#geralt of rivia x gender neutral reader

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

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#gender neutral reader #male reader #the witcher #the witcher s3 #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher fic #dandelion #jaskier #milva

[bumblesimagines]

“ i like kissing you. “

“ it's pretty nice, this thing we've got going on. “

- Geralt

“ i like kissing you. “

“ it's pretty nice, this thing we've got going on. “

might butcher his personality

pronouns for y/n: they/them, gender neutral

If someone had told you a year ago that each time Geralt of Rivia strolled into town he'd be spending every night warming your bed, you would've laughed in their face and called them a lunatic. How funny destiny could be.

It had started off innocently enough. The townspeople had called on the infamous man for help against a monster, and yet treated him as such behind his back. You found it unfair and hypocritical. So, after he'd gotten rid of the monster, you invited him into your home and fed him. He'd been grateful, even if he hadn't really shown it.

Then it became a routine.

Each time he rode into town for one reason or another, you'd give him a place to sleep and food to eat. It remained like that until you had a particularly rough day and you arrived home to him waiting at your doorstep with his beloved horse, Roach. His brows had lifted at the annoyance on your face and he half-expected to be dismissed, but you opened the door and made him a meal while ranting about how horrible of a day it had been. He decided to repay you for your kindness and hospitality in a rather... less innocent way, and afterward paid a visit to whomever had caused your foul mood.

After that, instead of occupying the guest room, he occupied your bedroom. Your relationship with the monster-slayer hadn't changed much, apart from him slowly opening up more. He enjoyed laying in bed with you and recounting tales, stories he'd either experienced or heard from someone else. He liked how you'd focus on him entirely, giving him your full attention and asking questions. He liked your quips, your humor, your kindness, your occasional feistiness. But it never truly progressed past friends helping each other destress. Even if you wanted otherwise.

Stretching your sore and aching muscles, you yawned and shifted, bumping into a solid body. You lifted your head and cracked open your eyes, peering over at the amused man. Geralt watched the drowsiness leave you face and chuckled when you smiled at him.

"Morning, grump." You greeted and scooted closer, propping your chin on his chest. In turn, he ran a finger down your spine and gazed at you with those vibrant gold eyes. He grunted his greeting, as always, and craned his head to connect his lips to yours. It made your heart flutter.

"You know, it's pretty nice, this thing we've got going on." You said, moving your hand to trace a scar on his chest. He hummed quietly and leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"I..." He began then stopped, pressing his lips together. You peered up at him curiously and tilted your head. Geralt sighed quietly and you could've sworn his cheeks flushed. "I like kissing you."

His quiet, gruff murmur sent a shot of glee down your back and you giggled, pushing yourself up and pecking his jawline. "Yeah? I'm gonna remember that, Geralt." He rolled his eyes, his lips threatening to pull into an amused smile.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x gender neutral reader #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x male reader #the witcher x female reader #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x male reader #the witcher geralt x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x female reader

[mrwitcher]

A Helping Hand

Geralt x GN Reader

((mentions of blood and injury))

"Geralt," I hissed, my hands gripping the waistband of his pants in an attempt to keep him from moving away from me. My attempt to help him redress his most recent wound wasn't going as planned.

"Keep still," I complained, like him moving was the problem and not my clumsy hands.

Geralt had his old bandages half hanging off of his midsection, "You're not as gentle as you think."

I frowned. I wasn't good with blood and I didn't like to see him hurt, every move he made, I was afraid something had gone horribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, but it's not my fault that I don't have much experience with... this," I said, gesturing to his body, stopping to put extra emphasis when my hands lined up with the cut on his side. The bandages had plastered to the dried blood.

"You have a lot of experience with this," The smallest hint of a smirk pulled on Geralt's lips.

I felt my face heat up, "Shut up, you know what I mean."

Geralt sighed and sat on the bed of the room we had been staying in. "I can do this myself."

I cross my arms over my chest, "I know you can, but you shouldn't have to."

The smile on Geralt's face started to show itself more.

"Let me teach you how to do it then," He said, taking my hand.

He guided me over the wound on his side, slowly peeling the bandages away, careful not to aggravate the cut. He dropped the bloodied bandages down and moved his hands away from mine to pick up the small bowl of water next to the bed.

"Like this," He said, washing out the wound with the fresh water, dying the cloth and water with his old blood.

"The more you see of this, the less nervous you'll be," He said, dropping the cloth down.

"Thank you, but I should have done something," I said, "You still did it all in your own. At least let me put the new bandage on."

"You had to at least see how it was done before trying," He said, picking up the new bandage and handing it to me.

I took it from him, biting my lip as I focused on wrapping the bandage around him, smoothing it over his abs.

"Watch it," He teased as my hand moved.

"There," I said as I finished up.

"Let me thank you," He said, before leaning in. He pressed his lips to mine, his hands falling to my hips.

"Thank you," He whispered as he pulled away.

#the witcher #twn #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #henry cavill #male reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Hypothermia - Geralt of Rivia

My Masterlist.

angst, hurt/comfort, x gender neutral reader

Word count: 1.8k Warnings: symptoms of hypothermia(?), not proofread.

Summary: Stubbornly insisting to come with Geralt, Reader finds themself becoming hypothermic. They brush their symptoms off, but it's not long before it becomes severe and very, very dangerous.

"You should've stayed at the inn." Geralt muttered under his breath, tugging Roach along with him. His cloak bellowed out behind him as another chilling breeze swept against us.

"I can keep up with you." I huffed, tugging my own cloak tighter around my trembling frame. "Just keep going."

"You realize we're going to be making camp here soon?" He retorted.

"I was trying not to think about that." I mumbled, stumbling over my own feet. I pushed against the snow to get to my feet, grunting in surprise when what I thought was a rock or a log under the snow gave in on me. I stuck my arms out to brace my fall, but still ended up falling onto my face with a disgruntled noise. I saw Geralt offering his hand in the corner of my vision. Ignoring it, I staggered to my feet and brushed the snow off of my damp clothes. I could feel his sharp gaze on me.

The wind continued to yank at my cloak with relentless fingers, never giving up on trying to tear my only protection against the cold away from me. Even through the layers of clothing I had underneath it, I could still feel the cold chill me down to the bone. My teeth chattered, but I clenched my jaw the best I could to silence them. I grit my teeth at the deep pain that had begun to settle into my bones.

It wasn't long before the sun began to set on the horizon, taking what little bit of heat it had provided with it. I shivered violently, unable to feel my extremities. Despite the thick scarf I had eventually wrapped over my face and tucked into my hood, I still couldn't feel my nose. I thought of telling Geralt, but I convinced myself otherwise when the thought of being a burden began to gnaw at me.

I glanced up in confusion when I realized the witcher had been speaking to me. He looked to me with an irritated expression.

"What?" I asked slowly, finding it difficult to form the word in my mouth. I touched a gloved hand to the scarf covering my mouth in confusion

"We're staying here for the night." He repeated briskly. I nodded, my response delayed, and staggered off in a random direction.

"I'll get wood for the fire." I announced, noticing him begin to hollow out a small patch of snow for a fire. He was pitching a single tent as I left; It only made sense to share any heat we could.

I managed to gather enough small pieces to use as kindling, and I stumbled my way back to camp, constantly struggling against the confusion that had begun to creep into my brain. At one point, I found myself wandering off, as if just taking a stroll. I had thankfully realized before I got too far, but I killed too much time.

"He- Oh." I mumbled. He had already gotten the fire started, and was sitting beside it, warming some of our food. I plopped down beside the fire with a small sigh.

"Took you long enough." He muttered. I mumbled out an incoherent apology, pitching to the side. I curled into a ball beside the fire, damp clothes be damned. I let out a shaky breath, the pain crippling me. Despite his complaints earlier, he still offered me some of the food he had brought. I shook my head.

"I'm fine." I ground out.

"You need to eat, to keep yourself warm." He insisted, but he didn't push.

After a long while, like a light switch, the pain stopped. Just like that. I began to fall asleep, my eyes fluttering open when his hand met my shoulder a while later.. "Tent." He said simply. I pushed myself up into a half sitting position with a quiet huff. The side I had been laying on was completely wet, but my other side was dry. I pulled my cloak over the damp side, hoping to hide it from him so he wouldn't make me change. I was too exhausted. I chalked it up to being tired from the day's journey of plodding through the heavy, wet spring snow.

I folded myself down on my side of the tent. Turning away from Geralt, who had already laid down facing away from me, I tugged my gloves off. I frowned at the sight of my gray hands and fingers, suddenly aware that I couldn't feel them at all, nor could I feel my toes or feet, and a good amount of my arms and legs. My eyelids drooped, though, and so I curled up with a small shiver, heaving the spare fur on the ground between us over my half-soaked form. I let out a small sigh, drifting off.

Geralt frowned, listening to their heartbeat. It became fainter and fainter, even to his hearing, and he found himself unable to sleep. Once he was sure they were asleep, he turned to face them, laying under a bundle of furs, ominously still. He listened carefully, suddenly unable to hear their heartbeat. He carefully snuck a hand under the blankets and placed it on their chest, a jolt of fear hitting him when he could just barely feel the rise and fall of their chest as they breathed.

I tossed my head side to side in confusion, everything blurry. I was being shaken awake, and I struggled away from my attacker, disoriented. He kept speaking to me, his voice rising, and I flinched away. A lamp was lit, and I was now able to see his golden eyes reflecting the small flame. I sagged back onto the ground in relief, struggling to breathe and suddenly hot. I began to desperately kick the insulation off of me.

"Don't do that!" Geralt hissed, pulling them back over me.

"It's so hot." I mumbled incoherently, fighting him. I eventually gave up, curling into a small ball under the mountain of covers, and burrowing into them. My breaths were short and very, very shallow. Each one was like sucking in little ice shards. I tucked myself further into the furs, finding that although I felt like I was burning up, even that sensation seemed unimportant right now. My eyes drifted shut.

Geralt dug through the blankets to find me, giving me a harsh shake. I startled, forcing my eyes open. His hand gripped my soaked shoulder, and he cursed under his breath. I struggled to keep my eyes open, blearily Watchung as he hastily dug through his satchel, pulling out a small bottle.

"Drink." He ordered. I didn't protest, downing the contents of the vial as he tilted it up for me. It burned my throat, and I coughed painfully. Eventually, everything numbed, and the feverish heat that had been assaulting me before stopped, replaced by a more comfortable warmth. I felt the witcher pulling at my clothes before I drifted off.

The pain and nausea hit me as soon as I woke, and I was aware of the feeling that had begun to return to my frozen limbs. I shivered, tucking myself further into the warmth at my back with a labored sigh. I felt a warm arm snake around my waist, pulling me closer to Geralt. My mind was still foggy, and so I wasn’t in a hurry to shake him off. I shivered again. They became more insistent the longer I was awake, and soon I was trembling uncontrollably. My entire body was cool, but at least I could feel my limbs now, and I could feel the way my bare legs tangled with his. At the sudden realization, my face probably would have flushed if I weren’t so cold.

My head clearing, I wiggled against his grip, trying to put some distance between us and cling to what little bit of dignity I had left. I froze when I felt him shift, then stretch out his legs, disentangling them from mine. I was suddenly aware of how cold I was without his body heat, shivering even more and tugging the furs tighter around me.

“How are you feeling?” His voice, rough with exhaustion, asked. Embarrassed, I pulled the blanket snug against my bare skin, and turned to him.

“C-cold.” Was all I could rasp out before breaking off into a fit of coughs. He interrupted me with a jar of water. It was warm, and I downed it, sighing gratefully as it warmed me up from the inside. I held the still-warm glass in my hands, gripping onto it with fingers stiffened from the cold. “I’m better.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I’m alive.”

“You almost weren’t.” He said tautly.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come with you.” I apologized.

“You should have listened.”

“I’m sorry, I just..I wanted to help. I feel like I’m such a burden most of the time. I just slow you down - and that’s all I did. Again. Today.”  I shrank into myself at his scolding.

“It’s not your fault.” His voice softened.

“No, I shouldn’t keep coming along if I can’t keep up. I’m sorry I keep forcing myself on you.”

“I want you with me, at all times. At least then, I know you’re safe.” He admitted. “But I can’t be selfish. You can’t withstand the same conditions I can, and that’s when I must leave you behind somewhere safe. But,” His eyes flickered up to mine, a small smile touching his lips. “You’re just so damn stubborn.”

I huffed lightly. “I know.”

“You need to tell me. When you’re feeling weird or sick. If you insist on coming with me no matter what, you can’t hide these things from me. I need you to promise me that.”

"I promise."

"I want you to mean it." He insisted, eyes pleading.

"I promise." I said sincerely, leaning forward to tentatively brush my lips against his; his confession having given me the courage to act.

He made a sort of purring sound, pulling me closer and molding his lips to mine. I sighed when he pulled away, breathless. His golden eyes flickered across my face, satisfaction dancing in them. I gave him a questioning glance.

"You're flushed." He explained. I didn't even notice that I had stopped shivering.

"I'm still cold." I hummed, half-lying.

"I can fix that." He didn't hesitate to bring his lips back to mine.

#i hate warm water #even room temperature water sucks #i do not condone drinking warm water #unless you're hypothermic I guess #the witcher #the witcher x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher angst #the witcher hurt/comfort #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill angst #henry cavill hurt/comfort #x gender neutral reader

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter Five

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: canon-typical violence (blood, gore, disturbing ways of killing people), angst, grief mention, swearing

Word Count: 2799

Masterlist

Tag List Form

“Viper!”

You shot up, dagger held out, ready to defend yourself. You were met with wide, blue eyes. Once your mind caught up, you sighed and dropped it back into your lap.

“Hurry up,” he breathed out urgently. “Eyck is missing and Hendrick, he’s… well…”

“He’s what, Jaskier?” You rubbed sleep from your eyes. Where the hell were you? Oh, yeah, that’s right. Jaskier slept in your bed last night and you slept sitting on the floor. No wonder your arse hurt like hell.

The bard sighed. “Someone killed him.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. There were no lies to be found in the sympathetic look he held. You pushed yourself up, rushing past him and out of your tent, to see for yourself what had become of your employer.

You burst through the tent flap, eyes wide and wild. Geralt was already there, kneeling by the Temerian man who lay dead in his cot, neck sliced open. The body was hours old - blood no longer poured from his neck, already cooled into a thick, dark ooze. The Wolf’s eyes found yours. They held just as much sympathy as Jaskier’s.

“Oh, fuck.” Yarpen came up by your side, keeping his distance from the pool of blood. It soaked through the soles of your boots. You didn’t care.

“Was bound to happen eventually.” You didn’t have to turn to know it was a Reaver talking. What was their ringleader’s name? Broheni? Bolbolm? Something Redanian, you knew that much. He stood just at the tent opening, peering inside with a forced grimace. His dark gaze turned from the corpse to you. “A Nilfgaardian guiding a Temerian?” He scoffed. “Like a rat fucking a hag.”

You ignored just how Yarpen stepped away from you, as though you were going to slit his throat open next.

-

“Our people used to mine these mountains. We know a shortcut that will take half a day off our journey.” The Reavers were far ahead by now. The rest left behind slowed down to listen to Yarpen. “Let the Reavers take the long way around. We’ll nab the treasure before they even set foot in the cave. We’ll watch each other’s backs until we reach the next peak, then every man for himself.”

Two bodies were found that morning. Yennefer’s escort, Sir Eyck of Denesle, and your employer’s, Hendrick of Temeria. Nobody else suspected Yennefer of killing Eyck. You, on the other hand…

All morning, you had trudged along far behind everyone else. Still, they glanced and peered over their shoulders to make sure you weren’t about to make a move against them. The only few who trusted you - Borch and his guards, Jaskier, and Geralt - could not sway the minds of the Reavers and Dwarves. Yennefer, you suspected, did not trust you for your title as a Nilfgaardian alone.

“What say ye?”

“Let’s go!” Borch answered.

“Only thing: that murderer can’t come,” Yarpen spat, glaring at you as he spoke to Geralt.

The White Wolf’s lips curled into an offended snarl, brow furrowed and eyes burning with a fire reserved only for monsters. But before he could say anything, your hand was on his shoulder, turning him away from the Dwarf to face you. The flaming eyes of the Witcher met with your own, gleaming with the warmth and comfort of an amber mead after a long day.

“I’ll meet you at the top.”

You both just stared at each other, as if speaking with your eyes. You were deadlocked once again, only this time it was not with blades.

If Geralt tried to insist you come along, he could be left behind, as well. It was pertinent to reach the top before the Reavers, who would not think twice about slaying the dragon. But doing nothing left you at a disadvantage. You would be forced to follow the Reavers.

The scowl faded from his lips.

“Fine.” The word was grit out between clenched teeth. Even as the group began moving, he lingered for a moment longer, searching your eyes to make sure this was alright. They gave nothing away.

The Dwarves led the way down a side route, Borch and his guards following close behind. You stood at the crossroads. Your path was to follow the Reavers, the group of arsehole dragon-killers who framed you for murder; there was nothing you could now do to prevent it. If you were lucky, you would be able to sneak ahead while they slept.

Jaskier stopped to stand by your side, watching as Geralt chased after Yennefer to bring her along on the shortcut. He sighed.

“Guess I’ll see you at the top, then? You don’t really have to come now that… Well…”

You scoffed softly. “I wouldn’t wish to pass up the opportunity of seeing a dragon.” You turned to look at him, nodding down the side path. “You best catch up before they leave you behind.”

He glanced over the hill the Reavers crested moments ago. “So should you.”

You lifted your hood. The dark cloth ghosted your face with shadows, hiding your eyes and making you appear more intimidating. The easy, almost playful, grin on your lips ruined the illusion. “Stay safe, Jaskier. I would hate to hear what treachery you encounter without me.”

He chuckled, calling after you as you began the trek down the main road. “I won’t leave anything out!”

“I hold you to that!”

And in moments, you disappeared over the hill, and Geralt returned with the Witch in tow.

-

The dragon was dead when you arrived. Long, slender neck and powerful body curled around her still unborn child. It made your soul ache. To see a creature so magical, so formidable, being protective over a life so small…

When you neared, Téa and Véa appeared from the shadows, weapons armed and prepared to cut you down. You could not even spare them a glance, far too entranced in the ‘monster’ behind them. You mindlessly removed your blades and tossed them to their feet as you whispered a promise not to touch the egg or they could kill you where you stood.

They watched, prepared to do just that, as you carefully rounded the egg and sat by her head. Her scales tingled with magic as you brushed her snout, but she was cold; she had been for a while now. The stench of rot tainted the air around her. You wished you did not know the smell as well as you did.

Your chest was tight with emotion. Not mourning, but a semblance of something like it. She did not just remind you of home, of Stuldweck protecting and caring for you as she did now for her egg, even in death. She reminded you of a home you once had. Of your own mother, and father, and that big old farm horse. Of the frogs, and the well, and stitching by the fire. Of that grand oak on the hill.

Through the haze of a long-lost life, you heard boots scuffing against loose dirt and hard stone. Rushing in, carrying all manner of mismatched weapons, were Reavers. They charged head first into battle. Geralt, the Zerrikanians, and the Witch, all defending the egg.

You could mourn later.

You carefully sidestepped the egg, keeping your eyes up on the fight as your hands reached down and grabbed your abandoned sheaths. Holding the hilts, you flicked your wrists, and the leather casings flew away, revealing curved blades laced with Basilisk venom.

Reavers charged for you, confident they could kill a Witcher trained for killing humans. They were wrong. You cut them down, one after the next. You almost didn’t think about it anymore. Your mind was solely focused on defending the egg and the dragon laying with it; you could not feel the tension against your arms as you plunged your weapons through flesh and muscle, nor their own weapons landing hits on you.

You were snapped back into the fight when a long blade from behind sliced through your armor and traced almost directly over an old scar. You had to grit your teeth to hold back the scream. You turned and caught the man in the temple. Your hilt touched his skull. Someone bodied you, forcing you to abandon the silver dagger in his head.

You stood from the blow, raising your dagger defensively. There, not even ten feet away, was the Reaver that taunted you. His deep, sunken eyes stared at you from within yellowed skin. Crooked teeth malformed into a crooked grin. In his hand was a heavy, two-handed war hammer.

He charged forward, closing the distance, and driving the spike of the hammer in an upward swing. You dodged back sharply. He struck again and again and again. A seemingly endless barrage of attacks.

He got in close, swinging for your chest. You couldn’t block it. The war hammer would shatter your wrists before ever slowing down. All you could do was dodge. He was counting on this.

He swung. The adrenaline in your veins clogged your judgement; you dodged the wrong way. The butt-end of the hammer slammed against your sternum, sending you careening toward the hard floor. You landed hard on your arm. Your ribs bent, a sharp prick shooting through your side. Lightning-hot fire shot up the cut in your back.

“It would be easier to lay down and die, wouldn’t it, Rat?”

You couldn’t stop. You only had a second to look up. His teeth grit together, flames alight in his dark irises. The war hammer was coming down on you, sharp end poised to puncture. You bit back a groan as you rolled out of the way, just in time for the spike to impale the floor instead.

“But you have to get up. You have to fight.”

He ripped the hammer out of the stone. You kicked his knee, forcing him to kneel as he grunted in pain. One handed, the other clutching his knee, he swung again.

“C’mon, Rat. Fight.”

A scream tore from your throat as you reached up to meet his hand with your dagger. It was your bad arm. White, searing hot shocks of pain ran all the way down your shoulder to your wrist. You gripped your dagger with enough force to break the skin of your knuckles as the blade connected with his wrist and sliced through it.

The hammer, still gripped in a disembodied fist, flew past your head and skidded across the cavern. He screamed. You took in a breath, preparing yourself, holding it in your chest. You forced yourself up and jabbed the steel into the hollow of his throat.

His whole body froze. Wide eyes reflected your disheveled state back at you. His tongue moved inside his gaped mouth, forming words without the oxygen to speak them. Blood soon flooded it, pouring from the corners of his down-turned lips and into your lap.

The blade crunched and squished as you pulled it from the hollow. His expression was frozen. His body collapsed toward you, unable to stay upright any longer, before you shoved it to the side.

Waves of agony washed over you as the adrenaline fully left your system. Your hands trembled as you forced yourself to your feet. Nausea settled in your gut as the tight pain in your chest reached the forefront of your mind.

You were covered in blood. Most of it was his, you knew that much. You could taste the distinct, mutated flavor of copper on your tongue. Every breath was agony. But you could breathe, and that was worth something.

You scanned the room. The floor was littered with corpses. One was burnt; the closest to the egg. The egg…

You whipped around, much too quickly. Blood rushed to your head, your vision spinning with your mind. Rough, but surprisingly gentle, hands grabbed you. Their face came into focus before you could slash at them.

“Calm down,” Borch advised. The slight scratchiness of his voice, undertoned with knowledge and age, clicked immediately. He held you upright by your shoulders, waiting patiently as you shut your eyes and let the world catch up to you. “You have fought valiantly.”

You looked at him again. His face no longer blurred or warped. He smiled.

“Thank you for protecting her.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but could find no words. He seemed to understand, though, as he let you go. He turned back to the green dragon. His shoulders hunched, as if a heavy weight rested on his shoulders. You did not stay to watch.

Jaskier was the first one to greet you outside.

“Well, you look like shit.” You forced your eyes to focus on him. He was dirty and unkempt, watching his every step as to not walk on any of the many bodies strewn about. He was a welcome sight. His grin at his little joke fell when you did not react. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands floundered around, hovering over your arms and shoulders as he tried to figure out whose blood was where.

“I’ll tell you later.” Your voice was so quiet. You blamed it on exhaustion, but the ache in your chest was not purely from the war hammer.

His brows knit together in concern, but he nodded nonetheless. He made a motion, gesturing as he tried to find the words. “Uh, uhm, potion- Swallow. Do you have any…?”

You nodded. You lifted your arm, drawing his attention to the line of bottles along your belt. Your sheaths and silver blade were still discarded inside. You loathed the thought of having to go back for them, but you would not be leaving without them.

You tried to reach for one of the vials, but he stopped you when you winced. “Here, let me.” He didn’t touch you - as much as he could avoid it, anyway. Nimble fingers slipped it out of its holder, uncorked it, and held it out to you. You tossed back the strange liquid without hesitation.

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

The words echoed through the mountain valleys. Jaskier’s fingers rubbed together, itching for anything to fiddle with as the insults sank into his chest. His throat felt tight. His eyes burned. Someone he had considered a friend - someone he could trust, depend on - only thought of him as a burden, wreaking havoc on his life.

“You fucking bastard.” Geralt’s piercing gaze shifted from glaring at Jaskier to where you sat up on the hill. You grunted as you forced yourself to your feet. The potion was working - it didn’t hurt as much to breathe, and you could use your arm again, but you hadn’t had time to clean and bandage the cut along your back. For now, the blood was slowed down enough you weren’t immediately concerned about it. Loose pebbles and rocks shifted under your boots as you shuffled down them until you stood protectively in front of the bard. “No one asked you to claim the Law of Surprise, or make that wish with the djinn. You only have yourself to blame.”

The Wolf’s lips curled into a sneer. “If he hadn’t dragged me-”

You scoffed bitterly, stumbling the rest of the way down the hill to stand directly in front of Geralt. “No one forced you to go! Friend or not, you could have declined, you pompous git! You did this to yourself! No one else!” You stepped back. Despite your injuries, you stood with your shoulders squared, ready to fight. Your eyes burned into his own, daring him to test the waters. You would fight at a disadvantage to protect Jaskier, who he saved over and again just to throw away.

But Geralt’s shoulders fell. He averted his eyes, staring pointedly at the distant horizon. He would not be fighting you.

“Congratulations. Your blessing has been granted.” You stepped back, watching the Witcher to see if he would do anything. Instead of gearing up for an attack or trying to argue again, he just huffed and turned to gaze out at the view. The tension in your muscles faded, eyes losing the burning anger.

He was your last opportunity for a family. For brotherhood.

You turned your back to him and clambered back up the hill. Jaskier was speechless for once. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Geralt. You touched his shoulder, and blue eyes, wide and glossy, tore through you like a knife. You offered him a thin-lipped grin.

“C’mon, Jaskier.” You nudged him gently away from his old traveling companion. He glanced back once, before swallowing down his hurt and helping you climb. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be halfway down the mountain by nightfall.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonssimp

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

[write-ur-wrongs]

No Time to Die

Request: Could I get maybe reader singing no time to die by Billie Eilish when they think they are alone? And Geralt is impressed with their voice, especially when they hit they high note during the climax?“

Word count: 2727 words _____________________________________________

“Bard! Give us a song!” the bearded man shouted while emphatically waving his tankard of ale, blissfully unaware that with each broad move more ale sloshed out and onto the inn’s already sticky floors. The room erupted in another drunken howl of enthusiasm, raucous voices fighting for the bard’s attention.

“Don’t be shy now, poet! Give us ‘Burn butcher’!” hollered the bearded man’s companion, banging his own tankard on their table.

Jaskier, who was leaning back in his chair and balancing on its back legs, was doing his best to wave off the requests with grace but found himself doing little more than egging them on.

“Jask, what the fuck! Give the people what they want,” you laughed into your drink, kicking the bard’s chair back down on all fours, “or else we might have to get Geralt out there to fend them off.”

“No, no, no,” Jaskier said, shaking his head lightly and speaking under his breath, “that’s, uh, not going to happen. How about a round of Toss a Coin?” he shouted to the room over his shoulder before muttering to himself, “or one of my hundreds of other songs maybe?”

The crowd was not to be denied though, and hollered their displeasure at the suggestion.  

“Seriously Jaskier, what’s your problem?” you said, looking to Geralt for validation that your friend was being uncharacteristically shy, but he was avoiding your gaze too.

You leaned back in your chair and took a slow sip of your beer while you considered the two men across from you. Jaskier, who’d normally be parading around the pub like a king with this type of attention, was cowering under his hat and refusing to look at Geralt.

Geralt, whose lack of interest in the bard’s performances wasn’t unusual, was being especially statuesque. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like he was going to bite right through his teeth and a bead of sweat lined his forehead.

You looked from one to another a couple times, taking in Jaskier’s deep blush and Geralt’s long face. But it wasn’t until the crowd at the bar started slurring lyrics that you finally put two and two together.

All those lonely miles that you ride Now you'll walk with no one by your side Did you ever even care With your swords and your stupid hair? Now watch me laugh as I burn all the memories of you

“Wait…” you gasped, leaning onto your elbows so that you could whisper-yell over to your friends, who seemed to be shrinking back into their seats the more the crowd sang. “Jaskier! Was this a breakup song? For him?!”

“Y/N…” Geralt begged, holding a hand over his face in shame.

“I can’t believe this? How have I never made this connection?” you rambled, laughing to yourself incredulously. “Wait, Jask – we sing this all the time, how is it only weird now? Fuck I sing this all the time. It’s catchy as hell.”

“Geralt’s not normally… here. When we sing this one.” Jaskier admitted, sucking on his teeth uncomfortably.

“I can’t believe this…” you mused, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread as you skimmed through your memories trying to figure out how you’d never caught onto this pattern, or how you’d managed to spend almost a year with the two of them without ever picking up on this dynamic. “Hang on, does this mean you broke his heart too?” you asked, giving Geralt a quick kick under the table so that he’d meet your gaze.

“Too?” Jaskier squawked, shrugging his sheepishness off as if it was a heavy fur coat. “You knew Geralt before we three met?”

“Yeah –”

“BARD! Give us a song PLEASE!” the bearded man interrupted with another shout from his table across the room.

“He’s coming!” Geralt roared uncomfortably, desperate to avoid this conversation.

“In a minute!” you shouted simultaneously, equally desperate for the opposite.

Either placated or humbled by your aggressive replies, the man and his group grumbled incoherently amongst themselves before starting up on a known shanty.

“As I was saying,” you started up again, switching seats so that you were sitting next to Jaskier. “I met Geralt a few years back. He was coming through my town on his way to take down a wraith that was terrorizing the nearby mine. I had a silver dagger and offered my help, he accepted, we got close, he stole my dagger, I went after him because it was a fucking heirloom, Geralt,” you paused to give the now cowering witcher a pointed look. “Anyways, to make a long story short, I assisted him in battle, we both sustained injuries but prevailed nonetheless.”

“You are both very proficient,” Jaskier interjected, thoroughly enjoying the way this turned into a shameless opportunity to dig on Geralt.

“Well, yes,” you agreed quickly with a sly smile. “Anyways, after the fight we fall asleep and swear we’d go back into town in the morning to collect the reward together, but I wake up in the mine’s ruins alone and without my grandmother’s silver dagger.” You punctuated the trip down memory lane with a tight close-lipped smile at Geralt who, to your great satisfaction, looked miserable beyond belief.

“Geralt, you son of a bitch!” Jaskier scoffed, tsking in mock contempt. “Once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker it seems. You abandon me on a mountain and leave poor Y/N in a mine?! The gall.”

“He’s a fucking ass,” you agreed, clinking your tankard with Jaskier’s before polishing off your drink, “and yet we stick with him.”

“Well, Y/N, he is handsome. And scary! That’s helpful.”

“So true, Jaskier,” you continued, revelling in Geralt’s well-deserved discomfort.

“Y/N, Jaskier, please,” Geralt begged, forcing himself to meet both your gazes, “I’ve said I’m sorry.”

“And we believe you, you old brute,” you assured him, weaving a softer tone into your teasing and reaching over the table to give his hand a squeeze, “but you’ve recruited two poets as companions, and pain is a powerful tool in the hands of an artist.”

“Two poets?” Jaskier asked with a hint of scandal, “Y/N, did you write a little something after Geralt broke your heart?”

“Tell you what, why don’t you get up there and entertain the masses, and maybe I’ll sing it for you later?” you said, shaking your head at his excitement.

“A song? Ohh-ohoho! That better be a promise!” he said with a flourish, grabbing his lute from the back of his chair. He shot you a quick wink and waggled his eyebrows at Geralt before roaring the crowd back up in time for another round of Burn Butcher.  

You watched Jaskier saunter off into his adoring crowd fondly before turning your gaze back onto poor Geralt. One look at his hunched frame and his pitiful scowl and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Buck up, sweets,” you teasingly cooed, giving his leg another light kick under the table. “It’s seriously okay, all is forgiven.”

In response, Geralt only leaned forward onto his elbows and fixed you with the biggest, most painfully sincere puppy eyes.

“Ger, stop!” you moaned, rolling your eyes.

“Y/N,” he cringed, visibly wincing, “I hate when you call me that.”

“I know, that’s what makes it fun.”

Groaning loudly with an eyeroll of his own, it was Geralt’s turn to kick you under the table. He shot you an exasperated look before allowing it to melt comfortably into a fond smile.

“There he is,” you beamed, giving his forearm an affectionate squeeze before getting up to grab your empty mugs. “I’ll get us a refill, looks like Jaskier is going to be held up for a while.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, giving your elbow a pinch as you stood to walk away, “seriously, thank you.”

“Alright, keep your sword sheathed.”

“Fucking hell, you’re worse than the bard,” he laughed dryly, throwing his head back.

“Ha!” you barked, walking backwards toward the bar so you could hold his eyes for a moment longer, shooting him a wink of your own and laughing victoriously as he gave you a bemused smile.

At the bar, you took a few moments to watch Jaskier as he dazzled the crowd, sneaking quick glances over your shoulder to look back at Geralt. Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that your little trio worked. Two foolish optimists and the man who broke their hearts; you couldn’t paint a more ridiculous picture. Yet you couldn’t help but feel protective over the bard and, inexplicably, over the witcher too.

Yeah, he fucked you up, but he did come back. And he’s since stayed.

You thanked the bartender warmly after they pulled you from your reverie, setting three empty mugs and a full pitcher before you. You placed the necessary coin on the counter and started the delicate balancing act of carrying everything back to your table. However, before you could even lift anything off the sticky counter, you felt Geralt’s arms snake past you to grab the pitcher and mugs out from under you.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you carry all this yourself, did you?” he said, his breath ghosting over your shoulder as he maneuvered the crowded bar around you.

“A hero among us,” you sighed in a dramatic, dreamy tone. “Thanks.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, a smile playing at his lips. “Lead the way?”

Rather than answering him, you turned on your heels and started pushing your way back to the table. A faint blush creeping up your neck stubbornly as you felt his gaze burn the back of your head.

Back at the table, you spent the next couple of hours chatting lightly and without care. Your current lifestyle didn’t grant you many opportunities to let your guard down, so times like these were definitely cherished.

As the night went on and the crowd thinned out, Jaskier found his way back to your table. The three of you talked on until the pubs owner finally came over to let you know they were closing up the kitchen. You were all pleasantly buzzed and not quite ready to call it, so Geralt volunteered to get you another pitcher.

As Geralt chatted with the owner at the bar, Jaskier took the opportunity to remind you of the promise you made earlier that night.

“No Jask, come on. It took me all night to get him back to his jovial self,” you sighed, shaking your head lightly.

“Please? Geralt is never truly jovial, and you promised!”

“Another time, yeah? When the wounds aren’t so fresh?”

“Y/N, it’s been ages. If the wounds were any staler the stench would kill us. Please? Just a verse? Only the chorus?”

“You’re incorrigible,” you sighed, already considering conceding to his relentless requests.

“Okay, what if you just give me the chords? Let me play it on the lute and imagine the artistry of your lyrics.”

You groaned and moaned, mulling it over as you weighed your options. You knew Jaskier would never shut up now that he had something to beg for. Watching Geralt at the bar, you considered how focused he looked in what the pub’s owner was saying and figured you had at least a couple minutes until he politely extracted himself from the discussion.

With a sigh, you looked back over at Jaskier with surrender in your eyes. His enthusiasm and excitement almost had you feigning sudden exhaustion so that you could escape to your room and avoid this whole affair, but he looked so impressed with the chords and melody you gave him that you couldn’t help but keep on. Whoever said flattery would get you nowhere had clearly never been subject to Jaskier’s charm.

As he plucked his lute to your melody, you slowly let the lyrics, and the memories attached, take you over.

I should've known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

We were a pair But I saw you there Too much to bear You were my life But life is far away from fair

Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

You started the song timidly, playing it safe vocally and keeping your voice at an almost whisper-sing. However, with Jaskier’s exceptional playing accompanying you, you felt yourself get lost in the song, eventually finding yourself near-belting the lines you’d written so long ago.

Back at the bar, Geralt was watching you with his mouth agape and his heart in his throat. Your voice was beautiful, almost haunting. He almost couldn’t believe it. He’d heard you sing plenty of times before; both with Jaskier and by yourself, but this was different. He’d never heard you belt like this, never seen you so lost in the song you were singing. Watching you, the way your chest rose and fell, your eyes closed, your head tilting back as you delivered notes even Jaskier would envy. As you reached the crescendo of the song, Geralt felt goosebumps rise across his arms, trying and failing to keep himself from physical reacting to your performance.

“They’ve got an incredible voice, eh?” the inn owner commented, as they placed the final pitcher of the night in front of Geralt.

The witcher though, could only manage a strangled grunt of acknowledgement. Yes, your voice was unlike anything he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing, but the lyrics cut deep. Each beautifully sung note was an ode to one of his greatest mistakes. A melodious tribute to his deepest shame. Listening to you sing was incredible, but it fucking hurt.

Merely nodding his acknowledgement and thanks, Geralt paid the keeper before making his way back towards your table, just in time for you to sing the last line. You were busy gushing over Jaskier’s impeccable playing as Geralt placed the full pitcher gently on the table.

“That was…” he tried, pausing to swallow the knot in his throat, “beautiful, Y/N. Really.”

“Seriously, Y/N, Geralt must have really done a number on you,” Jaskier spoke energetically, completely unaware of the uncomfortable look you just shared with Geralt. “I mean, with me he gave me Toss a Coin – iconic, and obviously Burn Butcher – a little polarising but the people seem to like it. But this? No time to die? Y/N this is evocative, haunting, breathtaking!”

Blushing furiously, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your freshly poured drink. Unfortunately, you were weak and couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Geralt. This, obviously, proved to be a major mistake because he was blushing just as furiously as you were. How were you supposed to stay cool when his big, sad, flustered eyes were looking at you like that?

“Okay, okay, Jaskier,” you mumbled, risking another quick glance at Geralt, “that’s enough.”

“Don’t be modest, Y/N” Jaskier insisted, taking a final swig of his drink.

“I-I’m not! I’m being,” you hesitated, cursing the blush burning at your neck, “sensitive, to Geralt!”

“Suuure, alright,” the bard laughed dryly, tapping the table lightly as he got up. “Well, I’m off to bed. Geralt – try not to break this one’s heart again, okay? I’m not looking for competition.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt huffed, anxiously tapping at his mug of ale.

“’night Jask,” you said, rolling your eyes at him quickly before shooting him a soft smile.

Once alone, you and Geralt shared a moment palpable discomfort before you both burst into a fit of awkward laughter. You tried to break the tension but Geralt spoke up at the same time, prompting another bout of laughter out of the two of you.

“I-I know I’ve said it before but, I really am sorry,” Geralt said after silence fell between the two of you.

“I know,” you breathed, grabbing his hand and holding his gaze, “and I really did forgive you.”

“Okay,” he whispered, giving your hand a squeeze.

The pair of you sat in comfortable silence as the last of the candles burned to the end of their wicks around you. Your heart sank a little when Geralt pulled his hand out of yours, but then he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

Closing your eyes, you smiled softly and promised yourself you’d write him another song.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #Jaskier #witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #anonymous #billie eilish #no time to die #the witcher netflix #gender neutral reader #fanfiction requests #geralt of rivia fic #the witcher series #song request

[aphroditelovesu]

can you please write a love letter romantic from yandere geralt of rivia from the Witcher x gender neutral reader and thank you ❤️😊

My beloved,

I loved you from the first moment our eyes crossed, my heart belonged only to you since then. Every thought, every breath, every beat of my heart is dedicated to you, and you alone.

My nights are tormented by the idea of ​​losing you, of seeing you in someone else's arms. I can't bear the thought of anyone else touching what's mine. I promise I will do anything to keep you safe, to keep you by my side.

I know I can be impulsive, that my actions can seem strange at times, but everything I do, I do it out of love. Because I love you so deeply and intensely that I can't imagine my life without you. And I don't want to imagine my life without you.

Remember, my beloved, that this love is a blazing fire, which can burn everything in its path. But it is also a love that will never die. I will always be here, protecting you, looking out for you, even if it means doing things that others would consider crazy.

Because I love you and this all that's matter in the end.

Never doubt my love for you, for you are the most real and true thing in my life. You are my light, my reason for living, my eternal beloved.

With all my love,

Geralt of Rivia.

#yandere love letter #love letter #yandere the witcher #the witcher #yandere geralt of rivia #yandere geralt of rivia x reader #yandere geralt of rivia love letter #geralt of rivia x reader

[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

[atlasthegreatest]

- Atlas Masterlist - [Requests are open]

▪️Male reader

▫️Female reader

🔲 Gender neutral

🔳 Male/ Female Oc

Avatar: The Legend Of Korra:

Asami Sato:

🔳 - War of Hearts- I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, XI, X

Avatar Korra

Lin Beifong

Iron II

Suyin Beifong

Mako

Bolin

Opal

Senna

Kya

Kuvira

Percy Jackson:

Annabeth Chase

Percy Jackson

Jason Grace

Thalia Grace

Piper McLean

Leo Vasquez

Hazel Levesque

Nico DiAngelo

Sally Jackson

Silena Beauregard

Drew Tanaka

Harry Potter :

Hermione Granger

Harry Potter

Narcissa Black

Lily Evans

Bellatrix Black

Narcissa Black

Ginny Weasley

Fleur Delacour

Penny Haywood :

- Baby Problems

James Potter

Cassandra Vole:

▪️- Unexpected Surprises

Sirius Black

Scream:

Sidney Prescott :

- ▪️ Flight or Figth

Tara Carpenter

Gale Weathers

Sam Carpenter

Fairy Tail:

Erza Scarlet

Natsu Dragneel

Grey Fullbuster

Lucy Heartfilia :

Friends…? Friends.

Mirajane Strauss

Laxus Dreyar

Juvia Lockser

Irene Belserion

Attack On Titan:

Mikasa Ackerman:

-▫️ Fake It ‘Till You Break It - I

Eren Yeager

Historia Reiss

Annie Leonheart

Pieck Finger

Jean Kriestean

Sasha Broast

Hange Zoe

Marvel Universe:

Natasha Romanoff

Laura Kinney

Jean Grey

Emma Frost

Wanda Maximoff

Maria Hill

Cindy Moon:

▪️ The Bat, The Spider, and The Mutant

Gwen Stacy

Felicia Hardy

DC Universe:

Cassandra Cain:

▪️The Bat, The Spider, and The Mutant

Helena Bertinelli

Barbara Gordon

Dick Grayson

Poison Ivy

Kara Zor-El

Wonder Woman

Cassandra Sandsmark

The Vampire Diaries/ The Originals:

Caroline Forbes

Katherine Pierce

Rebekah Mikaelson

Hayley Marshal

Bonnie Bennett

Hope Mikaelson

Davina Clare

Freya Mikaelson

The Witcher:

Cirilla of Cintra

Geralt of Rivia

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Acotar:

Feyre Archeron

Nesta Archeron :

- 🔳 Three is a crowd (Nesta x Male oc x Cassian)

Morrigan

Elain Archeron

Throne of Glass:

Aelin Galathynius :

- 🔳 In Each Others Arms

Rowan Whitethorne

Manon Blackbeack

Elide Lorchan

Manhwa Girlies:

Navier Trovi :

- 🔳 Honor me of this dance

Penelope Eckart

#the legend of korra #harry potter #reader insert #percy jackon and the olympians #acotar #marvel #dc universe #throne of glass #fem reader #male reader #navier ellie trovi #penelope eckhart #fairy tail #attack on titan

[fanficsforfun]

Masterlist

Smut = 🔥, Fluff = 💕, Angst = 🖤

Characters I write about can be found here

New fics will be published about once a month

NOTE! I do not take requests

Feel free to comment on my fics though, feedback would be nice

Last updated on 13/12/2023

One-shots:

Good girl with naughty thoughts - Severus Snape x female reader: you fantasize about Snape in his lesson and get caught. Snape commands you to get in his office after class to give you a punishment that matches your offense: your fantasy in real life 🔥

Be careful what you wish for - Thorin Oakenshield x female reader: you fantasize about Thorin while touching yourself. He finds you doing it and decides to give you what you want 🔥

Shadow - Geralt of Rivia x female reader: you’ve been wanting Geralt for a long time but have always been too shy to approach him. One day you and him end up in the same bathroom and it turns out that he’s good at reading people as well as doing some other things 🔥

My little boy - Kili x female human reader: you have a naughty fantasy about Kili, who also happens to want you. He decides to come visit you and when it’s just you and him there, you can't keep your hands off him. The young dwarf is that much smaller than you that he cannot easily resist you (as if he’d even want to), so you have free hands to do whatever you want to him 🔥

I’m not gonna hurt you - Adam Ruzek x female reader: you unwittingly find yourself in the middle of a gang arrest. You run away, but one of the policemen follows you, mistaking you for one of the gang members. He quickly realizes that you are not a member of the gang and wants to ask you a couple of questions as an eyewitness. However, you are afraid of the police and he has to calm you down before you dare to speak 💕

A bad day - Alvin Olinsky x gender neutral reader: you have a bad day but thankfully Olinsky’s there to make you feel better 🖤,💕

Stone-cold killer - Alvin Olinsky x female reader: you end up in the middle of a gang shooting but somehow don’t get shot. One of the gangsters takes you hostage in order to escape. Things escalates and he threatens to kill you but Olinsky saves you before anything really bad happens to you. Afterwards he goes great lengths to take care of you 🖤,💕

Close to you - Yondu Udonta x female reader: you like Yondu and come up with a genius plan to make sure you get his attention 💕

Your wish is my command - Yondu Udonta x female reader: you have a crush on Yondu but it takes some time before things get heated and by that you’re pretty desperate for it 🔥

When fantasy becomes reality - Michael Rooker x female reader: you have had a crush on Rooker for some time and when you see him in public you just can’t stop staring. He notices it and, to your surprise, gives you a long hug 💕

Throw Grenade! - Simon “Ghost” Riley x gender neutral reader: you want to learn to throw hand grenades and to your surprise, Ghost is happy to teach you 💕

Safe haven - Daryl Dixon x gender neutral reader: after a close call with a walker you’re scared and seek safety from Daryl who, to your surprise, is willing to offer it 🖤,💕

Southern love - Merle Dixon x shy female reader: Merle was with the other men on a supply run, but the trip got extended and you got worried. He gets back safe and sound but realizes the concern he has caused you and wants to make it up to you 🖤,💕,🔥

Touch me - Yondu Udonta x female reader: you have a thing for Yondu and he knows it, deciding to let you have what you want 🔥

Merle - Michael Rooker x female reader: Rooker’s role-playing as Merle to comfort you after you were feeling bad for a fanfic you read about Merle 🖤,💕

Magic - Severus Snape x female reader: you fantasize about Snape during his potions class and as a punishment, he casts a spell on you that makes the rest of the lesson a torturous and humiliating, yet pleasurable experience 🔥

Pretty as a peach - Merle Dixon x female reader: you have had a problem with your looks for a long time, but then you meet Merle who, as surprising it is, makes you feel better about yourself 💕

Hungry for touch - Merle Dixon x female reader: you're in need, so to speak, until you come up with a good idea to seduce Merle to meet those needs of yours 🔥

Not all the Ravagers are the same - Yondu Udonta x female reader: some idiot forcefully touches you in a bar, but Yondu happens to notice the situation and intervenes (🖤),💕

Guts (re-writed) - Merle Dixon x female reader: TWD s1e2 re-writed so that Merle doesn't get left behind 🖤,💕,🔥

You don’t wanna get a death threat form a redneck - Merle Dixon x female reader: Merle can’t tolerate anyone else but him touching you  (🖤),💕

Seventh heaven - Merle Dixon x female reader:  Merle has a bad day and you decide to cheer him up (🖤),🔥

The archaeology professor - Indiana Jones x gender neutral reader: despite several decades of age difference, you find Indy attractive, and he doesn't mind your interest 🔥

Hard work -  Indiana Jones x gender neutral reader: you’re working as a research assistant and the job got you exhausted, but luckily Indy knows how to help 💕

Not alone -  Indiana Jones x gender neutral reader: you’re feeling lonely and decide to see if Indy would want to talk with you 💕

Out in the woods - Merle Dixon x female reader: you follow Merle out on a supply run, wishing to be alone with him. That wish gets fulfilled as well as you naughty daydream of him 🔥

Sleepover in the apocalypse - Merle Dixon x female reader: nights are the hardest times in the world after the outbreak… that is until Merle asks you to come over for the night! 💕

Insecurities (drabble) - Merle Dixon x female reader: you've had a problem with your small breasts for a long time but Merle's touch makes you feel better 💕,🔥

Cuddles - Merle Dixon x gender neutral reader: you feel bad and seek comfort from Merle 💕

Home run - Merle Dixon x female reader: part 2 for Sleepover in the apocalypse, this time things just go further 🔥

Short imagines, etc.

Untitled - Severus Snape x gender neutral reader: Snape pinning you against a wall 🔥

Untitled 2 - Derek Hale x female reader: Derek catching  you sneaking around his house 🔥

Untitled 3 - Simon “Ghost” Riley x gender neutral reader: collection of imagines of various things, including him cleaning his gun and you sitting in his lap 🔥,💕

First time with Ghost - Simon “Ghost” Riley x female reader: imagine of how it would be like to lose your virginity to Ghost 🔥

Untitled 4 - Simon “Ghost” Riley x gender neutral reader: random headcanons about Ghost

Untitled 5 -  Simon “Ghost” Riley x gender neutral reader: Ghost interrogates you as an enemy but soon realizes that’s not what you are 💕 (+ implied 🔥)

Size/strength kink headcanons with Ghost - Simon “Ghost” Riley x female reader 💕,🔥

Untitled 6 - Merle Dixon x female reader: reader gets saved by Merle  🖤,💕 (+ implied 🔥)

Untitled 7 - Indiana Jones x female reader: shy uni student!reader wanting Indy’s attention 💕

Untitled 8 - Merle Dixon x female reader: Merle flirting with an inexperienced reader 🔥

#masterlist #fanfiction #fanfic #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #snape imagine #snape smut #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale imagine #derek hale smut #thorin x reader #thorin imagine #thorin smut #geralt x you #geralt smut #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #kili x reader #kili imagine #kili fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #the walking dead

[asmrtist-brainrot]

Pet Names

Pairing(s): Yandere! Villain Husband X Gender Neutral! Royalty! Reader

Summary: Everytime he thinks he’s getting used to hearing such endearing terms, you prove him wrong time and time again.

A/N: I miss him and we haven’t seen him in a hot minute so here I am, writing a little something. (Also, I imagine him as Geralt of Rivia but with longer, black, hair so... Some light descriptors are used.)

“Honey?”

The first time he heard it, he’d thought he’d misheard you. But oh, did the chills race down his spine, warming tingled set across his skin as your lips spilled so sweetly.

A siren’s call.

“... Love??”

Another flutter, heart thumping a dent in his ribs.

His dilated gaze shifted over to you.

Taking in your warmly smiling face, radiant and bright even under dim candle light. Delicate fingers curl against your mouth, trying to hide how utterly pleased you were at his state of expression.

Adorable.

A little infuriating, but adorable.

“B - beloved,” he almost struggled to speak, cursing the stutter that forced itself from his blustering throat “what are you doing?”

You only tilt your head and approach, sleeves flowing with the gentle opening of your arms. Limbs sliding around his waist as you continue to show him the smile that he loved so much.

One he’d happily rip the world to pieces to see forever.

“I’m trying to see which you’d like me to call you the most.” Humming low, curled lips meeting his stubbled cheeks in sweet kisses “It’s a clear tell how pleased you are, your ears turn such a darling shade of red.”

He scoffed, but is quite conscious of how his ears were in fact, feeling hot. He didn’t argue though, almost greedy in how he leans in to get more affection. Soaking in the warmth of your body as he held you in his thick arms.

"Do be careful, don't tease me too much." His eyes were dark and he tried to scowl but you only giggle at his pinked face.

You squeeze him in your embrace, eyes settling on his with a smile so saccharine it sends his sweet tooth abuzz.

Softly, your hand slip from his torso, gliding up to his neck - sending goosebumps racing over him as your other hand touched his cheek.

Gently, you pouted.

"Do you not like the nicknames?"

His face still burned as he rolled his eyes and grumbled, " I didn't say that."

Your gaze flickered with mirth as you cheekily inquired, "So I can continue then, my king?"

Even the mere call of his title had him melting into your embrace, gods, he was so horribly infatuated.

"Ridiculous," He groused before affording a small pause and quietly added "you can call me whatever suits your fancy."

With the most serious expression you can muster, you nod. But crack a smile before too long, in thought as his hand cradled the small of your back and you both swayed to a silent tune. Leaning in, resting your forehead to his.

"I think I know what best suits you."

His brows raise at your comment and lowly hummed as soft lips lay claim to his, orbiting towards you almost instinctively.

Warm tingles wash over him as you just grin and chirp, "My dearest husband."

#nomad's tales & audios #dari writes #gender neutral reader #villain husband #yandere villain husband #rykon the villain husband

[metalgearwitcher]

What I WILL write: Fluff Angst Hurt/Comfort Gender Neutral reader Fem Reader Male Reader MLM, MLW WLW Platonic (all underage characters are auto-platonic) Smut Pregnancy dark topics (suicide, murder, death, sh etc) canon typical violence ( there is a lot of it in these franchises, they are anti war stories afterall maybe not depicting some of the things that happen in canon it but I can still reference them )

Will Not Write Non-con Yandere Underage "disturbing" kinks (usually meaning involving noncon partners, violence or bodily functions, mostly) feel free to ask if your kink is ok or not) Character x Character AUs ( sorry not my thing)

I will not judge you at all for any kinks or personal interests - do not be afraid to message me with any questions you have

will some detail with the requests like a prompt, but not so much that I'm just writing your OC

am a slow writer. I might take a while to finish a request

If there is a character that isn't on the following lists, ask about them to see if I write for them

character list below the RM

Metal Gear

I'm not familiar enough with metal gear rising to write for those characters but most of the others are fair game

MGS character list

Solid Snake

Big Boss or Naked Snake

Revolver Ocelot

Otacon

Meryl Silverburgh

Johnny Sasaki

Sniper Wolf

Zero

EVA

Para-Medic

Kazuhira Miller

Strangelove

Cécile

Venom Snake

Quiet

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

The Witcher Iv only gone through the Witcher 3 so I'm not familiar with the previous games, so I will do research to write for some of the more popular characters like Vernon Roche and Iorveth

This is based on the game version the characters not the tv show. I still like the show I just think there should be more content for the game characters ( though I might make an exemption for Jaskier I love him too much to exclude)

I'm not finished with the book series yet but I may included details from it and reference book only stuff or use characterization if there isn't enough detail for them in the games, I will probably add more characters when I'm finished with the books, like Milva

Witcher character list Ciri

Geralt of Rivia

Dandelion

Jaskier (TV)

Triss Merigold

Shani

Vesemir

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Eskel

Lambert

Vernon Roche

Iorveth

Cerys an Craite

Regis

Ves

#metal gear x reader #the witcher x reader #metal gear solid #the witcher 3 wild hunt #metal gear solid x reader #the witcher 3 x reader

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 6

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: swearing, struggling with emotions

Word Count: 4872

Masterlist

Tag List Form

Jaskier was quiet. He’d hardly said a word since Geralt blew up on him. His fingers would rub against each other every now and again, as if he wished to pluck the strings on his lute, but he did not reach for his instrument. The whole time you set up camp, laying out bedrolls and blankets, setting up a campfire, and so on, he sat silently on a rock you dragged over. He was completely zoned out - not even offering to help when you grunted from the labor or winced from your injuries. He only came back to his senses when you held a strip of dried meat under his nose. He’d startled slightly at the sudden smokey scent of seasoned meat, but he took it with a brief, weak smile nonetheless. But even then, he just looked at the food with a frown.

“You need to eat something,” you urged, as he’d once done for you. “You won’t have the strength to make it down the mountain if you don’t.”

“I didn’t even have the strength to stand up for myself!” he cried. As quickly as it was there, the energy and frustration was gone, swallowed up by the night. “Sorry.” His nimble fingers picked apart the jerky. You watched attentively as he pulled off a bit and ate it.

Once he began eating, you did, too. Your eyes never left the bard, watching him sulk all too knowingly. You were just the same way growing up. You could so easily imagine yourself in Jaskier’s place, sat across from Stuldweck. He would have been comforting you after a failed test on alchemy or monsters, or telling you exactly how to get back at Oalvir for a prank or for some taunting remark from the others, or encouraging you to keep trying on the obstacle course. “So you learn how to.”

He looked up. “What?”

“You learn how to stand up for yourself, for next time.”

He sighed. His whole body hunched forward, closing himself away from the harsh world he found himself in. “Next time…” He stared back at the fire; you’d carefully avoided staring too deep into its cruel flickering. Within the embers, he could see those long, dreary nights spent out in the wild with Geralt, chasing after some creature or another. He continued to long for those adventures. He craved stories and tales and wild escapades. “Next time, I’ll tell him to shove it up his arse.”

You chuckled. He lightened up a bit at the sound. “That’s a good start.”

The higher up you went, the less wildlife that seemed to be around. Now that you were descending the mountain, the crickets seemed more abundant. Their incessant chirping mingled with owls’ cries as they searched alongside bats for food. The high-pitched clicks and chirps of echolocation didn’t bother Jaskier, but they were easily picked up by your sensitive ears. Occasionally something would swoop down to catch its prey.

You couldn’t revel in the harmony of nature for long - you had put off tending to your injuries for long enough as it was. With a sigh and the rest of your jerky gone, you began undoing the straps of your leather armor as easily as the last thousand times before. Half of the buckles undone, you reached inside the chestpiece to feel your ribs. They were tender, but you couldn’t find any signs of fractures.

You undid the other half and tugged it all off. The armor itself was lighter and more flexible compared to Geralt’s. It also had less tears. The only noticeable damage was the long cut down the back. You sighed just thinking about having to stitch it back together; you were never very good at sewing.

Reaching behind you, you ran a hand slowly along your back until you felt the tear in your black tunic. You’d have to fix that, too. A little further, and your fingers brushed against the open, scarred tissue. It stung, and the blood around it was dry and crusted. But it felt clean enough. Your armor must have protected it from dust and dirt when you rolled along the cave floor.

“Are you alright?”

You’d nearly forgotten Jaskier was there, watching as you doffed your armor. You weren’t uncomfortable getting rid of that barrier, of removing that protection; so much so you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

You hummed, wincing as your fingers brushed a tender spot. “From the fight,” you explained. “One of them cut through my armor. Got me pretty good.”

He floundered for a moment. “Do you want some help? I mean, I could- Well, I know how to wrap a bandage or-”

“I’d appreciate it.”

You met his eye across the fire. His eyes did not shine and gleam at every new thing. Self-doubt clouded them, dulling them to a soft cornflower blue. He cleared his throat and jumped up. “Supplies?”

You nodded over to your bag, laying by your bedroll. He reached inside, shifting vials and jars of monster parts and ground herbs aside to find bandages. They weren’t really bandages, per se, but long strips of cloth torn from clothes or bedding, wrapped up into a ball. You also instructed him to find a small container of salve, which looked greenish-yellow in the light. As he brought over the items, you shifted to sit with your back to him, and pulled your shirt over your head. He sat awkwardly beside you on the rock, trying not to stare at your back, as you studied the tear in your tunic.

“U-Uhm, this one?” he asked about the container, holding it over your shoulder so you could see. You glanced at it briefly and nodded.

“You’ll need to gather some and spread it on the cut.” You listened to the clinking of the jar as it was opened. You almost grinned at the thought of Jaskier scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Don’t worry about hurting me.”

He scoffed and began dabbing the salve onto the long, inflamed slash, all the while mumbling to himself. “‘Don’t worry about hurting me.’ Yeah right.” The talking helped him gather his nerves. “What is this stuff anyway?” He took an experimental sniff of the jar’s contents, and found the smell actually not unpleasant.

“That same mixture from before; when I fought Geralt at your camp,” you reminded him. He’d remembered the small amount you’d spread on your cheek, then. He glanced over your shoulder to see the mini scar that ran along your cheek. It distracted him from the mention of his former adventuring buddy. “Celandine and white myrtle - helps with the pain and the infection, to some extent.”

“Smells nice.”

You chuckled. “I always found them to have a bitter smell,” you admitted.

He smelled it again, pausing for a moment to try and smell the bitterness. It was faint, on the edge of his senses. In his next breath of the cool night air, it was gone. He shook his head and gathered up more, gently guiding it within the cut. He tried not to think about how he could see the muscle-y tissue just right there, at his fingertips.

It was quiet as he continued to work. He kept trying to think of ways to fill the silence - what questions he could ask, or if he should hum or whistle a tune. You enjoyed it. You traced your fingers over the fabric in your hands, listening to the wind as it moved through the scattered foliage. After a little while, he finished coating the cut with salve and wiped the excess from his fingers onto his pants (they were dirty, anyway).

“Alright, so just, uhm.” He unraveled a bit of the bandage cloth and tried to figure out how to start wrapping it around. You held out a hand for one end of the roll, and held it to your chest so you could tie the ends together when it was all done. He would pass it around your back, and you’d wrap it around your front, until almost your entire back was safely wrapped up in the cloth. You tied the ends together and threw your shirt back on - you could fix it later.

“Is that alright?” he asked. He’d never actually helped anyone patch themselves up before. Geralt would barely let him know when he’d been hurt; Jaskier usually had to guess from the Witcher’s body language.

You turned your body to once again face the fire. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had,” you teased, but you were sincere as you thanked him.

He fiddled with his fingers. “Thank you, too, by the way,” he rushed out, as if he would never be able to say it again if he didn’t say it now. You looked at him with those sharp snake eyes, and he floundered a little more. “For, erm, yelling at Geralt, like that.” The gratitude came from him stiff and stumbled, but it was genuine.

You smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

He grinned, too, and eased into the silence that came after.

-

The sound of Jaskier’s boots skidding on uneven gravel followed you down the mountain. You took the lead, eyes and ears constantly looking out for monsters or wild animals. It was hard to hear anything over the crunching-sliding sounds of his boots - a cougar with soft paw pads could easily walk right next to you and you’d not notice. You looked over your shoulder and watched as the bard slid down a steep incline, holding an arm out to balance himself while clutching the strap of his lute. Some steps he took were accentuated with grumbles and winces, undoubtedly from the sharp points of rocks poking through the thin soles.

“After all this time traveling,” you called back, waiting for him to catch up, “you never thought to get better boots?”

“Ah, well, I thought about it.” He reached even ground and trudged his way to your side. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths from the exertion. “Never had the extra coin to actually get any.”

He turned to the path ahead, shoulders falling with a sigh as he saw the next slope and the one after that. You had managed to get halfway down yesterday, but there was still much farther to go. Before he could start the long descent down the mountain, you placed a hand on his chest and stopped him.

“What?”

You looked around, eyes scanning the rocky terrain. Nervously, he did the same. You could feel his heart against your hand, beating wildly.

“What is it? Did you hear something?”

Shaking your head, you make your way over to a bolder. It fell decades ago, eroded by time to be smooth. You sat down. Jaskier watched, astonished, as you began removing your boots.

“Now, wait- Hang on!” His boots scraped along as he rushed to stand in front of you. His hands waved all over, trying to stop you without actually touching you. “You’re going to need those! Viper, wh- You don’t even know what size I am! Your boots might not fit! Or my boots might not fit you!”

You paused for a moment, stopped in the middle of unlacing your travel-worn footwear. He watched as you slid one foot to be next to his. Then, you continued unlacing. “They’ll fit well enough.”

He scoffed and paced around, unable to grasp that you would want to do anything so… chivalrous for him. Saving his life on a whim was one thing - it was probably just instinct that made you throw yourself over him - but to fully go out of your way to ease his (dare he say) suffering just because you could?

In no time at all, you were left barefoot on rough gravel. Unlike him, you did not wince or even flinch as the sharp points dug into your heels. He could only imagine it was because they were so calloused after who-knows-how-long of adventuring. You pressed your boots to his chest, giving him no choice but to hold onto them and accept the gesture.

“Put them on. We’ll worry about new boots when we get into town.” You stepped away from the boulder, waving a hand for him to sit down. He hesitated, staring at the worn down, well-loved boots. You nudged him. “C’mon, jaskier, my feet are hurting.”

He glanced down, realizing fully that you were actually barefoot on a rocky mountain. He rushed to sit down and take off his boots so you’d have something to walk in. All the while, his mind ran rampant.

Had Geralt ever done anything this nice? Had Geralt ever done anything to help Jaskier? Anything that didn’t involve the bard’s near death, that is. The White Wolf never even let him touch his steed, no matter how long he had been walking or how badly his feet ached. But you! You just took off your boots and gave them to him like it was such a simple thing, no more important than passing the salt at a meal. You didn’t even think twice about it, no matter how many complaints he brought up. Hell, he hadn’t even complained about his feet aching or his boots doing very little to protect him with their thin soles; you just noticed!

Another voice, less astonished but just as bitter toward his past companion spoke up: They are not Geralt.

He handed over his boots, still dazed by your altruism and perhaps slightly embarrassed over the act of trading shoes, and watched as you slipped them on without sitting back down. You kicked the toe onto the ground, measuring how much space you were left with, before giving him a nod.

“Better?”

He stepped a couple times. The boots felt odd on his feet, but he could already tell they were built for traveling. His, well, they were mostly for appearance.

“Good. Let’s keep going.”

-

Your feet were hurting by the time you reached the base of the mountain, but sweet relief was found in Bayard. The speckled horse greeted you both with loud whinnies and dramatic head bobbing. You wasted no time in stroking his neck and head, pressing your forehead to his nose.

Jaskier looked between your horse and the one tied up next to it, a mare with a light grey coat and dark hair. “So, is your horse named after a fish, too?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You snorted. “No, absolutely not.” You walked around the side, running your hand along his coat all the way. “No, his name’s Bayard.”

Jaskier watched with twiddling fingers as you prepared your trusty steed for a ride. “Why Bayard? Isn’t that a bit of a mouth full?” He glanced around at the other hitching posts. Some had horses that no longer had owners. One of them was definitely Roach, but he had a feeling she didn’t really want anything to do with him either. The one hitched up next to yours tried reaching out to nudge his arm. He jumped back, unsure how to really act around such a large, terrifying creature.

You shrugged from underneath Bayard, working on a stubborn buckle. “It was just sort of the first name that came to mind. I think it suits him.” You stood and Bayard nudged his side against you. He was excited to finally stretch his legs. You watched as Jaskier nervously patted the top of the mare’s head. “Can you ride?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and stepping away from Hendrick’s horse as she tried nibbling on his doublet. “No, not at all. Geralt usually rode and I’d just sort of,” he gestured his hand moving along a path, “walk alongside.”

“Well, if you’re going to travel with me, you’ll need to move a bit quicker than that.”

He frowned, almost scoffing as he watched you saddle up the mare with some spare tack laying around. “What, like, run? Cuz these legs aren’t really good for sprints or- or jogging.” You looked around for a moment, searching the ground. You set a log on one end and tested it with your foot. Jaskier watched with a sinking feeling in his gut. “What are you doing?”

“You,” you began, grabbing his arm to drag him to the horse’s side, “are going to learn how to ride.”

“What?!” He flinched away when he accidentally ran into her flank, apologizing on impulse.

You patted his shoulder. “Relax, Jaskier, you’ll do fine. So, what you want to do is hold onto the saddle, right here and here, put your foot in the stirrup like this, and pull yourself up. Okay, good, now swing your leg over the back- careful.” You moved the stump away once he was on, but you kept careful watch. It would be unfortunate if he fell off. Or if the horse bucked him off.

He watched you too, but less in a ‘watching a child so they don’t injure themselves’ way and more of a ‘dear god I’m going to die’ way. His blue eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fright. His hands held onto the horn of the saddle for dear life, afraid to even actually touch the horse. “What do I do now?”

“Name her.” Bayard nudged his nose under your arm as you worked to undo the knot in her lead. You had to shove him away before he panicked Jaskier any more.

“Name her?” he parroted. You could hear his panicked breathlessness. “Like what? Doesn’t somebody own it? Am I stealing a horse right now?”

You chuckled under your breath. It was interesting trying to give the bard a crash course in horses when you worked with them for almost a decade of your life. “No, we aren’t stealing; nobody owns her anymore. And it can be anything.” You handed the lead for him to hold as you untied Bayard’s. “You’re poetic - you’ll think of something.”

“Some-thiing!” Jaskier nearly fell forward in panic as you guided both horses onto the road.

“Calm down.” You slung the lead over the mare’s head. He caught it and held onto it like a lifeline while watching you hoist yourself into Bayard’s saddle like it was nothing. He couldn’t picture himself as at-ease with a horse. “Don’t pull the lead too tight, make sure she has room to move.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Bayard can’t carry two people for very long, and I’m not going to wait up for you if I’m on the tail of a contract. So, it’s either this, or I’ll wait for you to walk 2 hours to Hengfors by yourself.”

He sighed, pouting as he worried the leather in his hands. “Fine! But if I fall off, I’m blaming you. Now how do we move these things?”

-

The entire ride was spent teaching Jaskier how to ride. He was a surprisingly fast learner, but he also almost slid off the saddle several times. He also spent a grand majority of the trip brainstorming names for his new steed. Due to her silvery grey coat, he tried some names like ‘Silver’ and ‘Snowflake’. That trailed off into names like ‘Furt’, ‘Furtie’, and ‘Hove’ after his memories of home. (Oxenfurt and Lettenhove, respectfully.) Deeply dissatisfied by any variation of those names, he did a full 180 and decided randomly naming things he saw or thought about would be the best way to name her.

By the time you reached the town and zoned back into his random mutterings, he decided to call her Adhara, after a star he read about as a child.

The first stop in town was to the first armorsmith you saw. You almost slid off the saddle before Bayard even had a chance to stop, eager to get Jaskier some proper boots and get yours back. It cost a mite more than you expected, but you saw the glint in the smith’s eye when he told you the price; he was no doubt asking for more due to your profession. So while Jaskier muttered about how unreasonable that was and tried insisting on paying for it himself, you just handed over the coin and left without another word to the craftsman.

Jaskier noticed during this time how you were different. It was hard to notice the change in Geralt - the Wolf was always moody and miserable; but from the moment you stepped into Hengfors, your face was unreadable, even stern. Your eyes shifted around constantly, and when Jaskier cracked a joke or offered a witty remark, you did not even grace him with a soft grin or huff of laughter. It was all part of the job, he supposed.

Once he was settled with his brand new boots and yours were safely returned to your feet (his old boots only fetched a few crowns from the craftsman), you led your steeds to the nearest inn and showed Jaskier how to properly tie up Adhara and remove her tack. Watching him try to lift the saddle and hang it on the wall hook, you’d never suspect he ever set a foot out into the real world.

He insisted on buying the room since you bought the boots, but you insisted he only get one room. There was no point in spending more coin than necessary and you were accustomed to sleeping on hard floors. Perhaps Melitele decided to show you some grace, though, as the bed in the room was plenty large enough to fit two people.

You both trudged into the room and dropped (or carefully set down, in the case of Jaskier’s lute) everything you carried to the floor. The floors creaked and groaned, and the walls were thin enough to hear somebody breathing on the other side, but a warm place to lay your head was enough reason to relax.

“Oh ho ho ho! You beauty!” Jaskier’s voice came from the corner of the room. You paused in the middle of removing your leather armor, watching with quiet amusement as he moved around behind a screen divider. If you cocked your head just enough, you could see the large bathtub, steam wafting from the basin already filled to the brim with hot water. “I have not bathed in days,” he bemoaned. He rushed to his bags, tugging off his doublet all the while, and pulled out various bottles of oils. He practically dumped all of their strongly perfumed contents in.

You huffed a laugh at his enthusiasm (He silently praised the gods that you felt comfortable enough in here to do so.) and pulled off your chestplate. It would be best to patch it up now. With Jaskier safely behind the screen, cursing to himself as he undressed, you pulled your own shirt off and dropped it to the bed with the armor. You would have plenty of time to fix your gear as the bard allowed himself the comfort of a long, hot soak.

The water shifted and sloshed as Jaskier lowered himself in, all content hums and satisfied groans. He always expressed his emotions so plainly. You envied him for it. Even as a child, emotions were scolded or punished; crying in dark corners was not uncommon in the Viper Keep. It was hard to shake off those grueling years when humans looked at you with such open disdain. A Witcher seen laughing would surely bring more ridicule than one that stayed silent.

As you dug through your stuff, you allowed yourself to breathe in the strong smells. They were overwhelming at first, especially with senses as sensitive as yours, but they soon became bearable. “Is that sandalwood?” you called across the room.

“Mhm.” He sighed, spreading out in the water and resting his head on the edge of the tub. He wondered behind closed eyes and private screens what you were moving around the room for, what you were doing. Did Witchers ever rest? “And vanilla.”

With the sewing kit in hand, you gracelessly plopped onto the mattress. It was soft and springy. Your muscles relaxed instantly against the clean fabrics. You readied a thick needle with leather thread and pulled the chestplate into your lap. The cut was clean, which meant it would be easy to fix. And while you’d never been the best at sewing, you were plenty good enough now not to poke your fingers or misalign the edges. “It smells nice.”

He sat up in the tub, water shifting around him as he moved to see what you were doing. His eyes glanced over the bandages around your torso only briefly. “You think so?”

You hummed, nodding as you pulled the thread through. “I don’t get many opportunities to smell something sweet on my travels.”

“Don’t pass by many bakeries, then?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I try to avoid towns whenever possible.”

“How come?” he asked before he could stop himself. Your pointed glance was all the answer he needed. He forgot how unwelcome Witchers were, when the couple he knew were so… Well, he couldn’t say normal, but when you’re around oddities and strangeness all the time, it becomes normal. To him, they were just people. Strange, brave people. “Feel free to use it then, if you’d like,” he offered. The water announced his gestures. “Wash away all that Witchery-ness.”

You pulled taught another thread, leaning in closer to focus on what you were doing. It was a bad habit. Stuldweck always grabbed you by your collar and sat you up straight when he caught you doing it. You sat up a little straighter.

“I wouldn’t wish to waste your expensive oils. Monster guts have a difficult stench to cover,” you dismissed. You tied a knot at the end of your repair, cutting off the excess with a knife. As you worked to thread a smaller needle with cotton thread, you added, “Besides, I think it smells much nicer on you.”

Jaskier stared at you for a minute, trying to think. When he could not cobble together the words, despite how fast his mind raced with a mixed bag of teasing remarks, self-deprecating put-downs, and ways to assure that you surely would also smell nice if you bathed in sandalwood and vanilla, he leaned back into his bath, rested his head against the rim, and stared at the ceiling.

-

You woke up to a dark, empty room. It was disorienting at first; you pulled your knife from under your pillow on reflex. Jaskier and his lute were nowhere to be found, but the smell of sandalwood and vanilla lingered in the air. All his other belongings were still dropped to the floor with your own.

Sharp spikes of pain shot up your spine as you sat up. You carefully prodded at your back, now covered by the patched up shirt. The cut was sensitive, but it would heal well enough. Another scar for the collection, atop an old training injury no less.

The door creaked slowly open on its rusty hinges. Your hand tightened around your blade, prepared to fend off intruders even in your post-nap drowsiness. You sighed when you saw Jaskier poke his head in. He stopped trying to be sneaky once he saw you were awake.

“Ah, good! You’re up.” He sauntered inside with an easy confidence, a slight pep in his step. He dropped his lute onto the bed by your feet and a small pouch full of coins in your lap. “I have just earned enough money for dinner,” he sang proudly.

As you tugged open the bag, he struck a match to light the lamp by the bed. Coins were packed so tightly inside that they didn’t have room to shift or clink together. You raised an eyebrow at the amount. “And drinks.”

He waved his hands about. “Yes, well, I may have stopped by a few of the taverns around town.”

You looked up at him. He cracked under the pressure.

“Or, maybe, all of them.” He sighed, dropping to sit next to you on the bed. He gestured to his shoes. “You spent a lot on these boots! I felt bad!”

You cinched up the purse and tossed it into his lap. “You bought the room,” you reminded him.

“And it definitely didn’t cost as much.” He nudged your arm, jumping up excitedly. “C’mon, Viper! Meat and mead on me!”

Part of you wanted to decline. It wanted to remain completely self-reliant. It wanted to keep some distance between you and the bard, especially when you let your guard down around him so easily. It wanted you to build your walls taller and stronger.

But then he looked at you with those bright, hopeful eyes, and that little part of you fizzled out. You sighed, but you pushed the blankets aside and pulled on your boots. He rambled about his concerts while you pulled your armor back on and holstered your daggers, telling you about drunk patrons who fell over themselves singing along or women who waited until he finished singing to flirt with him. You offered your own input when he took a breath.

You ate and drank more that night than you had in months.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lastwandastan

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonsimp

@cool-ontherun-world

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

[corruptedmaiawrites]

Requests Open

I wanna write more fics, so I’m opening requests in case anyone has ideas they wanna see written.

I mainly write character x reader fics, but I can do character x oc fics too.

I write for female and gender neutral readers, but as I’m AFAB myself I don’t feel knowledgeable enough to write male readers.

I can write either platonic or romantic fics.

I will write SFW and NSFW, but I won’t write anything that I feel uncomfortable with, such as inc*st, non-con, etc. Please message me if you’re not sure about something you want to request.

Here are the fandoms and characters I write for:

Star Wars

Any Clones (including OCs). My favourite clones to write are Wolffe, Rex, Gregor, Fives, Echo, Howzer, and Crosshair.

Maul and Savage

Cyberpunk 2077

Johnny Silverhand

River Ward

The Witcher (games)

Geralt of Rivia

Vernon Roche

Morvran Moorhis

Jujutsu Kaisen

Sukuna - true form and possession forms

Nanami Kento

Bleach

Shunsui Kyōraku

Kenpachi Zaraki

Kensei Muguruma

Renji Abarai

Ikkaku Madarame

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

Ghost (the band)

Papa Emeritus III

Dewdrop/Sodo

Mountain

Aether

Swiss

#requests open #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #bleach fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x oc #x oc fanfiction

[andsheloved]

for drabble tuesday! i saw no.15 and immediately thought about our guys that might not be the most expressive verbally, i.e loki, geralt, or maybe bucky? and maybe they stood up for you, or acted out of character for your sake and when you ask them why this is what they say and it’s the first time you hear them say something affectionate because they’re all about the silent yearning and touches akskdjdjn if you’re interested its your choice of character, love:)!!<3

anon your mind, i need to tell you how i simply paced around my apartment for like, 15 minutes thinking of which character to pick for this becAUSE THEY ARE ALL SO GOOD FOR THIS!! i did end up going with geralt for this one because patching up wounds + geralt just makes me yearn and pine and yell and scream especially hard, and i hope that's okay!! so without further ado, i do hope you enjoy this one my dear!! mwauh!!

pairing ~ geralt of rivia x gn!reader

word count ~ 1.2k

prompt ~ #15: "why'd you do that?" "because i love you."

warnings ~ hurt/comfort, allusion to verbal abuse, mild violence (bar fight, reader isn't involved nor do they get hurt), blood, saliva, minor angst, descriptions of cleaning wounds, mutual pining,

Before you or Jaskier even had a chance to stop him, it seemed that Geralt was flying across the crowded bar, lunging at the man who had made the grave mistake of speaking to you like that.

You had initially brushed the comment off with a soft, passive smile at first. People say things, you were used to that, especially with the nature of your companions.

Though Geralt was not one to let it go so easily.

There was a shuffle of chairs and shocked gasps as he held the man by his collar, mumbling something in his ear before pulling away to see the terrified look in his eyes.

"Ah, Geralt..?" Jaskier chimed hesitantly, you both knew his interference wouldn't do much good, especially with how intently his eyes were locked on the man.

If you had blinked, you would have missed it at the speed at which Geralt's fist had collided with the mans cheek, instantly taking him to the ground as the other patrons around him parted, making way for the brawl that was quickly taking over the entire bar.

If you or Jaskier didn't know any better, you probably would have tried to stop him, try to tear Geralt's large frame off of the man, but you did know better, the both of you just watched in horror and concern as the man under Geralt pled for mercy.

You winced as he planted a particularly brutal blow to the man's right cheek, the crowd echoing your sounds of grimace.

It was when the man's mouth dribbled out a gruesome mixture of spit and blood when you finally determined you had allowed Geralt's battering to go on long enough.

His name fell from your lips like a sigh, it was a wonder he had even heard you at all over all the yelling and jeering of the rowdy group.

He finally lifted his upper body from hovering over the man, slowly turning to face you. His features softened as he looked at you, and you couldn't help the frustrated huff that escaped you when you finally were able to see the state of him.

In all the ruckus, you hadn't noticed that the offending drunkard, in all of his flailing, had apparently landed a few blows on Geralt as well, a small gash now placed just above his eyebrow.

Before you could fully appraise his injuries, he stood abruptly, leaving the man to writhe on the grime-covered floor.

"We should go." He gruffed, shouldering past the both of you as he made his way towards the door.

Jaskier quickly turned to you before facing out to the rest of the bar, offering a weak, awkward smile, "It's been a pleasure."

It was a silent trek back to the camp the three of you had set up the night before, the only sounds exchanged being ones of exasperated sighs and groans of relief when you finally reached your destination.

You anxiously fidgeted with your fingers before you finally broke the silence. "I wanted to-"

"Goodnight." Geralt suddenly interrupted, all but running into his tent before you could even stop him.

"Think it's best just to leave this one alone." Jaskier whispered, leaning into you, "You know how he gets."

"I just want to thank him." You muttered, staring thoughtlessly at the untied entrance to his tent.

"Best to leave that for tomorrow, hmm?"

Maybe in any other situation you would, allowing your sleep-addled mind to get some rest before holding any sort of discussion, but this was different.

You were no stranger to Geralt's more aggressive side, nor were you a foreigner to the occasional bar fight, but this felt so unlike him, like he wasn't just fighting to simply fight.

As if your legs moved on their own accord, you found yourself marching in the direction of Geralt's tent, much to the disappointment of Jaskier.

You were almost shocked to see him already lying down, his body taking up almost the entire space of the tent as he pressed a dirty cloth to his forehead.

Your heart sunk when you heard him groan at the sight of you, dropping his head back down to the thin cot.

"Let me help you" You whispered, kneeling beside him and beginning to reach for the browned cotton.

"I'm fine." He grumbled, flinching at the brush of your fingers against his wrist.

"It's the least I can do" Your brows furrowed, pleading with him as you watched the rusted gears turn in his mind.

He gave in with an annoyed huff, clumsily dropping the fabric to his side and allowing you to take it from him.

You watched his frown deepen as you quickly rung the rag of any remaining liquid, pouring onto it a small amount of water from the canteen laying beside him.

He hissed when you pressed it to his forehead, even as you dabbed it as gently as you could.

"Why did you do that?" You finally asked, you hated how your voice shook under the weight of your question.

"Do what?" He groaned as you pressed more weight on the cut.

You could roll your eyes at his absentminded answer, "Today, at the inn."

You washed some of the excess blood off of the rag with more water before searching through the satchel he had placed beside the cot, finding a small bottle of alcohol, you turned it over onto the cloth, letting a few drops of the liquid saturate it.

He let out a pained moan when you pressed it against is forehead, grumbling something unintelligible before he answered. "Some people just want a fight."

"You didn't have to though." You quickly replied, and you found yourself stumbling back as he shot up, his arms planted on either side of his body to balance himself.

His head tilted as he looked at you, his eyes squinting as if challenging you, daring you to continue your interrogation.

"Thank you, I just- I don't want you to get hurt because of me..."

"I'm fine," A weak half smile turned the corners of his lips, "I promise."

"Promise not to do that again then?" You smirked, thoughtlessly washing off the dried blood from the cloth.

"You know I can't do that." He grumbled, gently pressing two fingers to the now clean laceration.

"Then why'd you do it? I just don't want you putting yourself-"

"Because I love you."

A blanket of complete silence was suddenly laid over the two of you, with only the sound of your thundering heartbeat echoing in your ears.

"I can't promise you that," He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as he continued, "Because I love you." He swallowed, his mouth opening slowly, as if he were about to say something else before closing it just as languidly.

"Geralt..." Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke, "I-"

"Please, spare your pity, I never meant for this..." He continued, gesturing between the two of you. "I never meant..." He trailed off, "You don't- I don't expect you to-" He let out a discontented exhale as he gathered himself, "But it's because I love you."

You opened your mouth to speak, but at the sight of his furrowed brow, you chose not to.

Even when he wasn't sure of your answer, silence seemed to be all that he wanted from you tonight, and you would happily oblige.

You knew that morning would come, and you could finally give him the words you had longed to say to him since a day you couldn't quite recall.

But if tonight he wanted quiet, if tonight he wanted nothing more from you than your presence, if he only wanted your warmth against his chest until the morning sun finally tore you from your privacy, you'd accommodate him without a thought.

Because you loved him.

Even if the world suddenly ended and the morning never came, maybe if you held him close enough, he would feel your answer.

Though something new in his gentle smile whispered to you, maybe he already knew.

Maybe he always did.

hurt/comfort + geralt is truly one of my all time favorite pairings so thank you so much for this one my anonymous friend!! i honesty might revisit this concept later with loki or bucky at some point because holy cow, my heart!! anyways!! i do hope you enjoyed this one and i'm sending all my warmest geralt hugs your way!! mwauh!!

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always, always appreciated!!

want more geralt? check out my masterlist!!

#madeline's drabble tuesdays! #geralt fan fiction #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia fan fic #henry cavill x gender neutral reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fan fiction #geralt of rivia x gn!reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x gn!reader #geralt x gender neutral reader #the witcher reader insert #henry cavill reader insert #geralt of rivia comfort #geralt comfort fic #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #no use of y/n #henry cavill x you #the witcher imagine

[themightofchaos]

the fear of losing you | Cahir

pairing: Cahir x gn!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

plot: Cahir wakes up from a nightmare and can’t find you anywhere. He fears the worst.

warnings: blood, nightmare, implied death, out-of-character Cahir, sappy stuff™ ugh, also first time writing Cahir im sorry

“Leave them!”, Cahir yells as the faceless creature approaches you. He runs in your direction - tries to - but it feels like he’s barely getting any closer. The creature on the other hand is taking big strides towards your unprotected form cowering on the ground. Your hands are pressed to your chest like you are already wounded.

Had he not been there for you? But he had been by your side the entire time!

The creature’s form seems to contort and twist as if itself was not sure what it wants to be. Cahir yells out in frustration as he drags his body towards you, lifting one foot after the other. It is like they are rooted to the ground. He wants to lift his sword but it’s so heavy in his hand he can barely lift it.

“Cahir.”, you whimper, your eyes searching for his. Cahir shouts, screams as he tries to rip himself free from the invisible restraints holding him back. Why can’t he move?

The creature, now in front of you, lifts its heavy sword above its head, the rusty blade seemingly slicing through the air. “Cahir, I am scared! Why aren’t you helping me?” - “I’m trying! I- I can’t move!!”, he stammers, tears brimming in his eyes. He hears whispers behind him, ugly accusations claiming he is going to leave you to die. They penetrate his mind, sending more and more tears to his eyes. He pulls against the restraints again. It feels like he is ripping his own limbs off in the process but he doesn’t stop. He manages to move closer, closer until he is finally almost within reach. He tries to lift his sword again, but the steel suddenly feels wet and soft, almost slimy. As he looks down, he’s holding flesh. He wants to drop it, disgusted and scared, but his hand won’t open. Instead it seems to close even tighter around the bloody piece.

“I trusted you! I loved you!”, your voice sounds ugly now. Like the whispers that penetrate his head. It’s gravely and echoes in his head.

And as the creature brings down the blade suddenly, Cahir notices that it has been the hand of your dead body he has been holding.

Cahir startles awake, taking in big gulps of air. He feels like he has been trampled by a horse. Sweat clings to every part of his body and what he assumes is a tear rolls over his cheek. He tries to calm himself but the images run fresh through his mind, torturing him with his worst fear.

He wipes the tears and sweat off his face as he rolls over, his hand searching for your body on the other side of the bed. When he only feels the cool bedsheets he panicks, sitting up in bed trying to see if maybe you just moved farther away from him like you sometimes do when it’s too hot. The first rays of sunlight from the rising sun are barely enough to see anything clearly but as he looks over to your side of the bed, the bed looks like it has not been touched at all. The sheets are less crinkled and your scent is missing. Cahir freezes as he once again pictures the horrible scene that played out in front of him in his dream.

No. No, this can’t be!

You are alive! Surely this was just a bad dream and not a distant memory he is trying to forget. But Cahir can’t be sure. Too many times have memories haunted his dreams. It would not be the first time he dreams of past battles and people he met and lost on the battlefield.

Cahir calls out your name then, sitting up in bed and searching your shared quarters with his eyes. His heart starts to beat faster again as worry and doubt fill his head. He can’t lose you! He has lost too much already. Losing you... he would not be able to cope after that. His breathing is ragged as he starts looking for clothing he can put on fast enough. He ends up just wearing a cloak over the clothes he slept in. The drenched fabric still clings to his skin and is starting to feel cold, way too cold to walk around in, but he has to find you. He has to make sure you are still...there.

He rushes out of your shared room and follows the hallways endlessly, seemingly getting lost in them in his daze. Nobody else is awake at this early hour. He doesn’t even come across any guards, or maybe he just ignores their presence. He only has one thing on his mind and that is finding you.

He runs through the hallways for what feels like hours though it might have only been minutes. His nightmare is still fresh in his mind and makes his eyes sting. Where are you? How can you just be gone? Like the earth swallowed you whole.

He runs through the hallways even quicker, guards looking at him weirdly but he doesn’t acknowledge their presence, tears are now filling his eyes again and had he been in a normal state of mind he would have cared if somebody saw him like this but he didn’t even begin to think about what he must look like right now.

After running through the maze of hallways he ends up in a dead end. His shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath as he tries not so sob. 

He lost you. It wasn’t a dream. He lost you and he was too delusional to notice it before. He will never see you again. He will never be able to hold you again, to kiss you again and to tell you that he lo-

“Cahir? What are you doing here?”

He turns around so fast his vision blurs for a moment. And there you are, standing in front of him, a mug in your hand. Before you can even say anything Cahir wraps you in a tight embrace. You are more than surprised to say the least. Cahir is always quite reserved in public, trying to keep private matters private, but right now he holds your frame so tightly yet so tenderly that you know something is off. You are the one to break free from the hug. He doesn’t seem to want to let you go but you want to look at his face. His eyes are red from crying and he looks pale.

“What happened, my love?”, you ask, stroking his cheek lovingly and Cahir melts into your touch. “You-... I-... I’m so sorry. I was not able to-... forgive me.”

This is not the first time you have seen Cahir like this, it just has never been this bad before. Bad dreams are nothing unusual for soldiers and Cahir has had plenty of them but this one seems to have been particularly bad.

“It’s alright, everything is fine now. Let’s go somewhere more private. I think you could use a bit more sleep. I brought you a cup of tea because you were shivering next to me.”, you explain and Cahir grabs your hand as you walk him back to your quarters.

You close the door behind him and help him get changed out of his clothes. You don’t press for details right away because you know he will tell you when he feels ready. Right now he’s just thankful that you are by his side.

Alive and well.

“I love you”, he tells you as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I know you do.”, you say cheekily, earning a grin from the knight. “And you know that I love you just as much.”

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