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samstree · 2 years

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Being loved by Geralt is easy.

After the mountains, after wounds are healed and lost brothers mourned, Geralt shows his love, and it’s easy as breathing.

He approaches Jaskier with a cup of mulled wine and takes him to the highest tower of Kaer Morhen. The stars blink amongst the green northern lights, and Jaskier is warm between the wine and the arms around his back.

Under the night sky, Geralt tells Jaskier of his love for the very first time.

Both of them return to Geralt’s hearth-lit chamber with red cheeks and glistening eyes, and they laugh and kiss and fall into bed together. Jaskier drifts off with a smile and dreams of a future with Geralt’s hand in his.

When morning comes, Geralt promises to do better. Guilt should be left in the past, Jaskier wants to argue, but the promise seems equally important to Geralt himself, so Jaskier listens carefully with his palm pressed against the slow-beating heart of his witcher. He’s always trusted Geralt with his life, and now his heart too. Despite all the broken parts of it, he trusts Geralt with his heart.

And Geralt keeps his promise.

He is not perfect—neither of them is, really—but he tries so hard with his imperfect, clumsy love. There are quiet nights when Geralt’s kisses span across Jaskier’s back, counting the specks of birthmarks with his lips. It’s a constellation, he says. They guide me home, like you.

There is also his infuriating protectiveness, his heartbreaking self-hatred. It drives Jaskier away, but never far and never for long. Soft apologies always follow, soothing away all that is angry and difficult between them. There are separations and reunions, messy tears and joyful laughter.

Geralt’s love is easy. So, Jaskier wonders.

Nothing is easy by nature. A witcher’s skills are honed through decades of training, through every swing of his blade, every parry, every kill. It’s why the ease of Geralt’s movement is a terrifying sight for his foes. If handling Jaskier’s heart looks easy, he must have gotten the practice somewhere.

The answer comes one day when Jaskier is alone. His hand slips on the strap of Geralt’s pack and all the notebooks within spill out on the floor.

There is a red book, sprawled open with its pages full of Geralt’s lean, neat writing. Jaskier’s eyes are caught by his own name between those lines.

It’s a notebook he’s watched Geralt use countless times while lazily resting his head on Geralt’s thigh and trying to draw his attention.

“What are you writing?” Jaskier asked once. “Another one of your boring bestiaries?”

“Boring bestiaries save lives.” Geralt looked down, putting down the quill. “And no, it’s not a bestiary.”

“What is it then?”

Jaskier remembered all Geralt’s notebooks: the green ones titled Herbs, the brown ones with Monsters and Locations written across the first page. He didn’t recognize the red one. A secret book, then. It only made him more curious.

“Nothing,” Geralt answers, putting the book down to join Jaskier in the nest of tangled sheets. “Just…thoughts.”

“Thoughts about me?” Jaskier asked cheekily. “Love thoughts?”

“Hmm.”

At the time, Jaskier teased but did not pry. Geralt rarely gets to keep things for himself, and Jaskier delighted in the fact that Geralt could find comfort in keeping a journal.

Now, as the notebook lays open on the ground, Jaskier finds his name all over it. He picks it up and flips to the first page, and finds the title. It’s just one word, one name.

Jaskier.

A book written in his name. A book he never gets to read.

When he flips another page, the entries begin with lists of food. Fruits, pastries and wines, followed by stores to buy the best of them in Ard Carraigh. The combination rings a bell, reminding him of a surprise picnic a while ago. He marveled at how Geralt could gather such a feast without him knowing, and only got an absent hum as reply.

The next page records another date of theirs, detailing Geralt’s careful preparations even though the words are scribbled and crossed out at times.

There are other things. Thoughts.

Thoughts of love, of regret and hope, pride and fear. These are thoughts of Jaskier and their future.

He read slowly as if holding Geralt’s heart between his hands, skipping some passages when the emotions grow too tender, making him ache at the self-doubt that bleeds through these pages.

He has no reason to stay. Jaskier reads on, his heart breaking. And yet he does. I don’t know how to deserve him. I don’t know if I ever will.

The notebook isn’t completed yet, and the last entry consists of the names of many towns and cities. It’s the planning of their next journey, Jaskier realizes, following the route they will travel and diverting for all the local festivals. A coastal village in Cidaris is underscored twice. Jaskier vaguely remembers mentioning its name years ago on a hot sunny afternoon. He went on about how nice the water was there, and how he dreamed of going back. It’s the same place he thought about when asking Geralt to run away with him during that dragon hunt.

Geralt wants to take him there now, after all these years.

Jaskier closes the book with a shuddering breath and puts it back into the pack. Guilt churns in his stomach for having gotten a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have.

When Geralt returns, Jaskier has tidied up the mess. He puts on a smile and hugs his witcher close. Tears prickle his eyes still, and the attempt to hide them fails spectacularly.

“Hey,” Geralt says, confused. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier’s voice breaks, and leans into the strong hands running up and down his back. “I just…love you.”

Geralt lets out a quiet oh and brings Jaskier flush against him. Even without looking, Jaskier can picture perfectly the slightly panicked frown on Geralt’s face.

“You’re upset.” Geralt murmurs gently. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“It is.” Jaskier sniffs. “You are here.”

That earns him an amused huff. Geralt continues, “you know, I just had this idea. How about we go to the coast? I heard Cidaris is nice in the summer. It’s on our way north, and it could…cheer you up?”

Geralt is so tentative, the nervousness thrumming under a thin layer of nonchalance, and Jaskier nods.

“It’s a nice thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier pulls away to meet Geralt’s gaze, and this time, his smile is genuine. “I’ve wanted to see the coast for a long time.”

The subtle pride at the corners of Geralt’s lips is more beautiful than the sunrise at sea.

Jaskier doesn’t mention the notebook of unsaid things. It’s a book that holds all the soft parts of Geralt’s clumsy heart, and of course it’s something Jaskier will protect.

He’ll protect the quiet love Geralt bestows on him by tucking the book away in the corner of his heart. He’ll let Geralt try, and try, and try.

And Jaskier will meet him halfway.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #established relationship #soft geralt #soft jaskier

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beth--b · 1 year

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stubborn as a mule

Jaskier had always been a stubborn, willful child. As he had grown older that had never really changed, though he had learnt to pick and choose his battles.

He would always fight to ensure Geralt was treated fairly, or at least paid fairly for his work. He'd be as stubborn as required for that particular endeavour.

He would not argue however, if Geralt told him not to feed Roach too many sugar cubes.

He'd just be careful to ensure Geralt was out of earshot when he did it next.

Geralt knew of course that Jaskier was stubborn as a mule.

Which is why when the bard began to come down with a cold he knew not to mention it. That did not mean he would ignore it, or let the idiot cause himself harm by arguing with Geralt about how he was 'fine' when he was clearly anything but.

They were heading up the path towards Kaer Morhen. They had made good time, and it was a warmer than average fall so they had not been in a huge rush. When he noticed Jaskier seemed a little slower than the previous day he decided to pay a little extra attention.

After Jaskier stopped his usual running commentary Geralt began to plan.

He let them travel on until it was close enough to lunch to reasonably call for them to stop.

read it on ao3 here

"Come on Jask, we'll stop here for lunch," Geralt led Roach to one side of the path and dug through the saddle bags for some jerky. He handed some to Jaskier without a word and proceeded to find a fallen log motioning for the bard to sit beside him.

Jaskier looked ready to argue but instead he just closed his eyes briefly before sitting beside Geralt on the log. They ate in silence, Jaskier slowly moving closer to Geralt's warmth. By the time they were done eating he looked ready to fall asleep, head resting on an armoured shoulder. Despite knowing how the afternoon would likely play out if he let them rest too much longer Geralt still took his time to get some water for himself and Jaskier, to check Roach's saddle and saddlebags were secure, and finally to feed Roach a slightly shrivelled apple, the last in their packs.

With no more reason to stall Geralt headed back on the path, Jaskier following behind.

The day wore on, and apart from being abnormally quiet and a little slower than usual, Jaskier didn't seem any worse off.

They made camp in a small shelter that had been used by many a Witcher before. It wasn't much but it was dry and the biting wind that had picked up as the evening wore on was far less bothersome than it otherwise would have been.

They ate some dried fruit and nuts, along with some more jerky for supper and as soon as he could reasonably do so Geralt climbed into their shared bedrolls laid out on the earthen floor.

With little else to do Jaskier followed, bard and Witcher curling up together under a pile of furs and blankets

"G'night love," Jaskier murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's cheek. Geralt pulled the bard a little closer and hoped he was better come morning. He had a feeling though that luck would not be on their side.

Geralt woke first, though this was certainly nothing unusual. He took a few moments to watch the sleeping bard, trying to figure out if Jaskier was doing better or worse. Though he couldn't say for certain, he was fairly sure the answer was worse.

Jaskier looked pale, far more than was usual for the bard. He was breathing through his mouth and his breaths sounded harsher than normal.

Geralt wanted nothing more than to bundle Jaskier up and put him on Roach for the rest of the days trek to the keep. He knew though that if he even suggested such a thing Jaskier would deny that he was feeling ill. As far as Jaskier was concerned he never got sick, So when he did he tried to act as though he were fine, until he could no longer keep up the act, or got better. Once Geralt tried to make him rest while he fought off a bout of the flu, suffice to say that Jaskier stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he was sick until he threw up and passed out. Geralt had no intention of letting that happen again.

Knowing he couldn't stall any longer if they wanted to make it to Kaer Morhen before nightfall, Geralt reluctantly woke the bard.

"Wake up Jask," he said softly, stroking his hand through brunette locks. Jaskier mumbled something unintelligible before groaning and turning to bury his head against Geralt's chest. Stifling a grin, Geralt sat up and pushed the blankets away, causing Jaskier to yelp and the cold air.

Jaskier glared up at him but Geralt just stood up and set about getting them some semblance of food from their dwindling supplies.

"When d' you think we'll get there?" Jaskier questioned as he finished up his food. He'd been to the keep several times before, but different weather could slow the journey. Geralt wanted to say they'd be there by lunch if they go moving now at a good pace, he also didn't want Jaskier to push himself too hard. Though the sooner he was warm in the Keep, the better.

"By dinner," he finally settled on.

Seemingly too tired to argue, Jaskier just nodded and helped gather their things up so they could get moving.

Within a few hours Jaskier was sniffling and had begun to cough. He tried to hide it in his cloak, though of course Geralt was aware. He was always aware of Jaskier.

The sky was beginning to darken, a storm rolling in. It would be a few hours before it reached them, but with Jaskier already ill he knew they needed to make it to the Keep well before the storm hit.

Despite knowing his stubborn bard would probably argue he needed to get Jaskier on Roach to help hurry things along.

Before GeraIt could voice his thoughts, Jaskier broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"Storm coming love, think we can beat it?" Jaskier asked, looking over his shoulder at the black clouds. His voice sounded rough, Geralt knew he could add 'sore throat' to the list of symptoms Jaskier was accumulating.

"If you ride Roach and we hurry we should be able to."

Jaskier seemed to contemplate this for a moment, a slight shiver wracking his frame as he slowed to a stop.

"Alright, if you’re sure," Jaskier agreed, tugging his cloak tighter around himself.

Geralt just nodded, taking Jaskier's hand he led him to Roach and let the brunette steady himself on Geralt as he mounted the mare.

With Jaskier on Roach, and of his own volition, Geralt was able to pick up the pace significantly. It was still a difficult path to travel but both Witcher and mare knew the way well. It was far more difficult with ice and snow to contend with after all.

Despite the increased speed the storm eventually caught up. Winds picked up, causing Jaskier to hunch over in the saddle, keeping his head down close to Roach's neck. He was freezing cold and was coughing harshly.

Geralt wanted to get in the saddle and help warm his friend, his partner, but he knew Jaskier would protest. He also knew it would be dangerous for Roach to carry them both in this weather. As the storm grew nearer the light had faded until it was hardly brighter than it would be as the sun began to set.

As the snow began to fall, they finally reached the gates.

Eskel was there, waiting just behind the closed gates, ready to help open them for the new arrivals.

While Geralt helped an unsteady Jaskier down from the saddle, Eskel waited to take Roach to the stable, leading the mare away as soon as the bard was on solid ground.

The weather was quickly getting worse and Geralt nodded to Eskel in thanks as he hastily led Jaskier to the doors of the Keep.

Once they were inside Vesemir greeted them happy to see they had made it safely through another year on the path, one glance at a still trembling Jaskier and he motioned them towards the roaring fireplace in the kitchen. It would be warmer there than in the hall and they could get Jaskier something warm to drink at the same time.

“Geralt, help him out of his damp gear and get him by the fire. I’ll make us all some tea,” Vesemir said, heading to the pantry to get tea leaves.

Wasting no time now they were inside he sat Jaskier before the fire and helped strip him of his outerwear and boots. He then removed his own damp gear and sat beside Jaskier, pulling the bard into his arms and helping to warm him.

Tea was ready before long and Jaskier gratefully accepted the steaming mug from Vesemir.

“Thank you,” Jaskier croaked out, looking almost surprised at how awful he sounded.

Geralt refrained from rolling his eyes. He loved the bard, truly, but one day his dogged refusal to accept that he was not above such things as illness would get the damn fool killed.

As Jaskier warmed up he began to drift off, head lolling against Geralt’s chest and the now empty mug in his hand dangling from lax fingers. Geralt retrieved the mug, passing it to Vesemir to deal with later, and stood, lifting Jaskier into his arms and with a quick thanks to his mentor he headed towards his room with Jaskier.

He had been correct in thinking that Eskel would take their bags up and get the fire going, the dark haired Witcher was just leaving the room as Geralt arrived.

“All set in there for you Wolf,” Eskel said, stepping aside so Geralt could enter the room.

“Thank you, I’ll find you later Eskel,” Geralt murmured, not wanting to disturb the sleeping bard in his arms. Turning away from his brother, Geralt entered their room.

The room was small and sparsely decorated, though not as much as it had been before he met Jaskier. A handful of books on the shelf, a few small trinkets from various places they had been together. Some spare lute strings left over from Jaskier’s last visit. There were furs on the bed and a small desk and wooden chair to one side of the room. A trunk for their clothes at the end of the bed. Their saddle bags and Jaskier’s lute case had been carefully placed in one corner to be sorted out later.

Laying the sleeping bard on the bed, Geralt stripped out of the rest of his clothes. Opting for some clothes from the trunk rather than those in the saddle bags, he changed into a pair of soft sleep pants, one of the few indulgences he allowed himself for winter in the Keep. He contemplated leaving Jaskier to sleep as he was, but the bard’s clothing was still slightly damp and wouldn’t help whatever illness he had already picked up. Finding another pair of sleep pants and a worn chemise he roused Jaskier just enough to get him changed. The bard let out a deep barking cough, rubbing at his chest before falling asleep one more.

Geralt was worried.

He knew he should have pushed Jaskier to rest more, to acknowledge that he was feeling poorly, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time with the arguments that would have followed. He just hoped that Jaskier didn’t end up too sick.

It wasn’t too late in the day, having Jaskier ride had saved them some time, but he chose to lay down beside his bard regardless. Jaskier could use the warmth, and Geralt would be able to keep an eye on him.

Without meaning to Geralt had fallen asleep.

He was woken by Jaskier when the bard had an awful sounding coughing fit that left him gagging at its intensity. He quickly helped Jaskier up and rubbed his back through the fit. When Jaskier was done he fell into Geralt’s arms and buried his head in the Witcher’s chest. Geralt could feel the heat that radiated from him. Wonderful, he had a fever now as well as a cough.

It was long minutes later when Jaskier finally pulled away and looked at Geralt, his face was pale, cheeks flushed with fever. Tired eyes looked glassy and his nose was red, probably from the bard rubbing at it when Geralt hadn’t been looking.

“Geralt, I don’t feel well,” Jaskier said softly, almost like he was expecting some kind of negative reaction from the Witcher. Probably because everytime Geralt suggested he wasn’t feeling well in the years they had known one another, Jaskier would argue, deny and disagree until he was blue in the face. Geralt just felt relieved though that maybe this time he would be able to take care of the man before him without all the usual drama.

So rather than argue, or tell Jaskier he had known for over a day that the bard was falling ill he simply pulled him into his arms, kissed his over warm forehead and lay back on the bed, pulling Jaskier with him.

“Alright then, we’ll speak with Ves and get something to help. Just let me know when you feel up to it alright?”

Jaskier nodded against Geralt’s chest and relaxed. For once allowing Geralt to care for him without argument.

#febuwhump #febwhumpday11 #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #sickfic #sick jaskier #jaskier whump #soft geralt #kaer morhen #vesemir #Eskel #Roac my #roach #my fics #fanfiction #the witcher

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winters-mistress · 2 months

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In the arms of wolves

How they've gotten into this position, Cirilla is not quite sure. At the start of the evening, they had all stumbled out of the dining hall with bellies stuffed of roast beef, salty, oily potatoes, sweet carrots and parsnip, thickly cut fresh bread and big slices of the blueberry pies eskel had been baking that afternoon.

She had slumped down next to Geralt on the lumpy couch, her belly so full that even a crumb would make her explode, she's sure of it. It's luxurious, however, having gone weeks without a proper meal to having this. She'll pick up extra chores tomorrow to keep Vesemir sweet and show her appreciation.

He had been in a similar state of fullness, eyes closing in bliss as the warmth from the fireplace licks his skin. He was warm and sleepy, and had spent the day outside with his girl collecting all the winter vegetables that grew on the surrounding grounds.

But now they've wound up laying on one of the settees looking rather cozy. Geralt is on his side, hus back to the backrest, and is currently using the girl as a teddy bear of sorts. She's mirroring and facing him, oh so very comfortable laying in his arms.

She's warm from the fireplace and cozy in her protectors arms, she's full from dinner and soothed by the laughs of her new family.

And with that, she falls asleep, contented once more.

#soft wolves #soft geralt #geralt and ciri #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #dadralt #fanfiction #geralt is the best dad #ciri is his baby #i love him #witcherfanfiction #uncle eskel #witcher uncles #uncle lambert #papa vesemir

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seidenbros · 2 years

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Hi there! Hope you’re having a great day. I had an idea in mind for a Geralt x reader Angst/Fluff/Smut, where reader was a Witch but she/they passed away. Geralt then dreams of her/them, really sweet and passionate smut where he thinks she’s back and shows her how much he’s missed her/them and then he wakes up and is devastated :,)

Okay.... OKAY. Let me tell you that I nearly cried when I read this request, because DAMN it's such a sad consept. Neverthelesse, I still wrote it. Do I like to make myself suffer? Sure seems like it, but it's just such a great request. I really hope, you enjoy the angst and pain I'll inflict upon you (lovingly). And I went with a 3rd person y/n for the first time, 'cause it seemed more fitting. Let me know what you think

The Witcher Masterlist on A03

Pairing: Geralt x fem!reader Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst and smut, soft Geralt, declarations of love, p in v sex, sad ending (if you couldn't tell from the request), loss of a loved one Word Count: 2513

Love Me Once More

It wasn't the same anymore, not since she was gone. After spending years together, their hearts practically melted into one, losing y/n had been the hardest Geralt ever had to endure. Seeing her die right in front of his eyes, not able to do anything to help her anymore, had torn him apart. Something inside him had snapped that moment, and he'd killed anything, anyone around him. Only when there was nobody breathing around him, had he been able to come back to his senses. Her dead body in the middle of this field, blood everywhere, covering his face, her lifeless eyes staring back up at him...

Even the memory made him clench his fists, curse himself for not getting to her faster so that he could have gotten a chance to save her. Everyone had told him that he hadn't had chance, that he couldn't have done anything different to save her. He didn't blame them, his family, because the others had only gotten there half an hour after everything had been over, because they'd fought in a different place. They'd found him there amidst the corpses all alone, crying his heart out for the love of his life.

When Jaskier had touched his shoulder, Geralt had tensed up, had even growled at him, until he'd realised who it was. Everything afterwards was still a blur, but they'd somehow managed to get him away from there, take care of his injury, while they'd also take y/n's dead body along to give her a proper burial.

Her grave was only a few minutes from where he was sitting now, by the coast, covered in lilacs that would bloom in the spring again. She'd been one of the best sorceresses he'd known, but even that hadn't saved her. He'd gone through it over and over again, but in the end, it wouldn't change anything. What's done is done.

His brothers had helped him with the funeral, they'd even brought him here to this cottage, where he had some peace and quiet, some time to himself, because he needed that. Geralt wasn't good with company at the moment. The only person to visit him every now and then, was Jaskier, who checked up on him, brought him some supplies and made sure that he did indeed eat and didn't only tell him that in order to get rid of him. He had Roach for company, and if he needed someone, he'd know where to find them. Until then, his brothers and Vesemir would leave him alone. There was nothing they could do to heal a broken and battered heart, they could only give him the time he needed and be there for him.

Geralt appreciated that they stayed away from him most of the time. He was grieving, he knew it, and it hurt like hell, but he didn't know how long that pain would remain, but right now, it wasn't going anywhere. They'd always talked about living at the coast at one point. Build a little cottage, maybe get a couple sheep or goats – Eskel could certainly get them set up – and just live a peaceful live.

Looking out over the ocean, Geralt took a deep breath, the salty air filling his nose, his lungs. If he closed his eyes hard enough, maybe he could ream himself way from this place, from this life, to a place where she was still there.

“Geralt?” he heard the soft voice before he felt the delicate fingers on his shoulder. For a second, he tensed up, because this couldn't be real. The light touch sent electric waves through his body, made him acutely aware of her presence, but it couldn't be.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely above a whisper as he stood and turned around, only to see her right in front of him. That warm smile on her lips that he'd always loved, her eyes fixed on him, like there was nobody else in this world she'd rather look at then him. “How... what...” he stuttered, raking his eyes over her body, looking for any injuries, but there none. Little cars here and there, just like he had as well, but she wasn't hurt.

“I'm here,” she said, reaching out her hand for him. Geralt hesitated for a moment, but then he touched his fingertips to here, ran them along the back of her hand, felt her warm skin beneath them. It was her. It was y/n – his y/n. He took one big step towards her and wrapped her in his arms, held her close to his chest, afraid that if he'd let her go, she'd vanish into thin air.

“I thought I'd lost you. I... I held your dead body,” he whispered into her neck, breathing in her familiar scent, while his hands ran over her whole body, making sure that she was really here, not some figment of his imagination, that she was breathing.

“I'm here, Geralt,” she repeated her words, her own fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the soft texture against her skin. She'd missed this, missed him, and so she made him look at her before her lips came down on his. It was a messy, a greedy kiss, but they both needed that, needed to feel that the other was really there, that it was not just a hallucination.

Geralt wasted no time in picking her up and carrying her inside. Nobody would find them out here, but he wanted that privacy, wanted to cherish her the way she needed to be cherished, and his bed would be better than the sand beneath them. A bed, he'd slept in alone for what felt like an eternity.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.” Geralt's lips moved down the side of her neck as soon as he'd laid her down on his bed, his body covering hers, but he didn't put his whole weight on her. Y/N's fingers raked through his hair, down his back and pulled at the tunic he was wearing.

“I missed you, too... but I'm here now. We are here.”

Geralt sat up to rid himself of the tunic, threw it aside, because the only thing that mattered right now was the woman in front of him. He leaned back down, started peppering her skin with kisses. Down her neck, her collarbone, the slope of her breast.

“This has to come off. I need to feel you, need to make sure this is real!” He sounded desperate, but he didn't care. She could know how much he'd missed, how much he loved her.

Y/N pushed him off her own body so that she could get up from the bed again. Her eyes were fixed on him as she undressed, feeling his hot gaze all over her. Without looking, he pulled down his own trousers, freeing his cock from its confinements.

“Come here.” Geralt sat back against the headboard of his bed, reached out his hand for her. When she took it, he pulled her into his lap. After letting go of her hand again, he rubbed his palms along her thighs, took his time as if he was exploring her body all over again. Y/N cupped his face and kissed him again. A slow, passionate kiss that made him feel so alive that he wouldn't even be able to put it into words again.

When his hands reached her hips, he pulled her even closer, his throbbing cock pressing against her heat. Y/N gasped into the kiss, before she ripped her lips free from his.

“I love you so much,” she whispered before she reached between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his dick. Geralt swore under his breath. It had been so long since she'd touched him that he felt like a teenager again who would come undone just from this touch.

Geralt's grip on her hips tightened for a moment, before he returned to stroking his fingertips along her thigh, but this time, he inched further up until he reached her folds, finding her already wet and willing for him.

Now, it was y/n's name to gasp at the touch, but she immediately pressed against his fingers, asking for more. And so he complied, pressed his thumb against the sensitive bud there. Hearing her moan his name spurred him on, and he started rubbing slow circles around it. Meanwhile, two of his fingers rand through her folds, already coated in her slick, so he had no problem sliding them inside her. She stilled for a moment, before a long, drawn-out moan left his lips. Her grip on his cock tightened, making Geralt moan in return.

“I need to feel you as well, Geralt.. now!” she panted and rocked her hips against his fingers, but then she lifted herself up. Geralt kept his gaze on her, as he positioned herself, guided his cock towards her entrance and slowly sank down on his length.

Geralt's head fell against her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her body to hold her close for a moment, to feel her body pressed to his and feel her heart beating in her chest. She was here, she was with him.

For a moment, they simply stayed like this, joined together after such a long time without each other, but they needed their high, needed to feel alive together, so y/n rocked her hips against him against. She placed her hands on his shoulders for leverage, before she started moving up and down. Geralt's hands found their place on her hips, guiding her, supporting her a little bit.

He trailed kisses along her shoulder, down to her collarbone, where he nipped at the skin for a moment, before he continued his path. Without a warning, he pulled her left nipple between his teeth and sucked on it.

“Fuck... Geralt,” she moaned, fingernails digging into his shoulder. Her movement were becoming faster now, drawing a mix between a moan and a growl from his lips.

Geralt wrapped one arm around her middle, held her close when he turned them in one swift motion, so that y/n was now lying beneath him. He looked down at her for a moment, studied her face, after he hadn't seen it for so long. Her fingers combed through his hair again before she cupped his cheek and pulled him back down for another kiss. She only broke that kiss, because his fingers were between their bodies again, gently rubbing over her clit, while he started thrusting into her again, slowly at first, but he quickly picked up his pace.

“Fuck, y/n, I missed you, I missed this... can't let you go again,” he babbled against her neck, grazed his teeth against the soft skin, but soothed it with his tongue right afterwards.

“I'm so close... Fuck Geralt.” A breathless whisper from her lips as she felt her climax approach, felt that knot tighten, that was close to exploding. Her fingernails scratched over his back, as his movements got faster, a little harder, driving her absolutely insane, but when his fingers got faster as well, he pushed her over the edge. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressed flush against his, as she came, moaning his name once again.

Geralt fucked her through her high until his own movements became more erratic, his hips stuttered, because feeling her walls constrict around his cock, trying to pull him even deeper. He spilled inside her, a string of cursewords flowing from his lips mixed with an I love you, y/n.

For a moment, his whole weight was on her, because he needed to catch his breath, but then he pushed himself up on one arm. Ever so gently, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. YN/'s eyes fluttered open, a content smile on her lips.

“Tell me, you're not going anywhere,” Geralt said quietly, the desperation with which he said this nearly making his voice break.

“I'm not. I'm right here.” Her hand framed his face, before she kissed him again. A long, lingering kiss that he felt to the tips of his toes.

Geralt opened his eyes with a start as a bright flash filled the room and he heard thunder very close by. He needed a moment to adjust to his surroundings to realise, where he was. Blinking a couple of times, he looked around for y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. Sitting up, he rubbed both hands across his face. It was raining outside, lightning cracking though the air and lightening up the surrounding.

Geralt got up and got dressed, before he went looking for her. He'd always loved the rain, had always sat near a window if she wasn't able to go outside.

“Y/N?” he called out in the hopes of a response, but he had a gut feeling that she was nowhere to be found. There was a used cup in the kitchen and the front door was ajar. Maybe, she'd gone outside to enjoy the rain. It wouldn't be the first time.

Geralt didn't waste any time and walked outside looking for her, but she was nowhere around the cottage, so he started walking. His feet seemed to move on their own accord, showing where he needed to go. His eyes always scanned his surroundings in hopes of finding her somewhere, though deep down he knew that he wouldn't be lucky.

He eventually stopped at a spot where he could overlook the ocean again. The rain had died down by now, hut he was completely drenched – not that he even cared about that. His eyes dropped down to what was in front of his feet. They weren't in bloom, but he knew that they were lilacs. Her lilacs. On her grave. Her name, the date of her death carved into a stone that set on top of the grave they'd made for her.

All of it had only been a dream, even though it had felt so real. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell her, feels the touch of her fingertips on his skin. Maybe, it was a memory his body, his mind had conjured up, but she was nowhere to be found anymore. He'd buried her himself, had lost her for good. But at least he'd seen her one last time, even if it was only in his dreams, to tell her that he loved her. Words he hadn't said often enough while she'd still been with him.

Geralt kneeled down before her grave and touched his fingertips to the earth there. He knew, he would never see her again, not in person, but at least, he had his memories. Lots of them, but still not enough. Grief gripped his heart and crumpled it up like a piece of paper as he let his tears run freely. It was just him here. Him and his memories of a time where he'd been happy.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #the wither imagine #geralt x y/n #geralt x fem!reader #geralt x female reader #geralt fic #the witcher #geralt smut #the witcher smut #geralt of rivia smut #staffi writes #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #soft geralt

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moonlightpirate · 1 year

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Meeting The Lettenhoves Chapter 2

It's finally here!!! Part one here. Masterlist here. Ao3 link here. Fic also below. Hope you guys enjoy!

The next morning Jaskier spent the whole morning packing clothes for them to wear while Geralt put some snacks together and made sure the house was tidy and ready for the week they would be gone.

"Did you shower? You should probably shower. Maybe use my soap. It has a little better scent. I laid an outfit for you on the bed. I'll go pack the car once I'm done eating breakfast." Jaskier rambled as he got his breakfast ready.

"Why don't you join me in the shower? Make sure I use that soap." Geralt grinned as he sat down next to Jaskier.

Jaskier blushed, "dear we don't have time for that.".

Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned over and kissed him passionately.

"I know it'd relieve some of your stress. Also mine as well.".

"It is a 5 hour drive dear and we need to be there well before dinner so that we can get settled in our room and you can meet my parents properly. We really don't have the time. I promise I'll make it up to you." Jaskier gave Geralt one final kiss before they finished eating.

After they finished eating they both stood up and Geralt wrapped Jaskier in his arms and kissed him. Jaskier broke free of the kiss and gave Geralt a playful shove towards the bedroom. As Geralt walked into the room he saw the outfit Jaskier laid out for him. It was a light blue tunic with a white undershirt. He left him with the option of tan pants or black pants. Geralt quickly undressed and showered, making sure to use any of Jaskiers soaps and shampoos to help make sure he didn't smell bad. After the shower Geralt opted for the black pants to make sure they matched his black leather jacket he planned to wear.

"I love the pop of color! You should wear this color more often!" Jaskier exclaimed hugging Geralt, " also you smell amazing. Thank you, love!".

"Anything for you." Geralt kissed Jaskier one more time before they did one final check of the house and made their way out to the car.

They drove in silence for over an hour. Geralt could tell something was still bothering Jaskier. Gently he reached over and grabbed Jaskiers hand which was lying gently on his knee.

"Talk to me dear what's going on." Geralt brought Jaskiers hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it.

"I haven't been home in so long. I'm afraid of what they will say. What if this whole thing is just to see if the life I'm living is up to their standards. They think you're just a friend. I don't know what to do." Jaskier rambled.

"Hmmmmm." Geralt mumbled, focusing on the road ahead. He didn't know Jaskier hadn't told his parents about them. It had taken him a long time to build up the courage to ask Jaskier out; he really didn't want to hide again. But he knew Jaskier was worried about what his parents thought so he didn't want to push the situation. Jaskier kept rambling until they stopped for a quick bathroom break and lunch. Once back on the road Jaskier grabbed Geralt's hand from the steering wheel and looked at him with a concerned look on his face.

"You've hardly said anything. You promised to be more open with me. What is going on in your mind?".

"It's nothing Jaskier. I don't want you to worry.".

"I'm going to worry. Please tell me.".

"Hmmmm. Fine. I didn't realize you never told your parents about us. I kept my feelings for you hidden for so long I don't want to do it again. But I don't want your parents hating you so there isn't much I can do.".

"Geralt, you don't need to hide your feelings for me from them. I don't want you to! I'll deal with the consequences. I'd rather lose them than lose you.".

"Jaskier……".

"Don't you dare Jaskier me. I mean it. I love you.".

"How about we take it slow then. Just act like friends for tonight…..".

"Geralt…no I want to dance with you. What's the point of this dinner and ball if we can't dance?".

"You're my bard sing one of the songs you wrote for me. We will dance together later after the ball.".

Even though Geralt couldn't see Jaskiers face he knew he was pouting as he thought it all over.

"Fine. I think I can deal with that.".

Geralt leaned over and kissed Jaskier on the cheek real fast, "Perfect so tell me about your family. What should I expect?".

Jaskiers face lit up as he ranted about his younger years. He would occasionally show Geralt a picture on his phone of his family to go with the story he was telling. Finally they pulled up at the entrance of the Lettenhove mansion. Jaskier squeezed Geralt's hand as they parked. They grabbed their suitcases and made their way to the door.

"Welcome home master Julian. Your parents are so excited to see you and meet your witcher friend." The doorman greeted them formally. He opened the door and gestured them in. Geralt took a deep breath before stepping in to finally meet his boyfriend's family.

#jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #soft geralt #the witcher #geraskier fic

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toomanymuffins · 2 years

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A snippet of a sequel to May I?, prompted by a comment @islenthatur left wanting to see and Eskel and Geralt being soft. So did I :)

——-

Geralt reached the gates of the keep at midday.

Vesemir had observed his campfire on the trail the evening before, so Eskel made his way outside in the morning to prepare Roach’s stall. He laid down a thick layer of fresh bedding to keep her warm, and brought food, water, and a heavy blanket. Then he tended to Scorpion and the other horses, the goats, and the fowl as he listened for Geralt’s approach.

Eskel enjoyed the company of animals, and the morning passed pleasantly as he fed them all, mucked out their shelters, and exercised the horses. But the most pleasant part of Eskel’s morning was the feeling of anticipation that bubbled up in his chest. I’m a sentimental old fool, Eskel thought, and chuckled to himself. Even after all these years, there is nothing quite like greeting my oldest friend after a year on the path.

Eskel was just beginning to repair some loose fencing at the edge of the goat pen when one of the goats bleated and, outside the keep, he heard a familiar whinny in reply. “Good girl, Lil Bleater,” said Eskel, and scratched her behind the ears fondly.

Geralt had dismounted by the time Eskel swung open the heavy doors of the keep, and stepped forward with his arms open wide. “Brother,” said Geralt, clasping Eskel in a firm embrace.

Eskel held on tightly, feeling peace settle in his chest. He never felt like he was truly home for the winter until Geralt arrived, and knew Geralt felt the same way. “Brother,” he returned. “Welcome home.”

Together, they settled Roach in companionable silence. It was a routine they had shared every winter for decades. Next, Eskel knew that Geralt would thaw by the kitchen fire with a bowl of whatever Vesemir had cooked the night before while he brought Geralt’s things to his room and prepared a bath. And that’s where Geralt would finally unwind, letting the hot water relax his muscles as well as his mind. Eskel would sit beside the tub in the comfortable chair Geralt kept by the fireplace in his room, and they would talk for hours before joining the others for dinner in the evening.

For now, though, Eskel tossed Geralt’s bags across his back and gave him a warm smile. Geralt returned the smile, and reached his arm across Eskel’s shoulders. Eskel wrapped his free hand around Geralt’s back, and together they made their way in from the stables.

#eskel #soft eskel #geralt of rivia #soft geralt #the witcher

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fandom-junk-drawer · 2 years

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The Witcher Headcanon - Battle Cries Master Post

My Battle Cries Headcanon, plus the 2 part Bonus Scene all toghether!

Battle Cries

Bonus Scene Part 1

Bonus Scene Part 2

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crogersart · 2 years

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Geralt just wants to comfort his bard...

#the witcher #the witcher fanart #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #sketch #soft geralt #fanart #work in progress #my wips

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mayasooong · 1 year

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Find someone who looks at you like Yennefer looks at Geralt 💜

Kudos to you if you know which scene I redraw 😌

:readmore:

Gosh I love her soft gaze

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samstree · 2 years

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Caesura

A curse, a cure, a bard who forgets, and an overly careful witcher.

(1.5k ☆ also on AO3)

The man standing in Jaskier’s cell is covered in blood.

“Hey, there,” Jaskier greets him, and notices yellow eyes and white hair in the dim light. A witcher.

“Do you know me, Jaskier?”

There’s something hopeful in the way this stranger whispers his name, something gentle.

“How do you know my name?” Jaskier asks in return, eyeing at this man with suspicion. The witcher takes a step forward, and Jaskier retreats into the corner, his shackles rubbing the tender skin around his wrists.

The stranger stops immediately. He sets down the iron sword, a menacing thing that is also dripping blood. Jaskier pities anyone who brought on this witcher’s wrath, for whatever reason.

“I mean you no harm.” The timbre of his voice is like honey, coating Jaskier’s tongue with warmth. Or Jaskier has just been alone here for too long. “My name is Geralt. I’m your…friend.”

“Friend?” Jaskier hesitates at the word because the witcher did too. “I don’t have a friend like you.”

“You’ve been hit with a curse. One that causes amnesia,” the witcher—Geralt explains. “And the cure is simple, if you just let me show you.”

Jaskier doesn’t remember a friend who is a witcher, but again, he doesn’t remember much. Only his names, and songs. There were songs in his life, that much he is sure.

“What is the cure?”

Trusting a stranger should fill Jaskier with dread, but looking at Geralt only makes his heart settle, those golden eyes acting as a balm to his nerves.

“True love’s kiss.” Geralt holds his gaze, unwavering. “Like in the fairy tales. If you would let me kiss you, you can find out for yourself.”

Jaskier only stares at Geralt, a man he’s only known for a few minutes, and answers with silence.

“Alright, then.” The smile on Geralt’s lips is still reassuring, if not a little broken. It’s a subtle thing, this man’s heartbreak, but Jaskier finds all the telltale signs of it by instinct. “One step at a time,” he says. “Let’s get you out of these chains.”

☆

Geralt has given Jaskier his cloak and scarf, and then, his rations and horse.

The mare is such a gentle thing, guided by Geralt’s steady hand on her reins. She let Jaskier onto her back without a fuss, and has since slowed her pace after he jostled his injuries on the uneven terrain. It’s like she knows him too.

Now that Jaskier is warm and free with his belly full, his mind swirls with questions.

“So,” he starts, looking down to catch Geralt’s eyes and trying to not let his gaze drift down to his lips. “You love me?”

Those lips part slightly before closing. Geralt pauses before answering, his words equal parts reverent and remorseful.

“More than you know.”

Jaskier forgets to breathe for a second.

He pulls the cloak tighter to fend off a chill, letting the scent of leather and pine on the thick fabric anchor him. Anything relating to Geralt has a calming effect on him, so Jaskier grows braver.

“And I love you?” he asks and looks away when his cheeks heat up. “I meant, if what you claimed about this curse is true, I’d need to love you for the cure to work. You must believe it, um, that I am in love with you too, if you suggested it.”

His words feel clumsy, but the gold in Geralt’s eyes melts with fondness.

“It took me a long time to see it, but yes, Jaskier, you did. Perhaps too much and to your own detriment, and yet…”

“And yet, I loved you,” Jaskier muses, tasting the words on his tongue. They are as easy as breathing.

The wind picks up, and Geralt removes his gloves and puts them in Jaskier’s cold hands.

As Jaskier slips into those gloves and flexes his numb fingers, he wonders how easy it was for his past self to fall in love with Geralt in the first place.

☆

The campfire burns bright, and all the bruises on Jaskier’s arms are blooming with purple and green. After a day’s journey, he’s finally sitting on a soft bedroll and now has time to inspect himself.

“Let me see?” Geralt touches Jaskier’s wrist briefly, but it’s enough for Jaskier to flinch like he’s been burned. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The flames are lining Geralt’s hair with gold, and Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m not scared.”

It’s just that no one has touched him in a long time, let alone this gently. He fears and longs for it at the same time, his body not knowing how to react.

“Okay.” Geralt nods, and places himself a few more feet away from Jaskier. He’s now sitting on the ground. “You should get some rest. I will keep you safe.”

With that, Geralt crosses his legs and seems content enough to keep guard. The ground must be uncomfortable compared to Jaskier’s bedroll and the warm cloak wrapped around him, making him feel safer than he ever remembers.

“Why—” Jaskier resists a yawn, finding the lull of sleep deep in his bones. “Why didn’t you just…do it?”

“Hmm?” Geralt frowns in confusion.

“If a kiss could restore all my memories, you can just, I don’t know, grab me and kiss me already. So, why aren’t you doing that?”

The thought makes Jaskier’s face flush hotly once again. If the witcher does that now, maybe he wouldn’t be as scared as he’d imagine.

“Oh.” But it looks like the thought never even crossed Geralt’s mind. “I don’t—you, um, you didn’t say I could, so I… Jaskier, I don’t know. You’ve been hurt, and I don’t want to cause you any more harm.”

“According to you, we love each other.” Jaskier pauses. “Deeply.”

It’s not hard to infer from all the careful ways Geralt has handled him in the past day. It’s strange, to be treasured by someone without a reason.

“When you looked at me,” Geralt starts, “there’s no recognition, and I—I didn’t know what to do. I haven’t felt unsure towards you for a long time.”

“You felt safe with me too.”

Geralt answers with a thoughtful smile.

“Sleep, Jaskier. Don’t worry a thing. Just sleep, and we’ll be alright.”

By some miracle, Jaskier does, and there are no nightmares.

☆

The morning light casts a shadow on Geralt’s face. It’s hard for Jaskier to tell if the witcher has fallen asleep while meditating.

“Morning,” Geralt says, eyes still closed, and Jaskier lets out a surprised gasp.

“Were you peeking?”

“Don’t need to peek. You are thinking too loud.”

“Have a lot to think about.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s gaze falls on Geralt’s lips again, and he leans forward. Their knees are nearly touching.

“True love’s kiss, right?” He lets Geralt’s coat pool on his lap and swallows hard. “There’s no harm in trying.”

With that, Geralt’s eyes flutter open. His body remains still and patiently waiting for Jaskier to make the first move, so Jaskier does. He rests a hand on Geralt’s forearm, and the other on his chin. Geralt nuzzles his cheek in Jaskier’s palm, the stubble on his chin scratching Jaskier’s skin, tickling him a little.

“It’ll be okay,” Geralt promises softly.

Jaskier believes it with all his heart as their bodies fit into each other and he ends up between Geralt’s arms. He is held gently by hands on the small of his back, careful to avoid his injuries, and then, they are kissing.

Magic hums faintly in the air, but Jaskier pays no mind. Geralt’s lips are soft and exploring, guiding him with sweetness. They kiss until the magic disappears, and kiss more until they are both dizzy with foolish happiness.

Jaskier reluctantly breaks away, and opens his eyes to meet his husband’s smile. It is only when all of the memories of the same smile rush back that he realizes how much he has missed it.

“Hey,” Jaskier breathes, not being able to help the grin on his face.

“Hey,” Geralt answers. “There you are.”

“You didn’t need to wait for this long, you oaf.” Their foreheads rest together in that familiar way of theirs, Jaskier’s favorite. “Could have swooped into that cell and kissed me already. It’d make a nice fairy tale.”

“You’d have swooned with fear. Not sure what fairy tale has that.”

“Mine, perhaps. I’ll just change it in my songs. Swooning with gratitude right into my husband’s arms sounds much better.”

“Your husband…” Geralt is having that look on his face again, the one that says he’s overwhelmed with emotions and doesn’t know what to do with them, even after all these years, so Jaskier takes pity and lets Geralt hide in the crook of his neck as the shells of his ears turn red. “Sorry. I just…I felt like I lost it, somehow.”

“You couldn’t. No matter what I remember, you’ll always be my husband who is so unwilling to hurt me he’d rather abandon that title for a little while.”

“But only for a little while.”

Geralt breathes in Jaskier’s scent, a witcher’s heart slowing against a human's, and they stay there for a long time.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #established relationship #soft geralt #hurt jaskier #cursed jaskier #amnesia #this fic feels like it's got the wrong length #i feel like it should be shorter and longer at the same time #huh

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