#geralt being soft and scared

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound - Geralt

Spellbound - Geralt

Authors Note: I’m back because I quit my job and have a better schedule at the new job 

Warnings: semi smut 

Word Count: 4012

Description: geralt fights his feelings until you get trapped in a spell 

brothel worker! reader x geralt 

Enjoy!

Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them. 

That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire. 

This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed. 

The witcher had always been against you joining the group. 

You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him. 

A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground. 

You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging. 

Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?

Wrong. 

Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either. 

He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much. 

Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?

Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence. 

Well……anyone but you. 

Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good. 

You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both. 

Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room. 

When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs. 

It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down. 

The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game. 

He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger. 

“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”

It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own. 

The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”

“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach. 

By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”

You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch. 

“Answer me.”

You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you. 

“Humming is not an answer.”

You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”

You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward. 

“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down. 

“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.

“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”

“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”

“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”

“I do not-”

“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”

“Fuck off.” 

Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy. 

After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”

A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”

“I do not.” 

“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”

“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”

“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest. 

Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up. 

You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee. 

Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine. 

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”

“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face. 

“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again. 

Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down. 

“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin. 

The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him. 

“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.” 

“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”

The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”

“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”

He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing. 

You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”

“About?”

“About work.”

“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”

“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood. 

“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”

“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you. 

“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”

“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”

“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”

Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”

“So you would go back to whoring?”

“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”

“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”

A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”

“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”

“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead. 

“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”

“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure. 

“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt. 

Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners. 

 But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun. 

The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song. 

“Can I get you another drink?” 

“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile. 

“Another ale?”

“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down. 

The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you. 

One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care. 

“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs. 

“You’ve had too much to drink.” 

“And you care why?”

“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls. 

“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..

“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.” 

“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”

“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”

A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”

And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.” 

Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment. 

But just for a moment. 

You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it. 

“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”

“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms. 

It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth. 

The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled. 

Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door. 

The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair. 

His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before. 

For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-” 

This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red. 

“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”

“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes. 

Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room. 

He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell. 

He was a fucking fool. 

“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”

And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”

You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes.  “Oh make it stop-”

“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”

“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you. 

“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick. 

“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.”  Jaskier shrugs before yawning. 

“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself. 

“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room. 

- - - - -

Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags. 

“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him. 

“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.” 

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke. 

“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”

“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat. 

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”

“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”

“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”

“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”

He had to get you. 

Part Two

#geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt imagine #geralt angst #witcher #witcher smut #geralt of rivia #witcher angst #witcher imagine #witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher angst #the witcher smut #the witcher c reader #witcher geralt #henry cavill #Geralt Geralt Geralt #witcher season 3 #rory the frenchie

[thewitcheress2389]

Hello! If you feel like it, could you write something for Geralt x reader? Reader is touch starved and doesn't want to initiate affection, but Geralt catches on bc she relaxes when their shoulders brush or when he pats her shoulder. One day he's had enough of her being so uptight, so he holds her and she just goes boneless with relief.

I relate to this so much Anon, putting my own feelings in this one❤️😂 Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's jumbled, I was in a state when I wrote this XD

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A Witcher's Senses

You forget that a witcher has enhanced senses. Funny enough, Geralt doesn't really need them to figure out your problem.

Most men don't understand, but witchers are even more ignorant. They don't have the need to be held, the need to be touched. Not like a woman like you needs. And you don't just mean "touched" because not all touch is good. Some touch is selfish, uncomfortable, and lacking all mannerisms of a proper gentleman.

No. You want touch to be gentle, full of love.

Geralt was the only man that you could share this with-without his knowledge. Witchers weren't exactly ones for holding hands or exchanging hugs. The only affection they ever receive is from a one night stand that they paid for with their gold from a gruesome hunt. The closest you've ever been to Geralt with his knowledge is when you had to clean his wounds after a dicey encounter with a leshen or a werewolf.

But you needed more. You craved more from him.

"Y/N, can you tie up Roach." It was a command from Geralt, who wasn't looking at you as he handed you the leather reins. You eyed his hand, the way his fingers gently caressed the leather.

"Yeah." You said softly, reaching out to grab hold of the horse. And then, your fingers touched.

You lingered, lingered longer than expected. His skin was rough, but also very warm. You loved it, you loved the feeling that you haven't had in years. You didn't care that he was a witcher. He was still a man that had warm skin and a gentle aura about him. His touch made you relax. Softly, you began to smile to yourself.

"Y/N, Roach is getting anxious." Geralt's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you realized that he had let go of the reins long ago, his touch gone. You blushed in embarrassment when he finally heard Roach pawing the ground.

Mumbling an apology, you led the mare to a nearby tree, Geralt's gaze following you the whole way.

He wasn't stupid.

Jaskier might call him uncaring, ignorant, and hardy but the witcher was actually quite the opposite. He had better sight, better hearing, and a better sense of smell than most men. But even with all that, he struggles to read people sometimes. You were shy, didn't say much to him, but your eyes held so much emotion. But you, you were more obvious than you probably wanted.

When you pretend to trip and bump into him, your heartrate softens.

When he pats your shoulder after a fearful encounter, your muscles relax.

When you grab something from him and your fingers touch, your eyes glow and you smile to yourself.

You longed for touch. You needed it, but you didn't want anyone to know that. You were scared to initiate contact, which Geralt sensed when you were just around him. Your quick breathing, nervousness, and raised heartrate. You were uneasy because you lacked the touch you craved, that only he seemed to be able to give you.

Now with the knowledge he had, Geralt was confused. Why did you seek him out?

He was a witcher, covered in scars and years of abuse. He didn't know what a soft touch felt like unless he paid for it. Geralt didn't know how to give you what you wanted, however, you seemed to know. You were pretty, so it shouldn't be hard for him. Despite all the negative things that Jaskier has said about him, he always has mentioned that Geralt has more of a heart than most witchers.

Perhaps Geralt just needs to find that heart and give it to you.

So, one night, he did.

You guys were sitting by the fire, Roach was grazing nearby, and Geralt just got done putting things away. He then moved to sit next to you. Close to you. Immediately, his senses picked up your beating heart and nervous sweat. You weren't the only one nervous. Geralt was too. However, he cared about you, he knew what you needed and how he could give it.

The witcher scooted closer and placed an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

"Geralt?" Your voice was small, face extremely red. The witcher, however, was calm as he rubbed his calloused hand over your shoulder to soothe you.

"Shh...just relax." Geralt said and you did. It was like you melted at his warm touch. Every organ in your body immediately calmed down; your heartrate slowed, breathing slowed, and everything else just relaxed. You sighed pleasantly, finding yourself moving closer to him out of impulse.

"Why are you doing this?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking him, the warmth from both him and the fire easing you. The fire light flickered in his cat-like eyes as he swallowed nervously.

"Because I needed it. I needed your touch." He told you, smiling a bit. Relief seemed to fill in your eyes as you took in his words. Every time that you were afraid to initiate any form of contact was just your nerves getting the best of you. Geralt said he needed you, just like you needed him. You nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

However, Geralt said that to ease you, or that's what he thought.

But he found himself relaxing at your touch as well.

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher geralt #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine

[islenthatur]

So we all know the stories where Jaskier collects Witchers like dnd players and dice, how could he not!? And we all know that the ones where Witchers collect Jaskiers friendship too.

But honestly, I just want a fic where the Witchers mounts and lil bleater just collect the noisy-colourful-being-withsnacks...

Animals are smart okay, the horses talk to eachother because how else would they get civilised conversation and of course they'd brag about who carried the heaviest for longest, how many times their stupid people got hurt...

Roach starts off complaining about the noisy-being that followed them one day that just never stopped making noises or trying to pet her. The years pass and the complaints turn into fondess and she comes home more full and cared for than she had in a long time and her witcher does too.

The others, Scorpion, horse, lil bleater all want to meet the human, try to ease their own witchers burdens and just... does.

Jaskier is away from geralt for a competition, and suddenly, he has a very insistent goat bleating at him, pushing him off the road towards Eskel who was injured.

It just goes on from there... Lambert's mount Horse finds him, lips at the pants roach knew held sugar cubes and both Lambert and Jaskier stare at eachother awkwardly while he feeds horse the cubes.

Word travels between the mounts, a hawk that was a familiar to a Griffin flys down and rests on Jaskiers lute while playing, scaring the fuck out of him but shows him to another injured witcher.

Then the mountain happens

Roach loses her horse mind in anger at her Witcher, there would be no more soft songs, no more flowers in her main or apples, her Noisy-foal gone...

The animals revolt, it's a hard season for all witchers and when Geralt gets back after Cintra and Jaskier is with him the animals just go absolutely ballistic in joy and surround him

All the witchers are just watching with the most adorable wtf faces ever.

#roach loves jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier/geralt #lil bleater #kaer morons #eskel #lambert #the witchers love jaskier #witcher animals love jaskier #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #geraskier

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

no bc which one of us on witcher tumblr snuck onto set/into the writers room for s3 I mean?? geralt being openly and directly caring and soft for jaskier???? jaskier bonding with ciri and being her fun uncle like a plethora of post-s1 fics hoped for???? jaskier being traumatized and scared of seeing rience again and it's not treated like a joke??? valdo marx not only being there and existing in a corporeal form but also being very much a Valdo Fucking Marx??? which of you guys snuck in I know it was one of you

#mine #the witcher #witcher #the witcher s3 spoilers #jaskier #geralt #ciri #valdo marx #geraskier

[cherryjuicegf]

He sees her last. After the blood and the gloom and the despair that plagued his sight, after the death and the wails and the pleas that teared at his chest, he sees her last.

Chaos, he thinks, has never looked more serene.

In another place, at another time, it would be beautiful.

Now Yennefer meets his eyes from across the hall and a sudden jolt shakes her whole and she runs, gods, she runs to him with such helplessness and relief that he knows he will welcome the most bruising hug, if it means it will keep her afloat. There is a weeping beauty in sadness, but not for her eyes. Never for her eyes.

As she buries her head in his shoulder, he feels her heart digging a hole in his chest. He holds her tight.

"Thank the gods," she whispers, as though to herself, "thank the gods you're alive."

In another place, at another time, he would make a joke, perhaps about the feeling not being mutual, just to steal a smile and a banter from her lips.

But he has no heart for that now. Not even for that.

He only has a chain clenched tight around his heart and gutting his voice in shame every time he opens his mouth to speak. "Yennefer, I–"

At once, she looks at him. "No words." As though she knows what he would say, as though she knows all he hasn't done, and mourns him anyway. She shakes her head, eyes huge and dark and pleading. "You can't stay here, it's dangerous. You have to go. You have to find Geralt."

"Yennefer, Yen– I know." His fingers dig into her arms and he can't bear to loosen his hold, he can't bear to let her go. Not yet. He smiles, soft. Leans to search for her eyes, for just a moment of peace in their turbulent current. "I just wanted to see my darling witch."

Yennefer stares at him for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, she huffs a laugh. Her expression softens, almost crumbles.

He feels her hands shaking where she holds him and the corners of her lips tremble as though with all the unspoken screams of the sea trapped into a single shell, wailing and weeping and waiting to be heard. He only wishes he had time to put her heart to his ear.

Her voice is quivering as she speaks. "I don't know where Ciri is," she says and it sounds like the complaint of a mother and a child crushed into one, like the world's cruelest crime, the earth's deepest regret, choked in swallowed tears. "I don't know where she is, I don't–"

She doesn't let her face break, as if she knows that when the bottle cracks, there will be no end or beginning, as if she knows he will only have to stay there, and hold her through it. And he cannot stay here between death's teeth.

She can't afford this too.

But he knows terror when he sees it in her eyes, for it is not frequent, and floods them with a different kind of darkness. It breaks his heart.

She looks at him for a moment deeply, in thought. Then she lets out a sharp breath. Quiet, exhausted. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm losing everything all over again. And then," she nods at him from tip to toe and laughs again, as though she finds it absurd, "here you are. Here you always are."

Maybe it sounds painful, because she winces.

Maybe she cannot bear looking at him, maybe in hope it will hurt less if she loses him. But Jaskier doesn't abandon her eyes, only stays there, because their violet melts just like then, just like that other time she was all bereft and scared and he got to see it, and knew. Yet again, a familiar kind of despair.

But, gods. What else could one make out of shared pain, except for love?

A tear flows down her cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before it shatters. He holds her face. "Hey. You are not in this fight alone." He swallows, voice thick, hand firm as though to caress the love on her skin and right into her. "Not anymore."

Oh, she has been alone for so long. So long that her first instinct is to disbelieve him, doubt him, squint. But it is only for a moment.

Because his thumb is still stroking her cheek clean of stray tears and her brows can only twitch in desperate acceptance as she slowly covers his hand with hers and leans into his touch, closes her eyes. Presses on, as though to memorize the shape of his palm when it's missing, as though asking of him to remember her shape.

Jaskier can't hear her, but feels her own voice in his head as he prays they don't become no more than a memory.

"We'll meet again." She looks at him again and now her voice is steadier.

It makes him smile. He will miss this. Offering a hand for her to lean into every now and then. Watching as she rises again, indelible.

A chuckle, as the curtain threatens to rise. "Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides," he speaks softer now, like a lullaby, like a confession, "I could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg."

A promise.

And Yennefer smiles, through the tears, and shakes her head. How strange, how comforting. To fight so hard for a purpose, and to know the purpose is willing, at last, to fight back for you.

With a deep sigh, she raises her head. And there she is again. Solid, seething, like a burning hill. "Don't leave Geralt alone."

"You know I won't." Then, pleading. "Be strong."

He knows she will be. It's mostly to remind himself.

Slowly, their hands drop away, and he hopes the warmth of her touch lingers on his hand for a while.

"Be brave," she replies, but she knows too. "I won't be there to save you this time." Jaskier huffs, mostly to hold back tears. "Well, then," she continues, and her voice is suddenly strained in a half-laugh, half-sob, an attempt perhaps, to seal the promise back. "Goodbye. Good luck–"

Only, she can't.

Her voice dies in her throat, and she presses her lips together, in refusal, in grief. Her eyes are wet again.

Jaskier lets out a silent gasp and shakes his head, pulling her close one last time, tighter than before. This is too much. He can't ask for too much. So he only lets her steal some breaths from his chest before he lets her go, and places a kiss on her head.

He feels her holding her breath, or his, as she pulls back and silently looks at him one last time.

And then, like a cord snapping in two, she turns around and walks outside the room. She doesn't look back.

And Jaskier watches numb. Her form disappears behind the walls and he stands wrecked, a sob threatening to rip his throat apart.

Broken, trembling, he smiles at her remaining memory, and decides to seal her promise himself. "Good riddance."

His voice echoes back to him in the empty hall.

#hiii insane hour again!! who's asleep #anyway i want the equivalent of goodbye good luck good riddance in part 2 and if i can't have it i will do it myself #also not to get meta on my own fic but you know. the promise of meeting again returning back to jaskier. you know #the witcher #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #s3 spoilers #the witcher s3 #fic recs #chrysa writes #or tries to idk i'm tired

[samstree]

“Really? No fangs?” Jaskier pouts. “What kind of a werewolf curse was this?”

“Lycanthropy hits everyone differently.”

Geralt hums as Jaskier dresses against the sunrise, still pale from being in wolf form all night.

Well, wolf is an overstatement.

The curse turned Jaskier into a very fluffy, not-at-all-menacing lap puppy with soft brown fur. With large, scared eyes and cuddly tendencies. He was trembling until Geralt held him close and murmured gentle things.

“What a shame,” Jaskier sighs, disappointed.

Geralt resists the urge to pet the brown hair that he now knows to be soft.

“Yeah,” he answers. “A shame.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #werewolf jaskier #drabble #this is because of that cibia art #chibi jask...turns into a puppy #he tiny...

[imagineredwood]

"You should be scared of me. I like that you're not."

Request: You should be scared of me. I like that you're not with our cartel daddy Miguel Galindo"

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x female reader

Warnings: Gun violence, mild blood

Word count: 595

"Come here."

Miguel's voice was gruff as he spoke to you, hand outstretched for you to place yours into it. You stared at him blankly for a handful of seconds, willing for both the fog in your brain and the ringing in your ears to go away. Miguel didn't move, hand still reaching. His heart pounded in his chest, though not from the shootout. From the idea that maybe this would be the thing that finally drove you away. 

The late nights? You had understood. The missed or canceled dates? They'd made you sad, but you knew business was important. Bodyguards all around? Intrusive at times, but necessary. The cartel life had only been glittering necklaces and champagne-filled flutes during bubble baths up until this point. The danger Miguel always spoke on seemingly nonexistent it was so far removed. You hadn't seen it yet; hadn't been subjected to it. 

Until tonight. 

With the shots ringing out, the beautiful crystal clear glass of the windows nearby shattering, the chaos and yelling men. It had shocked you just as much as the sharp pain of your skinned knee when Miguel had shoved you to the ground behind the Suburban. Now here you were, standing back upright, a small trickle of blood dripping down your knee as you stared at your fiance. His eyes were fierce but there was a sadness in them as he wondered if now that you had seen the true state of things, you would decide neither he nor his life were for you and split. That worry fizzled though as you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around you in return, one holding the small of your back to keep you upright while the other cradled the back of your head to him. You clung to him, small shudders running through your body as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. He was your safe space. Nothing and no one could make you feel safer, even with all of the casings that littered the street around you. Foolish and dangerous as it may have been. Despite he himself actually being the danger, there wasn't a place you felt safer than in his arms. 

Miguel pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head, ushering you into the vehicle with the help of Nestor, it taking off before either of you could get your seatbelts on. The ride home was silent, your hand clutching Miguels. Neither of you broke it until you were in your bathroom, Miguel kneeling before you to clean your leg while you sat on the counter. 

“You should be scared of me. I like that you’re not.” 

You gazed at him through heavy eyes, the adrenaline from before having worn out and left you ready to crash. Your smile was soft as you looked at him, following him with your eyes as he stood. 

"I could never be scared of you. If there's one thing that doesn't scare me, it's you. You had me on the ground before I even knew what was happening. You saved me. Nothing you do will ever scare me. Unless you tried to cannibalize me or something." 

Your heartfelt way of confirming that you weren't going anywhere both warmed his heart and made him chuckle with a shake of his head. He wrapped his arms around your middle and tugged you off the counter into him, voice taking on a husky edge as he dragged you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. 

"Oh, I'll cannibalize you alright." 

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

Miguel taglist

@omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @maciiiofficial​  @black-repunzel99​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @witchygagirl​  @myakai13​ @fanfictiontrash9​  @angel-121​ @90sisthenew80s

#mayans mc #mayans fx #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #drabble #imagines #mayans imagine

[blvddy-bxnnii]

More Tissaia and Yennefer Headcanons!

These are individual hcs for both women that I've been working on for a lil bit now

Quick Disclaimer: Yennefer’s list mentions self-harm, eating disorder, and ptsd. The rest is pretty angsty, including Tissaia’s portion

Perhaps a little bit of a projection onto Yen but not by much

_______

Yennefer

• When she's nervous, Yennefer fidgets with her hands and rocks back and forth in place or if she's sitting she'll bounce her leg. She has a bad habit about picking her nails from her childhood so she wears gloves to prevent it but you can still see her scratch at her fingers through the gloves. Partially why she wears gloves in the first place. This is also why she frequently crosses her arms, it gives her a sense of security in times of anxiety or when Tissaia isn't available. Coping mechanisms in a way

• Yennefer is plagued with nightmares and night terrors from her childhood which has turned her into a night owl. She may say she's retiring to bed early but in reality, she simply stays awake. Bussing herself with reading or practicing spells; sometimes slipping outside for long walks deep. She's afraid of sleeping alone and having no one to ease her from the ptsd she's garnered from the abuse and bullying. A few times waking up with a scream or crying, shaking and holding herself if she's alone. Using magic to prevent dark circles forming under her eyes and to keep her awake

• Yennefer does in fact have ptsd. She hides the symptoms of it but they show through small gestures. Flinching away at touch if she doesn't instigate it, constantly in a state of panic or on edge. She never feels like she can relax for even a mere moment and she'll do random, unnecessary tasks to keep her brain occupied. Vivid nightmares as mentioned before with insomnia, fidgeting whenever she stays still for too long, hypervigilence around crowds of people, and rash and quick irritability, especially if itdisturbs the only few moments of ease she gets. (All of this is only heightened after Sodden)

• Yennefer has a bad habit with eating she picked up from childhood and surviving on the sides of trails where food was scarce. She goes days without eating, often or not forgetting she has to eat or that she's hungry at all. It was especially bad when she returned to Aretuza. Only nibbling on the food provided and saving the rest as if she wouldn't eat again. Something Tissaia would constantly remind her of with a few others such as Triss and Sabrina that she is safe, she is allowed to eat and not worry about when she'll eat again

• Despite being as powerful as she is, Yennefer hates the dark. Constantly needing a light source because she's afraid. Created by the times where she'd be forced to sleep in the barn and the threat of wild animals or monsters were always there, her father scaring her with stories so she wouldn't run away. She keeps a candle lit at night no matter what, she isn't able to sleep without it (when she can). When she's sleeping alone she needs it the most otherwise she'll proceed to stay up. Why she doesn't join Geralt in caves or wanders very far whenever she's out at night

• Another fear of Yennefer’s is rejection. Stemming from the years of being a hunchback. Even though she is inhumanly beautiful, knowing that she could have anyone she so wishes, it's still a lingering thought that stays in the back of her mind. That underneath the enchantment they'll still see the imperfections, the bitterness, the hurt little girl that craves affirmation, love, protection. The ugliness that the enchantment couldn't fix

• Yennefer is bisexual with female preference. As she does enjoy the company of men and found herself relatively good at getting what she wants from them and pleasing them, something about women is different. Finding herself enjoying their compliments, paying attention to the smaller details on them; how they smell, how soft their hair and skin were. To how they would dress, presenting their figure

• Yennefer’s love language is quality time. She isn't one to shy away from speaking how she feels or or get physical but for love it's different. The emotion she never knows how to properly show thus she expresses it with quality time. She'll actively listen or would much rather sit in silence. To her it's comforting just to be in her partners presence. Even if she's just reading a book or creating potions, knowing they're in the room is enough

• Yennefer has an anxious attachment towards love. She's achingly lonely, learning to protect herself after everything life has thrown at her and the amount of times she's been told she's incapable of being loved. Any serious relationships have ended because she pulls them close, pushes them away, runs, and then returns. She desperately wants to be love but she's too anxious to open up and trust, revealing unhealed wounds that could possibly have salt thrown in

• She still experiences urges to self harm. When certain situations remind her of her abuse, stressed, overwhelmed, Yennefer finds herself craving relief. A dull ache over her scars that makes it hard to resist. This is the other reason as to why she wears gloves. To not only hide the scars but also prevent herself from relapsing. It has happened a few times but not enough to kill her as she wished before hand

Tissaia

• Tissaia has a really mild form of ocd. Not enough to make her unable to function but in a way where she constantly needs her desk organized and clean. If it's not, she'll clearly be stressing about it all day or finds an excuse to be in her office to make sure its tidy. Same with her clothes, she consistently needs them to have no wrinkles, she won't wear them if they do and will proceed to use magic to make sure they're up to her standards. This also extends to her need for control and minimal chaos in her presence

• Tissaia can sew! Although most sorceresses use magic and enchant a needle, Tissaia, having lived for so long, found it as a hobby to pick up in her free time. Often fixing miniscule rips and tears or if her students come up to her, she offers to fix it for them. She finds it redundant to just use magic to solve all problems but also she uses it as a way to relax and de-stress occasionally

• One of Tissaia’s fears is being alone. Something she often chides herself on but in reality a very true aspect of her character. She may put on facade, a wall and turn others away but she always regrets her actions. They're one of the many thoughts that keep her up at night thinking how her life may have been different if she had not chased away people. Being alone, to her, feels suffocating. As if chained and constantly brought down

• She has been taken advantage of before. Mostly when she first became a sorceress, advising royalty. At the behest and order of kings to serve them while the Chapter turned a blind eye and deaf ear, that led her to accept that seduction is one of the most powerful tools a sorceress has. It contributes to why she's so reserved and modest. Even when water is involved, she submerges herself fully clothed or use magic to change outfits when no privacy is available

• Tissaia is a lesbian. She's lived long enough to try all sorts of sexual endeavors but she came to the conclusion she preferred the company of a woman over a man. From her time serving courts but also the years she spent enduring men's gazes and reading the thoughts they would conjure. The fantasies they had in mind that made her severely uncomfortable. She wouldn't doubt a few men she's been with were pleasant but women were tender, soft, and so much more rewarding to please. However nowadays she hardly searches for a romantic partner, at least until Yennefer came along

• Tissaia’s love language is a cross between quality time and physical touch. She loves spending one on one time with her partners, that distraction from everything else in her life to focus on someone she loves and listen to them instead of the gossip of girls. Physical touch that include holding hands and tight hugs that reassure her that this is real and not an illusion crated by magic. She also greatly enjoys the intimacy of a kiss

• Tissaia has lost touch with the concept of time. After being alive for so many years and having watched the world change, she genuinely forgets that it truly has been years. Time slips from her easily nowadays. For what feels like months for the rest, to her it felt only a week went by. A phenomenon that terrified her at first but now she's accepted it. However, thinking about it for too long can cause her to feel depressed, that even though she's has many feats and accomplishments, it's never enough

#the witcher #the witcher tissaia #tissaia de vries #witcher yennefer #yennaia #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x tissaia #hcs #lesbian

[caffieneaddictt18]

Welcome Home, White Wolf

Reader lives in a cute Baba Yaga style cottage that has a window that looks like an eye and has a cute plume of pink feathers on the back and a large window on the side. With a roof with moss and crows and a brick chimney that always has smoke coming out of the shaft. Geralt and Reader are married and Geralt isnt scared because Reader stays in her Baba Yaga house.

______________________________________________________________

As Geralt ventured deeper into a seemingly endless forest, it grew dark. The White Wolf knew instinctively that it was not even afternoon yet.

The trees, thick with foliage, danced in the wind of the air currents that circle and flow within the atmosphere. The animals, small and large alike, cleared away from his path but watched from the pitch of the deep black ferns and bushes that lined Geralts path.

As Geralt rode Roach, he came up upon a cute and quaint home. However cute this home was, it was no ordinary home. It rested upon 2 chicken legs and had what looked like a plume of feathers on the back. On the front, was a gigantic eye that was made to look like a window.

Geralt sighs in contentment.

"Favela?" The quaint cottage turned to look at Geralt after wandering aimlessly for a long time, "May I come in?"

Favela bowed her chicken legs and allowed Geralt into her master's home.

"Thank you... Favela..." Geralt gently pets the sentient being that was his wife's home.

The smell of bread and rosemary permeated the wood of the door and flowed out the French swinging windows of Favela. Geralt was once again reminded of how odd this was supposed to be... but of how homey this felt.

How much of a home he could have as a traveler who kills monsters and is feared or hated by most. Sometimes the two are not mutually exclusive... People tend to fear what they don't understand, and then they fight it. They fight to try and keep whatever semblance of normalcy they had. Which, in this case, wasn't any.

He swings the door open. "Y/N! I'm home!"

A broom brushes past him and a crow settles into a high beam of the cottage. The fire crackles and a woman with purples swirls of energy surrounding her runs to the man. A man... something he only feels like when surrounded by her.

Not a hero made to kill monsters.

Not a killer for hire, as he was before Blaviken.

Just a man. A man who deserves love and care. A man who deserves to rest and know comfort. A man.

As she runs, he prepares for the hug that comes from the flurry of black and green, and is breathless. Not from the force of her jumping hug but from her.

Her eyes and her hands. How soft they are across his tough, weathered hands. How wonderful she feels in his arms...

Geralt is just happy to be home, and the White Wolf is happy to have a place to rest.

______________________________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

This is the TikTok that inspired it all: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8jTay4a/

I do not own the artist, or the art. I just got really inspired.

#witchcraft #witches #x reader #geralt x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x you #witcher #the witcher #witch!reader #geralt x witch!reader #caffies #witch reader #babayaga #baba yaga

[eggcompany]

A Soft Kind Of Home Part 1

The first year Jaskier stayed at the keep he learned quite a bit about the Witchers of Kaer Morhen.

He learned that Eskel likes to read out loud but was taught that it’s “childish” so he offers to read books for Jaskier. Eskel likes to read by the fire and he likes to hold Jaskier in his lap. Eskel likes to listen to music and loves Jaskier singing this and that, trying to figure out new songs. Eskel is very smart and can talk and talk for ages about almost everything. He loves talking about embroidery, sewing, spinning yarn, anything that has to do with making pretty things or art. He also loves talking to the viscount about food. He tells the bard about the disgusting things he's choked down on the path and how the food at home is so much better. Jaskier tells him that when he returns next year he'll bring along spices and herbs from Oxenford and recipes from Lettenhove.

Jaskier learned that Lambert is a big softy when he gets used to you. He learned that storms scare Lambert and he had a quite soft side to him. Lambert likes to cuddle and be close to Jaskier or the other witchers when it rains or storms. Lambert loves sitting in laps and loves being held. Lambert really just craves some form of affection and love. Lambert likes chewing on stuff especially his own hands.

He learned Geralt is the... Well there isn’t quite a word he can think of for what Geralt is. Eskel comes to Geralt when he doesn’t feel well or scared. Lambert is almost always hanging on Geralt when it’s stormy outside. And Geralt takes care of them.

Jaskier learned that there’s one room in the keep that all the wolves sleep in when they get lonely and sad. Geralt usually leads the other wolves by their hands to the room when sadness hangs too heavy over them.

Jaskier learned that all the wolves liked to nuzzle and snuggle when they sleep and he always ends up in the middle of a puppy pile. He learned Geralt can talk in such a low and gentle voice that it instantly calms the other two.

Jaskier learned a lot

Next Chapter ->

#fanfic #egg_company #ao3 fanfic #jaskier #geralt of rvia #geraskier #jaskier is witchersexual #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #witcher eskel #lambert #fluff

[podcastenthusiast]

A fic featuring: ace Geralt, some trauma, discussion of consent, and a whole lot of love.

---

Touch is difficult for Geralt. Desire, too; witchers are made to want nothing except to serve their purpose. He wants even less, yet somehow more than he should.

He's been known to spend months, even years, on the Path with only Roach for company. Never touching anyone beyond the brush of hands as coins are exchanged. He will go to brothels occasionally--let the whores trace his scars, cataloging each one like it's evidence of something, asking for the story behind it. He satisfies their curiosity and fucks them, too, because he knows how this transaction works, what is expected. He gives them whatever they want, and takes what pleasure he's supposed to. It's too much and it's over too soon.

Sometimes he leaves the brothel feeling lighter, almost like a person. Other times he is empty, bereft of that warmth, and unsure why he can't feel the way others do.

Geralt has theories. He keeps them to himself. Doesn't even tell Roach.

One theory goes like this: witchers are rendered sterile by the mutations, and Geralt was given an extra dose. Maybe that stripped away his sexual desire as well as his capacity to procreate. Or maybe it's still in there somewhere, buried deep along with a majority of his emotions and the kid he once was.

Maybe it has nothing to do with being a witcher at all. His brothers don't seem to share the same experience.

And Jaskier isn't at all like him; he loves fiercely and loudly. Jumps into bed with practically anyone who's willing. He will meet a barmaid and perform a ballad he wrote about her all in the same evening.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that Jaskier's soft heart has room in it for Geralt, too, but it is. It's also a surprise when the bard stays, like no one ever has before.

They share a bed now, as they have many times, but it's different as lovers. At first Geralt assumes Jaskier simply wants sex, and is fine with giving him what he needs.

But the bard loves to please others. Jaskier asks what he wants, and Geralt replies, "Nothing."

Truer than it's ever been, in this context.

"Everyone wants something. Even you."

"I..."

I just want you to stay. He can't say it. He is a creature defined by what he lacks--desires, fears, feelings, humanity. He has little to offer Jaskier or Yennefer or anyone else, just danger or a quick fuck. It isn't enough. He has no business asking for anything. He was made to be useful.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"That's all right. We'll figure it out together. For now let's take things slow, yeah?"

"Been twenty years."

"And I wouldn't trade them for all the wine in Toussaint. But this--" He kisses Geralt's neck. "--is new."

"Hmm."

"I just want you to be comfortable, dear witcher."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

It's too quick. Defensive. Like parrying before your opponent even draws their sword.

"Well...I know you feel things differently." Fuck. Fuck! He knows. "Heightened senses and all that. I imagine it could make certain things...a bit intense."

He doesn't know. He can't.

"I'll be fine."

"And if we do have sex, I want it to be good for you. Because...honestly, Geralt, you deserve pleasant things, more than you know. You always say you don't want anything."

"I don't."

"And that scares me to death, darling." Jaskier's voice is low, suddenly breaking. "There's no shortage of awful people out there who will at best take that as an invitation not to care, or at worst to hurt you."

The wolf inside him snarls. He's not weak. Witchers might be harmed in battle, never in bed. But he takes a breath and tries to hear what Jaskier is really saying. He owes him an attempt at decent communication.

"Jaskier," he says. "You'd never hurt me."

"Not intentionally, no, which is why I need you to talk to me. Tell me if I ever do something you don't like, even if you've liked it in the past, and I'll stop."

Jaskier's calloused fingers idly trace a scar below his collarbone. He won't ask about its origin because he doesn't need to; he was there. Geralt's muscles grow tense even so.

"Stop," he snaps before he can think better of it. Jaskier stops immediately. His hands withdraw from the witcher's skin, and Geralt knows he just fucked up everything. He couldn't bear even that and now his bard is never going to touch him again and so few are unafraid, fewer still truly know him--

"Thank you," Jaskier says. He doesn't sound angry or upset. He sounds almost proud. "Can I ask-- Are you feeling overwhelmed emotionally, or was it the touching? And don't you dare give me that tired 'witchers don't have feelings' line right now."

"Touch," Geralt manages although, if he were honest, it's both.

There are times he can't stand to be touched at all, Jaskier has seen that-- after a hunt, when the lingering effects of his potions make the world feel impossibly sharp. But there are other times. There are safe people and places and Jaskier never looks at him like he's a curiosity, an inhuman thing, but Geralt's body doesn't always know that.

"You don't want to be touched right now?"

Geralt shakes his head. Then shrugs. Nods.

"I really need some words here, love."

"It's. The scars."

"Oh. Gods, I'm sorry. Do they hurt?"

Scars trouble him the least of his old wounds. They itch, sometimes, but they don't hurt in the way, for example, his knee aches when it's going to rain. Scars are an absence of pain. Of anything. Sometimes a reminder.

"No. Just numb." He takes a breath. Averts his eyes and counts the stitches on the blanket. "Most people I'm with... it's all they see. Like to touch the scars. I can't feel it. They ask questions; I tell them or I don't. Over either way."

They leave, he means. Or he leaves first. That fucking mountain. He's run out of words. His throat feels tight.

When he looks up again, Jaskier's eyes brim with tears.

"You are so much more than that to me, dear heart."

"I know," Geralt says, and finds that, quite unexpectedly, he believes it.

"Is-- Would a hug be okay? Honest answer only."

Geralt nods, and the bard pulls him in close.

"You know," says Jaskier after a while. He never could let silence remain unfilled. Geralt is grateful. "There are artists who mend pottery by carefully filling the cracks with gold. It's beautiful."

"Sounds excessive. Just make another bowl."

"It adds to the complexity, the beauty of the whole. I'm trying to say that's how I see you."

"As broken pottery to fix?"

"Gods, no. As someone who's survived so much, and is very dear to me. But your scars, your lovely eyes and your hair, all of it-- They're not everything you are, nor is witchering, despite what ignorant fools or careless bed partners may think."

But Jaskier has mended something. His reputation, for a start. His wounds on numerous occasions. And... more than that, besides, he thinks.

When Geralt finally does tell Jaskier the truth about his desires, or lack thereof, he'll think about that and form a new theory. Maybe he isn't a broken thing after all, and even if he is, maybe that can be okay.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier #witcher fic #asexual geralt #should i start posting this stuff on ao3? #jaskier paraphrases amazing devil lyrics and I'm not sorry about it #for clarity geralt is generally sex neutral but he has a lot of shit going on too and mostly wants to be held #tbh i struggle to write characters who want to have sex with other people at all. can't relate #to me there's something so uncomfortable about the brothel svenes in TNW and witcher 3. i dunno #asexual headcanons

[wren-of-the-woods]

Of Magic, Meddling, and Mice

When Jaskier leaves his prison cell together with Geralt, Gordon tags along. This changes far more than one would think.

(Gordon may not quite be the ordinary mouse everyone expects him to be.)

Rated T, part one out of two. Also on AO3! Edit: Part two can be found here!

Pain. 

Mountains, earth, violence, trees, strangling creeping green entwining grasping clutching hurting bloodying killing stealing warping— 

Cellar, cell, violence, bars, fiery questioning overpowering fearful helpless lonely loving hurting bloodied aching— 

Destiny frowned to herself. She shook her head.

No.

She reached into the threads of fate, tangled her hands in the entwined melody of the universe’s song, and pulled. 

~

Jaskier always had a penchant for trying to befriend anything that walked or breathed, so it was really no surprise that he became attached to the mice in his cell. 

The moment he heard the skittering of their little feet, he knew he was done for. Their fur looked soft. Their noses twitched in the most adorable way. It was inevitable that he would end up loving them. 

And, well, he was lonely and hurting and scared. It was only natural that he reached for a bit of comfort. 

They were, it turned out, surprisingly decent companions. They didn’t mind his talking, which made them a fair sight better than some people he could name. They sometimes even seemed to enjoy his singing. He tried to teach them to accompany him, which went about as well as could be expected. It was amusing, though, so that was all right. 

They comforted him. Jaskier had never liked being alone, not even when he was a child. It was a part of why he had traveled with Geralt so often and a part of why Geralt’s absence had hit him so hard. The mice were sweet. They would not resent him for their own mistakes. They would not hide their feelings. He fed them and they liked him for it. It was nice. 

But, while Jaskier loved all of his mice, he had to admit that Gordon was special. 

Gordon didn’t shy away when Jaskier tried to pet him. Gordon climbed onto his hand with minimal protest, squeaking adorably. Gordon was undoubtedly the best of the mice at harmonizing. Gordon didn’t mind when Jaskier spoke or sang. Gordon, in fact, seemed delighted by the entertainment. Gordon’s company was a bright spot in the dark dankness of the dungeon, and Jaskier was grateful for it. 

So, when Geralt arrived in all his broody, heroic glory, Jaskier found himself reluctant to leave the mouse behind. He turned around to say a final farewell to his new friends, and—

He felt a strange sensation on his leg, like tiny claws clambering upwards. He looked down just in time to see the end of a tiny tail disappear into his coat’s pocket. He grinned to himself, turned, and left the cell with a lighter heart than before. 

 It seemed that Gordon appreciated his friendship even more than he had thought. 

~

It took Geralt embarrassingly long to notice Jaskier’s pet. 

In his defense, he was distracted. It was not as though he had the leisure to devote all his attention to Jaskier as he might, despite all his attempts to deny it, have once done. He was caught in a desperate race against time with his daughter’s life and possibly the fate of the Continent at stake. 

Retrospectively, it probably should have occurred to him that it was not normal to hear two heartbeats coming from the direction of Jaskier’s coat. As it was, he had not even noticed the anomaly. Geralt spared a second to be glad that none of his brothers were around to see this — they would have given him so much shit.

Especially Eskel. But he wasn’t thinking about that. 

It was not until Jaskier decided to bathe in a mountain lake — it seemed silly to Geralt, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse the bard, and he couldn’t help but think that perhaps if Jaskier bathed then he would no longer be surrounded by that complicated mixture of scents, both new and old and all soaked through with adrenaline, that Geralt could barely parse — until then, when Jaskier handed Geralt his coat, that Geralt finally noticed that something was moving in one of the pockets.

He frowned at the coat. Jaskier was saying something about cold and nipples. Geralt ignored him. There was a faint, fast heartbeat coming from the pocket. It began to squeak. Geralt's medallion was vibrating slightly, but he could not tell if it was due to the creature or the ambient magic from whatever glamors or charms Jaskier had paid someone to add to the coat.

The pocket wriggled. Then, out of the top, a tiny snout emerged. It was quickly followed by the rest of a head and two little paws. The mouse stared at Geralt. It looked, to Geralt’s startled imagination, rather judgemental. It squeaked. 

Geralt blinked at it for a moment. It looked like one of Jaskier’s mice from the cell. He vaguely remembered having seen it in Jaskier's hand before Geralt had got past the guard. He hadn’t noticed Jaskier picking it up, but he had been in a hurry. It was entirely possible he’d missed it.

The mouse squeaked again. It sounded rather insistent. Geralt frowned at it. 

Then Jaskier said something about blood, reminding Geralt of what he’d actually meant to ask the bard, and then there was an axe and the dwarves and Yennefer and Voleth Meir, and, despite the mouse’s regular squeaking, Geralt almost forgot about it entirely.

~

Jaskier was surprised by how excited Gordon seemed when he first saw Kaer Morhen.

The mouse climbed out of Jaskier’s pocket so quickly that he almost overbalanced and fell onto the snowy ground. He stayed like that as Jaskier entered the keep, met the witchers, and went to find somewhere to sleep. He even squeaked as though in greeting every time Jaskier encountered a new witcher. It was, quite frankly, endearing. 

Jaskier might have wondered about it more if he had been in a better state of mind, but he was exhausted and cold and worried about Geralt. He found a room that seemed unoccupied and was blessedly asleep within moments, Gordon curled up beside his head. 

Jaskier did not stay asleep for long. 

It was Gordon who noticed that something was wrong with Ciri. He woke Jaskier by insistently squeaking and pawing at his face and, before Jaskier could sleepily swat at him for interrupting his slumber, he ran to the door of the room. He stood there, waiting, as Jaskier glared at him. He squeaked. 

“Do you want me to follow you?” asked Jaskier, running a hand over his face.

“Squeak.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Squeak.”

“Squeak once for no or twice for yes.”

“Squeak squeak.”

Jaskier’s brow furrowed. “Huh.” 

Gordon looked at him expectantly.

“You are a very strange mouse.” 

“Squeak squeak.”

Jaskier stared at him for another moment, then shrugged. 

He followed the mouse, stumbling through dimly-lit and rather treacherous passageways. Gordon led him to Ciri’s room. It was empty. Gordon set off again. Jaskier was just about to give up when they arrived at another witcher’s room. He sighed, pushed open the door, and—

Saw Ciri, standing over the sleeping witcher with a terrifyingly cold look in her eyes and a knife in her hand.

Jaskier shouted, loud and piercing. The witcher woke and, after a panicked few seconds, disarmed Ciri and took her to the floor. Ciri flailed, hissing. Jaskier ran for help. 

Things devolved into chaos for a very long while, after that. 

~

Geralt noticed that Jaskier’s mouse seemed very intent on watching the witchers heal. 

It seemed to have given up on squeaking insistently at Geralt. It was never very loud. It would simply sneak out of Jaskier’s room or pocket or wherever else the bard had attempted to confine it for its own safety, make its way quietly to the place where Geralt’s brothers lay in what passed for Kaer Morhen’s healing room, climb up on a side table, and watch. 

Thanks to Jaskier’s early warning, none of the witchers had died. Several were very badly wounded, though, and they spent much of their time asleep. Those of them who were more or less healthy took turns watching over them. Apparently, so did the mouse. 

To Geralt, it began to feel like an odd sort of companionship. He, too, spent rather more of his time than was strictly necessary, when he was not training Ciri or otherwise busy, here with his brothers. The mouse was not bad company. It was no Roach — nothing could rival Roach — but it almost came close with its quiet breathing and its small, calm presence. It was almost like a friend. It was, in some ways, strangely familiar. Somehow, it reminded him of brotherly banter, warm hands, and a familiar set of scars on a face he knew as well as his own.

But Geralt wasn’t thinking about that.

Geralt began to keep an eye out for the mouse. He quickly realized that he had been missing out by not having done so before; it was, as it turned out, immensely amusing to watch Jaskier try to sneak food to a mouse without attracting anyone’s attention. The mouse seemed to keep Jaskier’s spirits up when dark thoughts tried to catch up to him, which Geralt appreciated.

The more attention Geralt payed, the more he noticed the way the mouse watched the witchers. It would observe them from Jaskier’s pocket during meals. Sometimes, it moved almost like it was going to scamper off towards one of them, only to hold itself back at the last moment. 

Geralt was very busy. He worked to repair the keep, to train and comfort Ciri, to rebuild his relationship with Yennefer, to plan for the future, and to keep an eye on Jaskier. He was occupied with very, very many things. 

If it weren’t for that, he liked to think, he would have realized that something was off far sooner. 

~

Jaskier was in an abandoned corner of the keep with Gordon when Yennefer found them. 

He was still without a lute or any other musical instrument. He was also becoming rather bored. There was not much use for a bard with limited talents outside of storytelling and song in a keep full of battle-scarred witchers, and he did not have the courage to bother Geralt like he might once have done. He tried his best to be patient, but eventually the dullness became too much for him to bear. 

He gathered as many pieces of silverware, bottles, and bowls as he could find. He did not want to irritate the exhausted witchers, so he took them to the safest abandoned room he could find. He brought Gordon with him. He had found that the mouse was the most effective way to combat the loneliness that sometimes threatened to engulf him. His presence staved off the violent memories that tried to haunt him. 

When he heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside the room, Jaskier stopped his attempts at creating a bowl-based percussion system. Yennefer poked her head through the doorway.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking. Dinner’s almost—”

She paused, her eyes fixed on Gordon.

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Jaskier frowned. “This is Gordon. Haven’t you met him?”

“No,” said Yennefer with a deepening frown, “What is he?”

“Um,” said Jaskier, “He’s a mouse.”

“No he’s not.” 

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

Yennefer continued to stare at Gordon. Jaskier followed her gaze. Gordon had perked up from where he had been half-asleep on a pot and was meeting Yennefer’s gaze. He squeaked. He looked oddly excited. 

“What exacting are you trying to say he is?” asked Jaskier nervously. “I mean, I had kind of guessed that he wasn’t precisely a normal mouse, but are you sure he isn’t just… clever?”

“His mind feels like a human’s would,” said Yennefer grimly. She turned to Jaskier. “Take your friend and come with me.”

Hastily getting to his feet and scooping up Gordon, Jaskier followed her out of the room. She led him to the laboratory. Geralt and Lambert were already there and appeared to be making potions. They looked up as Yennefer entered, tugging Jaskier behind her. 

“I need the table,” Yennefer said. Lambert opened his mouth as though to protest, but when Geralt saw the look on her face he elbowed his brother and began to clear some space for her. 

Yennefer took Gordon from Jaskier and set him on the table, studying him intently. Gordon squeaked. 

“What’s going on?” asked Lambert. 

“Yennefer doesn’t think that Gordon is a mouse,” said Jaskier. 

“Hmm,” said Geralt helpfully.

“May I look into your mind?” Yennefer asked Gordon. 

Gordon nodded emphatically. Lambert’s eyes widened. 

Yennefer gently put two fingers on Gordon’s head. They both closed their eyes. Jaskier, Geralt, and Lambert watched with bated breath as they stood there silently for several minutes. 

Eventually, Yennefer opened her eyes and stepped back. Gordon shook himself and then looked at her eagerly. 

“Well?” asked Jaskier. 

“He’s definitely not a mouse,” said Yennefer. 

“What the fuck is he, then?” asked Lambert, his eyes narrowing. Behind him, Geralt watched in tense silence.

Yennefer took a deep breath. 

“Well,” she said slowly, “He says his name is Eskel.”

#the witcher #jaskier #gordon #twn #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #wren writes #behold my silly lil fix-it!! i'm fond of this one #the second part should be up within a week #it's all written i just have to edit and fact-check! #enjoy! #sorry not sorry for the plot twist/cliffhanger <3

[writerscafehub]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈: @fushic0re

ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ . 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀:

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

        I’d say a 3.5. I’m proud of my work, but there’s always room to grow and improve. 

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

        I think my writing style focuses a lot on the complexity of the inner emotions the characters feel. I like to take a lot of time fleshing out their inner selves that way when there’s dialogue or they commit a specific act, readers are able to say to themselves “yea, this is very them”. All in all, I like a lot of emotion. 

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

        My fellow writers café members inspire me! Everyone has such different styles and ideas, it really makes me want to be more innovative. I don’t really have any specific muses, to be honest–the fanfiction fandom in general makes me want to write and see my ideas developed.

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

        “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” and “Dance In The Dark”. 

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

        Steve Rogers for sure is my easiest. I love that man with my entire being and have dissected him and my interpretation of him so many times. I find Geralt of Rivia a bit difficult to write, hence why there’s no work for him.

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

        There’s not really a who, more like a what–my emotional wounds. Writing is used as a tool for me to not only bring my ideas to life, but use them as vessels to work out these emotions and proverbially close that chapter of my life by turning them into something positive. 

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

        I have a very cute “Spy x Family” meets “The Incredibles” one shot for Miguel O’Hara in the works featuring Filipina!Reader, Gabriella O’Hara, and reader’s daughter hehe 

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

        I’m really gonna expose myself here…it was for Black Veil Brides LMAOOOO 

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

        GIRL (gender neutral); black cat gf x golden retriever bf, the mean one being soft for the sunshine one, enemies to lovers, reincarnation. 

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

        Mafia/mob boss. I have one singular wip with that trope and after that, I’m retiring it. Cannot stand it, no offense. 

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

        Definitely my demon! Lee Bodecker and ghost!Steve Rogers fics. Those were RIDES.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, BLACK CAT GF x GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF, and THE GRUMPY ONE BEING SOFT FOR THE SUNSHINE ONE. I clearly have a preference. 

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

        Either bossanova, classical music, jazz, lo-fi, or a playlist I made specifically for whatever I’m writing.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I don’t have a preference tbh. they’re both very impactful, it just depends on the plot in question. 

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

yES ALL THE TIME. especially for fluff pieces with family dynamics, I always wanna create little side drabbles in the style of “modern family” like they have their very own sitcom. 

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

writing for Geralt of Rivia. The deep lore for The Witcher seems like a lot of ground to cover. 

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I can’t remember anything specific, but my fic “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” received a good amount of super meaningful feedback from Filipino readers that meant a lot to me. They expressed how much it meant for them to be seen, especially in a fantasy-fairy tale like story that incorporated our culture.

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yes, lore building for “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call”! I’ve never written anything in the fantasy genre, so that was definitely a challenge. It turned out amazing. I loved writing it and that fic is one that is near and dear to my heart. 

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

I’m a fucking baby and I can only have angst if it’s followed with fluff…..but I do love angst.

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

EEEEEE I currently have one OC for a re-write of my series called “Keeping Up With The Starks”. Her name is Camila Santos Stark, a Filipina-American who is the only daughter of Tony Stark. She’s a spoiled heiress but is definitely a no-nonsense woman who you do not want to underestimate. She’s described by others around her as the rational version of Tony–the snark is there, but so are a bunch of other characteristics that Tony doesn’t possess. Steve Rogers is her love interest. He thought she was a spoiled brat, but look who fell in love!

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Definitely “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” – it’s pure fantasy which sounds amazing. Plus, Namor! 

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Eh, there’s nothing really interesting going on behind the scenes–I just write at night with a candle lit. 

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

        “I’m a beauty, I’m a beast, it defends on the feast” – “So Cool” by Dounia

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

        If writing frustrates you, that’s a sign for you to step away and take a break. If you initially started writing because you love it, continue to lead with love–don’t kill the joy.

#writer’s cafe ♡☕︎ #barista of the month #𓆸rika𓆸

[cosmos-coma]

I always have Eskel requests! And I love your writing, so I saw your message at the perfect time 💖 What about Eskel falling in love with a townswoman. (Maybe near Corvo Bianco?) He keeps the relationship secret, but the other wolves find out and set off to meet her. Eskel is worried they’ll scare her away, but walks in to find them all having a grand old time (probably telling embarrassing stories about him).

A Love Any Less Secret Would Still Taste as Sweet

A/N: AHHHHH! I loved this so so so much!! I got excited about what i could do with this so it's a little longer than my usual requests, but I so hope you like it!!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, Language? I think that's it. its almost all fluff

____________________

The sun swept through Corvo Bianco on pleasant wings, lighting and warming every grape leaf and hand in that vineyard, including the roughened hands of one mountainous, but kind-hearted Witcher. 

Eskel had traveled down to Toussaint to see Geralt's new house and vineyard he got from the Duchess. Lambert was supposed to arrive in the next few hours so Geralt thought he’d pass the time by showing his brother the busy marketplace.

Geralt and Eskel moved through the bustling town’s streets, chatter filling their ears as sweet and savory aromas from the various street vendors mixed around them in an alluring cloud. Artists propped their easels up near walls and painted the people that passed by, couples danced and twirled to the music of a small group of bards, and people laughed happily from the balconies as they played Gwent with their friends. It was a rare day where no monsters had yet to be seen and though no one dared to look at his face- lest they stare- no one had heckled him for being a witcher either.

Geralt smiled, slightly smug, as he watched his brother take in some of the many wonders of the southern region. “Not bad, huh?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

Eskel snorted a bit and intentionally bumped into him, “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. I can see why you’d take a house here, It’s a lot going on sound wise though…” he commented, ducking past a small group of men all chatting to each other as they passed by. 

Geralt shrugged, “You start to get a little more used to it, outside of the market stays pretty quiet though.” He led his brother around the vibrant city, showing him various places of interest he might find himself in during his stay. 

“Ah, Lambert will probably be arriving soon and I do not want to leave him alone with the wine cellar.” Geralt eventually grumbled out, “ just come back whenever you’re set.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder quickly before making his way off to the vineyard once more. 

 A quiet humming caught Eskel’s attention and pulled it to a small balcony across the marketplace. And there you were, skin alit in the afternoon sun and watering your plants without a care in the world. Your smile was soft and subtle and your eyes held peaceful thoughts of somewhere distant. Fat bumblebees buzzed around you lazily from flower to flower, though you didn’t seem at all disturbed. Occasionally one flew a little close, but you just paused your watering while it caught its breath on your sleeve before it buzzed away once more. 

Eskel hadn’t even realized he was staring as he stood still in the center of the market, people moving around him as they mumbled their grievances. That is until you turned and locked eyes with him, and his whole body instantly heated up as a faint blush spread across his features. His hand raised in an embarrassed wave and his lips pulled into an awkward smile, the scarred notch adding an odd bit of charm to him. 

You glanced around quickly to make sure he wasn’t really waving at anyone else and let out a quiet laugh, waving back when you realized you were indeed the object of his attention. His eyes were honey-gold like the afternoon light and his smile was unpracticed, but handsome just the same.

You motioned for him to give you just a minute as you disappeared back into your home momentarily before reappearing outside your front door. An unusual wave of confidence carried your steps closer toward him, your small smile still gracing your lips. “I’ve never seen you around the market before… I’m sure I’d remember such a handsome face” you commented as you came just steps away. 

“No, I’m just here visiting my brothers… It’s not often we all get to come together.” He nodded a bit, his own awkward smile taking up all of his features. 

“Ah, well I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend some time walking around with me, but you must be busy…” 

“No..!” He rushed out, quickly composing himself once again, “I mean- I don’t have to go so soon. I can walk…” He quietly assured, not wanting this opportunity to pass him by so quickly.

Your simple smile grew as you reached your hand out to take his arm, moving slowly so he doesn’t startle. “I’m glad… I’m Y/n. townswoman and baker in my spare time” you introduced yourself.

“Uh, Eskel. Witcher and… lover of goats..?”  He replied in turn, unsure about his answer until you chuckled softly beside him, filling him with a small surge of confidence. 

Eskel didn’t mind at all following you around the market, though he had been here just an hour or so before with his brother it all felt so different from your perspective. You had told him about yourself as you walked side by side through the town, around the fountains and the food stands you told him all about your loves and fears as if you had known him always. 

He loved how comfortable you were around him, talking to him as if his eyes weren’t catlike and yellow, as if his entire body wasn’t scared, and as if his job didn’t leave his hands bloodier than most. It made it all feel easier as he finally let you in a bit on his life as a Witcher, but also just himself as a whole. He loved your smile as he talked about the lovable menace that was Lil Bleater, your laugh as he talked bout the shenanigans of his childhood, and his heart positively swooned as your head bobbed along happily as he crudely sang his mother's chicken song. 

You had hardly realized what hour it was until you heard the bell towers chime, you had been walking with Eskel for almost four hours now. “Is that really the time? Your brothers must be wondering where you are. I should really let you go…” 

Eskel sighed and nodded as he looked up at the sun’s position near the horizon, “Yeah… I don’t want them getting curious, But maybe-” He started, only to be interrupted by you expressing his same thoughts. 

“Well, you know where to find me, right…? I don’t know how long you’re in town, but I’d be more than happy to see your face again…” you rocked on your heels as you put it out there, nervous about what he might say. “U-unless I read this wrong…?” you said as your nerves began creeping into your words.

His smile grew and was much easier now than it was before as he shook his head, “No. you… you read it right…I’ll visit the market and find you soon.” He promised as he pulled away from your touch, desperately wanting your fingers to linger as they slowly came away from him. 

You nodded and watched him slip off into the evening crowd, his red and black tunic letting you pick him out for quite some distance until you finally lost him. You walked back to your home with a hop in your step that evening as images of those golden eyes and that awkward smile plagued your thoughts. 

Your and Eskel’s relationship was easiest described as love at first sight, but you knew it was so much more than that. The attraction you felt for each other dwelled deep in your hearts at a level you hadn’t quite felt with anybody else, all of which only grew stronger the more time you spent together. 

As promised Eskel came and found you the next day, his own thoughts filled with the restless want to be near you agian. The weather had left you with an on-and-off drizzly day so you settled for more domestic activities. He never complained as he carried your groceries, rushing behind you into the house as the rain picked up again. 

You taught Eskel a few of your favorite recipes and got extremely messy in the process. Flour dusted his hair and smeared over his arms and you’re pretty sure that was berry juice staining his cheek. Living life these past two days beside your big-hearted witcher has never felt so delicate and romantic, even in the most mundane times.

“Eskel..” you said, getting his attention before pointing to your cheek. 

“Hm?” he furrowed his brow as you tapped your cheek again, not immediately understanding. With only a half second of hesitation and doubt passing over his mind, he leaned into you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, right where you were pointing. 

Your whole body burned with a bright pink blush as his notched lips pressed tenderly against you. “Oh, that’s not-” You laughed as his expression turned even more confused by your laughter. Did he do something wrong? 

With gentle hands you grabbed his face and wiped the juice off with your finger, making sure to show him. Your chest bubbled with loving laughter again as a faint blush crossed his face and lit his ears, embarrassment now staining his face instead. You wiped the juice off on your apron and grinned as you leaned in to return his cheek kiss. 

------------------------

Eskel had been sneaking around to see you for about a week now. It’s not that he was ashamed of the relationship he’s made with you- anything but. However, he was afraid of the impression his brothers might give off. 

Geralt, while not nearly as chaotic as Lambert, had a resting scowl and a rather deadpan way about him (and his jokes) that usually made people uncomfortable. Lambert… well, Lambert was Lambert. Expressive, yes, but also extremely mischievous and the two of them put together would surely scare you off. 

The last thing Eskel wanted to do was lose you so quickly, so far from the prying eyes in Corvo Bianco he tucked the small portrait of you deep into his bag. You two had spent most of your time that morning talking about what happens when he leaves and quickly coming to an agreement that you’d be happy waiting for your beloved witcher’s visits. You understood how hard it would be, but you already felt like this brief week together would surely be worth the wait for another. 

Following your discussion, you immediately pulled him off to an artist that was set up on the edge of the market, selling paintings and doing portraits. You paid for the artist to do a portrait of each of you so you could always have a little photo of Eskel at home and he could still see your face while out on the path. 

His quiet steps approached and barely made a sound as he entered through the front door, wondering if his brothers would be asleep already. 

Not a chance.  

“You’re finally back…” Geralt said, sitting at the table with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been gone quite a while. Whatcha been up to?” Lambert asked, sitting beside his brother with his own drink. The whole thing looked like a staged intervention, the serious looks, the gentle but firm tone. 

“Uh… Yeah. I was out trying to get materials together for some new armor. Took up a lot more time than I expected it to. “ He lied, hoping his brothers wouldn’t see past it. 

Geralt and Lambert looked at each other in a tense silence that seemed to last for minutes on end before they finally nodded to each other. “Alright then… come in and grab a glass. We’re playing never have I ever.”

Eskel was beyond relieved that they didn’t ask any more questions for the rest of the night, he really didn’t need to be awkwardly explaining how he found love on a chance trip to his brother's new estate and that he didn’t want them meeting you yet. 

But they didn’t need to ask questions. They already knew. 

“So that whole armor thing was bullshit,” Lambert said quietly the next morning. He and Geralt spoke quietly in the kitchen while Eskel slept on in the guest room above. “His armor now doesn’t even have holes in it and he always wears his stuff down until he can't anymore.” 

“He was pretty protective of his bag last night… but he got too drunk to remember to bring it upstairs with him…” Geralt observed, giving Lambert a pointed look that said he already knew exactly what to do. 

Silent feet padded their way into the living room, and over to Eskels seat from last night. Geralt quickly ruffled through his brother's pack while Lambert nearly broke his neck from trying to peer inside. 

“Wait, what's this?’ Geralt commented as he pulled the little tan paper out of the bottom of his pack and unfolded it.

“An ink portrait of some woman..?” Lambert said flatly, he really thought it was going to be something a lot more exciting. 

“Hmm, not just some woman…. I think I recognize her from town.”

Lamberts grin took on a new brand of mischief, “You think Eskel’s gone soft for someone in town?” Lambert gasps, “Do you think he’s fallen in LOVE?” he whispered a bit too loudly, causing Eskel to stir. 

“Only one way to know for sure,” Geralt said with a grin, a rare sparkle in his eyes that reflected his younger brother's urge to stir up trouble. As quietly as they came they sprinted out the front door, leaving your portrait laying on the table on top of Eskel’s things. They think it was high time they met the object of Eskels affections. 

Eskel half-heartedly stirred when he heard noises from downstairs, not waking up immediately. What did wake him up though was how quiet it was after that…

“Geralt? Lambert?” He called.

 No response. 

Caution began to creep in as he padded down the stairs toward the living room. There he saw his bag, emptied of most of its contents, and on top of it all? Your portrait lay unfolded and open for all the world to see. 

“Oh, Fuck.” Eskel hissed as he immediately ran out the door. He was gonna kill his brothers If they scared you off, or at the very least he was gonna put rats in their bags and snakes in their beds all winter long. 

He must’ve looked like a crazed man as he rode Scorpion through the outskirts of town and sprinted through the city streets, accidentally knocking into a handful of people on the way. 

He was filled with a mix of dread and hope when he finally saw your door. Hope that maybe they hadn’t found you yet, and dread that maybe they had. His steps became more hesitant as he got closer and closer to your door. Would you close the door on him once you saw it was him? Would you even answer?

He knocked, heavy but tentative, and waited for your answer. “Come in..!” You still sounded happy, maybe they hadn’t gotten here yet? 

He pushed the door open and peeked inside, face falling flat immediately at what he sees. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” was all he could say.

Geralt and Lambert grinned at him from your kitchen, dicing away at ingredients and stealing bites of your baked goods in between jobs. Their faces were smug and knowing and each of them absolutely held shit-eating grins. 

“Eskel! Aren’t they so nice? Your brothers stopped by this morning and offered to help me out as I made breakfast. They were just telling me some stories about your childhood.” Your smile, unlike theirs, was warm, innocent, and unknowing. 

“Yeah, aren’t we just so nice?” Lambert repeated back to Eskel with a laugh. 

“We’re specifically telling her about how you used to steal food from the kitchen for the horses until Vesemir caught you red-handed.” Geralt specified. “Oh and the time you tried to prank Lambert, but he ended up getting you instead and you fell in the lake.” 

“Oh that was a good one!” you laughed as the boys went on and on and turned to hold your hand out for beloved Witcher. Your whole home was filled with the laughter of those most special to Eskel and he had to admit it was pretty nice. He still might leave snakes in their bed though…

“Ah, Eskel,” you said as you kissed his cheek, “don’t worry. Not even your brothers will scare me away from you.” 

_____________________________________________

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#Eskel loves you so much!! #eskel #witcher eskel #eskel fic #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #eskel x reader #eskel fluff #Eskel fluff #witcher self insert #tw3 eskel #Eskel x fem!reader #eskel my beloved #the witcher fanfiction #self insert

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Why Characters Matter- Witcher S3 (Vol. 1)

Full spoilers for our four lead character arcs in S3 of The Witcher are below. I am going fully off of memory. I swear, I only have good things to say. (Especially my favorite idiot, he made me cry)

To me, character drives the heart of shows and I finally feel like Witcher has gained some of its heart back.

My biggest problem with Witcher Seasons 1-2 is that I felt like we had no reason to believe our core 4. They had almost no reason to hang out.

Why should I care about Geralt and Jaskier's friendship? Geralt fucking hates him! Jaskier has spent most of his life hated, disliked, or ignored. Hell, in season 2 Jaskier had better chemistry with Yen than Geralt did.

Why should I care about Yennifer/Geralt? I know it's going to happen, and honestly, they spend all of their on-screen time fucking! They never hang out as friends, or people trying to get to get to know each other?

This show took my every criticism and said 'Okay, bet'. It made me fall in love with these characters again. This is a really solid season of television with heart, better cinematography and writing.

NOW: For background. I've seen all of the show and played a bit of the game. I also went through a 'lore of Witcher' phase on YouTube analyzing the books. Add onto all that a full 2 years of my life reading fanfic (Geralt/Jaskier, Jaskier/Yen, Geralt/Yen, or all of them in a poly relationship). I am no expert in the series, but where the show failed me, I went to other forms of the story.

So when I say I care about these characters, I am not talking out of my ass. I am going to go character by character and explain why this season helped me care again.

Ciri: Season 2 she was just kind of there? Yeah, she was learning, but she was a plot device. Yen wanted her, the Witchers wanted her, etc. In Season 3 I finally see a girl desperate for connection and safety. She asks all three adults what she should be in life for advice because shes scared. ('I see a powerful ruler regardless of what you do', 'in the future, if you are queen you're life will be shit'. and 'I like who you are now, focus on that and what makes you happy')

She is also SO SMART. I love she tries to impress Geralt with her monster knowledge. That she is really giving it her all with Yen and magic. But she knows that she just can't fit in with the Sorceress, and feels that she's wasting her gifts with Geralt. I know how her story ends and it hurts me to know that her optimism might just get crushed. SHE'S A CHILD!!!!

Yennifer: I AM SO SORRY I DOUBTED YOU! She is the boss ass bitch, I love her, and I fully forgive her for her self-sabotaging in Season 2. She genuinely wants to try to repair shit with Geralt. GENUINELY APOLOGIZING. Starting slow, showing Geralt that she's not just trying to be friendly for a cheap fuck. They spend time together. She is at war trying to balance her circles of influence AND take care of a kid. When she talks to her old friends, I SEE that being vague and secretive is hurting her. BUT SHE HAS TO for her family.

This is the first time I looked at Yen and thought 'She loves him'. All the 'magic kiss slowmo' bullshit didn't work for me. But when she wrote out 'your friend Yennifer' I BELIEVED HER. She's also so funny? Her struggle wearing masks is so relatable, and her teaching Ciri is heartbreaking.

GERALT: I LOVE THIS FUCKING HIMBO. He's trying to balance opening up, running away from authorities, and being a decent role model for his kid.

HE APOLOGIZED! MULTIPLE TIMES! For all his shitty actions! He does it so casually and earnestly! To Jaskier, Yen and Ciri. I don't know where this development happened, but GOD, I love it. He opens up!!!! He smiles, he get's soft, and he gets scary when he needs to!

He went from 'uncaring baddass' to 'oh god, he's a socially awkward nerd'. I finally see a Geralt I recognize. He's smart, and skilled but still struggles with socializing and doing what is right.

EPISODE 5 OH MY GOD. I am so happy they split this series up so we can stew in the cliffhanger!!!

I was on the edge of my seat. Geralt and Yen trust each other so implicitly they're able to make plans on the fly!

Jaskier: He's my favorite. Always has been. (I can write a paper on him this season I swear)

I went into this season expecting him to be in maybe a few scenes, but NO. My man was relevant to the plot.

1.) PLEASE GO TO THE OFFICIAL SOUNDTRACK AND LISTEN TO THE JASKIER ORCHESTRAL STUFF. It's so fucking fun! All plucky, and it sounds like you're going on an adventure and falling in love. 'Lessons in Smiling', 'He's a Spoon'.

2.) I FUCKING LOVED WHAT THEY DID WITH VALDO MARX. I was in no way spoiled, I didn't even know he'd show up. So I literally had to pause I squealed so loud. I wanted Jaskier to be treated well, and I wanted CANON Valdo Marx! I GOT BOTH! Also, All is Not As It Seems is a banger, but maybe overplayed. As Valdo deserves! You get the sense that Valdo is chasing trends and Jaskier fucking despises this man.

3.) THE ROMANTIC ARC. Now. I was spoiled that he'd get a love interest that was 'evil'. I fully expected a 'Douchebag convinces innocent protag they love them, only to double cross them'. This is how it starts. Jaskier catches on really quickly that he's probably going to get double-crossed.

Jaskier knows this is going to be a whole ordeal, so he tries to be as careful as possible. Seeming interested while keeping a distance. We can see Jaskier holding himself behind a mask, keeping the fun energy but watching Radovid in most scenes.

BUT. Jaskier is a romantic.

He knows this prince is bad news, he knows that. But something is keeping him stuck there. He sees his prince as someone to be suspicious of. A man who is willing to fake being drunk to hit on him. A prince who tries to be coy, and get Jaskier alone to talk. Who is usually there when Jaskier talks to his spy contacts. But...Well, we the audience has never seen how Jaskier acts around someone who genuinely likes him and who isn't afraid to show it.

Jaskier will follow a man who hates him for a good chunk of his life, writing songs about nature, love and heartbreak.

But in all this time he NEVER had someone to seriously listen to him. To see through his music, and lyrics, and look at the person he was.

So when this blonde prince sneaks away from an important party and admits that he's scared. And sings Jaskier one of his songs? Not a story written about adventure, or inuendo, or Geralt. No!

A song about how soft and kind love was because it let you be yourself with someone. How a person craves intimacy, even how music is written with untold words of love and kindness. How Jaskier finally feels complete in life! How Jaskier craves to be with someone, to be seen, even if it ends in heartbreak.

This prince finally SEES him...so.

Jaskier falls in love with Radovid of Redania.

Even if it's just for a night, even if it's just a crush. Jaskier can't help himself. He's the one to close the gap. To initiate the kiss. It's so GOOD.

Now. This is a man with bad intentions who is going to hurt Jaskier. I suspect that Jaskier fucking Radovid gave the 'enemy' enough time to kidnap Ciri. So.

Jaskier has always craved being seen by anyone who would listen. To be liked. To be loved. Here, on this one night, that craving was fully taken advantage of, (maybe)with a goal to hurt a person Jaskier cares about(Ciri, by leaving her alone). Even if it turns out that Radovid isn't involved, that he didn't mean for this, it would break Jaskier. Jaskier would close himself up, much like S1 Geralt, his heart wouldn't be safe with anyone. He will smile again. Dance and sing for adoring fans. But he'll never let someone dangerous in again.

I have always shipped Geralt/Jaskier, I really love reading it. I love angst/unrequited love. Hell, give it a week, and I'll read S3 fic. But this season I saw a Jaskier that didn't need Geralt anymore. Who had moved onto someone who at least seemed interested. Jaskier was simply a happy man doing what he loved. He was a weird Uncle teaching Ciri how to be human. I ADORE the scene where Geralt and Yen are talking and Ciri and Jaskier are secretly watching them. I finally feel like Jaskier is an accepted member of this family.

4.) Just seeing someone finally be comfortable in their own skin was so nice in this show. He's a funny, awkward, and sometimes charming guy. He's anxious ass all he'll, and scared and trying to rationalize the shit that's happened to him. He runs around doing stupid shit because he cares about his friends. He's not attached to Geralt's hip, and the audience gets a sense Jaskier has a life! I fucking love this man, and how he tries to seem brave around literal superhumans.

This season treated Jaskier, like how fandom on AO3 treated Jaskier, with respect, joy, and a plan to break his heart!

#the witcher netflix #the witcher season 3 #the witcher spoilers #cirilla of cintra #ciri #witcher cirilla #yennefer #geralt of rivia #witcher #jaskier #jaskier the bard #witcher season 3 #character analysis #the witcher s3

[cherryjuicegf]

Geralt sits on the couch beside him with a sigh and Jaskier already dreads what will follow.

"Is it me?" Geralt asks, and his voice is hushed, as though he is afraid of scaring him, of driving him away. The words still pierce his ears and ache. "Is it something I did?"

Desperate. Inistent and desperate and yet gentle, so unbearably gentle it makes Jaskier think it's his fault and, in a way, it is.

He is staring at the wall, right over the fireplace. He has been for the past half hour.

His eyes are burning. "No, Geralt. It's not about you."

"Tell me. I need to know." Geralt shuffles closer and puts his hand on Jaskier's, resting on his lap. The touch hurts more than it intends to, spilling with complaint. "I need to know if I can fix it."

A lump in his throat. "You can't, dear. It's not you."

"Then what?"

"Geralt, please." Jaskier's voice breaks and the crack echoes in the silence that follows.

There is something seething inside him and he cannot tell if it's anger, or tears. And he can't even look at Geralt and he, dear man, he tries so hard and cares and loves and it's like then, like before. It is. But he can't help the way his heart is screaming and his chest hurts as though to tear itself apart.

He can't help the numbness.

And when it reaches him, it only grows.

Geralt swallows beside him, gaze now dropped. "I want to help you," he says and he is so honest and so sad and so disappointed in his inability Jaskier almost hates it.

And isn't it selfish? Maybe he likes staring at the wall. Maybe he likes rubbing his fingers together until they burn. Maybe he likes being silent sometimes. Not all times are for smiling and singing. And Geralt wants to help, because if he doesn't, he will somehow be at fault, and it will somehow be about him again.

Jaskier winces at the thought. Gods, that's not fair.

He shakes his head. "You are doing all you can."

Then, as though to fulfill a fake responsibility, to reassure him with all the conviction he lacks, he looks at him.

And stays there.

No, it's not fair. Because Geralt is looking at him with such care and regret and such love and helplessness that makes him feel even worse somehow, despite, despite. And every day Geralt keeps asking why, and how and what can I do and it hurts, it tears him apart and he wants to wail it's me, it's just me, you can't fix it and I hate it but now it's me.

But it only dies on his tongue. Instead, he lets out a silent sob. "I'm sorry, Geralt." It's barely a whisper.

Geralt is wiping his tears before he registers they're flowing and his hands are so soft and so, so careful. "I miss you." Selfless. And yet.

More tears. His shoulders are shaking. "I'm right here."

And shouldn't that be enough?

Geralt stares at him for some moments, unmoving. Jaskier wants to beg. He wants to hold his hand and not let him go because gods know he needs him more than anything but his terms are too difficult. He can't force Geralt to follow them. He can't, and this time Geralt would have a reason to walk away.

He can only pray that he doesn't, because he can't let him leave thinking it's his fault. Thinking the love has changed.

But Geralt doesn't leave.

Geralt just nods, and takes a deep breath, and gently wraps his arms around Jaskier and leads his head to rest on his shoulder.

Geralt doesn't leave. Not again, not even now, despite all.

And Jaskier, certain inside his hug at last, can only cry.

#do you ever think about little miss why so too hard #i did #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #chrysa writes #i just think that jaskier would be sad sometimes you know. extra sad #fic recs #depression #not too bad but tagging to be safe #emotional hurt/comfort #<1k #it's hopeful i'm not so evil