with me, Y/N.” A clone who is about to depart shouts over to you, though your attempt to walk in his direction is thwarted by a sudden, harsh grip on your forearm. You turn quickly, shocked to see Obi-Wan shake his head, gesturing over to his own speeder instead.

“She’ll ride with me.”

The trooper offers no argument, simply saluting the two of you before speeding off towards the capital with a trail of dust in his wake.

You notice that Obi-Wan still hasn’t directly addressed you since the incident on the ship, so you stay quiet whilst climbing onto the speeder, waiting for him to say something. A squeak leaves your mouth when you’re pushed forward, Obi-Wan’s large body enveloping you from behind as he reaches past you to grab hold of the handles, and you’re off before you can even think about what is going on.

“We need to talk when we get back.”

Are the first words spoken to you, and the last, because he quickly falls silent. Though, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you when his chin rests on your shoulder, his beard scratching your cheek oh so slightly.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner in Umbara is a quick affair, you scoff down what you can, not talking as much as usual due to your preoccupied mind. Obi-Wan disappeared after you both briefed Master Windu who is still back at the temple, and you wonder if he is off meditating somewhere, trying to reconcile for the ‘mistake’ that the two of you made.

You’ve been fighting your own inner turmoil about the situation since it happened earlier that day. Once you finish your food, you retire back to the uncomfortable bed in a tiny room at the top of the large building, assuming that Obi-Wan has decided to forgo the conversation and ignore you altogether.

As you lie on the hard metal, your mind wanders over the past few months. You wonder how Anakin would react if he knew you and Obi-Wan had kissed. Would he be angry? Jealous? Happy? Deep down you know you would want him to be jealous, you would want him to be angry at the thought of any other man having you in the way that he wants you.

But he doesn’t want you in that way, you remind yourself. Does Obi-Wan even want you in that way? You know he is a well revered man, and nobody can deny how good looking he is. If he really was looking for a romantic, or even just sexual, connection he could probably find that anywhere - why would he get that from plain old you?

A pang of sadness hits your gut as you think about him regretting the kiss, returning to Coruscant and finding another girl that he would rather betray the Jedi code in order to be with. And with wide eyes and a whisper of ‘oh no’, you realise that this is exactly how you felt when your feelings for Anakin started growing stronger. Just what did that kiss stir within you, surely your years old feelings for your Master haven’t suddenly resurfaced, right?

A knock on your door startles you, that deep in thought you hadn’t heard anyone approaching your rather isolated room.

“Y/N?” It’s Obi-Wan.

“You can come in, it’s open.

He slides the door open, his actions sheepish and small and not at all like the overly confident man he usually is. It pains you to see him like this, stumbling and second guessing everything he does.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked when you’re not on Coruscant, anything could wander in.”

“Sorry, Master.” You’ve shuffled to the edge of the bed now, Obi-Wan sitting beside you, mirroring the exact position you were in when he woke you up this morning. Before everything turned into a mess.

“I… I’m so sorry, Padawan. I abused my position as your Master and I never should’ve even thought about doing something like that with you. Especially after you confided in me about your feelings for Anakin, I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of your vulnerability.” His voice is so shaky that you barely recognise it, and a wave of sadness hits you when you realise that he must’ve been carrying this burden of guilt around with him all day.

“Obi-Wan, it’s fine. You didn’t force yourself on me, I was completely on board when it happened, in fact I quite enjoyed it. I know it was wrong, against the code or whatever, but I won’t tell anybody. Please don’t feel guilty.” You make sure he keeps his eyes on you, a delicate touch on his cheek to keep him faced your way. A sigh emits from his mouth and your heart swells in your chest when he leans his head into your hand, seeking your comfort.

“I’m tired, Y/N. This war, I’m beginning to feel it’s toll.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need a break, Master, but it’s not just tiredness that is eating at you right now. I know you, there’s something else going on. You can tell me. Is it something to do with Umbara, Mandalore, anything?”

“Thank you for your concern, Padawan, I’m quite alright.”

“Don’t do that, Obi-Wan.” Your voice wavers this time, “Don’t use that title as a way to brush me off. Yes, I’m your Padawan, but I hope that by now I’m also your friend.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have friends, Y/N.”

You scoff, removing your hand from his face as you turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as he lies to you.

“I was always jealous of him, you know.” He speaks again, after a few minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence.

“Of who?”

“Anakin.”

You turn back, your interest peaked as he looks at you. You swallow, a blush coating your cheeks as you note that his eyes are as dark as they were before. Before he kissed you.

“What reason could you possibly have had for being jealous of him? Oh, Maker, don’t tell me you’re in love with Senator Amidala.”

He chuckles, “No, little one, I was jealous of him because he always seemed to have your attention when he cared so little for you. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at him.”

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part two}

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

so just an fyi... i’m not sticking to the events of the prequels/clone wars entirely, so whenever the characters are talking about battles/missions, they’ll just be events that i’ve made up with slight similarities to the show/movies!

anyways... here’s part two. trust me when i say things will escalate a lot more in part three, heehee.

i’d love to hear your thoughts on this part!

summary: after being given an ultimatum by obi-wan and meeting anakin’s new padawan, you’re determined to become the jedi you once were.

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader {eventual}

warnings: mentions of violence

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

You love tea, it’s one of your favourite reprives in the galaxy. You favourite a floral kind of herbal tea, the way it clears your mind and relaxes your muscles when you drink it is one of the best feelings you know.

Today, however, calls for a very strong cup of caf. You sit in the bustling mess hall, watching all the other young Padawans get ready for their day, as you nurse the overpowering drink. Sleep did not come easy to you last night, you were tossing and turning and thinking and yearning till you saw the morning paint the twinkling sky of Coruscant.

A pang of embarrassment washes over you as you remember the way you broke down in front of your Master, bearing your soul to him and telling him everything you’d been keeping pent up for months. You figure he used some sort of force trick to enable you to be so withcoming with your feelings, however you can’t bring yourself to be angry about this. You know he was at a desperate point, either you told him what was going on or he lost his Padawan at the hands of the rest of the Jedi council.

In that moment, you had been glad that Obi-Wan was your Master, and not someone like Mace Windu. He was kind to you, not making you feel any less for allowing yourself to feel, and he seemed to understand your complicated love towards Anakin. He had allowed you to cry, placing a large hand on your cheek as your tears faded to mere sniffles.

“I’ll get you through this, Y/N. I’m not letting you go.”

His words echo in your mind and you can’t help the small smile that pulls on your mouth at the thought that someone here actually cares about you. That’s a feeling you’ve been lacking greatly since you pretty much lost Anakin as a friend. You found it hard to mix with the other Padawans, they were all so loud and outspoken and you could never keep up with them, try as you might. You were always drowned out in conversations and left behind ‘by accident’ when they did things as a group.

Even if it is only your Master, your kind, rule following Master, you’re glad to have someone on your side.

A small cough pulls you out of your thoughts and you’re surprised to see a young togruta girl sitting opposite you. A smile pulls at her lips and you take a moment to marvel at the short, blue and white montrals that frame her face wonderfully.

“Hi… are you Y/N?” She speaks softly, yet with a confidence to her words that you cannot help but admire.

“I am.” You reply, returning her smile but not offering anything more until you know what she wants from you. A wry smile takes over her features like she knew she would to have to lead the conversation.

“Master Kenobi sent me to find you,” She starts, and you try to stop the way your breath quickens at the sound of his name, “I’m Master Skywalker’s new Padawan, and I don’t really know many people around here. I know I’m a bit younger but… he said he thought we would get on well. Do you mind if I stick around?”

Your response is not instant, and you have to take a moment to think about what you’ve just been told. She wants to stick around with you, because she’s Anakin’s new Padawan, and Obi-Wan thinks that you will get along.

Wait, hold on a moment.

“Anakin’s Padawan? Anakin has been given his own Padawan? Whilst I’m still in training?” You can’t stop the angry whine from escaping your throat, only reigning in your emotions when you realise the girl looks slightly weary of your presence.

“Yup… that’s me. Name’s Ahsoka, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Ahsoka. I’m so sorry to dash off like this but I really need to go and speak with Master Kenobi. I would love you to stick around though, how about we go for dinner after training today?”

The young girl’s face lights up, and she nods gleefully, waving goodbye as you politely excuse yourself. Your pace is quick as you stride down the large halls of the Jedi temple, nodding towards Master Fisto who greets you when you pass.

“Master Fisto, do you happen to know of Master Kenobi’s whereabouts?” You smile at the large green man, he’s always been a lot nicer to you than some of his colleagues.

“If my information is correct, he should just be finishing up in a trade meeting near the main hall.”

“Thank you, Master. Have a good day.”

“I bid you adieu, young Padawan.” And with that, you’re off again, traipsing down the sunlit halls as you search for your Master.

Since being given the frightful news that your position here could be compromised due to your recent performance, you’ve been thinking about all the things you’ve taken for granted whilst residing in the temple. Of course, there are times when you miss the greenery of Alderaan, but there is nothing quite like the ever bustling, twinkling skies Coruscant. The magnificent hallways of the temple are one of your favourite parts, the way the yellow light trickles in through the large windows reflects off the beautiful interior.

Despite recent events making you feel like nothing but an outcast, you cannot deny the fact that this place is home in a way that Alderaan never was. Maybe it’s something to do with being around so much of the Force, but you truly feel comfortable here. You cannot let yourself throw it away because you can’t get over a silly little crush.

That’s pretty much what Obi-Wan had said to you last night, albeit in a much nicer way. He made you realise that what you feel towards Anakin, though important to you, is not important to the Jedi’s. He gave you a day to decide where your head and your heart really lie.

“You can stay with us, help us win this war and fight with me as my Padawan. Or you can leave, relieve the heartbreak you are feeling but you will never be allowed to come back. Anakin will remain here, excelling whilst you get a lowly job in a Coruscant bar, with a rough unsafe apartment in the underbelly of the city where you will probably forget what natural light looks like.”

Maybe that was a bit harsh, but he meant well, you know that now. Realising that Anakin has his own Padawan whilst you’re still in training is the final straw. You’re embarrassed, you realise, that you’ve let yourself fall so far behind whilst your peers are clearly excelling.

You spy your Master exiting his meeting, discussing something with Master Mundi and Master Unduli, both of whom nod at you politely when they see you approaching, already having realised you want to speak to your Master alone. Obi-Wan isn’t surprised to see you, and you smile when you realise he had faith in you to choose the right option this whole time.

“I’m ready to do things properly now, Master. I may require a few extra training sessions, if you wouldn’t mind.” You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly, but soon feel more confident in your decision when you note the smile of pure happiness stretching across Obi-Wan’s face.

“I’m proud of you for making the right choice, my Padawan. I’d be more than happy to oblige your request, I’m sure two extra sessions a week will be enough to get you caught up in no time.”

“That-” Before you can verbally respond to him, Obi-Wan’s wrist-com is beeping red, flashing incessantly and eager for him to respond to the obvious danger. Your eyes widen as you hear Anakin’s voice through the machine.

“It was a Sepratist trap, they’ve got 200 droid units and 20 tanks. I need reinforcements.”

Obi-Wan looks troubled as he thinks over what Anakin has said, but it’s not long before he springs into action, muttering orders into his wrist while signalling for Commander Rex to wrangle up some of his troops.

“You heard him, Y/N, let's go. We need to find Ahsoka, I trust you’ve been introduced by now, does anybody know where she is?” He speaks to the troops who have gathered around him, still standing in front of the meeting room whilst waiting for instructions.

“I do.” You speak quietly, offering to go and find her in the mess hall. Your Master agrees, telling you to hurry and to meet him at the gunship as soon as you’ve found your fellow Padawan.

Thankfully, she is still eating at the table you departed from not even twenty minutes ago, and doesn’t ask questions when you tell her you’re both needed on the battlefield.

“Anakin was sent to Ryloth to gage whether the people there were becoming Sepratist sympathisers, it turned out to be a trap and now we’re headed there for reinforcements. I don’t know much more than that but I’m sure Master Kenobi will brief us on the way there.”

You and Ahsoka exchange idle chatter as you approach the Gunship ready to depart from the platform, Obi-Wan is standing in the doorway of the ship, one arm braced above him to hold him upright. You’ve never noticed how large his arms are before.

Maker, now is not the time, Y/N.

“Y/N, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan nods at the two of you, gesturing for you both to join him in the ship. He indicates to the pilot that we’re all here and he holds you steady at the waist as the ship departs, leaving you all wobbling slightly on the spot.

“What’s the sitch, Master Kenobi?”

Your Master scrunches his nose slightly, you assume it’s due to Ahsoka’s abbreviation of the word situation, he is ever the professional.

“It will be an easy rescue. As far as we’re aware it’s just droids and a few tanks, but Anakin and Plo were getting overpowered, we’re just there to lend an extra hand.”

The excited squeal that escapes the young Padawan surprises you, realising with a smile that this must be her first time being sent into the battlefield. You remember your first time like it was only yesterday, though it has been well over a year now.

It was a battle on Geonosis, a large arena that had turned into a relentless battlefield. You were sent in with your fellow Jedis to rescue Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padme, who had been on a mission that went awry. You found them, tied to poles in the arena, barely fending off the attacks of the savage beasts that had been set on them by the crowd. You still haven’t let them live that down, taking every chance you can to remind them of the time you had to rescue them.

It had also been the first time something, albeit only a droid, had perished at the hands of your green lightsaber. It was one thing deflecting blasts and bombs when they were only simulations, and a whole ‘nother ball game when yours and your Master’s lives were on the line. Thankfully, you’re a lot more used to it by now, chopping down droids like you were born to do it.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you, Ahsoka. Anakin is sure to have my head for it, he’s very protective of you, already.”

A pang of jealousy shoots through your body at this. You know it’s stupid, the girl can’t be more than 16, yet you can’t help but desperately yearn for him to be protective over you like he once was. When he used to dive in front of you in the battlefield, use his saber to shield you from oncoming droids, push you behind him when facing a menacing Sith Lord.

It is with a small gasp that you come to a stark realisation, the reason that you had begun to slack so much since things became rocky between you and Anakin.

You had become entirely dependent on him defending you. You weren’t doing it on purpose, like you and your Master’s had thought, you just subconsciously don’t remember how to fight without Anakin by your side. You assume that Master Kenobi has already figured this out, due to how expectant he was of your feelings towards his former Padawan.

A thrill shoots through you at this newfound knowledge; you haven’t lost your spark as a Jedi, you simply just need to remember how to fight your battles without Anakin. You need to become an independent Padawan before you can even think about becoming a Jedi Knight.

You look to the side as Ahsoka chats excitedly with Captain Rex, catching your Master’s eyes, seeing the small smile he is sending your way. He knows, you think, he knows that you’ve figured out what you need to do.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you narrowly dodge a red laser, splitting the last droid in two as it shrieks at its impending death. Despite the gruelling battle you’ve just fought, your eyes glimmer with happiness as your flare returns for the first time in a long time. You made a conscious effort to stay away from Anakin during that battle, fighting instead alongside your Master like Ahsoka did with hers.

You were surprised at how well you and Obi-Wan worked together, you both seemed to be able to anticipate each other's moves, working seamlessly around each other to eliminate as many droids and tanks as possible whilst dodging attacks on yourselves. You had let your guard down at one point, so caught in the thrill of the moment that you didn’t notice the droid approaching directly behind you until it was too late. Just when you thought you had finally slipped up for the last time, a blue light shot through the droid's body, and you saw Obi-Wan’s stern gaze as it dropped to the floor, dead.

“Be alert, Padawan, I won’t always be here to save you.”

Yet now, as you stare at the carnage that had just taken place, you cannot wipe the smile off your face, only attempting to hide it with a bite of your lip. You and Ahsoka make your way into a nearby hut, presumably the house of a native Twi’lek, as Obi-Wan and Anakin converse with a few of the rebels and their leader, Cham Syndulla.

“Maker, that was awesome!” Ahsoka cries, as the two of you collapse against the stone wall of the hut, giggling away at the events that had transpired. A battle with no casualties on your side was rare, but you had pulled it off today, and you can’t help but share the younger Padawan’s glee.

“I don’t know if awesome is the word I would use to describe it, but it certainly was something.” You look towards the door at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice, pleased to see that him and Anakin had returned. They crossed the room to where you sat, and seemingly a lot more tired than they were letting on, sat down next to you, mirroring the way your backs are resting against the wall.

Anakin and Ahsoka begin to compare numbers from the battle, so you turn your head towards Obi-Wan to find him already looking at you, his head leaning against the wall yet lulled in your direction. You’ve never seen him look so worn out, two weeks of endless meetings and missions finally catching up on him, you suppose.

“I saw her there on the battlefield.” He speaks quietly, his voice low as a smile quirks on his lips. You allow yourself to wonder, briefly, if he has dimples beneath that sandy beard.

“Who?” Your brows crinkle in confusion as you try to remember if there were any other girls on the battlefield, apart from you and Ahsoka, that he could be referring to.

“The old Y/N… and Maker, it was a sight to behold.”

Your lip quivers slightly at this, and he notices, his eyes darting down to your mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to your own, the crystal blue gaze that perfectly matches his saber peering into your own.

“Thank you for believing in me, Master.”

“I never doubted you for a second, Padawan.” And as his unwavering gaze holds yours, his comfortingly familiar expression as warm as ever, you can’t help but believe him. You don’t even notice the way your heart tugs slightly, like it did the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

tag list:

@blondekel77

@magicalaquarian

@acciovisio

@lysawayne

@theriveroftruth

@algentforthewin

@pree-2003-blog

@asaucecoveredsomething

#obi wan x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan x oc #obi wan fluff #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x ofc #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan x y/n #star wars imagine #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x oc #obi wan x ofc

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I just came here to say that I loved Padawan part one!! We'll get a part 2 right? 🥺💕

tysm for reading!

i’m working on a part two now & am planning on turning it into a series 💗

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part one}

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

me: has a witcher series to finish which is taking a lot of time

also me: starts a new series about a character i’ve never written for before!

{also trying out a new layout? unsure of what i think of it}

summary: you’re hopelessly in love with anakin skywalker, but he only has eyes for padmé amidala. your heartbreak is starting to effect your performance in the jedi temple, and your position as padawan to obi-wan kenobi is in jeopardy.

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader {eventually}

warnings: none

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your face is blank as you watch Anakin from across the room, something you’ve learnt to do from many, many months of suppressing your emotions. Though your face no longer betrays you, the way your heart swells at the sight of his smiling face reminds you of your ever present love for the fiery Jedi.

Your warmth stutters, however, when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and Senator Amidala appears from behind him with a smile full of sunshine and grace. You can’t help but slightly purse your lips as Anakin’s whole body reacts to her touch, as though she is a magnet and he is made out of pure iron.

Anakin, whilst being a great Jedi and an exceptional pilot, is not as skilled at masking his emotions. Despite it technically still being a secret, you’re sure that everyone knows of his love for and marriage to the gleeful senator. It was like a punch in the gut when you had found out about their nuptials. You and Anakin had been close friends for years, your friendship was one of those will-they, won’t-they friendships, full of flirty banter and sexual tension. You had liked it that way, you were content that way. Until the day he arrived with the joyful news that he had settled down with Padmé. That was the day that your friendship changed forever, he withdrew from you, became more distant and treated you the way a Master would treat a Padawan - holding you at arms length as though you had never been close in the first place.

It suffices to say that you’re heartbroken, and you wake up every day just as heartbroken as the last. It’s a horrible cycle that has had devastating effects on your training. You’re unfocused, unwilling to put in any extra effort, unwilling to socialise the way you used to because everywhere you go, the two of them are there, as in love as the day they wed.

“Credit for your thoughts?” The melodious voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi floods your ears as he settles himself beside you on the black lounger.

“I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than a singular credit, Master.” You joke, leaping to your usual defence mechanism of humor to deflect from the obvious sadness radiating from you. You’ve never met anyone as perceptive to the force as Obi-Wan, both a blessing due to his vast knowledge, but also a curse, due to the fact you can never quite hide your emotions from the Jedi Master.

You had trained under Obi-Wan at the same time as Anakin, however your recent slip ups had meant that while Anakin was promoted to the rank of Jedi Knight, you still remained a Padawan under the guidance of Obi-Wan.

“Of course, my Padawan, I apologize,” Humor laces his tone, before he turns to face you completely, his expression more serious as he holds eye contact with you, “I do require a serious conversation with you, Y/N, about your recent performance as my Padawan. Please join me in my quarters for a drink of tea. Be there around 7. Enjoy the rest of your day, young one.”

You watch with a fond smile as the older Jedi makes his leave from the bustling room, his robes swishing behind him as he goes. Truth be told, you had harboured a crush on your Master when you first began to train under him. The first few times you met him were spent with longing gazes and a lot of lip biting on your end, but eventually your attention was captured by the flirty, playful nature of Anakin. You wonder how things would’ve turned out if your focus had stayed on the older Jedi master, you know he is very set in his ways, but you wonder if maybe something would have bloomed between the two of you. You can imagine Obi-Wan to be a very gentle lover, in all aspects, the complete antithesis to the damned Skywalker boy you had fallen for.

With a shake of your head, you banish all thoughts of romance from your mind. You’re training to become a full fledged Jedi, attachments are not allowed. That doesn’t mean other things aren’t allowed, that stupid voice in your head reminds you. No, you won’t let yourself think about such things.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head is hanging low as you stroll slowly through the hallway of the Jedi temple, on your way back to your residence after a long day of not really listening to the things the council had been droning on about. You can tell that people are starting to notice your wavering commitment to the cause, however you honestly cannot bring yourself to care.

A shriek escapes your mouth as a hard body barrels into your own, almost sending you to the ground had it not been for your quick reflexes summoning the force to keep your body upright. A smile forms on your lips as you hear the tell tale chuckles of Anakin, who seems to have quickly ran out from behind one of the pillars without first checking for passers-by.

“Y/N.” He breaths, an apologetic smile on his face as he gathers himself, brushing his chin length hair back into place, “Sorry about that.” His voice is sheepish and he scratches the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Ani, walk with me?” You throw out, averting your eyes as you nervously await his response. You don’t know why you even asked, you haven’t been alone with him for a while, he’ll definitely say n-

“Sure. You going back to the residences?” You nod at his question, too shocked by his agreement to form words at the moment. He sends you another smile as you start your trek back to your quarters, your legs moving of their own accord whilst your mind takes a moment to catch up with the current situation. You curse your heart for the way it swells instantly with happiness at the presence of Anakin, simply walking beside him, barely feeling the warmth of him under his robes, makes all the feelings you try so hard to suppress return to the surface.

A noise from behind grabs your attention, and the two of you turn your heads, only to be met with the sight of a giggling Padmé trying to sneak out from behind the same pillar Anakin came from. The familiar sadness hits you like a tidal wave as you face forwards once more, just catching the fond smile on Anakin’s face as he looks back at his wife. The fleeting happiness you get when you’re around him is not worth the floods of sadness that always follow, you think, as the two of you walk silently towards your residences.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Y/N. No one has, actually. I know Obi-Wan has been worried about you.” He speaks casually, his tone so breezy that it sounds as if your welfare never even crossed his mind. Obi-Wan is worried about you, fine. But is Anakin? He’s the source of all your pain to begin with.

“That’s nice of him.” You muse, not even glancing in his direction as you continue walking, hoping that your upbeat tone is enough to quell any curiosity he may have. However, it is not, and you’re stopped when he tugs at your elbow, gripping onto it with a slightly lax grip as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Seriously, Y/N, what on Tatooine is going on with you?.” His tone is firmer now, and your skin is heating at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your arm. You try to find your words as you gaze into his eyes and you quickly realise that you need to get yourself together, lest you want him to feel your true emotions through the force.

“Absolutely nothing.” A tight smile pulls across your lips and you wrench your elbow out of his grip, leaving him standing outside the temple with his suspicious gaze trained on your retreating figure.

By the time you return to your room, you only have an hour or so before you’re due to meet Obi-Wan for tea. You decide that you must do some meditation before you face your Master, knowing that his concern for your wellbeing will make him more perceptive when he analyses you.

You find brief tranquility, thinking of the lush skies and soft greenery of your home planet Alderaan. It’s not long before your mind is bombarded with the images of what Anakin and Padmé must’ve been getting upto behind the pillar of the temple, stealing secret kisses and laughs because they love each other so much that they can’t possibly wait until they are in private to be together.

Jealousy rolls off you in waves, thinking about how you wish it was you that he was so desperate to kiss, so desperate to hold and be in your presence even though it is forbidden. Accepting the fact that Obi-Wan will be able to sense your negative emotions from a mile away, you begin to get ready to join him.

You’ve never been in a Master’s quarters before, so you’re unsure of whether your usual outfit is appropriate attire for the occasion. A simple tank top, usually a light colour, and matching tight pants, with a sheer sarong wrapped around your waist. Deciding that you doubt Obi-Wan will care what you’re wearing, you decide to forgo any changes. You fix your hair and look in the mirror with a frown as your thoughts take over once more.

What does Padmé have that you don’t? Is it her position in the senate? Her maturity? Her outgoing personality? You had tried to be more like her, more vocal and social in your day to day life, but by nature you are cripplingly shy, so that failed miserably.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come in, Padawan.” Your Master’s voice sounds from behind the large white door, and you wait patiently as it slides open for you at his command. He is still wearing his robes from the day, you note, as he pours two small cups of herbal tea at the small table next to his kitchenette.

All the Jedi Masters have larger, more equipped residences than the Padawans, and usually make food and eat in their own quarters rather than in the mess hall like the rest of you.

You take a moment to look around Obi-Wan’s room whilst he is momentarily distracted making your drinks. It’s very...him. He seems to have chosen to forgo the harsh, overhead lighting that adorns the rest of the residences, instead having a few dim lamps dotted around that spread a low, moody hue around the room. It is relatively clean, his bed is made, scattered with many comfy looking blankets, yet every free surface seems to be covered by piles and piles of books. You can tell that most of them are old Jedi texts, and a smile tugs at your lips at the dedication of your Master.

It’s strange to be in here, you feel like you’re completely surrounded by every aspect of him. You can see a spare change of robes hanging on the doors of his closet, probably ready to be worn tomorrow, and the door of his fresher is slightly ajar, allowing you to peek inside if you wish to. There is a dirty plate next to his sink, he must have just finished eating before you arrived, not having time to clean the dish properly. Seeing his room like this, he seems so human to you all of a sudden. He seems so… familiar to you.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” His voice is amused, and you turn to face him with a blush. He is sitting down now, in one of the chairs that surrounds the tiny table, opposite another one for you to sit on. You mumble an apology and make your way to the seat, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of it.

“I like your room, Master Kenobi, it’s very… homely.” He smiles at your admission and gestures to your tea before taking a sip of his own.

“Thank you, Y/N. I like to have a place I enjoy spending time, I appreciate it when I return from long missions.” You hum at his response, letting out a pleased noise as you taste the tea he prepared. It is some sort of woodsy concoction, not what you’d usually go for, but it tastes like heaven on your tongue.

“So…” You clear your throat, the anticipation of this impending conversation almost killing you, “You wanted to talk to me, Master?”

“Ah yes, straight to it then?” He looks puzzled at first, as though he is unsure of how to approach the topic, before heaving a resigned sigh and placing his tea back onto the table with nary a drop spilt, “Y/N, you had so much potential. I chose you and Anakin to train under me because I saw something in the both of you. Anakin? He was hot headed, fueled by passion and rage and I thought it a good challenge to help him control it. You, on the other hand? You were quiet, reserved, overwhelmed by your shyness but absolutely simmering with potential. And we unlocked so much of it, did we not? You were excelling, even more so than Anakin. What happened, Y/N? You can’t expect me to believe that my best Padawan forgot everything she’d learnt overnight. No…” He leans forward now, not allowing your wide-eyed gaze to waver from his as he continues with his serious spiel, “You stopped trying, you gave up. I would like to know why, and you’re not leaving my quarters until you tell me. I’ve tried to be gentle with you, kind, but the council are threatening termination of your place in the Jedi temple.”

Silence descends on the tense room as your brain struggles to comprehend everything Obi-Wan just threw your way. Of course you knew the council weren’t happy with you, you’d seen the disapproving gazes from Mace Windu and Ki Adi-Mundi, but you never even considered it had reached the point that they were considering ending your training as a Jedi, and relieving you of your place in the temple.

The only sound that breaks the silence is your breathing getting quicker and quicker, until Obi-Wan realises he needs to try and calm you down. Your anxiety is so strong he feels as though it is hitting him, and he notices the way your eyes begin to well up, and you realise with a start that months and months of pent up emotions are making themselves known right now. Right here, in your Master’s quarters.

Luckily, General Kenobi is a master at diffusing situations, and is quick to kneel in front of you, taking both of your hands in his and gazing up at you with those kind eyes of his.

“If nothing else, Y/N, a Padawan should be able to trust their Master. Can you trust me? Whatever the problem is, it will not leave this room. I give you my word.”

You know you shouldn’t tell him, for Jedi’s should not love, but you crumble the second his thumb brushes over the skin of your hand. At this moment, you want to be comforted, and not just by anyone, by Obi-Wan specifically.

“I love him, Obi-Wan. I love Anakin so much it hurts, but he doesn’t love me, he loves her.” You sob, tears spilling freely from your eyes as you avert them from his own. When you hesitantly look back towards him, you expect him to look shocked, angry, in disbelief. Rather, he just gives you a sad smile that conveys the fact that your admission was exactly what he had expected you to say to him.

Has Obi-Wan known about your feelings for Anakin this whole time?

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

#obi wan x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan fluff #obi wan x oc #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x ofc #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars imagine #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi x y/n

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

jaskier’s plan -> two

Read part one here.

MASTERLIST

{I wasn’t expecting so much positive feedback on part one, thank you all so much for reading! So here’s the thing, I’ve never written smut before, so I apologise in advance if it is terrible... however I felt that the situation definitely called for it. As ever, feedback is appreciated! Enjoy :)}

Summary: The aftermath of Geralt’s jealously at seeing you with Jaskier, as he finally takes what is his.

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Geralt’s lips command your own with a strength you think only a Witcher could summon, he bites your bottom lip and licks into your mouth and claims you without uttering a word. The only sound in the room is your heavy breathing and your lips moving together harshly, and whilst that would usually make you cringe, you’re too caught up in the moment to give it a second thought.

You slide a hand into his white hair and revel in the way he grunts when you tug at it slightly. His large hands encase either side of your flushed face, and his hold suddenly tightens as he pulls back, forcing you to look directly at him whilst you pant in disbelief of the current situation. His bright, half lidded gaze trawls down your body, taking in the way his shirt brushes against your thighs, up again to where your chest rises and falls rapidly, almost touching his due to your close proximity.

You think for a moment that this may be a dream. Surely this beautiful man wouldn’t waste his time kissing you of all people. But your swollen lips, your rapid breathing, and the throbbing that has begun in your lower belly are all too real for this not to be. You gaze at the Witcher, not daring to move in fear of ruining the moment, of snapping him out of his haze that you’re loving so much.

“Fuck…” He grunts once more before slamming back into you harshly, his breath filling you up as his open mouth touches yours. You feel utterly helpless as he cages you into the wall, the heat from his body mingling with yours as he shoves one of his large thighs in between your own, eliciting a sinful gasp from your mouth, “Wanted to do this for...mmh... so long.” He murmurs, his hot mouth moving down to stake his claim on your neck, where he knows everyone will be able to see that he has made you his.

“You… you have?” You manage to murmur in between gasps, the way he sucks your skin sending your mind into such a frenzy that you can barely remember how to form a sentence. Did Geralt of Rivia, the man you have craved to touch, and love, and hold for so long, just admit that he has wanted this too?

He doesn’t respond right away, instead choosing to get more brazen with his exploration of your body. His hand trails down the expanse of your body before suddenly tugging his loose shirt up as though he is personally offended that his own article of clothing is shielding his view of your bare body.

He growls lowly when the top falls back over you and, as though possessed by some sort of primal rage, rips it completely off of you, buttons flying around the small room. Your breath stills, and you barely even have time to think about the fact that you’re naked in front of Geralt before he lowers his head, his warm mouth enveloping your nipple. The moan that he elicits from you is high, so high and embarrassingly needy, but being embarrassed is the last thing you care about as he raises one hand to cup your face again, his thumb pushing into your mouth, and his other to tug at your other breast.

You feel like a ragdoll, letting him do with you whatever he pleases, but you would rather die than stop him, he feels so good on top of you, like he was made by the Gods just to do this forever, “Fuck, Geralt!” You scream as he grazes your sensitive nipple with his teeth, and you look down to witness him pause for a second and grin up at you mischievously.

Gods, you are so in love with this man.

He finally releases your sensitive bud and his mouth travels back up your throat, his tongue leaving behind a wet trail as he licks his way back to your mouth until he is kissing you like it is the first time all over again.

“Fuck,” He mumbles again, pulling back to take another look at you, bare against the wall, “Look at you, my pretty girl.” He sighs, before grabbing your thighs and hauling you into the air, giving you no time to register the fact that he called you his pretty girl before you’re being thrown onto the slightly uncomfortable bed. You’re not complaining, though. You’d lie on a bed of thorns if it meant that Geralt would fuck you.

You situate your head on the pillows beneath you, biting your lip as you look up at Geralt who hovers above you, his arms on either side of you as he licks his own lips. You crane your head up, giving him a quick, shy kiss that feels both out of place yet incredibly right during this moment.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s staring at something he never thought he could have. He looks at you like he’s never known light until you came and lit the sun in his sky.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” He kisses you again, savouring the taste of your mouth as he explores it with his tongue. He thinks that may be his new favourite place, “My pretty girl. Not Jaskier’s, not anyone else's. Mine.” His voice is a rumble, animalistic as he wills you to confirm his claim over you. He owns your soul, and he has since the very first moment you laid eyes on him. Yours… you think to yourself, but your mouth is too busy gasping and whimpering to even begin to form the word.

You whine as he disconnects your lips, diving in for one last, lingering kiss before he shifts away from you. Your eyebrows furrow and you watch with disbelief as he moves further down the bed, is he leaving?

But, oh, you realise as he grabs the bottom of your legs and shoves them towards you, that you couldn’t have been more wrong. He holds your thighs apart and leans in closer, trailing warm, wet kisses over each one, occasionally biting down into your flesh ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter closed as he gets nearer and nearer to the place that you need him the most and just when you can feel his sinfully hot breath over your soaking heat, he stops. He pulls back, looking at you with dark eyes before speaking with more conviction than you’ve ever heard from a person.

“Tell me that you’re mine. That no one else can ever have you.”

And, Gods, you think you might explode right then and there. The heat that encases your body at his words must be humanly impossible. He growls impatiently, harshly squeezing the flesh of your thigh, making you realise that you haven’t yet answered him.

“I’m yours, Geralt,” It comes out as more of a whimper, and he hums in content as he slowly lowers himself back down, not quite making contact until you finish what he wants you to say, “No one else will ever have me, except you.”

It seems you’ve satisfied him, because he hums one last time before burying himself between your thighs.

****

The morning sunlight trickles in through the slightly parted curtains, forcing you awake a lot earlier than you wish. Thankfully, the sight before you more than makes up for it. Your tired, bleary eyes feel blessed as they take in the sleeping form of Geralt, his face relaxed and his hair in messy tresses around him. You have dreamt of seeing him like this, sleepy, relaxed, fucked out, a hundred times before, but not once did you ever think it was an attainable goal.

You snap yourself out of your pathetic, yearning daydream when you realise that you’re beginning to tear up. As your eyes start to wander down, you gasp when you take in the state of your body. If you didn’t know any better you’d think you had been mugged, beaten by common rapscallions in the street.

Your neck is more purple than flesh, a combination of marks from Geralt’s lips sucking and biting on your skin and his large hand enveloping your throat whilst he fucked you. There are similar marks trailing all the way down your body, scattered on your breasts, your stomach, and mostly on your thighs, where - you remember with a blush - he had spent a lot of time.

“Ow…” You mumble, trying to shift over only to be met with a throbbing pain from down below. You’re not surprised, when Geralt had removed his pants you knew that you would likely not be able to walk without a lot of assistance today. You had mentioned that to him, actually.

“Fuck, Geralt… are you sure that is going to fit?”

“Mmm.”

“I certainly won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll carry you, pretty girl.”

“Hmm, I like seeing myself all over you.” You jump when you hear his voice, even lower than usual as it is thick with sleep, and you look back over to see him propped up on one elbow, amber eyes gazing at you dreamily.

“Me too.” You blush, your eyes flitting over the various marks that you yourself had left on the large man.

“C’mere, pretty girl.” He beckons you to cuddle back into him, and you do so instantly, your heart - and thighs - clenching at the pet name. Pretty girl. His pretty girl. His arm wraps around you and hauls you into his side, your head buried in his bruised neck and your hand travelling up to play with his loose hair.

“I hope you know that I will be furious if I see you hanging off of any whores again, after this.” You can’t help the snarky remark that passes your lips, but it’s worth it when Geralt’s chest starts to shake as he chuckles.

“It’s a two way street, my love, you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“You mean it?”

“More than anything.” He captures your lips with his softly, not pressing too hard, just enjoying the way your body instantly responds to his touch.

Well, it seems as though Jaskier’s plan may have worked after all.

***

Tag list:

@angelofthorr

@elia-the-bibliophile

@lostiintheocean

@my-secret-hideaway

@imjaskier

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

thanks so much! your feedback always makes my day 🤍 thank you for reading ✨

safe passage -> the witcher {part four}

Read part three here

MASTERLIST

Summary: You wake up after being attacked by drowners and find yourself in the care of a purple eyed mage who seems to know Geralt well.

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader, Geralt of Rivia x Yennefer {hinted}

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.

Keep reading

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

safe passage -> the witcher {part four}

Read part three here

MASTERLIST

Summary: You wake up after being attacked by drowners and find yourself in the care of a purple eyed mage who seems to know Geralt well.

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader, Geralt of Rivia x Yennefer {hinted}

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.

When you finally come to, the pain you so clearly remember feeling is but a distant memory, dulled down to a bearable throb which you would much rather endure. Your eyes lazily roll around the dim room you woke up in, trying to piece together where you may be.

You remember bits of the attack, being pulled under the water, feeling the numerous claws sink into your limbs, and accepting your fate as the world slowly turned to black. You’re grateful for Geralt saving your life, you suppose he must’ve heard that one scream you managed to get out, although you can’t help the niggling thought that at least if you had been killed then, you wouldn’t have to be married off to Prince Tirion. Well, you’re sure they would’ve had Geralt’s head for it, which is something you would never want. Speaking of your saviour, you’re probably going to receive a pointed lecture from him when he realises you’re awake.

The excruciating pain returns, crashing into your body like an uncontrolled wave as you try to shift over on the bed. You can’t help the cry that escapes your mouth at this, and suddenly the door is wrenched open and you meet the purple eyes of a woman. This must be the mage, you think, as you try to quell the unbearable pain that you feel most in your right wrist. Her eyes are bright as she observes you, moving so lightly on her feet to your bedside that you think she may be floating. With a gentle caress, the pain in your limbs slowly ebbs away, and you shoot her a grateful smile, before asking her what the hell is going on.

“Geralt brought you to me, always calling in favours that man,” She speaks with a fond smile, and you assume with a slight frown that she must know him well, “You were attacked, quite viciously may I add, by a group of drowners. We don’t usually find them around here, which is why I assume Geralt let his guard down. I’ve fixed up your cuts, though you’ll be left with some bruises and some nasty scarring. I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise to get rid of them myself, if that’s something you will require then I would encourage you to find Triss Merigold.”

You stare at the mage with wide eyes, probably looking like a fool as you try to take in everything she is saying. She gives you one last smile before leaving, quickly reminding you that Geralt and Jaskier have been away taking care of a monster problem whilst you recovered in the mage’s residence.

“They’ll be back soon.” Is the last thing she says to you before she closes the door behind her, the wood groaning as it creates a barrier between yourself and the purple-eyed mage. You have nothing to do but wait until Geralt returns, you attempt to sit up once, but the remnants of pain threaten to shoot through your body again so you quickly reassume your original position.

Finally, after hours of watching the shadows change on the wall, you hear the tell-tale voice of Jaskier echo through the building. A smile quirks on your lips as you hear him ask about you, and squeal with delight when the mage informs him of your consciousness.

“She’s alive!” He exclaims dramatically as he swings the door open, his face lit up as he takes in your smiling face. He can tell that you’re still drowsy, you look a tad drunk but he realises that is the effect of Yennefer’s pain spell. After another night's rest it’s effects will permanently rid your current injuries of any semblance of pain, but like Yennefer says, she will be unable to fix the scars.

You try to hold in your pained groan as Jaskier envelops you in a hug, patting his back lightly as you fight the urge to scream at him to get off of your sore body. Your prayers are answered when you hear Geralt’s heavy footsteps enter the room, and his swift smack to Jaskier solves your problem.

“She’s still in pain, bard. You’re not helping.” He speaks to Jaskier, but his eyes remain on you. He is covered in blood, red and black guts caking his usually white hair as his piercing gaze pins you.

“Thank you for saving me, Geralt.”

“Hmm, it is my duty.” Is his response, though his jaw clenched as though he wishes to say something else, but he stops himself, casting his gaze towards the mage who hovers nearby, “Without Yennefer, you’d be dead princess.”

Yennefer… you think to yourself as you follow his gaze. A beautiful name for a breathtaking woman. She seems to have forgotten about your presence, exchanging eye contact with Geralt that is so intimate it makes you and Jaskier blush like you shouldn’t be in the same room as them.

“Thank you, Yennefer. I owe you a great debt.” You thank her plainly, following the script you had been taught since you were a girl. She nods at you before excusing herself, with one last look at Geralt that you can’t quite decipher.

“Jaskier, out. I need a moment with Y/N.” You gulp, nerves rising as Jaskier sends you a fretful look.

Silence descends upon the room once the bard leaves, the atmosphere thick as you look everywhere except at Geralt. You know you’ve let him down, wandering off and almost getting yourself killed - it hasn’t even been a week into your journey yet!

“I’m sorry, Geralt.” You can’t bear the silence any longer, throwing out a lame apology in a desperate attempt to quell the silence.

“You almost died, Y/N. Because you were stupid enough to wander off to bathe in a lake that I hadn’t yet checked for any signs of activity. How dare you but your life… my mission… in jeopardy like that?”

Disappointment hits you like a wave. You had finally built up sort of a rapport with the man, you were getting to know each other and had begun to really appreciate his company. You have ruined it all, for what? A bath?

A tear escapes your eye but you wipe it away quickly, not wanting Geralt to know that you’re sad at this latest development.

“I’m sorry, Geralt.” You sniff, “It was stupid, I’ll never do it again, I promise.”

“You won’t. I swear on the Gods, you’re never leaving my sight again, princess.” A chill dances down your spine as he grumbles his words. You reach out and take his dirty hand in your own, holding it between two of your palms. He looks at you in disdain, however he allows you to continue whatever you’re doing to his hand. It’s large compared to your own, and you use your index finger to trail down the grooves and veins of his palm, leaving fleshcoloured streaks amidst the blood.

“I’ll never leave your sight again.” Your eyes finally connect properly with his as you speak, and your words seem to light a pleased spark in his own, his hand clenching ever so slightly in between yours.

The Witcher’s eyes dart between your hands and your eyes, and he seems to be in some sort of trance before he quickly snaps out of it, coughing under his breath as he stands up.

“Rest now, princess. The magic will settle into your bones as you sleep and we will be on the road again at dawn.”

You fall asleep again soon after he leaves, your dreams more vivid than usual due to the magic coursing through your body. You dream of his hands. His hands on your own, on your waist, grabbing your hair, your neck.

You wake in a sweat, relieved that you have some relief from your… heated… dream. That relief is short lived when you realise that the Witcher is once more by your bedside, his face amused as he takes in your frantic state.

“Good sleep?” All you can do is nod in response, brushing your hair out of your face. Geralt, you notice, is clean now. His silver hair falls loosely around his face, and you notice with a smile that he keeps angrily flicking it away from his eyes.

“Would you like me to fix your hair for you?”

“Is it not up to your standards?” You think you may have offended him for a moment, though the wry smile on the corner of his mouth tells you otherwise. You pull the thick covers off you and shuffle so your legs are dangling off the bed, instructing Geralt to crouch in front of you.

As Geralt crouches between your legs, you become aware of the fact that you’re wearing a short black nightdress, leaving your legs bare and extremely sensitive to the way Geralt’s hair brushes the skin there. It’s a horrible thought, that when Geralt saved you from the drowners, you were wearing nothing but your white undergarments. It’s so unladylike of you to have been caught like that, yet your skin heats at the thought and you can’t help but wonder if he has thought about seeing you that way.

No, of course he hasn’t.

Why would he?

You gather his thick hair in your hands, threading your fingers lightly through the tresses. Your lips quirk up when you hear him groan quietly, and you realise with a suppressed giggle that Geralt of Rivia likes having his hair played with!

You don’t say anything, knowing that it will probably take the man out of his comfort zone that he seems to be slowly slipping into. You slowly tie up the top half of his hair in the style you’ve seen him sport regularly, braiding it at the end to ensure it will stay in better since you are well versed in the strange activities he partakes in by now. You think back to when you first left the confines of your castle and your parents broke the news of your travelling companion to you. You should’ve realised then that since you were being escorted by a Witcher, the journey would be abnormal, but you didn’t realise just how far out of your comfort zone it would take you.

Yet, as you sit on the bed of a purple eyed mage who had just been treating the life-threatening injuries you had received, braiding the soft hair of the large, emotionless Witcher you have been travelling with, you can’t help but think that this is the most alive you have ever felt.

Geralt rises back to his feet when you tap the side of his face lightly and announce that you’re done, and he feels around the back of his head before shooting you a quick, barely there smile that signals that you must’ve done a good job. Why, pray tell, does you face flush in content at this small bit of praise from the Witcher?

“Thank you.” He coughs, seeming to be slightly embarrassed by the fact he allowed you to do his hair in such an...intimate… way, “Yen, uhm, Yennefer has left you some garments in the chest over there, put them on and join us, we’ll be leaving shortly.”

Left alone once more, your mind fixates on the way Geralt just stumbled over his words. He called that mage Yen. You know that they obviously know each other well, but Geralt doesn’t seem like the type of man to give just anyone a nickname. Is she special to him? You don’t like the way your chest tightens at that notion. So what if she is special to him, why should that affect you in any way?

Yennefer’s dress hangs off you slightly, and you have to pull it in at the sides to make it fit. Your nose crinkles as you take in the sight of you in all black, so used to your colourful dresses that you feel as though you should be grieving something whilst wearing this. You can’t deny that it is a beautiful article, the black lace trails up your body in the most elegant way. You shrug on the matching black shawl she left you, thinking about how much you cannot wait to return to the carriage where you have more… suitable clothing.

Thankfully the long black sleeves do a good job of covering up the scars, but no amount of hiding can cover up how wrecked you look. The bags under your eyes are purplish, despite having been asleep for a long, long time. Your hair was a tangled nest, but you had managed to salvage it, scraping it into a half down braid, similar to the way you did Geralt’s.

The second you leave the room you have spent way too much time in, you’re enveloped in another crushing hug by your favourite bard. His warm breath is comforting as it hits your ear, and a warm love settles over your heart as he reminds once again how glad he is you’re okay, because he would miss you too much if you died. You giggle quietly, telling him that had you died, you would miss him from heaven.

“I’m glad to see you’re well, princess.” The mage comments, and you drag your eyes away from Jaskier to her regal form. She wears a dress and shawl similar to the ones she lent you, her hair pulled up in a tight bun and the top half of her face covered with a black mask that makes her amethyst eyes even more noticeable. Her lips are painted a dark purple too, and you can’t help but note that she looks absolutely exquisite.

“I can’t ever repay you for saving my life, Yennefer, I am in your debt.” Your voice is quiet as you address her, your whole being feels inferior and it shows in the way you speak to her. She merely smirks at you, nodding her head once before turning to the Witcher who has been watching your exchange with a blank stare.

“Y/N, Jaskier, wait outside. I’ll be out in a moment.” Is all he says, not drawing his eyes away from the witch who seems to magically capture his attention. The two of you make your way outside, and as you lean against the brick building, a thought occurs to you.

“Jaskier?” You get the bard's attention, and he looks to you in curiosity, “I had to borrow Yennefer’s clothing because mine are in the carriage, right?”

“That’s right.” He smiles.

“I could be wrong, but did we not take the carriage to get here? Where is it now?”

“You’re right, Y/N, but the driver insisted on retreating to the forest while we stayed here. Doesn’t like leaving his carriage in open spaces, he said.”

“Oh.” You zone out slightly as Jaskier begins to tell you all that he has been up to in the day that you spent knocked out, your mind drifting to thoughts of the peculiar carriage driver you had never paid much mind to before.

Sure, it could be the case that he really is just a tad too protective over his carriage, since it is his main source of income in life. However, there is something about the man that just seems a bit off, but you can’t put your finger on exactly what it is.

You have no more time to dwell on it, as Geralt soon comes barreling out of the house, heading straight past you and Jaskier as he beckons you to follow him with a deep grumble.

Your gaze finds the floor as you follow the two men, a sadness pulling at your heart when you notice the slight smudge of dark lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

***

Safe passage tag list:

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@mac5323

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

safe passage -> the witcher {part three}

Thank you all so much for your feedback on part two! It’s so motivating to know people want to read more :)

Read part two here

Summary: You say goodbye to Lettie and Faith. Geralt lets you out of his sight for a moment, chaos ensues.

Pairings: Geralt x Reader (eventual)

Warnings: Blood, mentions of drowing, descriptions of injuries

“Take care of yourselves, okay?” You sniffle as you say your goodbyes to Lettie and Faith, handing her a bag full of coin that you have no use for yourself.

“The Gods blessed me by sending you our way, Y/N. I hope our paths cross again soon.”

You say one last teary goodbye to Lettie, almost crying when Faith refuses to release your finger from the tight grip of her hand.

“Yoo-hoo!” Your goodbye is cut short by Jaskier, waving at you from where he and Geralt are walking further down the road. You glance at the two girls once more before lifting your dress and running to catch up with your companions.

“Sorry.” You mumble a quick apology for holding the men up as you start the trek back to the clearing you left the carriage in the day prior, “Don’t mention the food I was supposed to give to the driver, please, I feel guilty enough for leaving him out as it is.” You scrunch your mouth when Jaskier claps his hand onto your shoulder.

“My lips are sealed, and Geralt never says more than two words so I doubt he’ll be having a lengthy conversation with the driver anytime soon.”

You snort at Jaskier’s comment, stepping back slightly as you know what is about to come. You watch the two men as Geralt punches Jaskier in the arm once more, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you feel as though you’re starting to get to know them.

“Oh, leave off, Geralt.” The bard wheezes, falling into step with you once more as he tries to put as much distance between him and the Witcher as possible.

The rest of the walk to the forest is mainly filled with Jaskier skipping ahead and humming a tune to himself, occasionally trying out lyrics to fit his new melody. Just as you’re about to approach the clearing, a rough hand grabs your arm and halts you in your path.

You turn quickly, your quizzical gaze fixed on Geralt who seems to be searching your face for something. Gods knows what.

“They’ll be alright, you know?”

“Huh?” You curse the stupid reponse, but your brain is unable to think of any more words as it’s main focus is your sudden close proximity to Geralt.

“The beggar and her child. You did a good thing. They’ll be okay, because of you.” His voice is quiet, like he doesn’t want any listening ears to pick up on your conversation. He gives you no time to reply before he’s stalking off towards the carriage, leaving you to stare after him in disbelief. Your eyes tear up ever so slightly.

They’ll be alright. Because of you.

Hours later, night approaches, and the fire that Geralt lit crackles violently, the sound echoing through the wooded area. The warmth reaches the two white tents, promising a comfortable night for the occupants.

Jaskier had managed to find two large logs, instructing Geralt to lug them over to the campsite as makeshift benches, where the group now sits, munching on bread that hasn’t yet gone mouldy.

The air is peaceful, quiet, and your eyes droop as you breathe in the delicious scent of burning wood. You’re unaware of the bright eyes watching you over the fire, the Witcher looking down with a small smile and a shake of his head when you wake yourself up with a start, looking around frantically.

Jaskier sits next to you, strumming a quiet tune on his lute that has definitely seen better days. Your lip quirks up as you take in the scene around you, not caring too much about the absence of the already sleeping driver, a pang of sadness hitting you at the thought of only having a few weeks to spend with your new found friends. Can you call them friends?

Why do you feel so comfortable with them already? And why does the thought of being dropped off to spend the rest of your life in the King’s castle suddenly seem a hundred times worse?

You lift yourself from your position on the log, ignoring the way your muscles protest the movement.

“I’m going to wash in the lake, okay Geralt?” The Witcher doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to you, as he rummages through his small bag of belongings he keeps atop Roach. You shrug, assuming that he will see no problem with your endeavour as you wander towards the quiet lake.

The water ripples dreamily as you step in, your cheeks flush as the cold water touches your bare legs. You’ve never stripped down to your undergarments in public before, but you can’t risk getting your favourite dress wet so this will have to do.

You lean back, lowering your hair into the water with a happy sigh while your body slowly gets used to the temperature of the water, allowing a new warmth to encase your bones. As you finally begin to let your guard down, you’re unaware of every horrible thing about to happen to you.

When you feel the first tug on your hair, you assume you’ve just gotten it caught on a jagged branch, and jerk your head back out of the way. You only realise you’ve made a grave mistake stepping into the lake when you’re pulled back once more, a lot more violently this time. You only have time to let out one gut wrenching scream before you’re dragged under the surface of the water, claw like grips on your hair and your limbs. You look down, almost fainting at the sight of the drowners pulling you towards the depths of the lake.

Your vision fades to black as your throat contracts, trying to take in any kind of air possible and instead gulping in more water, whilst your arms and legs begin to get torn open by the drowners who have their vice like grips on you.

You think you’re done for, and a euphoric fear ripples through your body as you accept your fate. Everything is cold, black and quiet, until you hear your name being called.

“Y/N?”

As your eyes blink open you can only focus on two things. Firstly, the excruciating pain emanating from seemingly every point on your body. Secondly, the wide yellow eyes that bore harshly into your own.

It becomes clear to you quickly that you were pulled out of the lake by Geralt, who rests atop you covered in blood and guts galore, but not before the drowners did some damage to your body.

Your ankles and wrists are covered in deep, bloody gashes, that make you feel even more light-headed as you notice them. Geralt notices your eyes start to roll back once more and swiftly slaps you on the face with the back of his hand, shocking you awake quite successfully.

“It hurts.” You manage to whimper, your voice croaky from the strain the underwater struggle had put on your throat.

“I know, princess, I know. We’re going to bandage you up and take you to the nearest town. We’re familiar with the mage there. You’ll be okay, you just need to stay awake.”

“I… I’m so tired.” You manage to squeak out, black spots taking over your vision as Geralt heaves you into his arms and back towards the camp where a frantic Jaskier has finished packing away everyone’s belongings. The driver sits atop the carriage, reins tight in his grip as he prepares to quickly transport you to the nearest town.

You barely acknowledge the fact that Geralt pulls your worn body onto his lap when he gets into the carriage, smoothing the back of his hand over your sweaty forehead as his knee moves up and down with anxiety.

Jaskier tries to prolong your consciousness by telling a series of stories that would usually have you giggling like a mad woman, but now you can barely manage to do anything other than fix your drooping eyes in his general direction. You don’t notice the frantic looks he shares with the large man, too focused on trying to stay awake as to not worry Geralt too much. You bask in the feeling of Geralt’s rough fingers moving up and down, smoothing over your damp hair. You think he must not even realise he is doing it, the action so tender and against everything in his nature.

A half hour passes, you think, before the carriage comes to an abrupt halt. In any other situation it would’ve sent you flying forward, but Geralt’s iron grip never wavers, securing you in place against his warm body. You finally succumb to the darkness fighting it’s way into your mind and fall completely limp against the large man, who mutters a simple “fuck” under his breath before exiting the carriage with your unconscious form hanging over his broad shoulder.

***

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@not-soplainjane

@chubby-dumplin

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#geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x oc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher x oc #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n

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anna-pixie · 3 years

Text

oh my goshhh 🥺 this is my first time being on a list like this so thank you so so much, you’re an angel and i’m glad you liked the story 💘

Favorites 10/2020

A/N: OKAY! So, here we go! My first faves-list. :3

Btw, not all of them were actually written in October! This is really just a list of pieces I found and loved!

Keep reading

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anna-pixie · 4 years

Text

safe passge -> the witcher {part two}

I will be uploading this to AO3 soon... I’ve never posted on there before so I’m just figuring it out!

Read part one here

Summary: Geralt deals with having you and Jaskier annoying him on the road. You stop at an inn and make a new friend.

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: None

“So… day three on the road. How is the princess coping?”

“The princess will murder the bard with his own lute should he decide to keep calling her the princess.”

Jaskier raises his hands in defence and you shoot him a sickly sweet smile, revelling in how easily you can get to him. Your friendship with the bard has developed quickly over the three days you’ve been on the road, it seems as though the two of you are cut from the same cloth - personality wise that is. Geralt, bless his soul, thought he had it rough when he travelled only with Jaskier - now there are two of you.

“It’s not very becoming of you to threaten a life, princess.” Geralt hums, commenting on the incessant insults thrown between you and Jaskier.

You send the large man a glare out of the corner of your eye, fighting the smile that threatens to show as he meets your gaze with a smirk of his own.

No. You have to remind yourself, you are not attracted to the Witcher. The large, scary Witcher who could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted to. Your mind flashes with the inappropriate thought of his large hands around your neck, your life in his hands while he looks at you with those hypnotic eyes.

Your cheeks flush and your eyes dart around quickly, the horrifying thought that Geralt may be able to read minds as part of his Witcher-ness scares you.

“Jaskier… psst.” You hiss, trying to subtly get the attention of the bard who is humming a tune to himself as he skips just behind Geralt.

You’re in a small town surrounded by nothing but forest, making your way to the local inn from where you left the carriage at the edge of the dense greenery.

“Yes m’lady?”

“Geralt can’t… read minds… can he?”

Jaskier chuckles at your fear, his quizzical gaze pinning you for a moment before he cackles, “Oh! This is golden! Has someone been having some less than innocent thoughts about the big bad Witcher?”

“Shut up, Jaskier!” You squeal, slapping the bard harshly on his upper arm. He winces, sprinting back towards Geralt with cries that you’re attacking him. The white haired man turns his head to face you, his eyebrows raised exasperatedly. You respond with a pout, an innocent gaze his way through your lashes. You only receive a clenched jaw in response before he turns, hitting Jaskier on his arm in the same place you did.

A chuckle escapes your lips as he wails in pain. Sure, your little slap probably stung a bit - but Geralt did not hold back. He will probably have a bruise there soon. The inn enters your vision, and your sore muscles practically cry out in relief.

As you enter the establishment, you realise that you probably look quite the sight. First, the lilac adorned bard clutching his arm in pain, followed by the hulking Witcher, swords at the ready behind his back, and then you - in your pretty pink dress with your favourite necklace.

Certainly a motley crew, you wonder what the patrons are assuming when they see you. Do they guess correctly? That your parents paid the Witcher and his bard to escort you to your new home? Or do they assume wrong? Perhaps they think you’ve been kidnapped, held against your will by the big, scary white wolf.

Geralt doesn’t seem phased by the stares, thudding over to a table in the far corner of the room, lowering himself onto the wooden bench with a groan. Jaskier orders the three of you a round of ale and meat with all the trimmings and a side of potatoes.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble as you observe the sloppy food the inn keeper throws before you, “I’ll save it, take it back for the carriage driver.”

“We’re not leaving here until you eat everything on that plate, princess.” Geralt doesn’t even look at you as he speaks, tearing a chunk of meat straight from the bone and chewing harshly. You cringe slightly at his brutish manners.

“No, thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking, princess.” There’s a new edge to his voice now, a no nonsense tone that non-verbally tells you that you’d better start eating right now, or else.

“Oh, don’t use your scary voice on her, Geralt. We all know you’re a big softie deep down.” The two men start to bicker amongst themselves and you snicker, reluctantly starting your meal.

Being raised as a princess, you were expected to be prim and proper at all times. That meant having immensely smaller portions of food to your male counterparts, so having a large meal - the same as the two men - is foreign to you.

You eat as much as you can, about half of the plate, before you start to feel full. Your eyes light up as you recall passing a beggar on your way to the inn. Deciding then that you’ll spare some of your own coin to buy the carriage driver his own meal, you ask the inn keeper if he can wrap up the remnants of your food in some cloth.

“I hope you’re saving that for later.” Geralt comments once you’ve ordered another meal for the driver.

You take a beat to reply, debating whether to tell him the truth, “Of course I am.” You lie, a sickly sweet smile gracing your lips.

“Hmm.”

A while later, whilst Geralt and Jaskier are having a hushed conversation, you attempt to drink some of your ale. This is another first for you too, never having had a sip of any sort of alcoholic beverage before.

Deciding that the best option is to go all in, you take a huge gulp of the brown liquid, regretting it instantly as you spit it all back onto the wooden table, choking and gasping as your throat burns.

You exchange an embarrassed, wide eyed look with Geralt and Jaskier, and there is a long moment of silence before they start to laugh. Yes, properly laughing. You’d expected it from Jaskier, but the deep peels of laughter that rumble from the Witcher take you by surprise.

“Oh! That was just priceless!” Jaskier wails, and you can’t quite tell whether he is pretending to wipe the tear out of his eye or if he is actually crying.

“Shut up.” You grumble, your face flush with embarrassment. Jaskier’s laughs fade in mere chuckles and Geralt just observes you quietly, a smile still tugging slightly on the corner of his mouth.

“Excuse the question, Geralt, but I don’t quite understand the carriage driver's insistence on sleeping in the carriage. Surely he can find a safe place to leave it for a night?”

“Princess, his whole livelihood rests on that carriage. If it goes, he’s done for. Not worth the risk for a comfortable night, I’d assume.”

“Oh.” You hate how frequently you’re reminded of the fact that you’re utterly clueless about anything outside of your luxurious lifestyle. You’re pretty sure that this will change during your month on the road, you’ve already experienced so many things you had never even imagined, “May I be excused to deliver his meal to him? I’m sure he’d appreciate some warm food.”

Geralt doesn’t answer, he just pins you with that annoying stare once more. Yes, annoying, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“Of course you can, Y/N, excuse Geralt’s lack of brain cells that stop him from keeping up with a simple conversation.”

The Witcher’s arm darts out and before you even see what has happened, Jaskier is once again gasping in pain.

“You’re in no place to give such permission, bard,” He sends a side-eyed glare to the bard who grips his arm with a dark look in his eyes, “You’ve got an hour, princess, any longer than that and I’m coming to collect you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” You grin, sending a thankful nod to the innkeeper who hands you the two parcels of wrapped food.

With one final wave to an apprehensive looking Geralt, you make your way back through the town. Your eyes light up when you realise the beggar is still in the same place, you approach her carefully and your breath stills when you realise she is holding a small baby.

“Hello there.” Your voice is soft as you approach her, and the woman smiles at you, although her eyes remain guarded. You notice she hugs the child tighter to her chest as you approach, and you can hardly blame her. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.

“Evening, miss.” Her voice is tired, croaky and worn. She sounds exasperated, and it is probably something to do with your rather… glamorous… attire. It is not customary for people of higher standing to treat beggars well. You’d heard stories of the young lords in your kingdom teasing and taunting the poor beggars.

“I picked up an extra portion of food in the inn,” You pause, wondering how to phrase this, “I was wondering if you’d like it?” Her eyes seem to light up when you show her the parcel of food, physical proof that you’re not playing a practical joke on her.

You’re torn as you gaze at the baby, wanting to give the half portion that you saved for the driver to make sure it gets fed. Surely you can explain to Geralt why you didn’t end up going back to the driver? Plus, this baby definitely needs it more.

“Oh, thank you miss.” The woman cries, her eyes literally tearing up as she inhales, taking in the fact that she is going to have a real meal tonight. She seems in disbelief when you hand her the other wrapped food parcel, telling her that it is for the baby, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please take it.” You smile at her, beginning your walk back to the inn as she begins to cry. You stop, your mind screaming at you not to leave her there, and you turn back to the two with a resigned sigh, “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m staying at the local inn. Could I pay for you to spend the night there?”

The guarded expression returns to her eyes as she observes you, but she looks back down at the food in her hands and seems to realise that you’re not messing with her. She rises slowly, a pained expression on her face as she clutches the baby tightly to her breast. There is a limp in her step and you realise she has probably been sat in the same position for a while.

She catches up and falls into step beside you, a silence falling over you as you think of what to say.

“What is your name?” You start simple, hoping you can ease her into conversation without scaring her away.

By the time you reach the inn again, you’re laughing with the woman who you discovered is only two years your senior. Her name is Lettie, and she was kicked out of her home when she got pregnant out of wedlock. The father of the baby didn’t want anything to do with them, and left them to fend for themselves on the street.

She has a lovely baby girl named Faith, who giggles away as you babble at her. Lettie giggles at the story of Jaskier almost throwing up over your anecdote about the scar on your leg, and you laugh along as you push open the door to the inn. Once again, you’re on the receiving end of judgemental glances from the patrons - but Lettie doesn’t seem phased as she follows you over to the table where Geralt and Jaskier are watching you with wide eyes.

“When I let you out of my sight for an hour, I didn’t think you’d return with more people, princess.” Geralt grumbles, his harsh gaze fixed on Lettie and Faith, who both observe the Witcher curiously.

“Princess?” Lettie questions, only just seeming to register the term Geralt used to address you.

“Uh, yeah.” You blush, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m paying for her board for the night Geralt. I’ve plenty of coin to spare, why not use it for something good?” You ponder, gaining the attention of the innkeeper’s wife, requesting a large room with an adjoining bathroom, “I’d like a few jugs of hot water for a bath to be brought up, please.” You finish, smiling at Lettie whose eyes are teary once more.

“Oh, Y/N, I don’t even know what to say. This is the most kindness I’ve been shown in a long, long time. It… it means so much to me, you don’t even realise.”

You place a hand on her thin arm and squeeze gently, “Please, it’s a pleasure. Would you like me to watch Faith while you have a bath? I can sit in the adjoining room with her, if you’re weary of leaving her with me.”

She seems to mull over your offer for a while, before finally deciding that she can trust you, taking the room key off you with a smile.

“Please, take care of her. If she cries, she likes to suck on something - or maybe eat some food.” Lettie kisses her baby on the forehead and hands her over to you.

Now, you’ve never held a baby before. However, extensive lessons in motherhood from your own mother have prepared you for this moment - you clutch Faith, gently cradling her head in your palm as you rock her slowly. The baby seems at ease with you right away, and Lettie heads towards her room with a relieved sigh.

“Princess…” Geralt mumbles once more, and you finally look at the two men as you take a seat on the bench, still rocking Faith.

“Oh, hiiiii there.” Jaskier coos, stumbling around the circumference of the table to sit beside you, fawning over the little baby in your arms. Her wide eyes land on Jaskier and she lets out a shriek of delight when he begins to play peek-a-boo with her.

Faith reaches towards the bard, signalling that she wants him to hold her. You let out an aww and hand him the baby, finally meeting the gaze of Geralt who looks incredibly annoyed.

“What are you playing at, princess? We can’t bring them with us.” His tone is firm, no nonsense as he refuses to let you break from his gaze. You sigh, scooting over towards him, trying to ignore the way your mind screams at you to get even closer.

“I know that, Geralt. I was only going to give her some food and I saw her baby and… I couldn’t just leave them there. I’m going to part with them in the morning, after I give them some coin. I promise.” You look up at the Witcher through your eyelashes, your persuasive look has never failed before.

He groans, finally removing his gaze from yours and clenching his jaw.

“One night. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”

You bite your lip to hide the victorious smile on your face.

*****

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