#he might love geralt still but he's done letting that love come first he's no longer going to allow it to walk all over him

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Witchers + stressed singlemom!reader

Summary: The reader is a very stressed and anxious single mom, and the witchers comfort her after a long day

Beginning Notes: Decided to do small drabbles for each of the witchers and added Geralt just because. First work in this fandom, so feedback is much appreciated. The reader, kids and witchers are in Kaer Morhen for the winter because Nilfgaard is making most of the continent too unsafe for all the witcher SOs to leave their lovers alone in this oneshot.

Tagged: @shit-i-say-shit-i-think, @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie (idk if you wanted to be tagged for every fandom or just vikings, but i saw you reblog a few eskel fanfics so i thought i'd tag you anyway)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Geralt

The only reason why he had gone back into the freezing hall so late at night was because he had forgotten his medallion there after a long evening of drinking games with Lambert. So he didn’t exactly expect to see you there, head buried in your hands with a drink next to you.

You hadn’t been there for dinner or drinking afterwards, Geralt realized now. Had you even eaten? Why hadn’t you been there with the rest of them? Were you sick?

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead, and immediately wanted to hit himself. Of all things he could have said, he chose the words that sounded the most accusatory.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh. Hello Geralt. I just needed some peace.”

“Hmm.” He replied. “Did you eat yet?”

You shook your head. Fuck. You’d finally put the kids to bed, but you’d totally forgotten about your own dinner.

Geralt sighed, and left the hall, leaving you to sip some more wine and brood. You probably didn’t look half as good as any of the witchers doing it.

You didn’t expect Geralt to come back at all, but he set down a bowl of stew in front of you, before taking a seat next to you.

“I warmed it up with Igni so it might be a little hot.” He told you.

“Thank you.” You replied. The first bite was so good it made you realize just how hungry you actually were.

Geralt didn’t talk to you while you ate, something you were very grateful for in the moment. When you were done with your stew, he set it aside.

“Why weren’t you at dinner? Ciri missed you.” He said.

“Sorry. I was busy with the kids.” You replied. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

There was a pause while you mulled over your words, hoping that Geralt wouldn’t be as disappointed as Ciri. You could feel tears prick your eyes in exhaustion. The kids had been fussy enough today, and now you’d let Ciri down too.

“Hey.” Geralt said, but you almost didn’t hear him. “Hey, are you okay?” he repeated.

Quickly, you wiped the tears threatening to fall, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Geralt shrugged. “It’s hard enough to manage one teenager, and Ciri’s only been with me for a bit. Can’t imagine having to put several kids to bed each night.”

“Sorry if it’s been a bother. We could still move down to the village-“

“You’re not a bother. Who told you that?” Geralt demanded.

“Well,” you began, searching for words. “Their father expected me to take care of them and…”

Geralt seemed genuinely confused at that. “So he didn’t help you?”

You shook your head. “It was my job. And it looks like I keep messing it up.”

He shook his head, before he moved even closer, pulling you into a hug. You sank into it, letting Geralt hold you. Neither of you said anything, and you were glad that he was so quiet. He let you cry onto his shirt with no comment, and when you were done, he carefully wiped the tears from your face.

“You’re an amazing mother. Tomorrow, ask me for help. I love you.” He demanded, and you gave him a slight smile.

“Thank you, Geralt. I love you too.”

Eskel

Fuck. You should have known that Eskel would be in the library. He loved to read, and you hadn’t seen him in the hall or in the courtyard with the others. You prayed that he was engrossed enough in his book that he wouldn’t notice you sneaking past.

Highly unlikely, considering that he’s a trained witcher. You told yourself.

Still, you took a route that hid you behind bookshelves, searching for the section that would hopefully have the right book for you. Eskel looked up once, when you brushed a book that was sticking out into the cramped space between shelves.

Finally, you found the section you had searched for, with books that held advice regarding illnesses. Your youngest had come down with some sort of flu and fever, but for now, it wasn’t too bad. You wanted to take care of them for as long as you could before bothering the others.

There was a book titled ‘Children’s illnesses’ in the shelf, and you almost cried tears of relief then and there. Had Vesemir or some other witcher bought it to take care of the boys before they underwent the Trial of Grasses?

The only problem was that your perfect book was on a top shelf. Not a problem for a hulking witcher, but for a regular human being like you? As quietly as you could, you reached up, and when that didn’t work, you stepped onto the first shelf.

It gave a creak of protest, but it wasn’t too loud, so you stayed where you were. Peering through the shelves, you threw a look at Eskel, who was still reading.

Then, you reached up, grabbing the book firmly and pulling it out. Another book fell out beside it, tumbling to the floor. Just your luck.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. Quickly you picked it up and made to leave the library. You almost didn’t notice Eskel, who stood across from you, sword raised.

“I thought you were something else.” Eskel sighed. “Why are you sneaking around in the library?”

“Just looking for a good book.” You lied. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Eskel glanced down at the spine of your book.

“Children’s illnesses. What a riveting read.” He commented dryly.

“Sorry.” You sighed. “I didn’t want to annoy anyone.”

“You’re not annoying anyone. You’re one of the nicest people here. And I love you.”

“Thank you. Love you too. Well, I have the book, so I’ll just go and search for the right stuff.” You said, making to leave.

Eskel caught your arm, stopping you as you tried to brush past.

“Are you alright love?” he asked.

You gave what you hoped was a convincing laugh. “Yeah of course. Just a bit tired. But I’m great, really!”

“We’re all willing to help you.” Eskel reminded. “Especially me. Your kids are the closest I’ll ever be to being a father. I want to help you.”

You didn’t say anything, giving Eskel an awkward smile.

“You should be annoyed at me for spending so little time with you lately. You don’t have to take care of my kids too.”

“Who told you that?” Eskel asked. “Was it that dirtbag that tried to keep you in your own house?”

Apparently, your silence was enough of an answer because Eskel hugged you tightly. “You’re an amazing woman and a better mother than anyone I can think of. Yennefer wishes she was you.”

“Thank you. Even though I doubt an extremely powerful and immortal sorceress is jealous of me.” You sniffled.

“She is.” Eskel promised. “Now, let’s go find Vesemir and ask him for advice. I swear, he knows every single grass to ever grow on the Continent.”

Lambert

No one would notice if you left the dinnertable now, right? You needed to check up on the baby. Call it motherly intuition, but you knew they were awake and up to create chaos right in this moment.

Quickly, you looked over to where Lambert was sitting. You had to stop yourself from laughing. He was telling the story from that one job again, the one he had told your oldest three times already. They still wanted to hear it over and over.

Speaking of oldest, they were talking to Ciri, who was showing off her newest bruises. You were right, no one was paying attention to you. Time to make a quiet exit.

You began sneaking away, walking through the long and dark hallways of Kaer Morhen. There was a feeling of anxiousness and inevitability on your chest, similar to when you had still been with your children’s father.

Lambert had gotten you out of that situation, but you couldn’t run to him for everything.

Almost angrily, you stalked up a flight of stairs and rounded another corner. Suddenly, a rat scurried across your path, and you shrieked, stepping backwards, only to bump into a wall that hadn’t been there before.

Turning around, you shrieked again as you stared up at Lambert.

“Fuck Lambert!” you exclaimed. “You almost scared me to death.”

He gave a quick laugh. Annoyed, you turned around, continuing down the hallway, and Lambert jogged up behind you.

“Hey, why’d you just sneak off during dinner? Meeting your secret lover?” he asked.

“And who would that be?” you asked. “I’m checking on the baby.”

“The baby’s fine.” Lambert insisted. “You’re worrying too much.”

“They’re creating chaos.” You replied. “I know it.”

“And what chaos could a one-year-old create?” Lambert asked.

“I don’t know!” you replied, throwing up your hands. “Probably painting the walls with their own poop. Who the hell knows?”

“You need to calm down.” Lambert told you gently, the humor leaving his voice. Carefully, he put his hands on your shoulders, turning you around to face him.

“The baby’s sleeping, the toddler is safe as my betting chip for Gwent and your oldest is annoying Ciri.”

“Oh god, they’re annoying Ciri.” You almost shouted. “What am I going to do?”

“Take a breath, for starters.” Lambert said.

“Stop joking!” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. Then, you realized that this was Lambert you were talking to, who was trying to take care of you.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “I’ll check on the baby and then I’ll be right back with you. Promise.”

“Y/N. I am not your ex-husband. I want to help you, and you don’t have to manage everything at the same time. You’re doing amazing. And I love your kids, even when they throw up on my shirt.” Lambert reminded. “Now let’s go check on the baby.”

“Your shirt. Right, I’ve washed that, it’s drying over the fire.” You brabbled on as Lambert guided you to your shared room.

Quietly, he opened the door and threw a look inside. “See, they’re sleeping.” Lambert assured.

You stared into the dark, barely seeing anything. You knew Lambert could probably spot a spider in the corner of the room with his enhanced senses, but still, the baby was not smearing poop on the walls and that was a start.

Sighing in relief, you closed the door.

“Come here.” Lambert said, pulling you into a hug. “Let’s go back down. The others probably already miss you.”

You nodded, taking Lambert’s hand as you walked towards the hall. Then, you froze in your spot.

“Wait, did you say that you used my child as a betting chip for Gwent?” you exclaimed. Lambert shrugged.

“Had to get your attention somehow.”

Coen

Coen was out training Ciri, together with Lambert and Geralt, and for once, you were relieved that he wasn’t there. That way, no one was there to see you run around between kitchen, sleeping chambers and the dining hall, trying to appease the devil that was your child in this moment.

All the other witchers were out too, Vesemir making repairs and Eskel in the stable, while Jaskier was too engrossed in composing to notice you running in and out of the hall.

You just needed to find the blanket your kid wanted so desperately and then they’d stop their tantrum, right?

It was embarrassing, your child screaming their head off in their room, and you being unable to do anything to make it stop.

But the blanket was gone, and for the love of Melitele, you could not find it. Tiredly, you went back into your personal hell and picked your child up, trying to rock them to sleep.

Nothing worked. No amount of rocking, not a single lullaby, not letting them scream themselves to exhaustion. They were a never-ending source of noise.

“Please just go to sleep.” You tried again. “Come on, just for half an hour. I still have to take care of your brother. He fell this morning.”

They didn’t listen. Exhausted, you lied them down, which only made them scream even louder. So you picked them up again, desperately trying to make it stop.

“Do you need any help?” Jaskier asked suddenly. Startled, you whipped around.

“Jaskier? What are you doing here?” you asked.

“You were gone from the hall.” He shrugged. “And that baby has a truly incredible lung capacity.”

You sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Do you need any help?”

You shook your head, feeling a migraine build behind your eyes.

“You need help, I’m getting Coen.” Jaskier decided.

“No, please don’t.” you began, but with an extravagant twirl, Jaskier was gone.

“Fuck. Fucking bard.” You muttered, rocking your baby, ignoring how heavy your arms were. A few minutes later, Coen stormed into the room.

“You need help.” He said.

“No, I don’t.” you replied. “I don’t know what Jaskier was going on about.”

“Look into the mirror.” Coen suggested. You turned around, only to be met with a sight that reminded you of someone delusional. Your braid was dissolving into chaos, your eyebags were as dark as ever and-

“I’m fine.” You insisted.

Coen crossed his arms, until your resolve softened (which wasn’t hard, considering that you were about to fall asleep on the spot).

“Alright. Can you hold them for a second? My arms are a bit heavy.” You asked. Coen looked a bit reluctant.

“I don’t know how to hold a baby.” He replied. Carefully, you arranged his arms and laid your child down. Coen smiled at them, beginning to rock them back and forth softly. It was an almost comical sight. The giant witcher going soft at a tiny, screaming bundle of anger.

You wanted to search for the blanket in the room, but you noticed how quiet the baby had become almost immediately. Turning around, you saw them sleeping while Coen softly hummed to them.

“How did you do that?” you whispered.

“I don’t know.” Coen whispered back.

“That’s not fair. I thought they wanted their blanket.”

Coen put them into the bassinet, before he dared to shrug.

“You’re a natural.” You smiled. “You’d make a great father.”

Coen’s smile got even wider. “And you already make an even better mother.” He replied, hugging you tightly.

#the witcher #witcher coen #lambert #eskel #geralt #geralt x reader #eskel x reader #lambert x reader #coen x reader #geralt x you #eskel x you #lambert x you #coen x you #witcher imagine #geralt x y/n #eskel x y/n #coen x y/n #lambert x y/n

[sinseon]

since some of you liked the first one, heres another eskel drabble 💞 this is sad and he probably needs a hug but whatevs. i’m not super happy with this so it might come down but for now i shall leave it. be warned none of this is cannon so dont yell at me.

The day Eskel gained his facial scar he knew it was over. His days of walking around carefree had ended. His own child of surprise had wounded him so badly he relied on his brothers to get him to safety.

Eskel remembered his school days. The days he was taught a witcher could no longer get himself to safety, he did not deserve that title anymore. Did Eskel still deserve that title? To be wounded by his own child? Don’t be silly of course he did.

Eskel had gone to great lengths to avoid the kid for years. He had let a rumor of the Black Sun scare him away. The man only hesitantly met her for the first time when she was an adult. Even then he barely spoke, barely even looked at her. Eskel supposed he’d be a bit upset too if Vesemir treated him that way.

The witcher had always been the oldest one. The biggest one. The reliable one. The kind one.

Yet he let his very own child of surprise dwell in her own rage until she unbottled it and released on on dozens of people. And no matter how many times he was yelled at by Lambert, stared down by Geralt, Eskel still believed it was his fault.

Lambert spent hours dipping a needle in and out of the older mans skin. The entire time the keep was absolutely silent. Nothing could cut through the tension even if it wanted to. Vesemir watched as the only movement in the keep was Lamberts hands. In the following weeks everyone had to start moving again. Chores had to be done around Kaer Morhen. Though Eskel laid stationary in his room from the wee hours of the morning to the late afternoon.

Lambert had tried first. Despite never admitting it, he missed the other witcher. When going in and trying to joke around with him didn’t work, it only devolved into picking a fight which Eskel didn’t entertain. He would deserve it.

Geralt went second. His tongue shifted around in his mouth silently as he tried to piece together words that never came out. So instead he sat next to him and stared down at what used to be his brother.

Vesemir went last. Only after the two had begged him. If anyone knew Eskel, it was Vesemir. He was the one Eskel always turned to in these times. So why wouldn’t he? Vesemir questioned this and finally got his answer after so long of not hearing his eldest’s voice.

“She had no one to turn to. Deidre had no one. She was a princess but clearly never loved that life. I chose her fate for her. Now we’re both paying a price.”

#geralt of rivia #eskel #witcher eskel #eskel is my baby #eskel my beloved #soft eskel #eskel imagine #vesemir #school of the wolf #the witcher #witcher geralt #witcher lambert #lambert #geralt

[jaskierswolf]

Some gentle longing, you say?

How about modern au, where Jaskier self publishes his poems under another name, and Geralt buys one on accident, and works himself into a crush on this unknown poet behind his favorite words, and it takes at least two years until Jaskier learns of it at all, only enjoying some fan mail he got through his social media?

Oh

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier CW: none?

AO3

_

When Jaskier had published his book of poetry under a pseudonym at University, he hadn't really thought anything of it. All it had been was a desperate attempt to separate himself from his parents. The son of famous Journalist Alfred Patrick Pankratz, and Singer/Songwriter Lillian Julia Pankratz... his name held too much weight. Yes he wanted to be an artist, and yes his name was probably how he'd gotten into Oxenfurt in the first place, but he wanted people to like him for him. He didn't want to be Julian Alfred Pankratz forever more. He was Jaskier! He was going to be an indie folk musician, and it wasn't because of his parents.

So he'd gathered up the lyrics that he didn't like enough to compose a score for, and he'd sent them to a publisher anonymously, asking to be known simply as "Dandelion". The book had done well, and it had given him the confidence he needed to continue his work. He still preferred to drop the surname, performing as Jaskier rather than Julian Pankratz, but of course his parents' shadow still lingered over him.

His copy of his poetry book remained on his bookshelf, forgotten but still very loved, which was how Geralt came to find it when the pair of them moved in together as friends.

Jaskier never thought to tell Geralt that the poetry was his, forgetting at times that Geralt had no idea that he used to write as Dandelion. It simply slipped his mind, Geralt knew everything else about him, so obviously Geralt knew about Dandelion... right? But of course, his beloved roommate and long-term crush had no idea.

One night, after a long evening performing at the local pub, Jaskier came home to find Geralt curled up in a beanbag with the poetry book in his lap. His glasses had slipped down his nose when he'd fallen asleep, and the book was held tightly to his chest. It warmed Jaskier's heart to see his grumpy roommate looking so peaceful, and unashamedly enjoying some of Jaskier's work. That was a rare sight. Usually Geralt preferred to grumble about Jaskier's noise and fuss... never quite letting his walls down enough to admit that he liked it. It was okay, Jaskier knew the truth, but it was still nice to hear once in a while.

In the morning, Jaskier lightly teased Geralt about the book, not expecting the blush on his friend's face.

And then... Geralt gushed about Dandelion.

Properly, teenage crush... gushed.

Jaskier was sitting on the other side of the table listening to Geralt wax his own sort of poetry about Jaskier's work. The lyrics, the themes, the way it made him feel... and slowly, Jaskier came to the realisation that Geralt had no idea. His best friend was halfway in love with him... and had absolutely no clue that it was Jaskier that was behind the words that had set Geralt's heart aflame. It was a complete mess, and Jaskier had no idea how to come clean. If he did then Geralt would no doubt shut down, and he'd never hear anything nice about his work again...

Unless...

It was risky... he could come clean and his hopeless crush would finally be requited and they could have the summer wedding that Jaskier had always dreamed of. Okay. Maybe not. He grinned sheepishly to himself as he scratched the back of his neck, probably best not to get too ahead of himself. Start with a date. No. Start with a confession.

"Bollocks," he whined, covering his face with his hands, his sudden outburst stopping Geralt mid-infodump.

"Jask?" Geralt asked, tilting his head like the most adorable looking puppy.

"Soooo... funny story?" Jaskier mumbled, not quite meeting his best friend's eyes. "There's a chance that I might be Dandelion."

The silence was deafening.

It took every ounce of self restraint he had not to break it. Geralt needed to process. He knew that. Jaskier shuffled from one foot to another, tapping out a rhythm against his thigh, until finally Geralt let out a small "Oh."

"Oh?" Jaskier asked quietly, biting at his lip. "Good oh? Bad oh? Middling oh? Come on, Geralt... Talk to me, please"

God, he sounded pathetic, but he felt like he was on the edge of everything he'd ever wanted and all Geralt could say was fucking... Oh. His head was starting to spin and he knew if they didn't clear this up soon he'd be spiralling into an anxiety attack. Oh. Oh. Oh. Fuck! And Geralt was still just staring at him, gorgeous bloody idiot of a man.

Jaskier opened his mouth, ready to make excuses and apologies but then Geralt's hands were holding his face, and their lips crashed together in a messy kiss. Squeaking, it took Jaskier a moment to react and then he was kissing back, his arms flung around Geralt's neck and the kiss deepened. It was dizzying and wonderful and perfect... and when Geralt finally pulled away they were both panting. Jaskier grinned dopily up at his best friend, all sense of coherence leaving him and he sighed...

"Oh..."

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing

[seidenbros]

“Geralt!”

It's a good day, Geralt figures, since Jaskier recognises him. There are good days like today, but also bad days, where the dementia hits harder, where more of his brain is fogged. Geralt had known that it would not be easy, growing old with a human, but he could never have stepped away from Jaskier. After all, this was the man he loved, that he still loves, that he will do anything for.

Jaskier's hair is grey by now, nearly white, and it rivals Geralt's, only that it is not as long as that of the Witcher. He's not as quick as he used to be, but that's okay, because there are days when his bones feel weak. Especially in winter, his knees and his back hurt more than in the summer, but he still gets around quite well considering his age. But it's not his body, it's his mind that troubles Geralt more, the loss of all these beautiful memories they've created together.

“Tell me again...” Jaskier says when Geralt sits down next to him on the sofa, reaching for his husband's hand. “Do Witcher's ever retire?” It is one of Jaskier's favourite questions, always has been since they settled down. He asked Geralt that same questions years and years ago for the first time, but ever since then, his answer has changed.

“When they slow and get killed,” Geralt answers, intertwining their fingers. “Or when they marry the person that means the world to them.” He raised their joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to Jaskier's knuckles.

And Jaskier does. Mean the world to him that is. Geralt needed some time to realise it, but once he'd done that, he wasn't able to live without Jaskier anymore. They travelled for years, but at one point, they wanted to spend the time they still had in peace and quiet together – be happy. The other Witchers, Yennefer, Ciri, they visit them quite frequently, but Geralt enjoys the time they have alone still the most.

He loves all the little things that have carried on through the years. Jaskier still reaches for his hand when they go somewhere – and he still says that it is so that they won't get separated, but Geralt knows better. He loves the way Jaskier sings when he dries his hair and doesn't even realise it, and even on bad days, he still does that. They still share a bottle of wine and talk until the sun comes up like they did when they had their first real date. That night, he confided in Jaskier, told him about his fears which he'd never done before, and ever since, he's trusted the Bard with everything that is going on in his head, everything that worries him.

Lately, it's been getting worse and worse with Jaskier forgetting things. It's most of the time his short-term memory that is affected, that he forgets about something they had planned, but by now... he even forgets about Geralt. He doesn't let it show, but it hurts Geralt so much, that he doesn't know what to do. He could and would never abandon Jaskier, because he is after all the love of his life, and he will be by his husband's side until the day he dies, but he know that it is not going to be easy, not at all. He knows that it will get even worse, that Jaskier might not remember anything they have experienced together at one point. Yennefer tried to help them, but it only slows the process down a little bit. They don't even know if he'll forget everything or if it will stay like this, that he had more good days than bad, but one thing is certain: Geralt loves him and will be by his side.

“What's this?” Geralt asks looking through the open door at the kitchen.

“Ah well... I don't know,” Jaskier admits, confusion shining in his eyes. Geralt gets up to look at what Jaskier has done, and his husband follows. The look on Geralt's face is all it takes for Jaskier to apologise profusely. “I really don't know what came over me.”

“It's okay, Jaskier.” His features soften, he even smiles at Jaskier before taking his hand again. “We don't need a table to eat dinner, and I can make a new table out of the wood that's in the stable.”

“Are you sure?” He almost looks like a little kid again, even with all the lines in his face, the grey hair, the crow's feet.

“Of course. I never liked that table anyway.” Geralt leans in to kiss Jaskier. It's a little white lie, but he doesn't want Jaskier to worry about it. It's just a stupid table, nothing to spend too much time worrying about.

“What are you up to?” Geralt asks with a laugh when he feels Jaskier's arms come around his body, and he starts swaying with his husband to music that only the Bard can probably hear in his head.

“We used to dance all the time, don't you remember?” Jaskier chuckles and Geralt chimes in. It's easier to joke a little, to laugh than to dwell too long on the memories that have been taken away from Jaskier. So Geralt cherished everything Jaskier does remember – as for the other things, he'll never get tired of telling Jaskier, of reminding him of their wedding ceremony and the way Yennefer of all people wept that day because she was so happy for them.

“Of course I remember,” Geralt eventually say quietly, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's, savouring the moment.

“I know this is not easy...” Jaskier says, still swaying to the non-existent music with his husband. Geralt stiffens, but before he can say anything, Jaskier opens his mouth again. “I understand if you want to leave, if it's too much. And I don't want to burden you with this, but I'm scared of being alone in the dark all of a sudden.”

“You won't be,” Geralt stops him right there and then, framing his husband's face with his hands. “I'll always be right here. And if you find yourself in the dark, I will be the shining light to guide you home, okay?”

Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes, but he nods. It is a gentle kiss they share, one that makes them both taste their tears, because even Geralt cannot keep the tears at bay. It is not easy, and running away, leaving Jaskier behind, never occurred to him. He loved Jaskier, and he will still love him when he is no longer alive.

“You know...” Jaskier says after a moment, reaching up to cup Geralt's face with his hand. “The more I forget, the more you'll have to tell me stories and sing me to sleep, and at the same time... I will get to meet you for the first time every single day.” Jaskier smiles at his Witcher, runs his thumb across the stubble on his cheek. “And fall in love with you over and over again.”

“You're an idiot.” Geralt leans into the touch, a smile on his face. It hurts to think about it, but the way Jaskier phrases it, is so poetic – as per usual – that he can only focus on how beautiful his words are.

“But I'm your idiot.”

Yes... yes he is.

Inspired by: Keywest - The Little Things and TAD - Marbles

#staffi writes #maybe this is a bit personal as well because it makes me think of my grandpa #and the way his face lit up when he saw me years ago at the hospital and called me by my nickname that he gave me #and he hadn't recognized my brother before #it wasn't only dementia but still... #and I miss that man so goddamn much #so this really hits home for me #sorry if I'm oversharing but I'm just a little emotional mess after writing this #geraskier #geraskier fic #old jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher drabble #geraskier drabble #everything hurts and I'm not okay #dementia #tw: illness

[korra-n-stuff]

My Geralt and Yennefer playlist is done I think! I took a few suggestions from people, and I’ve seen some other good playlists too which helped inform what kind of songs people associate with these two. I took a mix of acoustic and heavier stuff, as well as some more serious songs and some that are more fun. Some are pretty on the nose, and some just evoke their relationship to me.

Below the cut is my track-by-track for the entire playlist (book spoilers):

I imagine Willow is from Yen’s perspective. Geralt shows up and “cuts through like a knife” taking her by surprise and seeing further beneath her surface than anyone else.

You Get What You Give is from Geralt's perspective. I think it reflects Geralt’s attitude in life and the sudden change in him that occurs when he meets Yen and how he can climb out of the ditch he often finds himself in just for her. Yen is his light and in giving himself to her, he hopes she will do the same.

Giving Yourself Away makes me think of one specific point in their story; The Bounds of Reason. This one, like a few others, is a bit more fun, tongue-in-cheek, or exaggerated, but I think the sentiment is clear; despite how either of them act, or try and deny their feelings, they show how much they care about each other deep down.

That Unwanted Animal has a feverish, dangerous, erotic tone that I think encapsulates Geralt and Yen in way. I imagine it set to a night of sex with something dangerous trying to get into the room and rip them apart all the while they are ripping each other apart, so to speak.

Until Death Do Us Part is another song that specifically evokes a story for me; A Shard of Ice. The kind of sad catharsis that is expressed in the song is something I feel that fits (from the reader’s perspective) the sort of definitive break up they go through in the story. The rest of their journey, until they reunite, is about learning how they can fall in love again, and that death is the only thing that will part them (or so they think).

The Night We Met encapsulates a sort of double entendre for Geralt and Yen in my head--taking them back to when they met so as to relive that spark, but also to warn themselves of the hurdles and pain they might endure.

Aftermath is a song that exemplifies each of their flaws and hurt, and despite those, they love each other. No one else can love them like the other can, but as the last verse states, they’ve yet to give something real that means they will be together forever.

It Will Come Back is self explanatory; Geralt will always come back to Yen if she lets him. And they do come back to each other.

The Only Exception really I think exemplifies what Geralt and Yen find to be so great about each other, and no matter what they think about or do with anyone else, or what kind of objections they have to love or being loved, the other is the  one that defies it all.

You’re All that I Have is the start of a three song climax which I think exemplifies the golden hour of their relationship, from their reunion with Ciri’s help and their separation on Thanedd. They have their one last night and truly feel like a couple that everyone knows can’t be separated. This is destiny showing them that all they need is each other.

Still into You is Geralt and Yennefer saying I love you for the first time, acknowledging their difficulties but embracing all of that and realizing they can’t deny that they're perfect for each other.

True Love is another track like Giving Yourself Away which is is exaggerated but fits its particular ways like the line “There’s no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down, I know life would suck without you.” It’s a fun look at their tumultuous yet ever-devoted relationship in all its forms.

Every (Witcher) Needs A Lady is a sweet long song that also explores the turbulence of being scared in a relationship and finding solace only in your other half.

Nombreux is the highs and lows of the road, of their relationship, whether they are together or forced apart by circumstance. Despite anyone else that may distract them, they only think of each other.

“I only ever thought about you, Yen.”

“Now I believe you.”

Everlong (acoustic) is another simple one; Geralt and Yennefer enjoying the love they feel for each other. I imagine this during their bath together at the end of Lady of the Lake.

I Will Follow You Into The Dark is the penultimate step in their love story; they are destined to die some day, and they will follow each other even as far as beyond the veil itself.

Like Real People Do finishes the playlist as a sort of epilogue, either set against the backdrop of their final scene in Lady of the Lake, or else their retirement together at the end of The Witcher 3, which ever canon you want to follow (I personally like the latter). In the end, it matters not what happened or where they came from, or what challenges they faced, they’re together now, as close to being in love like “real people” as they can be.

#the witcher #playlist #geralt #yennefer #spotify

[rebrandedbard]

AND FINALLY I’m all caught up on my tag games! Once more, tagged by @flowercrown-bard for this one. So here they are in no particular order! I’ve decided to omit my more well-known works and focus on the little ones that make my heart glow.

Fic Author Self-Recommendations

When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love.

1. The Man Beneath the Myth (Jaskier & Ciri, 3372)

I really like this one for the song, and for the vulnerability I got to explore between Jaskier and Ciri. Jaskier has to step up and take care of the both of them, and he’s just about the only person who seems to understand that Ciri is still just a child caught up in this tragedy. I like to see him remind her of that.

Jaskier and Ciri are on the run from Nilfgaard, headed to Kaer Morhen. Ciri doesn't think much of Jaskier in the beginning, but he proves that there is more to him than meets the eye. He has become someone that she relies on, trusts, and that she might even call her friend if she were not so afraid to claim a bit of happiness and comfort in her fear. Jaskier understands nonetheless, and after watching him on their journey, she comes to understand him better as well.

2. A Good Man (Geralt & Valdo Marx, 1591)

I love a one-sided pining Valdo hopelessly in love with Jaskier. I love to make him hurt. And how fun to contrast him with Geralt. ANGST ANGST ANGST!

Geralt meets Valdo Marx while taking a contract on a ferry, protecting its passengers from an unknown threat on the water. Valdo himself is an unknown threat, until the two of them get to talking, and Geralt learns a quiet truth.

3.  The Music Box (Geraskier, 28k)

Okay I just love this one. It’s so fucking SOFT. And Geralt loves Jaskier very slowly and quietly in it. And he doesn’t pull away or deny it or hide.

A porcelain figure on a music box sits alone in an abandoned attic until one day he is granted the gift of life. He strikes out on a quest of self discovery, giving himself the name Jaskier, and learns about what it means to be living. As he goes about playing his music, he hopes one day to find the one who made him, and learn why destiny should give him a soul and wait so long after to grant him the blessing of life.

Alt - Jaskier used to be a figure on a music box before wishing to be real.

4. Jaques Jingle Jester (Geraskier, 3541)

I love a Geralt who gets a tease in. I love a clueless Jaskier. And I LOVE making up little towns and traditions. LORE BABY, LORE! Also the art that goes along with it was so much fun to make.

Jaskier and Geralt arrive in a new town in the midst of a festival. They are each given a flower and asked to attend the festivities, for all are blessed with luck this day. However, Jaskier runs into trouble first thing and finds himself being chased by a mob of townsfolk without a clue as to what he'd done this time. Will his luck finally run out, or will he find himself luckier than ever before?

5.  The Moving Castle (Geraskier implied, but mostly Jasker & Ciri, 471)

I just have so much love for this concept and this little snippet. Doing a multichapter fic for this is very high up on my wip list, and I’m very much looking forward to it! I especially love the opening of the story with Jaskier trailing down the town square after Geralt, trying to woo him with a song.

A short drabble set in the Howl's Moving Castle universe wherein Ciri and Jaskier have a chat about family.

#tag games #my fic

[patroclusdefencesquad]

brb writing an essay about how whoreson prison blues is about jaskier's unrequited love for geralt and him trying to get over it

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #about everything he put up with for his love for geralt #and how he's done doing that #'it's been a long time travelling on roads that lead to nowhere' #he's stuck by geralt's side out of hope that one day geralt will return his affections but it's all lead to nothing #'hopes and dreams that always rot' #again his hope that maybe! one day! but it never does ie. yen always appears again or smth happens #just when he thinks that maybe! #'if i had to do it over i'd do it all again' #despite the heartbreak and the misery he still wouldn't change anything it was all worth it just to be by geralt's side #'go fuck yourself you whoreson cos you're through fucking with me' #he might love geralt still but he's done letting that love come first he's no longer going to allow it to walk all over him #he doesn't need geralt any more and he knows it now #'don't settle for your lot' he's no longer settling just for simply being in geralt's presence he KNOWS he deserves more and better #'opinions are like arseholes which everybody's got' FUCK YOU GERALT OF RIVIA AND YOUR FUCKING FILLINGLESS PIE #oh wow i wrote the essay in the tags huh

[samstree]

Lessons and Learnings

For @witcher-bows-and-arrows. Feb 6: Court

In which Jaskier teaches Geralt the art of courting. It’s all about paying attention to details, really, except he may be missing a few details himself.

also on ao3

“What do you mean I’m wrong? Certainly she was interested,” Jaskier takes another bite of the lemon cake and speaks with his mouth full, “or why did she wink at me, hmm? Nobody winks if they are not falling in love, even just a little. When it comes to the matter of the heart, my friend, I should be the expert between us.”

The sun is climbing high, and their little picnic will need to end soon due to the midday heat, but Geralt still lazes on the large blanket set up by himself earlier. His head is pillowed on one arm, and the other has raised to his forehead to block the sunlight.

What Geralt also set up in the morning before asking Jaskier to join him on this meadow is a basket of assorted pastries and wine. It sits beside him, now only half full, and Jaskier sits on the other side cross-legged, munching on the food without a care in the world.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Geralt replies, eyes closed. “I’m merely pointing out a fact, Jaskier, that you may not understand the matter of the heart as well as you believe.”

“Wow.” Jaskier licks the honey off his thumb. “I won’t take offense because you’re you, but let it be noted that I always know. Always! If someone is pursuing me, it will be so obvious the words might as well be written across their forehead.”

“Is it though? I reckon someone could be doing it right in your face and you wouldn’t recognize it.”

“Ha! I doubt it. The perks of being a noble and a bard, I suppose. They teach you all there is to courting until nothing is a surprise anymore.” Jaskier sighs to the blue sky. “When you think about it, it’s a bit sad, really.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s eyes snap open, his gaze falling on Jaskier curiously. “And how would one go about courting, in your opinion?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up. The picnic has done such wonders for Geralt’s mood that he’s being talkative. Not to mention he came up with the very idea himself. A relaxing day out in a gorgeous meadow, right before the local summer festival. What a nice treat!

Finally, Geralt is learning the art of self-care. Jaskier should be so proud.

“Well, I will tell you,” Jaskier answers, grinning, “since you’re oh-so eager to learn, as rare as it happens. First lesson,” he starts, “good food.”

“Food?”

“Never overlook what a good meal can do to a person. For you, Geralt, if you ever decide to court someone—whoever the lucky sod may be—always start with filling their stomach. Remember, no one has the mood for romance while being their hungriest and crankiest self.”

“Oh,” Geralt says. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Take notes then!”

Jaskier preens while finishing the cake. Some crumbs have fallen onto Geralt’s tunic, so he picks it out with sticky fingers and sucks away the last of the frosting.

Geralt pauses, pursing his lips before speaking.

“How’s the cake, Jask?”

“Fantastic!” Jaskier answers, licking his lips and toying with the idea of eating another. He probably shouldn’t; he’s too full already. “Rude of me to not have thanked you. So thank you, Geralt! But where did you buy these? It tastes just like the store I tried a few years ago.”

“It’s the same one. You mentioned—”

“Anyway, don’t sidetrack me,” Jaskier continues excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “Secondly, plan a nice date.”

Geralt lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go on,” he then prompts.

Jaskier straightens his back in all seriousness. “It is customary to ensure that your beloved enjoys the courtship. Thus, you must pick the right activities. The first date is particularly important. You want to do something that allows you two to get to know each other, so it can’t be too strenuous. Horse-riding would be a no-go. You can barely hear each other and it ruins both of your hair.”

“Hmm,” Geralt muses. “So something quiet? An outdoor activity that also provides some privacy.”

“Indeed! And location matters too.”

“Like a place with a beautiful view. Good weather, lots of greenery and sunshine,” Geralt adds.

He’s looking directly into Jaskier’s eyes, unblinking.

Jaskier hums, impressed.

“Now you’re getting it! Better with somewhere to sit too, in case you get tired but don’t want to leave yet. You know, when there is a connection, all the time in the world isn’t enough.”

“Two decades could be too short.”

“Exactly!”

Jaskier pats Geralt on the chest, surprised that his witcher is learning so fast. Oh, he can make a romantic out of him yet.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt clears his throat, opens his mouth and closes it a few times. He seems to struggle to say something, but it could just be Geralt’s usual broody self acting up with all this talk about love and feelings.

“Never mind,” he simply says in the end. “Is there a third point to this whole…courting lesson?”

“The third one,” Jaskier says softly, “is the most important of them all.”

At that, Geralt sits on the blanket so he’s at eye level with Jaskier. He’s listening so carefully it’s unlike him. Jaskier would tease but something about the way Geralt carries himself tells him that he should speak carefully too.

“The third and last lesson in the art of courting.” Jaskier picks his words carefully. “Just…show that you care.”

Geralt blinks.

“That easy?”

Jaskier nods. “It’s that easy. Listen to them, pay attention, and remember the details. You deny it but there’s planty of caring in you, Geralt. It’s the showing that could give you trouble. The smallest things make a difference, but they are the biggest ones too. Showing your heart is what matters at the end of the day, when it’s in the right place. And I know yours often is—well, underneath all the grumbles and frowns.”

Geralt snorts. “As you so often point out.”

Except Geralt is neither grumbling nor frowning. He’s giving Jaskier that look again.

“You are giving me that look again.”

“What look?” Geralt asks gently.

Jaskier ducks his head, looking away from how ridiculously sweet this man can be. “Like you are smiling but you don’t want to, so you end up only smiling with your eyes.”

He wonders if Geralt will look at his beloved like this when he courts them. The idea makes Jaskier a bit disappointed, somehow, and he realizes that no matter how eager he was to teach Geralt all these tricks, he may not necessarily want to see them put into use.

The day is truly too hot. He’s not thinking straight anymore.

“Come on,” Geralt says suddenly, after a moment of silence. “We should go to the town hall. The celebration is starting.”

He stands from the ground and pulls Jaskier with him. The air will soon be scorching and the bright sun makes Jaskier squint, but the smile on Geralt’s face is blooming into a real one gradually.

“Yes,” Jaskier says, shaking off those stray thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to see this one for ages.”

“You said.”

“Well, then. Chop chop. Let’s not miss the beginning. Did you know the local children will sing an ode to summer? They’d rehearse a cute little dance too. Even without seeing it, I’m sure it’ll become my favorite thing in the world by the end of the day!”

“I know. It’s why we’re here, Jaskier.”

Geralt looks all but fond when he begins wrapping the picnic blanket and putting away the left-over pastries, and he cocks his head when Jaskier jumps on his tiptoes impatiently.

“Go on, then,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Jaskier squeezes Geralt on the arm in thanks. There’s a wildflower lodged in his clothes but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t forget the lessons.” Jaskier winks. “You could use it one day.”

The golden sun surrounds Geralt, making it hard to discern his expression, but the smile lingers in his eyes.

“You know what, Jaskier. I just might.”

#witcher bows and arrows #witcher valentines #geraskier #geraskier fic #courting #geralt x jaskier #oblivious jaskier #soft geralt #mutual pining #fluff

[kueble]

Covered in My Marks

Written as part of the Witcher Writers Unite for Ukraine fundraiser.

Explicit. Warnings: biting (mild blood mention). 2,300 words.

Geraskier

---

The tavern isn't overly crowded, but there are enough people paying attention to him that Jaskier puts on a brilliant show. He steers clear of newer songs and sticks with the classics and a few well-known dirty ones. It's only been a month or so since this - whatever this crazy thing might be - with Geralt started, and he doesn't want to ruin it before it starts. They're alone for the first time since leaving Kaer Morhen, having dropped Yennefer and Ciri with Triss. It feels like coming home, just the two of them and Roach (though a slightly different version) on the road again. As Jaskier wraps up his set, he catches Geralt's eyes from the table in the back and sends him a wink before saying his goodbyes to the crowd.

And this, this is completely different. He's still not used to Geralt smiling back when he grins from across the room, even going so far as to tip his mug in salutation. He can feel his cheeks heating up, and suddenly it's like he's a young lad back at Oxenfurt, tripping over himself while he flirts with his fellow students. There's something about getting everything he's ever wanted that keeps him on his toes, always waiting for Geralt to change his mind. Maybe someday he'll believe the soft words shared between the sheets, but he's not letting his guard down yet. No, Geralt has hurt him plenty already, and he's doing his best to stay practical with this. Jaskier knows he's a fantastic lover, can play his partner's desire as easily as a lute, but he's not used to being kept around. He can't get his hopes up just to have his whole world come crashing down again.

So he doesn't do what past Jaskier would have done - rush right over to his witcher - but makes sure to stop by the bar and talk to the villagers. He's becoming more of a known entity, and he loves meeting people who have heard his songs before. He slings his lute case over his shoulder and sidles up at the bar, right next to a man who immediately shoves a mug of ale into his hands.

"An absolute pleasure! Such a rare thing to see a seasoned bard out this far. Thank you for such a lovely night!" the man says, clapping a hand on Jaskier's shoulder and squeezing it tightly. He's perhaps a bit too close, but sometimes fans get excited. Jaskier nods in thanks and takes a long pull of his drink, letting the hoppy ale soothe his tired throat.

"Always love to hear from a fan," Jaskier beams at him, and the man looks flustered. He starts chattering about Jaskier's history, and it's quite clear he knows a lot about him. It's a sign of how far he's come in the world, how well his hard work and talent has served him, and Jaskier grins widely at the man. He's still getting used to being recognized like this, and it turns out the man owns a book of his poetry. Jaskier can feel himself flushing at the title, one of his filthier anthologies, and suddenly he realizes just how close the stranger is to him.

"I'd be open to a private reading, if you know what I mean," he says with a leer, and Jaskier feels the ale rising up in the back of his throat. He hides his grimace behind the mug and takes a slight step backwards.

"Perhaps the next time we come through, but I'm afraid I've got to return to my companion lest he think I've wandered off again," Jaskier tells him, laughing nervously as the man steps even closer to him, refusing to let him slide away. The room is suddenly hot, and sweat starts beading at the back of his neck. He sucks in a deep breath, and the man seems to mistake it for interest, leaning closer with a smirk.

"I've heard tales of more than just your music," he says gruffly, winking as he reaches out and wraps a heavy hand around Jaskier's upper arm. He flinches, but the man holds him tightly, fingers squeezing even as he tries to pull back. "Why don't we head upstairs and you can show me just how talented that mouth is."

"Terribly sorry, but you've heard wrong," Jaskier manages to grunt out. He's not a weak man, but this stranger is as strong as a witcher, and he is just not letting go. Jaskier tugs at his arm, spilling beer onto the floor, and still goes nowhere. A chill of fear runs down his spine, and he turns to look for Geralt, hoping he's noticed the altercation.

Thankfully, Geralt is already on his way over, his boots thumping as he stomps towards them. He spreads out, like a bird opening its wings, and uses his full size to overshadow the man. He doesn't bother talking first, just shoves at the center of the man's chest, slamming him against the bar and breaking his hold on Jaskier's arm. "He said no," Geralt growls, and the man starts nodding, holding out his hands in defense. As much as Jaskier would love to see Geralt give the man the beating he so rightfully deserves, he deserves a bed tonight, and they can't get kicked out now.

"It's fine," Jaskier says, tugging Geralt's elbow to get his attention. "No need to cause a scene. Let's just head up to the room."

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry! Won't happen again!" the man rushes out, and Jaskier nods sharply.

"See that it doesn't," Geralt says, his voice deep enough that Jaskier can feel it in his gut. He's even more eager to get back to their room now and practically drags Geralt away by the collar. He can feel the tension coming off Geralt in waves, and hopes there's a way to focus all that energy into something a bit more fun. By the time they slam the door behind them, he's buzzing with excitement himself.

"Well that was certainly something, wasn't it?" he asks before peeling out of his doublet. He's about to take his chemise off when Geralt crowds him up against the table, tilting his head as he looks down at his arm.

"He hurt you," Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier can feel the anger in his voice.

"Yes, I fear it will bruise, but I've had worse," he tries to shrug it off, but Geralt won't let him.

"Let me see," he orders, and Jaskier tugs his chemise over his head, wincing when Geralt takes hold of him and inspects his bicep. He looks down and can already see a bruise forming. Several, actually, in the shape of fingers around his arm. He swallows thickly, looking away before his arm starts to sting more than it already does.

"I'm going back down there," Geralt grumbles, but Jaskier reaches out and pulls him close, stopping him from moving.

"Darling, stop. I promise you that it's not worth it," he says gently.

"He hurt you," Geralt says again, his voice cracking as he slumps against Jaskier's chest. He presses his face against Jaskier's throat, breathing deeply while Jaskier holds him. "I don't like seeing you marked up like this. Not from someone like that."

"Well, maybe you should cover them with your marks, then," Jaskier challenges, and Geralt hides a gasp against his skin. Jaskier smirks, knowing he finally found the way to turn the tide, and Geralt takes a shaky breath before pulling back to look at him.

"Do you want that? To be covered in my marks?" he asks slowly, and Jaskier shivers under the intensity of his gaze.

"More than anything," he whispers. "Claim me, Geralt. I'm yours for the taking."

"Mine," Geralt grunts before surging forward and crushing their mouths together.

At first it's too rough, too unaligned, and Jaskier can feel just how desperate Geralt is even though they haven't started yet. He cups Geralt's face, nipping at his lower lip before kissing him again. This time they fit together like a lock and key, mouths sliding against each other as Geralt licks the seam of Jaskier's lips. He opens for him, moaning as Geralt deepens the kiss and starts pushing him towards the bed. By the time they reach it, his laces are halfway undone and Geralt is rutting against his thigh, whining deep in his chest. Jaskier cries out as he's tossed on the bed, giggling as he tries to shove his trousers off and they get caught on his boots.

"You're a mess," Geralt chuckles, before dropping to his knees and tugging at Jaskier's boots. He's about to defend his honor, but then Geralt turns and nips at his inner thigh, and Jaskier loses the ability to form words. He slams back against the bed, hips bucking as Geralt sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. He hardly registers his boots coming off, but suddenly he's fully naked and Geralt is standing up and grinning smugly down at him.

He doesn't even bother getting undressed, just climbs onto the bed and picks up Jaskier, manhandling him up to the head of it. A surge of heat rushes through him, and he feels almost small as Geralt moves him exactly where he wants him. He straddles Jaskier, grinding down against his leaking cock, his leather armor streaked and wet by the time he sits back on his heels. Jaskier reaches for him, but Geralt shakes his head and brings his hands up above his head before grunting out a rough, "Keep them here."

"Yeah, yes...anything," Jaskier mumbles, head going fuzzy as Geralt takes control. This isn't what he'd imagined would happen after the altercation downstairs, but he's definitely on board. He tries to buck his hips, but Geralt just growls, stopping him mid movement. "Got it, I can play nice," he drawls out, and Geralt just leers down at him. He can feel his gaze down to his bones, and his prick twitches against his thigh.

"Mine," Geralt repeats, and Jaskier nods frantically, hoping he might finally get Geralt's hands on him. He's only slightly disappointed when instead Geralt leans down and mouths at the bruises forming around his bicep. "Only mine," he adds before raking his teeth over the marks.

Jaskier shivers in anticipation, already trembling though he's barely been touched. Fuck, he wished Geralt owned him, only wanted him. Maybe he's not lying? Maybe this is all more real than Jaskier ever thought it would be? Those thoughts are shoved out of his head the second Geralt bites him, his fangs almost breaking skin. He keens, leaning into the touch but somehow managing to keep his hands above his head. Geralt reaches out and palms his cheek, petting him as he moves from one bruise to the next, covering the stranger's marks with his own.

His cock is so hard it's throbbing, leaking steadily and making a mess of him. Jaskier whines, clasping his hands together to keep from reaching out and touching Geralt. His bicep is on fire, the heady mix of pleasure and pain burning in just the right way. Geralt shifts, straddling one thigh, and starts rocking gently against him. He can feel the hard press of his prick through the leather, and Jaskier knows they're both close.

"Geralt, please...fuck," Jaskier manages to choke out, his words failing as his body buzzes. "Need, please. Fuck, let me come."

Geralt is merciful, reaching down to wrap his calloused fingers around Jaskier's cock. He pumps him slowly, mouthing at the fresh bite marks on his arm while he does. Jaskier is close - so fucking close - and Geralt works him just how he likes it. He falls apart when Geralt kisses the deepest bite and thumbs the wet head of his cock. Body arching, he shouts Geralt's name as he spills over his hand. Geralt works him through it, murmuring praise against his skin while he jerks him roughly, perfectly.

By the time he can think again, Geralt is already standing up to find a rag to wipe him down with. He sits up and tilts his head at him before asking, "What about you?"

"Not necessary," Geralt mumbles, cheeks reddening as he sends Jaskier a sheepish look. And fuck if that isn't just the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. Geralt came in his trousers like a young lad just from jerking him off. Melitele's tits, he's in love.

"Grab the slick on your way back to bed," Jaskier tells him, and Geralt looks confused, but he rifles through his bag to find it. He's probably thrown because, yeah, they've gotten off a lot, but never twice in one night. It's been hard finding time while traveling with others, and sneaking away for blowjobs by the riverbank doesn't lend itself to more than one round. Geralt slides into bed, and looks like he's about to speak, so Jaskier cuts him off. "I just figured it might be a good time to admit that I'm madly in love with you," he whispers, heart hammering in his chest.

"Me too," Geralt says quickly, and then they're kissing again. It's softer this time, for all that Jaskier is still covered in his own spend. He takes his time, laying back and dragging Geralt down on top of him. They spend ages trading lazy kisses, hands trailing over sweat-slicked skin. Soon he'll beg Geralt to open him up and fuck him, braced against the headboard while Geralt claims him yet again. After all, he has a lot of blank canvas that needs to be marked up.

---

NSFW tags: @tothedesert @mayastormborn @feraljaskier @allinthebones @selectivegeekwithstandards @trickstermoose67 @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @honeysuckletook @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @larawrmonster @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @gryffinqueen-blog @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @lokibus @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @hayleynzlive @answrs @jaskierswolf @holymotherwolf @thisislisa

If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know.  Thank you!

#my fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #hurt/comfort #bard whump

[thearvariblues]

The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality

Word count: 3601

*

“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.

“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”

“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”

“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.

To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.

If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.

“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”

“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”

“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.

“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.

“As if,” Geralt grunts.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.

“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”

“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.

“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”

“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”

“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”

“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”

“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”

*

“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.

“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”

“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”

“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”

“Can you prove that I’m not?”

“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”

“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”

“What proof?”

“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”

“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”

“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”

“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”

“Try me.”

*

“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”

“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”

“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”

“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”

“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.

*

“I got myself cursed.”

Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.

“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.

“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.

“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.

“Hm,” he says instead.

“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.

“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”

“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.

“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”

*

“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.

“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.

“Excuse me, and how would you know?”

“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”

“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”

“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”

“Maybe I do that on purpose!”

“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”

“Mostly being the important word here.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”

“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”

“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”

“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”

“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.

Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.

“Thank fuck.”

*

“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.

Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.

“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”

“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”

“Forty-seven, why?”

Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.

“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”

When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.

So, a potion…

*

“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.

“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”

“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”

“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”

Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.

“Oh, Geralt. Really?”

“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.

“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Really what, Yen?”

“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”

“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”

*

“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.

“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all–”

“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”

“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”

“What was your third wish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”

“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”

“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.

“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”

*

“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.

“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”

*

“You see, there was this artifact–”

Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.

“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”

“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”

*

“You’re not a succubus.”

“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”

“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”

“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”

“All right… Explain, please?”

Geralt grunts.

“I’d really rather not.”

*

“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.

“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.

“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.

“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”

“Hm… No.”

*

“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”

“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”

“A hundred and four.”

“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”

“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”

“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”

He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…

“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”

“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.

“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”

“You…” Geralt mutters.

“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”

“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”

“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”

The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.

And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.

*

“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.

It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”

“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”

“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”

“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.

“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”

“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”

“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

*

The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.

Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”

“Julian!”

A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.

“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.

The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.

“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”

“You’re…” Geralt blinks.

“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”

“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”

“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.

“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”

“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”

“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”

“But you don’t age!”

“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”

“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.

“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”

“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”

“Oh, so we have spies now?”

“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”

Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.

“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”

“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”

“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.

“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”

“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”

“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.

“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”

“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”

“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”

Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.

“Another thousand years, I’d say.”

*

“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…

The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.

“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”

“No shit.”

“I think I might be… Uhm…”

“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.

“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”

“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”

“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”

“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”

“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”

“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”

“Explains a lot, though.”

“Does it now?”

“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”

“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.

“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”

“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”

***

Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #my fics #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #idiots in love #immortal jaskier #non-human jaskier #they're stupid your honor #they share a single braincell #and yennefer has the custody of it #also madeleine hyland is jaskier's sister in this

[angelltheninth]

Geralt fucks a bard at a tabern but then discovers that she's the princess of a mission he accepted, (the princess have the habit to sneak around and that's why the confusion) and now he have to travel with her (for the mission) and she wants to repeat that night

Oh this is a really cool idea Anon!

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Tags: one night stands, suggestive themes, missions, secret identity, developing feelings, conflicted Geralt

A/N: This is a very interesting idea, might be cool to make it into a fic someday, but for now I'm giving you some headcanons. If anyone actually writes this fic before me, please tag me.

Geralt isn't very picky when it comes to women he takes to bed when he knows he can have fun with them

You already caught his eye, not really trying to keep yourself in the shadows, enjoying the attention of the people in the tavern, listening to your songs and stories

Geralt caught your eye also, you've heard many stories of the White Wolf

You focus more of your attention of him, which makes him buy you any drink you want as you sit into his lap to whisper more stories into his ear

Geralt chuckles and corrects you when ever you say something that he knows is made up

Before you know it the two of you are making out as Geralt picks you up and carries to the room he's rented for the night

He's surprisingly gentle at first before you give him the indication that you're not made of glass and that he can be as rough as he wants to be

He's incredible in bed and as much you would love to stay and cuddle you have things to do, places to be

Geralt understands of course, he's no stranger to leaving when the deed is done

The next morning Geralt gets a mission of escorting a princess trough a dangerous forest

He accepts of course, he's spent quite a bit of coin in the past few days

The last thing he expected was to see you on the mission, not as a bard but as the princess he needs to protect

He is hesitant of accepting the mission at first, but he agrees when he gets offered double the coin, although he doesn't hide his confusion at the fact that you lied to him

He wouldn't care if you just wanted a one night stand, he has those all the time, but at least he wants you to be honest with him

You explain to him that you like to sneak around because as the princess you don't get much freedom, but as a bard you can be the real you, the free you

You also tell him that you had a lot of fun with him, and you wouldn't mind a repeat of that night

Geralt is a little conflicted, on the one hand, he had fun with you too, but then again how can he be sure that you're not trying to use him

Of course he's free to deny if he wants, you're just letting him know how you feel, if he wants to keep your relationship strictly as you being his employer and him being your guard than that's completely fine with you, you're just voicing your desires to him nothing more

He can't deny that there is a certain rush that comes with the knowledge that sleeping with you, during a mission no less

However he doesn't do it

Keeping you safe is his priority, however that doesn't mean that he can't tease you relentlessly, or pull you aside for a quick make out session, leaving you breathless and wanting

Consider it his form of payback

When the mission is over, if you still want him, and as long as you're honest about it, he wouldn't complain repeating your night together

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt headcanons #geralt imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

[yenn-atreides]

Witcher

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x hurt! F reader

Warnings: description of a minor injury, mention of blood

Fluff and a little hurt/comfort

This is my first Witcher ff, hope you enjoy it!

Geralt, I’m fine!’

‘No, you’re bleeding.’

His golden eyes are fixed on my arm but I can sense his guilt and inner rage.

‘This is not your fault.’

‘And yet it is.’ he mumbles while examining to cut on my upper arm. ‘I let you come, the Wyvern cut you.’

‘Geralt!’

He looks at me with a bewildered expression, his brows furrowed together.

‘Hmmm?’

‘It’s just a small cut! Stop worrying!’

‘Let me.’ he says, his voice low yet sweet.

He never was one to show his emotions, but I knew him well enough to read the signs, however subtle.

I sigh and give in: ‘Do I have a choice?’.

‘No.’ He says, but with a slight grin playing on his lips.

He wipes the edges of my wound with a cloth. I’m still astonished at how his big and strong hands can be so gentle. It stings and I fidget a little.

‘I know it hurts, but you have to keep still. Can you do that for me?’, he says softly. I nod.

I can’t help but yelp when he cleans the inside of the laceration, I tried to hide my pain, I know how bad he feels when he sees me suffering.

‘I’m almost done, love.’ He takes my hand and lays it on the cloth that covers my arm. ‘Gentle but firm.’ he tells me, I chuckle at that. That’s what I’ve told him so many times whilst patching him up. I keep pressure as he searches for something in his saddle bag.

He pets Roach’s mane and comes back with a small vial filled with dark green liquid. His gaze meets mine and I feel my heartbeat fasten. They always say Witchers don’t feel, but Geralt is different. He cares and loves deeply.

‘This can sting a little, but it will help.’ he states and carefully uncovers my arm. He then delicately applies a few drops of potion. I hiss and clench my teeth, but the pain dies down almost immediately.

After wrapping my cut he sits down next to me and folds his muscular arms around my body. He rests his forehead against mine and presses a tender kiss on my cheek.

‘I love you’ he whispers in my ear, the feeling of his breath on my skin gives me goosebumps.

‘And I love you’ I smile, and kiss him.

I hear Jaskier signing in the distance, the bard had ran off at the sight of blood - of course he did. ‘Fuck…’ Geralt groans, he had hoped to enjoy this moment in peace.

‘ But the story is this

She'll destroy with her sweet kiss

Her sweet kiss

The story is this

She'll destroy with her sweet kiss’

‘Is that song about me, Jaskier?’ I shout whilst grinning.

‘It might be!’ he comes peeping from behind a tree and once he sees that I’m taken care of he joins us by the fire.

He sees Geralt’s broody face and says: ‘Aaah yes, I see. Clearly interrupting something here.’ cheekily before getting to his feet.

‘You don’t have to go!’ I yell after him. Geralt just grunts approvingly at the sight of the bard leaving. I punch his arm, which I regret because it’s the hurt one. Geralt pulls me closer until I’m sitting on his lap where he presses kisses all over me.

#witcher netflix #witcher geralt #witcher fanfiction #witcher x reader #geralt x reader #witcher imagine #toss a coin to your witcher #jaskier #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia

[crushcandles]

I'd love to see your take on some hurt/comfort for Jaskier re: his burnt hands. I don't mind who does the comforting!! I'm imagining him being more burnt than in canon & somewhat incapacitated- but still with that Jaskier attitude. Really anything you'd like to do I'd like to read!! Love your stuff crush :)

[lightly Geralt/Jaskier, TWN, ~970, non-explicit]

The poultice is so greasy on Jaskier's palms. It feels like it's dripping off them, even though it's not. Can't. Yennefer bandaged his hands too well. It's just his mind playing tricks on him, the backs of his hands crawling with the sensation the palms can't feel.

He lifts his hands to check. First, the backs. The weave on the bandaging is tight and clean, criss-crossing in quite a pleasing way, if Jaskier could find such a thing pleasing now. Yennefer even took care to bandage all his fingers individually, leaving a little space around his knuckles so he can bend them. So he wouldn't pick everything apart, she said. It's probably for the best that the red slivers of his knuckles are the only skin he can see on his hands. Being morose over the sight of his hands won't help him heal.

There's nothing to see, but he's slow to turn his hands over, expecting the worst. The blisters, the red, raw skin, the searing. There's none of that now, just more of Yennefer's fine bandage work. Not a drop of liquid from the poultice has oozed out. Everything's fine.

His hands don't even feel hot anymore.

He puts them back by his sides and yawns up at the ceiling. It's not that late, but there's no window in his room in Kaer Morhen. Good for keeping the cold out, bad for knowing the time of day. During normal times he might go to work keeping spirits up, playing for the witchers, singing his songs about Geralt to rile up their jealousy, their brotherly mockery. But his work now is just to wait, so he will.

He's half asleep, still in his clothes and his boots in bed, when someone knocks at his door once and lets themselves in. It's Geralt, squinting at him over the candle he has in hand.

"Are you sleeping?" he asks.

"No," Jaskier says. "I'm practicing holding my hands still so I can carry the most delicate of vases." He lifts one palm, holds it flat for Geralt to see. "Do we have any vases around? The more breakable, the better. Preferably something lightweight. Your witch friend says I shouldn't put too much pressure on them."

Geralt sets the candle on the wardrobe. The wardrobe is wobbly, one of the feet mouse-bitten, but it's on the other side of the room. If the candle tips off, it'll just land on the stones and put itself out, no harm done.

Geralt looks at Jaskier's face, then takes a second look at the candle. He pushes it further into the wardrobe with one finger.

"I think," he murmurs, "at this point, she's more your witch friend than mine."

Jaskier puts his hand back down by his side, where he won't use it to talk. "While I concede I have more than enough charm to get into the esteem of the good witch of Vengerberg, ours is a relationship more pleasurably defined in shades of grey and nuance than the word friend offers."

"Mmhmm," Geralt says mildly.

"Why?" Jaskier asks. "Did she say we were friends?"

"Not as much, no."

Jaskier can't help himself; he mimes wiping off his brow. "Glad to hear it. I can't have her cheapening this many years of competent verbal jousting with something as simple as friendship."

Geralt is almost smiling. Jaskier can see it in the flickering candlelight. The smile fades when he focuses on Jaskier's bandaged hand, hanging in the air above his face uselessly.

"How are your hands?"

"Oh, these?" Jaskier holds both hands aloft, flipping them around as if they're new to him. It's much easier with an audience. "Fine, fine. Hardly burned at all by a madman."

"Jaskier." Geralt comes to Jaskier's bedside, sits down carefully. "You can tell me the truth."

"It's –" Jaskier says, and then stops. He puts his hands down at his sides, palms to the ceiling, so he won't grab fistfuls of the bedding.

"Fine," he mutters, chest thick. "Everyone says it'll be fine. It'll just take time."

Geralt sighs. Jaskier sees him in profile. The candle is far away, and there are more shadows than light on Geralt's face, but Jaskier can still see his frown.

"I'm sorry," he says, the only thing there is to say.

"It's fine," Jaskier replies, the thing he keeps saying. Feels stuck saying. On the ceiling, orange light licks at the stone, trying to get to the bed to loom over Jaskier.

He expects Geralt to go, find a warm hearth or a warm bed, if Yennefer will have him again so soon. If these were Geralt's hands, he'd be healed by now, holding a sword or anything else he wanted. Not stuck waiting empty-handed for a future that may not come.

There's a long silence, broken only by the hissing of the candle. Jaskier will have to ask Geralt to take it with him when he goes. He has no business he needs a candle for tonight, no writing, no playing.

Jaskier closes his eyes. Perhaps he can also get Geralt to help him with his boots. It can be a pain to get a grip on them to take them off. Geralt's done it before, when Jaskier was too drunk to manage. Jaskier remembers his hand on Geralt's shoulder for balance, in his hair. The feeling of hair between his fingers, slippery and cool.

It's an old bed, and it creaks terribly anytime anyone moves on it, so it whines in protest when Geralt swings his legs onto it, lying on his back beside Jaskier. He doesn't say anything, having already said I'm sorry, just settles with his shoulder against Jaskier's, his elbow on Jaskier's, the side of his hand brushing the side of Jaskier's, just enough warm pressure that Jaskier knows he's there.

#geralt/jaskier #geraskier #crushcandles brand hurt/comfort #more hurt than comfort #everyone on their short emotional leashes #but in their feelings #the witcher #my fic #crushcandles answers YOUR asks #i have the best anons #hopefully you like this!

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Winter Prompts Day 10: A New Tradition 🌲

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Warning(s): none

Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier tries to think up a way to become more involved in the Witchers’ traditions, Geralt beats him to it.

EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot this, but!! The idea of a storytelling competition comes from @itsrapsodia ❤ (thank you for letting me borrow the idea!!)

🌲 Doing this thing  🌲

The Witchers have many traditions over the long winters at Kaer Morhen, but Jaskier has never really felt like he's a part of them. He's good at baking and poetry and, much to Geralt's surprise, carrying piles of books through an obstacle course, but everything still feels very Witcher-y, even after Jaskier has been joining them for years. It's not that Jaskier minds, really, there are five of them and one of him and they have been doing this a long time, but he can't help but feel a little… left out sometimes. This year will be the sixth he's spent at Kaer Morhen and in all that time the Witchers have never done anything to make him feel unwanted or unwelcome, but he's hoping to maybe be a little more involved this year if they'll allow it. 

He starts early, thinking up plans from the moment the first leaf falls from the tree in autumn, but even by the time they hit Kaedwen, he hasn't come up with anything good. He considers asking Geralt, but Jaskier doesn't want him thinking he's unhappy or petty or anything, and he doesn't want to affect Geralt's time with his brothers at all. So he keeps quiet and thinks to himself. 

But coming up with traditions for a group of bards and poets - as he used to back in Oxenfurt - is very different than coming up with a tradition for Witchers. Jaskier is determined, but his mind is just… blank. Everything he can think of is good for either Witchers or bards, but not for both to do together. So when Geralt pulls him aside their first week in the keep, Jaskier is surprised to find he has an idea. 

"I know you've been coming here a long time now," Geralt says. 

Geralt's putting away washing from the morning, folding his shirts and avoiding looking in Jaskier's direction. It's something he does, Jaskier has noticed, when having important emotional conversations and Jaskier's heart beats a little quicker, uncertain of what Geralt is going to say.

"I was thinking, we have a lot of things that we do - the poetry contest and Lambert's fishing challenge - but there's nothing… nothing for you."

"Oh."

"I had a thought," Geralt adds, "considering you're basically family-" Geralt's cheeks darken, a pretty rose pink and Jaskier finds he can't look away, even missing the end of Geralt's sentence. 

"Sorry," he says quietly, "what?"

"A ballad contest?" Geralt repeats. "Each of us tells the story of our more interesting contract and see which one inspires a ballad first. Or a poem."

"And whoever is the most inspiring gets to have a song written by me?" Jaskier asks. Geralt nods. "Geralt, I love that, but do you think the others will go for it?"

"I, uh," Geralt mumbles, the flush creeping from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears, "I've already asked them. Lambert especially was pretty excited about it."

"Oh, my darling, I could kiss you." Jaskier surges forward, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck, surprised when Geralt pulls him closer. Jaskier leans back, smiling up at him and when he catches Geralt's eyes he freezes. 

"You could," Geralt whispers, "if you like."

"Sure Lambert won't think you're bribing the judge?" Jaskier teases, pushing his fingers into Geralt's hair. Geralt tips forward, bumping their noses together. 

"He'll think I am either way, might as well make the best of it."

Geralt dips down, pressing his lips to Jaskier's and Jaskier can't help the little surprised gasp it pulls from him. But when Geralt hums against him and presses more firmly, Jaskier can't help but deepen the kiss. And when Geralt's hands settle on his hips, tugging him closer still, Jaskier can't help but think he wouldn't mind being bribed on a regular basis. 

#winterprompts2k21 #the witcher #rex writes #geraskier

[weaknwanting]

you’re not mine anymore (but i’m still a little bit yours)

read on ao3 here

T, geraskier, 1.8k, getting together, geralt is a simp & jaskier is an idiot

part 3 of my geraskier x music series! see if you can guess the song!

Geralt wakes up slowly, the sun warming his face from where it peeks in through the open window. His body feels soft and light, as if he might float away into the sky or sink through the mattress to the floor, either one. His mind is blissfully empty, devoid of the worries or anger and sadness that so often fill it.

For a few moments, there is nothing wrong in all the world, and Geralt was drifting into sleep again when he hears a loud crash from across the room. He startles and shoots up, the blankets pooling around his bare waist and the mattress letting out a squeak of protest.

Jaskier looks at him sheepishly, bent down to pick up the bowl that he had dropped on the ground, thankfully empty. He grimaces at Geralt, his face red and his trousers shifting at he stands, his chest and feet bare. His hands fidget after they put the bowl back on the table by the edge of the room, and he turns away from Geralt without saying a word.

Ahhh, Geralt thinks. He remembers what happened last night now, and he smiles at Jaskier’s back, deliriously happy at the memories.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, stretching and pulling the blankets over and around his legs. It is particularly drafty in this room, as they had been low on coin for weeks and had spent the least amount of money they could in order to get a nicer bed than the forest floor would provide.

They had both been rather tipsy the night before, and once he had gotten up the courage to reach across their booth and kiss Jaskier senseless, he hadn’t been in the mood to wait, or try and find a cheaper inn or a secluded spot along the pathway to Beauclair. Those wouldn’t have done for what Geralt had had in mind, anyways.

Even though he intended on doing this a million more times over the course of their lives, Geralt had wanted the first time to be special, for him and Jaskier. And it definitely had been…he had thought, anyway, until Jaskier continues to ignore him, shuffling around and seemingly packing his few things into bags.

Geralt frowns, quickly getting himself off the bed, struggling to untangle from the sheets. He almost falls over the edge, but he finds his shirt from on the ground and pulls his over his head as he moves towards Jaskier.

“Jask?” He reaches out and gingerly touches Jaskier on the shoulder, jerking his hand back when Jaskier wheels on him, a wholly unexpected, anguished look on his face.

“Jaskier, what’s wrong?” Geralt asks, puzzled. It must show on his face, because Jaskier scoffs and moves away swiftly.

“What do you think is wrong? Can you not think of a single reason why I might be upset, or angry?” Jaskier voice is harsh but choked, as if he might burst into tears at any moment.

Geralt racks his brain. He was pretty sure it had been just as good for Jaskier as it was for him, judging by his reactions and the noises he had been making. They had both been desperate for it, grasping and writhing and clutching the other. But they were gentle, too. Jaskier had smiled against his skin, kissed every scar and bruise across Geralt’s body, soft and caring. Geralt had made sure that Jaskier was happy and secure, and he whispered to him throughout.

Gods, it had felt amazing to finally say everything he had been thinking for so long, not having to work to keep it in when he saw Jaskier moaning or throwing his head back. He had told him he was lovely and beautiful and that he loved him, and Jaskier had seemed to hold him tighter whenever he did.

So Geralt finally shakes his head, still baffled about why Jaskier was continuing to gather his last few items from the floor and under the bed. “No, I can’t. Can you tell me, please, so I can make it better? Was it something I did last night?” He puts a hand on Jaskier’s chest as he comes up from under the bed, stopping him in his path on the way to his bags.

Jaskier looks down at his hand and slaps it away. His tears have started leaking from the corner of his eye, and he rubs them away with a scowl.  

“It was everything you did last night, Geralt, are you thick? What, you think I wouldn’t be upset that you used me, because there was no one else around? I’m not stupid, I know you’ve been having a really stressful few months and you needed a way to…calm down, or feel better again, and that’s absolutely well and good. Gods know I’ve done it enough too.” Jaskier turns away and puts his things down on the table with a bang, angry now.

Geralt, however, is still just as confused. Used Jaskier? He loved him, did Jaskier not see?

Jaskier faces him, arms crossed over his chest, and he stands several feet away. The air between them feels cold and thick, like it has turned to a solid which Geralt would have to break through.

“But not with me, Geralt. You can’t do this to me. This time you’ve gone too far. I knew you liked to hurt me, for some reason. Or even if you didn’t like it, you certainly couldn’t stop doing it. But this time, you’ve crossed a line. Using my feelings for you for your own benefit? Knowing how broken it would make me? That is a new low.”

Geralt moves forward and tries to protest, but Jaskier doesn’t stop, speaking faster and higher, as if he has to get it all out or it will fade away inside him and he will never get to tell Geralt exactly how he is feeling in this moment.

“All I do is get over you, and I am still so bad at it. I’ve tried, so many times, and almost succeeded every once in a while. but I never managed it, not really. No matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen you, or how indifferently you’ve treated me, you show up and I’m yours again. I’m horrible at it, at letting you go. and I’m really good, at a lot of things! Truthfully, amazing. but not at that.”

He starts treading a little circle where he stands, wearing the floor down more than it already is. His hands are wringing each other out constantly, his eyes darting around the room, avoiding Geralt’s face as best he can.

“I let myself fall back into your eyes. They’re golden, and warm, and I want to live in them. I have, all these years. Wanted that. I let myself want you, I let myself hope that you might want me, that we might have…something. anything. I let myself feel things, things I know that you don't feel, for me anyway, even though I knew deep down it was an impossibility, a daydream and a wish upon a faraway star. And maybe you’re not mine anymore, if you ever were, even a little, even just as friends. You’re not mine. but I’m still a little bit yours, after all these years. I’m still a little bit yours, or more than a little, and-”

Geralt can’t stand it anymore, listening to Jaskier cry his way through his words, utterly oblivious to the way Geralt is looking at him, smiling with sadness and longing and a desire to kiss him quiet. He speaks, instead.

“And I am entirely yours.”

Jaskier’s head snaps up and he looks at Geralt, finally. His eyes are still wet, his face guarded. He looks at Geralt blankly, just blinking.

Geralt is smiling softly. “If you would listen to me, or look at me, Jaskier, you would know. I am yours. I have always been yours, wholly, entirely, and irrevocably. In my own heart, if not officially. There is nothing, nothing I would rather be. Please, let me be yours and you’ll be mine. Officially.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Uh huh, no. You’re joking. Or I’m dreaming. Or I’m dead. Ohhh,” he chuckles, “I’m dead! That’s what it is, obviously. Last night was waaay too surreal, too perfect. I’m definitely dead, or dying, and this is heaven.” He throws his hands in the air, his whole body reverberating with his laughter.

Geralt barks his own laugh in response and starts stepping forward, one foot slowly in front of the other. “As if I would ever let you die, Jask. No, you’re not dreaming, or dead. It’s me. It’s truly me.” He reaches Jaskier, his breath floating over his face, his eyes catching Jaskier’s. He gives him a sly smile and laughs lightly when Jaskier swallows.

Geralt whispers, deep in his throat, as he starts lowering his face the slightest amount to be closer to Jaskier’s. “What do I have to do to prove to you,” he says as his hand runs up Jaskier’s forearm, passing over his elbow and falling down again, “That it’s me, and I’m telling you the truth?”

Jaskier stands frozen for a minute, seemingly thinking it over with himself, what to do in response to Geralt's fingers on his hipbones and his words spilling sweetly out of his mouth. Finally, he smiles, his hands reaching up to link around Geralt’s neck. The tips of his fingers reach into the very ends of his hair, rubbing them between the fingertips.

“I think I can think of some way that you can prove it to me,” Jaskier whispers back, “But first, you have to promise me you aren’t lying. I know you aren't a liar, and I think I believe you. But I need to hear a promise. Because if you’re just doing this to play with me, or just get off with me every once in a while, I don’t think I can handle it, not when I’ve been in love with you since I was fucking eighteen years old, so —

Geralt decides he’s had enough and stops him with a kiss, deep and searching and loving and trying to push the truth straight into Jaskier’s heart: that he really loved him, belonged to him, in every way that he was capable. That Jaskier had been a constant, for so long, that he had ended up drawing him into himself, even though Jaskier never knew. That now he had him, willing to be his, he wasn’t letting him go. A promise in every way, just a silent one.

All of this, he pours into Jaskier through his hands, his lips, his smile against Jaskier’s teeth. Jaskier hears him, pushing back into Geralt’s chest, his hands, his tongue. He listens, and he hears him, and he is Geralt’s as much as Geralt is his. He knows that now, that it is the truth and not a dream or the last experiences of the dead or dying.

He thanks every lucky star that it is true, because he intends on kissing Geralt like this every day until he is truly dead. And only then, even then, will he find Geralt in his heaven and kiss him there too.

#okay i PROMISE that i'm really almost done writing getting together fics #i have one more already done but - i'm moving on to some established relationship ones LOL #and i wanna try some more angsty stufff......and i really really wanna write more ~poetically~ ya know #like wanderlust-t style #i'll get there at some point maybe #oh an the song is ‘a little bit yours’ by JP saxe! #geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #cami writes (me weird write me willing write me well)

[henrys-little-princess]

Hi poppet!! I love your stories so much, they brighten up my dash and my whole day. Could I perhaps request a Geralt x Male!reader story? Maybe either Geralt or the reader got a little hurt and the other is taking care of them?

sure darling! I've never written a male!reader before but ill give it a shot!! -xo poppet :)

injured!geralt x male!reader, rated t!

warnings: blood and wound care

tag list: @thereisa8ella @myloveforhenrycavill @lharrietg @little-brattyangel

Magic Kisses

You waited in the clearing, poking at the dying embers of the remains of your sad campfire while you waited for Geralt to return from his hunt. The sun had gone down hours ago and he should have been back by now. You pushed down the worry rising in your throat at the notion that something could have happened to him and you would have no idea. But Geralt had fought kikimora hundreds of times, what was one more?

After what felt like hours you finally head the sound heavy footsteps returning to the camp. You scotched behind a tree, just in case it was a monster or an intruder, Geralt didn't usually walk that heavily if he could help it, but then there was one of his trademark grunts and you sighed, coming out from behind the tree.

Immediately, you could tell something was wrong. He was barely putting weight on his left leg and he was clutching at his ribs. You thought that you could see blood on his armor, but in the low light it was impossible to tell if it belonged to him or the kikimora.

"Geralt," you called out softly, approaching him slowly. He might still be hopped up on potions and you didn't want to startle him.

He spared you a look, but it was enough for you to know that he was present. His eyes were still blackened, but the veins around them were fading. The potions would be expelled from his body soon.

"Do you want help?" You asked softly, walking towards him. To your surprise, he placed one of his gloved hands on your shoulder, leaning on you for support. You didn't think that he had ever done that before.

"Help me sit," he muttered and you took half of his weight by sliding yourself under his shoulder before guiding him over to one of the logs. Once he was seated you threw another log on the fire and stoked it to hopefully light the clearing a little better. The extra light revealed what the darkness had been hiding: slash marks all over the left thigh of his leather pants.

"Do you need help taking off your armor?" You asked, already reaching for the clasps.

Geralt nodded and you pulled off the armor as fast as your fumbling fingers would allow. "Keep pressure on your leg," You said. "I don't like how much it's bleeding."

Geralt grunted in response but did what you asked until you had finished taking off his armor and could look at it properly. You helped him out of his pants, leaving him in just his smalls and went to go grab your packs.

"Do you need a potion?" You asked as you came back with your packs.

Geralt shook his head. "Haven't cleared the other ones yet."

You nodded. He had to let the other potions run their course before taking another one to help heal. Which meant that you were going to have to stitch his wound the old fashioned way.

The wound on his thigh was nasty, still bleeding and deep. You poured water over it, wiping it away with a piece of cloth, but it just kept bleeding. You looked to Geralt, trying to ignore the way your heart jumped in your chest. "What do I do?"

"Make a tourniquet to stitch it," he muttered. "Clean it first. There's vodka. Poison got in it."

You stripped off your shirt before the words were even out of his mouth, tying it as tight as you dared around Geralt's upper thigh as you rifled around in your bag for the vodka. The night air was cool against your bare chest but you ignored it.

You found the vodka and doused Geralt's leg in it twice, trying your best to ignore the way that he hissed in pain. He was right though, the tourniquet had made the bleeding stop enough for you to stitch it properly and you went as quickly as possible, knowing full well that there would be serious repercussions if the tourniquet was on for too long.

Once you finished stitching up the wound you wrapped it in linen bandages and pressed a light kiss on top of them before untying your shirt. You heard Geralt scoff and you rolled your eyes. "I'm just doing my job as your boyfriend."

"Hmm," he said disapprovingly.

"Some have said my kisses have healing magic."

Gerald looked at you disbelievingly but didn't say anything else. While you had been working his eyes had lost their black and gone back to their usual yellow. You sighed in relief.

"Take off your shirt, I know your ribs are hurting you," you whispered.

Geralt pulled at his shirt for a minute before looking up at you with his big puppy dog eyes. You smiled and helped him out of the shirt before tossing it aside. His chest was mottled with forming bruises and you held back a gasp. You ran your hands over his ribs gently like he'd taught you, feeling over for any breaks just like he'd shown you, but you found nothing. They must just be badly bruised. "Nothings broken," You said. "I'll get you some clothes."

You rifled around in your packs for a moment before pulling on a shirt of your own, as yours now had Geralt's blood on it, and one for Geralt which you helped him put on before pulling your bedrolls over to the log where he was sitting and dousing the fire.

You laid down after you had balled up some of your spare clothes into a small pile to place under Geralt's injured leg for support. He laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes.

"Thank you," he muttered, already half asleep.

You kissed the top of his head lightly. "Of course, darling."

#geralt #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x male!reader #geralt x y/n #geralt fanfic #geralt fanfiction #the witcher #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt drabble #geralt blurb #the cavillry #poppet writes