#oh my GOD I AM ALSO HAVING FEELINGS ABOUT GERALT TOUCHING JASKIER GENTLY

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

It takes Jaskier three days to find out Geralt is his soulmate. 

After the whole thing with the elves, he follows the witcher to the next town, ostensibly to debut his musical genius, but also because—well. He just finds Geralt of Rivia to be the most interesting person he's ever met. Jaskier is drawn, first and foremost, to interesting people with stories to tell, and Geralt, as he'd said that first day, is just full of stories waiting to be told. 

He sings Toss A Coin to much warmer reception than he's gotten yet in backwater towns like this, and Geralt comes back from a contract for some creature bleeding out his intestines and looking like he'd rolled in every single mud puddle on the way back. 

"Did you go out of your way to jump in every puddle you saw?" he asks, face screwed up in disgust as he helps the witcher up the stairs to the room he'd rented with his new earnings. "If you were thinking to clean the blood off, you didn't do a very good job." 

Geralt just grunts, slumped against him and breathing through his nose in a way that seems very concentrated. His eyes are very black, like pitch, and there are veins spidering their way over his cheeks. He's also much, much paler than Jaskier has seen so far, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he's going to watch one of very few witchers left in the world perish on the spot from some poison or other. 

That would certainly cock up his plans to give the sod an image makeover, and he says as much as he watches, with concerned bemusement, as Geralt struggles to get his armor off to check on his wounds. 

"Do you ever shut up?" Geralt finally asks, squinting at him. He yanks a vambrace off and tosses it aside, teeth gritting as it pulls at his wound. It's too dark in the room with all of the witcher's black clothes to see just how much blood there is, even with all the candlelight. 

Jaskier huffs in offense and puts his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so silent all the time. Honestly, it's like you don't know how a conversation works." 

"I don't want to have a conversation with you." 

"Tough shit," Jaskier says, and finally steps forward to help. "Gods, maybe you should just climb into the bath like this. Might soften up the coagulating blood in your shirt to let you take it off. Here, c'mon. You're disgusting, and I might have to throw up from the smell alone." 

Geralt gives him another look but doesn't argue when Jaskier helps him up and over to the bath. The water is only lukewarm now, but it's clean, and that seems to do it for a nasty, gross, blood-covered witcher. 

He splashes in with little other fanfare, and then Jaskier jumps away as Geralt makes a strange motion with his hand and the water starts to steam. He stares in awe as the witcher settles in with a content sigh. 

"How did—what was that?" he asks, curiosity brimming. "How did you do that? Witcher magic, obviously, but what was that?" 

Geralt opens one pitch black eye to look at him. The spidery veins are starting to recede, barely. "Witcher magic," he deadpans, and Jaskier makes a face at him. There's the smallest, tiniest curve of his mouth, though—the bastard is smiling.

"Ha ha," Jaskier shoots back, sitting beside the tub. He dangles his hand in to feel the water now pleasantly, muscle-relaxingly hot. "Keep your secrets, then. I'll get them out of you one day." 

"Will you, now," Geralt teases—teases! Melitele, the man has a sense of humor. 

Jaskier just sniffs primly and stands up again, moving to grab some of his soaps and oils. "I will indeed, witcher. Now—which one of these do you like best?" 

Geralt grumbles and scrunches his nose at all but two of the soaps (the unscented ones, he should have known), complaining how they're too much for his senses right now, heightened as they are with the potion he'd taken earlier—also the reason for his current black-eyed state. Jaskier is fascinated by that, of course, and immediately starts asking him about the contract, how it went, what he'd fought, what other potions he has in his arsenal. 

He just—he wants to know. Geralt is intriguing and fascinating and interesting and there's just something about him that draws Jaskier in and makes him want to know everything. 

To his surprise, the witcher, while brief about it, does indulge him and give him a bit of a retelling of the fight as Jaskier helps him out of his shirt finally and washes his hair, combing out the gore and tangles. He gets a bit more about the mechanics of making witcher potions and what ingredients go into them, and a bit on the habits of the creatures—drowners, it turns out—and how they compare to other beasties he faces. 

Jaskier files away the thought that Geralt prefers talking about the gentle, everyday things in his life over the blood and death and fighting. He wants to keep that for himself, he thinks. 

He's so caught up in this quiet revelation that he doesn't realize he's let his hands fall to strong shoulders, fingertips brushing delicately, feather-light over scarred skin, until he notices a bright spot of color from the corner of his eye. He looks down reflexively and feels himself still, sucking in a sharp, startled breath. 

Geralt with his witcher senses notices immediately, body tensing up under his touch. "What." 

Jaskier, rare as it is in his life, can't seem to find his words. He watches, gobsmacked, as a trail of soft light blue follows the places he touches the witcher. It shimmers as he moves his fingers, like the tail of a star shooting across the sky, almost glowing, and he's mesmerized. 

It's not the having of a soulmate that's rare—most people do, in fact, and many times even multiple ones—compatibility is always in flux, after all—it's the Color Touch that most people never get to experience. One in every one hundred thousand people will be lucky enough to find the person—or persons—that will show their Color Touch. 

It's the presence of a bond so immediately strong that it manifests to the naked eye. 

"What is it," Geralt repeats, tone sharp. "What the fuck are you—"

He sits up in the bath, as if to move away from Jaskier, but Jaskier keeps him in place, sliding his fingers down to his forearm where Geralt can see the trail of color left in his touch's wake. He feels the witcher still, eyes—no longer pitch black, now back to their normal, beautiful gold color, the spidery veins gone—boring into the places Jaskier's fingers leave spots of blue as he dances them up and down his pale skin. 

"Impossible," Geralt breathes, but it sounds more like he's talking to himself. 

He reaches out and grasps Jaskier's wrist, stilling his movements, and when Jaskier gently pulls out of his hold they watch as the burnished gold color he leaves behind shimmers for a few heartbeats before fading away again slowly. 

"Impossible," Geralt repeats, just as soft, and finally, Jaskier finds his voice again. He laughs, breathless and excited. 

"Oh, my dear, I don't think 'impossible' is a word that's familiar with you," he says. 

He smiles when Geralt turns wide, wary eyes on him, full of a hidden, repressed hope, reaching out and trailing his fingers over the witcher's jaw, once again mesmerized by the blue of his own Color Touch. "I knew from the moment I saw you there was something special about you, Geralt of Rivia, and I wanted in on it." 

Geralt swallows thickly at that, throat bobbing as Jaskier's fingers caress over it. He looks away, clenching his jaw. "I'm not a fan of Destiny," he grits out. Jaskier feels him lean into his touch, though, almost instinctively. 

"Can't say I am, either," Jaskier agrees. "Doing what I'm told has never been one of my strong suits. I prefer making it up as I go, and to hell with the rest." 

It gets a snort of laughter out of the witcher, the tense lines of his body relaxing back into the warm bathwater. They'll be alright, he thinks. 

Jaskier can't help but lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, though, just to see if that leaves a Color Touch, too. 

It does. 

#the witcher #geraskier #fics. #time for my monthly reappearance on this hellsite #just to post this single fic and fuck right back off lksdjf #anyway have some soff soulmate fluff <3

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

I have a geraskier prompt I am laying on your altar as an offering: Geralt catches Jaskier staring at him when he ‚wakes up‘ from meditation and falsely assumes the bard is interested to learn meditation (Jaskier was just staring at him longingly). Jaskier tries but is very bad at emptying his mind/concentrating on himself,maybe asks Geralt to hold his hand? Feel free to change anything or ignore ☺️

oh. my. god. BABE. this prompt brings me life. also I am unworthy of an alter but if i must have one let it be covered in vining plants

This started out at a nice simmering level of horny and got emotional at the drop of a hat and idk what happened but I hope you like it! 💖💖

__________

Fuck he's beautiful. It’s really not fair that he does this without a shirt. Yes, it’s hot, but I’m going to melt. What I wouldn’t give to melt into his arms and run my hands through that chest hair. 

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when one of Geralt’s eyes cracked open. They were eye level, Geralt kneeling on the floor, supposedly deep in meditation, while Jaskier took the opportunity to lay on the bed and ogle. 

Shit, I didn’t say that out loud did I?

“You’re staring.”

Jaskier rolled over onto his back, silently thanking the gods he hadn’t actually said what he was thinking for once, “I just don’t know how you can sit still for so long.”

Geralt hummed, closing his eyes once again, “It’s more than just holding still.”

“Yes, yes.” Jaskier lowered his voice and knit his brows together to mimic Geralt, “Clear your mind, think of nothing, breathe deep and steady.”

The short hum he got in response almost sounded amused.

Jaskier rolled to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed nearest Geralt, this time watching with his head tilted to the side and a little wrinkle between his brows.

A moment later Geralt peeked once again and Jaskier looked down at his hands, blushing. 

“Do you want to try? Since you’re so interested?”

Oh, darling if only you knew what I was interested in.

“Didn’t you say last time that I was an ‘impossible fidget’ who ‘wouldn’t sit still if my life depended on it’?” Jaskier grinned despite the memory of one of their larger fights over the years.

“That was almost ten years ago Jaskier…” 

“I’m not mad, I’m teasing,” he promised as he slid off the bed and onto the floor in front of Geralt, “Do I need to sit like you?”

Geralt grinned, “No, just get comfortable so you can relax.”

Jaskier settled cross-legged once again, wiggling till he thought he was comfortable enough, “Wouldn’t this be easier lying on a bed?”

Geralt closed his eyes again, rolling his shoulders and making Jaskier bite his bottom lip, “The point isn’t to sleep.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slowly exhaled and did his best to forget about Geralt’s shoulders. After a few moments, his fingers were twitching so he clenched them into fists, then he automatically cracked his ankle when the urge hit him and he sighed in defeat.

“Sit like I do.” Geralt’s voice was lower than before, almost fond and Jaskier was inclined to do absolutely anything that voice ordered. Not without a fuss of course.

“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

“It takes more focus to keep balanced on your knees. You need a little extra distraction.” 

Jaskier huffed but obeyed, keeping his eyes closed, ever the enthusiastic student. Their knees touched in the small floor space allowed in their room and the slight brush of fabric really shouldn’t have him sweating like it did. 

Geralt shifted a bit and nearly whispered further instructions, “Palms up on your lap... Count your breaths so your exhales are longer than your inhales... Try not to jump from thought to thought. Just let them drift by... Relax...”

The heat was becoming unbearable and Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was just the temperature or Geralt murmuring so softly. He could absolutely clear his mind for that voice. If Geralt kept talking he would be putty in his hands, completely devoid of original thought and lost in the baritone and gravel. 

However, he didn’t keep talking. 

Jaskier did his best to measure his breaths, something he should have no trouble with given his training, but any time he twitched his knee brushed Geralt’s and he had to fight off a squeaking gasp. When Geralt took a deep cleansing breath he felt the exhale on his palms and nearly shivered at the sensation. He fluttered his fingers open and closed to stave off the odd tingling he felt behind his breastbone and nose. 

Everything was suddenly overwhelming; the closeness, the little movements, the way he felt like he was floating above the floor. Somewhere in there was a pang of overwhelming sadness, something he had buried deep down long ago and forgotten the source of. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth against it, letting a shaky breath out in an effort to keep it together.

A shock ran up Jaskier’s arms when Geralt gently took his hands. Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he was mortified that a few tears escaped in his surprise.

“Don’t worry, that’s normal.” Geralt ran his thumbs over the knuckles of his fingers and looked at him with a gentle concern that was even more overwhelming. 

“T-to cry?” Jaskier was embarrassed by the tightness in his voice, “You never cry.”

Geralt nodded, “I did at first. We all did.”

Jaskier sniffed, tilting his head and giving him his best unbelieving expression, a good mimic of Geralt’s usual mug.

“When you slow down and give it time, your body sometimes tries to help you process things. Some people laugh, some cry, some just sit in silence.”

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hands a little tighter, letting out an embarrassed, watery laugh, “I don’t even know what I’m sad about.”

Geralt gave him the softest hint of a smile, “Glad it’s not me.”

Jaskier snorted.

“Do you want to stop?” Geralt’s face was solemn as he shifted closer, their knees now firmly pressed together.

“No,” Jaskier shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply again. Tears or no tears this was the safest and most loved he’d felt in ages, possibly his life, “Just... don’t let go?” He didn’t know how he managed to get the words out, nervous as he was.

Geralt gave his hands a light squeeze and whispered, “I’m right here.” 

#this happened to me the first couple times they had us meditate in acting school #I deadass cried for our whole two hour class #lmao #i didn't have any repressed emotional trauma or anything what are you talking about? #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt meditating #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geraskier drabble #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia drabble

[jaskierswolf]

HOWDY SOULMATE OF MINE. Can I please have some Jaskilion? I want lingerie and I want make up and I want blindfolds and I will cry if I don't get it. No pressure.

Let's just ignore the fact this is four months later... Oops. Please don't cry! Oh and thanks to @kuripon for beta-ing! This is based in my modern Jaskilion AU but all parts read well on their own as well.

This is Jaskilion smut. Rated E. Pretty much the prompt with added blowjobs.

________

Silence was rare in Jaskier and Dandelion’s flat. They were both musically inclined which led to a cacophony of sound in the house. If they weren’t practicing for their fledgling band, then one or the other of them would be humming under their breath or scribbling down some rhyme on whatever paper they could find. So, silence was something that couldn’t often be found, and was not really appreciated by either musician. However, the silence in the flat that day was building an unspoken tension between them and Jaskier was loath to break it. It wasn’t often that he unpacked his drawing set, but words had escaped him for over a week and he was itching to create something, anything. The portrait had been Dandelion’s idea, and Jaskier loved any excuse to draw his friend.

Dandelion was, for lack of a better word, absolutely stunning. His almost elf-like beauty had lured Jaskier in like a moth to a flame… or more accurately a barista to the supply closet. It also made him a perfect subject for Jaskier’s drawing practice.

Especially when he sat so prettily on the chair, his hands tied behind his back and a silk tie wrapped around his head, keeping him blinded. Dandelion was wearing his favourite emerald green silk lingerie, the vibrant colour looking fucking radiant against his pale skin and long golden curls. To top the look off, his lips were painted a rich blood red and he looked absolutely sinful. Jaskier was having a hard time focusing on his drawing, pun intended.

He wanted nothing more than to rip that stupidly pretty silk off of Dandelion’s body but his friend had made him promise that he would finish his sketch first. It was going torturously slowly. He’d just about blocked out the rough shape but he was losing patience, which just wasn’t fair. Even tied to a chair and blindfolded, Dandelion still managed to command the room when he wanted. It was infuriating, and just a little bit sexy.

Jaskier sighed as he set aside his sketchpad, the sound clearly drawing Dandelion’s attention as the blond cocked his head.

“Jaskier?”

“I’m here,” he muttered, sighing again as he crossed the room, making sure his steps were audible even on the rug. He didn’t want to startle his friend. “I’m going to touch you.”

“How’s the drawing?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes as he brushed his fingers along Dandelion’s cheek. “Let me worry about that, you just stay sitting there for me, dear heart.”

“Well, I don’t appear to have much choice,” Dandelion scoffed haughtily, tugging half-heartedly at the silk ties behind his back. “I am your prisoner.”

Jaskier trailed his fingers down his friend’s neck, tracing the edges of the bra straps, enjoying the feel of the silk against his skin. He was delighted to see Dandelion’s shiver at his touch. He was even more delighted to see Dandelion’s cock straining against the silk panties. Despite his talk, Dandelion was not as unaffected as he liked to appear.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jaskier chided gently, letting his fingers hook under the silk, brushing against his friend’s nipples. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and Dandelion tilted his head back.

Jaskier bit back any other witty remarks as he removed his hands and as silently as possible, moved away from Dandelion. His friend let out a pitiful whine and just like that the power shifted between them and Jaskier smirked. The rug muffled the sound of his footsteps as he moved behind Dandelion, and the only sound in the room was the thundering of his own heart. It felt so loud in his chest he was sure that Dandelion would be able to hear it. Dandelion blindly looked around the room, cocking his head as he tried to pick up any sound that would give away Jaskier’s position.

“You better not have left me here,” Dandelion mumbled, sounding offended by the idea of it.

Jaskier barely managed to keep from laughing. They’d agreed that he would stay in the room the whole time, and he knew Dandelion trusted him to keep that promise, but Jaskier gently touched his friend’s shoulder. Dandelion yelped and jumped in his seat, letting out a string of profanities and finally Jaskier allowed himself to make a noise.

“Okay?” he asked, grinning despite himself.

“You bastard,” Dandelion grumbled but still leaned into Jaskier’s touch as Jaskier ran his fingers through his friend’s hair.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Jaskier promised and circled Dandelion, never taking his hands off Dandelion’s skin, trailing his fingers down Dandelion’s chest as he knelt in front of him.

He barely remembered to breathe as he looked up at his friend, blindfolded and so helpless above him. The trust they had in each other was unlike anything Jaskier had experienced before. It was a heady feeling, and there was no doubt how deep his friendship with Dandelion was. Anyone that said romance was more important than friendship needed a bollocking, and Jaskier sent up a quick prayer to any gods that might exist, thanking them for both Dandelion, and Geralt’s acceptance of their untraditional friendship.

Jaskier truly had hit the jackpot with the two of them. He smiled as he pressed a kiss to Dandelion’s thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Above him, Dandelion pulled at the ties and whined again.

“Patience, darling,” Jaskier murmured as he brushed his lips along Dandelion’s thigh before mouthing at the silk panties that barely concealed his friend’s cock. Dandelion scoffed and opened his mouth to shoot back some no doubt biting remark, but Jaskier cut him off. “Perhaps we should have gagged you as well.”

Dandelion just pouted, making Jaskier chuckle as he hooked his fingers under the top of the panties, pulling them down enough to expose Dandelion’s hard cock, already leaking against the soft pretty fabric. The sight made Jaskier’s mouth dry and he licked his lips before pressing a kiss to Dandelion’s stomach, delighting as the muscles rippled under his lips.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion groaned, “bloody tease.”

“Hmm, you love it,” Jaskier murmured, reaching up to brush his fingers along Dandelion’s bra.

Dandelion had always been very responsive, but never quite like this. It seemed that every touch had the musician on edge, whimpering, gasping, moaning, and Jaskier was fucking addicted. He wasn’t usually one to tease this much, he didn’t have the patience for it, but he was just having too much fun. Still, he had promised to make it up to his friend, and he would hate to break his word, so finally he pressed a kiss to Dandelion’s cock, licking at the slit before taking just the tip into his mouth, suckling lightly, just a tease of what was to come. Jaskier felt Dandelion’s cock twitch in his mouth and his friend let out an obscene moan which only spurred Jaskier on more.

He groaned as he pulled off, licking a stripe down the length as his fingers dug into the soft skin of Dandelion’s thighs. He nosed at the base of Dandelion’s cock before kissing along the underside until he reached the tip once more, bobbing his head as he took it back into his mouth, enjoying the weight on his tongue. Dandelion’s whimpers and moans were tantalizing, making his own cock achingly hard in his trousers and he shifted so he could grind down on his feet, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Wanna see you,” Dandelion panted, still straining against the silk ties. They would come loose if he really wanted, but it was a pretty sight watching him struggle.

Jaskier hummed around his friend’s cock, slowly working to relax his jaw as he took Dandelion further into his mouth. Reluctantly he released one of his friend’s thighs, stroking his hand up until it was pressing against Dandelion’s balls through the silk fabric. Dandelion gasped and bucked forward as best as he could given his restraints, mumbling an apology as Jaskier almost choked on his cock. Instead, Jaskier moaned as he doubled down on his efforts, rocking his own hips forward as he licked and sucked at his friend’s cock with all the grace of a drunk at their local nightclub, but his own arousal was making it hard to think about skill. Judging by the sounds Dandelion was making, his friend didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, oh fuck!” Dandelion hissed, gasping for breath. He was close so Jaskier moaned as he made one last effort, humming around his friend’s cock as it nudged the back of his throat, pulling back just enough as Dandelion came, Jaskier’s name falling off his lips in a prayer. Jaskier suckled at Dandelion’s cock, chasing every last drop of cum, until he started to soften in his mouth.

Finally he pulled off, wiping his mouth before pressing one last kiss to Dandelion’s thigh. “Fuck,” he sighed, his voice hoarser than he would have liked but he decided it was completely and utterly worth it.

Dandelion let out a peal of laughter and finally managed to wiggle free of the ties behind his back. His hands were in Jaskier’s hair before Jaskier realised his friend was free. He blinked as he looked up. Blue eyes peered down at him, dark and hungry, and his friend’s cheeks were flushed almost as red as his lipstick.

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeated and pressed his forehead to Dandelion’s stomach.

Long fingers just carried on stroking through his hair as Dandelion laughed again. “My turn.”

#the witcher #jaskilion #jaskier x dandelion #jaskier pankratz #dandelion #wolfie’s witcher writing #nsft

[xdandelionxbloomx]

a lion sleeps (not in a jungle, but in a crib)

1.7k of softness, They Were Roommates! AU, general audiences - also on AO3

Ciri was crying. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do. 

Ciri was crying and Geralt didn’t know what to do and it was killing him. 

He’d tried everything - changing her diaper, giving her that ratty little lion cub stuffy, he’d even tried to feed her but she hadn’t wanted it. 

Geralt was very near the end of his rope. 

Jaskier arrived home to the mess - Geralt absolutely frazzled and close to tears himself, Ciri wailing on his lap as he sat slumped on the couch. 

His roommate’s eyes went soft in that way Geralt had come to hate for how it made all his organs do strange things in his chest. 

“Oh, Geralt. Come on.” Jaskier picked his way across the apartment, avoiding some of Ciri’s toys - being a sudden single father hadn’t been easy on Geralt and he was doing his best alright? 

Jaskier, with his guitar case still slung over his back, gently scooped Ciri out of his hands. He lifted her and Ciri momentarily stopped crying at the sight of him, reaching a pudgy little hand out to touch his cheek. She reeled it back after only a second, though, and turned it to a tiny fist that smacked with considerable force against Jaskier’s jaw. He barely even showed his grimace, still smiling at her as he cooed. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Jaskier murmured, and Geralt had a violent flashback to a few months prior - to when he’d gotten absolutely smashed and Jaskier had come to wake him up the day after, all soft and haloed by sunlight, hair gone gold. 

Geralt lifted a hand to drag it down his face. 

“I don’t know what she wants.” He rumbled, exhausted. 

Jaskier shot him a small smile, something sad buried in it - he’d worn it before, an expression linked to things Geralt didn’t fully know. 

He had never asked, never wanted that sadness to be so overwhelming that Jaskier couldn’t bear it. 

“Sometimes we just need to cry, my dear.” Jaskier said, easily, and shifted Ciri to one arm, offering his freed hand up. 

Geralt took it, letting him pull him to his feet and grabbing the lion stuffed animal as an afterthought. 

Together they walked to Geralt’s bedroom where Ciri’s crib was set up across the room from his bed. It had been painstakingly made by hand by Eskel, who would have adopted Ciri if Geralt hadn’t been first in line as her godfather. 

“It helps, however-” Jaskier spoke again as he let go of Geralt’s hand - Geralt giving a small jolt as he realized they’d held hands all the way into the bedroom. “To have music. Always.” Jaskier half said it to Ciri alone as he lowered her into the crib. Geralt watched how she squirmed, fighting him until she could stand in the crib, teary eyes peering over the edge as her hands curled around the railing. 

Jaskier walked over to the bed and perched himself on the edge, ignoring her as she wailed even louder, making Geralt flinch. 

“Come.” Jaskier said, over the crying, patting the space beside him. Geralt reluctantly joined him, sitting down beside his roommate on his bed, hands clenched around the lion cub white knuckle, one the verge of tears again himself. 

Jaskier, the calmest of the three of them bless the man, simply brought his guitar case around to take the instrument out, plucking a few strings and tuning by ear. As if he even really needed to. 

He looked up, meeting Ciri’s eyes over the edge of the crib. “Sweetheart.” Jaskier kept repeating it until she sucked in a ragged breath, wailing quieted to sniffles as Jaskier plucked out a soft melody that made the knot between Geralt’s shoulders slowly start to loosen. 

Geralt breathed. 

Jaskier began to sing in the quiet, his voice a bit higher and softer than usual. 

“Meow-meow meow-meow meow meow…” It was a soft thing and Geralt blinked. He turned his gaze down to the lion cub in his hands and then back to Jaskier in surprise. Blue met his own hazel and they smiled softly, even though Jaskier’s mouth was occupied. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens…” Jaskier’s gaze drifted back to Ciri, who was now firmly focused on the two of them, crying dying out into little snuffles, her nose stopped up from her fit. A little gurgle as she swayed where she was standing. 

“Much too small, I figure-” Jaskier tipped his head at her, a lock of chestnut hair falling into his face. Geralt’s fingers itched to reach out and brush it away. He watched Jaskier’s profile in the dim yellow light of the lamp he’d left on - Geralt knew it wasn’t exactly platonic to want to touch his fingers to the curve of Jaskier’s nose, to trace  it down to the bow of his lips. 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I'll be a great big kitty cat - Use open windows to go from flat to flat…” 

Ciri’s hands slipped from the railing and she landed on her rear with a soft thump. She sniffed and blinked bleary eyes at Jaskier. After a long moment Geralt stood to cross the room. He brushed his fingers over the top of her head gently, feeling the wispy blonde strands soft under his work worn hands. He didn’t think these hands were the ones she deserved, but they were the ones she had and so Geralt had to be good. For her. He moved to place the lion cub stuffy in her small - so small - arms, watching her immediately bring it close and latch her mouth onto the ear. She chewed on it, looking at Jaskier all the while, barely even sparing him a glance. 

“I am just a kitten, hardly fit my mittens… Much too small, I figure.” Jaskier sang and Geralt turned to watch him, the way he swayed back and forth on the bed and watched Ciri right back. 

It was a lot like peace. 

Geralt wanted to bottle this moment - like the little ships frozen meticulously in time, waves suspended in motion. He wanted to be able to look at this any time he wanted. He wanted to be able to - 

“One day I'll be bigger, one day I’ll be all grown up and strong - But ‘til then I'll just purr and sing along.” Jaskier cooed and Geralt turned his gaze back to Ciri, who had laid back on her back, watching him drowsily through the bars of the crib. The lion was tucked close to her chest and Geralt’s heart ached. 

He loved her. 

He loved her probably more than anything else in the world. 

It was not something Geralt had ever anticipated. 

Then again, he’d never anticipated Jaskier either. 

Geralt turned to make his way back to the bed, settling himself down beside Jaskier, watching talented fingers slow dance over the strings, plucking the sweet melody long after Jaskier had stopped singing, humming instead. 

Geralt dropped his head down to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

He could feel Jaskier tense, heard the twang of a string, surprised fingers slipping. Geralt didn’t bother to say anything for a few moments and Jaskier’s fingers resumed the same soft melody. 

Geralt closed his eyes. 

“It’s funny. I think she likes you better than me.” He whispered, at last. A soft shudder beneath his cheek told him that Jaskier had laughed one of those quiet ones, lips pulled into a crooked smile. 

“No.” Jaskier whispered right back, shifting to adjust to Geralt’s weight against his side. He crossed his arms over the guitar, finally ceasing his playing and Geralt, with his heart in his throat moved to slide his arm around his waist. 

“No, I may distract her from whatever upset her, but when she’s hungry she turns to you. When she falls, her eyes find you first. Given the choice between the two of us, I’m sure she’d ask you to pick her up.” Jaskier’s voice stayed hushed as he turned his head to press his nose to Geralt’s hair - half fallen out of the hectic bun he’d thrown it up into earlier. 

Geralt wanted to keep this moment forever. 

“I’m trying so hard, Jask, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He admitted and Jaskier’s shoulder shuddered under  him again, though he heard the laugh this time. 

“Does anyone? Really?” Jaskier asked, and there was a press of lips to his temple. “You’re trying your best and that’s all you can do. Ever.” The shoulder under his cheek lifted and Geralt made a soft noise of complaint, though he lifted his head and opened his eyes. 

Jaskier was-- looking at him. 

Really looking. 

Like he could see right through to Geralt’s heart, where he kept all the things he cared about held tightly, as if he could shelter them from the world by not talking about them. 

Jaskier’s hands blindly leaned the guitar up against the bed like he’d donen it a thousand times - probably had - and one reached after, to brush Geralt’s hair back from his face. He tucked it behind Geralt’s ear in a gesture that shouldn’t feel so intimate and tender, but did. 

Geralt blinked, lowered his gaze to the collar of Jaskier’s shirt - where, as usual, the first three buttons were undone. 

He’d had thoughts about that before, but in that moment all he wanted to do was bury his face against warm skin, breathe in the smell of Jaskier’s honeysuckle perfume. 

“It’ll be alright, Geralt.” Jaskier murmured and, to Geralt’s surprise, he believed him. 

A trembling sigh through his nose and Geralt lifted his gaze to meet Jaskier’s. 

Ciri snored softly, disturbing the quiet, and Geralt smiled, shaking his head. He looked away from Jaskier for a moment, at the far wall above the crib. 

His brows furrowed and a touch between them smoothed out the expression, Geralt’s gaze back on Jaskier, on the way the edges of his hair went gold. 

Geralt didn’t believe in God or Heaven or Hell - but there were moments like these where he wondered if Jaskier were an angel. 

Kindness, goodness, an overwhelming brightness given human form for minds to process. 

Geralt lifted his hand, catching Jaskier’s in his own. 

It was to the soundtrack of Ciri’s soft snoring that Geralt kissed Jaskier for the first time - slow and delicate, trying to hold the moment as one might hold a butterfly-- 

Trying his very best not to break quivering wings, heart poised to fly away, carried by a breeze, lazily drifting towards honeysuckles that it could not resist. 

#geraskier #geraskier fic #my writing #mine #the song is Meow Meow Lullaby by Nada Surf #and I had very many Ciri feelings #please take this as an apology for my absence #something soft

[scarlettwitcher]

Úlfur minn Part One

Request: by @laneygthememequeen​: Hello lovely! I just saw that youre open to requests and are itching to write something for soft boi geralt! If you’re open to it, can I request a geralt x reader where reader seems like super innocent but is like an actual warrior/badass and he’s just like in awe. Or maybe where the reader is in like a dress for some reason and she usually doesn’t wear dresses because they’re inconvenient for fighting and ends up having to fight in the dress. take care and I hope you have a wonderful day💖

Summary: After Jaskier is finally able to convince Geralt to be his bodyguard for Pavetta’s betrothal dinner, shit goes down and Geralt has to make the decision of whether or not he should tell Y/n how he really feels.

Characters: Geralt, Reader, Jaskier, Calanthe, Eist, Mousesack, Pavetta, Duny, mentions of secondary characters in the show.

Word Count: 2336

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of guts, lots of angst, canon typical warnings, also the title is in Icelandic, it was just something cute for plot.

Author’s Notes: So, I’m not gonna lie, this one got away from me. I found that Episode 4, Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials fit this request perfectly. This will be a four part mini series. I’m actually really excited to release this to y’all. Million of thanks out to my girl @queenxxxsupreme​. She’s been such an amazing help with writing The Witcher. Everyone send her lots of love! I am accepting requests so please, send them in! If you’d like to be a tag as well, just let me know! Thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome!

“I tell you no lie. It swallowed the whole village, it did. Not a bone to be found!” The man took a second to breathe before scowling at another. “Of, don’t give me that look, shitling. That’s why we had to call him…” The man stood up for emphasis as he recalled the events he had witnessed earlier. “The White Wolf! And he stood in the middle of that frozen lake like he knew it was coming for him. The ice cracked open and a Selkiemore shot out! Oh, you’ve never seen one, but it’d take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil’s teeth!” You tried to stifle your snort as everyone gasped. You took a drink of your ale, quickly scowling at the cup for the foul taste. “And it… swallowed… that Witcher… whole!” 

“Oh, this is brilliant!” You giggled quietly to yourself as you heard Jaskier and slowly reached over, poking his head gently making him look up at everyone staring at him in confusion. “Oh, sorry. It’s just Geralt’s usually so stingy with the details. Uh… and then what happened?”

“He died.”

“Eh… He’s fine.”

“Look, I was there. I saw it with my own-” The door swung open, cutting the man off as Geralt slowly walked into the room, a thick awful smell filling the room. Everyone parted immediately, giving Geralt room to walk straight towards the man. Your eyes widened as you saw him, covered head to toe in guts and it took everything in you not to rush to his side to see if he was okay.

“See?” Jaskier let out a loud laugh and you elbowed him as you stood, making your way over to Geralt, touching his elbow gently before moving to the other side of the tavern, knowing Geralt would make his way over there.

“Oh… What’s that stench?”

“Selkiemore guts. Had to get it from the inside. I’ll take what I’m owed.” 

“Toss a coin to your witcher. O, Valley of Plenty o-oh-oh” As you heard the song leave the bard’s lip, you smiled softly to yourself knowing how much Geralt hated it. Soon everyone joined Jaskier and cheered as they were now monster free.

Once Geralt received payment, he made his way over to you, laying his sword on the table as you smiled up at him and pulled out your handkerchief that you always carried with you and started to wipe his face. Geralt watched you with a reserved softness that he only had for you. Before either of you could get a word out, Jaskier approached behind the both of you.“You're welcome. And now, Witcher, it’s time to repay your debt.” The bartender handed Geralt a mug of ale but before you could advise him not to, he took a sip, and immediately spit it out to the side, getting some on your pants as he stared the bartender down with what could be called rage. “What debt, you’re probably asking yourself in your head right now. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I’m asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.”

“Jaskier, let the man breathe would you. He’s covered in guts.” The Witcher shot you a soft glance. He’d never admit it to anyone but he loved the way you cared about him. He never knew how you could be so kind, caring, and...innocent.

“Y/n, please. Geralt’s already ready for the nex-”

“Fuck off, bard.” You giggled as Geralt gave you a side smile and Jaskier rolled his eyes at your antics. He knew you both had some kind of feelings for each other but would never admit it, because frankly, you both were stubborn idiots.

“Listen Geralt, for one measly night of service you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of-” You watched in amusement as Geralt turned around to leave, showing he didn’t care for what the bard was offering. “Fuck! Food, women and wine, Geralt.” 

This made Geralt stop in his tracks before slowly turning to look at the bard. Jaskier’s eyes drifted to you for a second, a bit of guilt creeping in as he saw the way you had momentarily slumped into yourself at the mention of women. Geralt sighed before nodding once, making his way out of the tavern, you and Jaskier following him in haste as you made way to an inn. Before long, you had rented a large suite for the three of you. You walked into the bathroom and prepared a bath for Geralt as he silently followed you into the room, carefully stripping himself of his clothes, not wanting to drop guts on anything else in the room. You knew what he was doing and instantly turned your back to him, feeling your cheeks heat up. You already saw him shirtless and felt the need blossoming in your chest like it always did when you saw him or any part of him. 

“You didn't have to.” 

“I w-wanted to. It gives me a chance to see how you are. Besides, Jask has been on you since we left the tavern and we have a few minutes now, Úlfur minn.”

“You worry too much.” With that, Geralt slowly sat inside the tub. You finally turned around to look at him and it took every ounce of strength of your being to not look down. He knew he was affecting you as your cheeks turned a darker red and smirked as he watched you.

“A s-simple thank you would've been nice.”

“Thank you Y/n.” Geralt mumbled softly. You felt yourself melt at the way he said your name and cleared your throat, moving around the room, getting the necessary items to help him wash off the monster guts now dried on his skin and hair.  You grabbed a chair and sat behind him, laying the objects on the floor. You rolled the sleeves of your shirt (or in this case, Geralt’s shirt that you suspected he never noticed you took) and scooted closer to him. If he didn't stink so much, you could have sworn on your life you would've laid a kiss on his head. Before you could even do anything, Jaskier barged into the room and grabbed the bucket of water you had on the side, dumping it on Geralt's head. He grunted angrily at Jaskier as he looked up at him with disdain. 

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night body guarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?”

“I’m not your friend.”

“Oh. Oh, really? So, Y/n is your friend but I’m not? Do you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom or even Y/n?” You looked at Jaskier with confusion as you looked down at Geralt and you could’ve sworn he sunk a bit in the tub as he remained quiet and watched Jaskier, his eyes watching his every move threateningly. You took this opportunity to grab some soap and rub it into his hair, washing away all the grime he had. Geralt immediately relaxed under your touch and even leaned into your hands, relishing in the way you dragged your fingers in his hair, grunting quietly when a finger got caught in a knot. He would never say it but this was one of his favorite things: when you played with his hair.

“Yeah, well, yeah, exactly. That’s what I thought. Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance!” Geralt watched unfazed as Jaskier threw salt into his bath and you smiled proudly at Jaskier’s confidence and even did a tiny fist bump in the air for him to which he responded back with a tiny, dramatic bow.

“How many of these lords want to kill you?”

“Hard to say. One stops keeping count after a while. Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes.” Geralt scowled at him, already regretting the decision he knew he was going to have to unwittingly take. You scrunch your face at Jaskier, wondering how he could sleep with so many women, how the both of them could. You would never admit it to the Witcher but it always pained you to watch him walk off, knowing he was in search of a warm body for the night. Jaskier always consoled you in those dark nights but after a while, you became used to the pain. 

“Ooh, yeah, that face! Ohh! Scary face! No lord in his right mind will come close if you’re standing next to me with a puss like that.” Geralt grabbed the mug of ale you had brought him earlier, bringing it to his lips, but before he could take a sip, Jaskier had plucked the cup and moved it away from him. “Ohh, on second thoughts… might wanna lay off the Cintran ale.” Geralt groaned and you moved your hand quickly to his back, gently massaging him. It worked and he relaxed once more under your touch. Jaskier could only watch in amusement. You both acted like a couple but were just friends. ”A clear head would be best.”

“I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry. I’m not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men.” 

“Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time." Geralt glared at Jaskier before leaning into your touch once more. “Ugh, is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous? Actually, I’ve always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?”

“Yeah. When they slow and get killed.”

“Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this… monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

You knew Jaskier was poking the bear. This wasn't the first time the bard asked Geralt this and probably wouldn't be the last but you hated how Geralt responded every time. You always scolded Jaskier when he asked the Witcher this. Jaskier was the only one who knew of your feelings for the big, white haired man and had bestowed the honor upon himself of getting you two together. But it never worked. It just confirmed your fears over and over. Geralt didn't feel anything for you other than strictly platonic emotions. Jaskier looked at you with sympathetic eyes before they dropped down to Geralt. He saw the conflict behind his eyes. His answer was always you. He wanted to tell you but since the first time you met, you made yourself perfectly clear that you only wanted to be friends. Ever since, he's got amazingly well at hiding his feelings for you. “I want nothing.”

Jaskier could only internally groan as he wanted to scream at the both of you. “Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you.” Jaskier stared at you as he spoke and your eyes widened as you shook your head violently. Jaskier sighed as he looked at Geralt. You looked down at your hands, thinking of an excuse to get away from the two men. You didn’t notice the way he turned to look at you, his eyes softening. He turned back around to Jaskier, his face hardening quickly.

“I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me.”

“And yet…” You stood up so quickly, the chair you were sitting on fell back onto the floor. You almost ran out of the room, feeling your eyes hot with unshed tears. Jaskier sighed and shook his head, pointing towards the door where you had run out of. “Here we are.”

“Hm... Jaskier, don't start with this again.”

“If only you could see the way she looks at you.”

“I said don’t.” Geralt needed a distraction as his head was now invaded with thoughts of you. The way you ran out because of his words gave him just a little sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything Jaskier bugged him about, day and night, was true. “Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?”

“Ah. Well, uh, they were sort of covered in Selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway you’re not going tonight as a witcher and neither is Y/n going as the healer she is. I’ve got clothes for both of you, don’t worry about it.”

With that, Jaskier took his leave into the next room where he found you sitting on the bed with your head in your knees. He slowly approached you and rested a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at the bard, red rimmed eyes, staring down his sad ones.” I didn’t think he'd answer so….I’m sorry Y/n.”

“I-it’s okay Jask. You’ve just been wrong. He really doesn't even look at me as more than a friend. That's all I am, a friend. Besides, he doesn't want a prude like me.”

“You're not a prude Y/n.” You stood and took a deep breath as you walked around the room with pensive thoughts clouding your head. “Look, I was able to get you a rather beautiful dress and I might've bedded a hairdresser...She agreed to help.” You frowned at Jaskier as you quickly shook your dress.

“Dress? Oh no, no, no. I don't like dresses. You know this Jask.”

“You're gonna have to deal with it Y/n. If Calanthe can wear a dress, then so can you.” You groaned loudly at him as he laughed softly. You nodded at him to show you the dress and thus, you all prepared to attend the dreaded event.

*~*

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#the witcher #geralt #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia angst #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt angst #jaskier #dandellion #reader insert #angst #fluff #witcher x reader #witcher #witcher fanfiction #calanthe #eist #pavetta #duny #jensensjaredsandmishaslover's originals #original series #witcher series #geralt of rivia series #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n

[teresa-of-ficwill]

Dead End Journey (or not?) - The Witcher

Summary:

When you fall in love with the witcher, things are never going on easy. Jaskier knew it. But what if you fell in love with two witchers? And also met a really gorgeous woman, who you can't get out of your head? It gets even more complicated.

However, maybe… Jaskier even likes all this a little bit. Or not a little? Anyway, time will tell.

CHAPTER 1

Jaskier was sure that something had gone wrong. Completely wrong. He had never imagined hanging around with a broken heart but there he was. Shattered to pieces. Rejected by his only one.

Actually, Geralt wasn’t his only one in common understanding. Jaskier slept with so many people he could not even count. Men, women… to him that didn’t matter. He was attractive, funny, and good at sex – people loved him for that. But everyone has to stop somewhere. And Jaskier thought he was ready to stop if Geralt was by his side. As a witcher, as a friend… and as a lover.

But his beloved man had always chosen another one. Yennefer. It was really predictable, to be honest, but Jaskier didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to believe. Yen… she is a bitch. But she is really attractive, hot and good-looking bitch. She treated Geralt like shit and he fell for that. Oh, what a shame. But, maybe, Geralt didn’t want to be loved. Maybe he just wanted to be controlled.

Jaskier was not sure but he actually didn’t want to figure it out. He just wanted to forget but it seemed impossible. So, he decided to just get drunk till he forgets his own name. Really good idea.

This woman… she was beautiful. Blond hair, nice smile, and drunk green eyes – absolutely his type. She wanted him. She really did. So, he let her hit on like he always does. Good sex can never cause a threat, you know.

She treated him well. Jaskier didn’t know why he noticed that but he did. She was gentle and slow, getting sure they both would have their part of pleasure. Usually, Jaskier is in charge in his one-night stands but this time he gave her a chance to take control.

“You didn’t ask my name,” she said, suddenly letting his cock out of her mouth.

“W-what?”

“You didn’t ask my name,” she repeated.

“Oh… I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t be, dear. I didn’t ask your name either. My name is Jane.”

“Jaskier,” he said after a few seconds, a little bit confused.

“Nice to meet you, Jaskier,” she smiled playfully and continued sucking his dick.

The bard felt confused just for the next few seconds but pleasure made him forget about that pretty fast. It’s not too strange to ask the name of a man whose dick you are sucking at this moment, is it? Everyone did it at least once, right?

Then Jane decided to ride him. He wasn’t against it. She felt… good. Like any pretty woman. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it was really attractive. Sometimes Jaskier loves not to be in charge and just take pleasure given to him by someone else. It was a good way to forget. Not to think about Geralt and Yennefer. And – for god’s sake – not to think about Yen riding Geralt’s cock just like Jane rides his.

The picture went through his mind really fast and it was so disgusting Jaskier almost lost all his sexual arousal. But suddenly Jane kissed him. Gently but with passion. She didn’t kiss him before, they were just having sex, so it was all of a sudden but he liked it.

So Jaskier closed his eyes and imagined Geralt kissing him like that. Kissing while riding his dick. Geralt’s moans with his deep voice… the bard is sure that would sound amazing. Unbelievably perfect. Right.

Picture which went through his mind this time was so bright, so wanted, and inaccessible that it made Jaskier cum really hard. It was literally one of the best orgasms he has ever got. With close eyes, dreaming about impossible… the bard suddenly felt so miserable he felt himself about to cry. Fortunately, he managed to get a grip before he opened his eyes.

Jane smiled, fixed her hair, and got off him.

“Was it… fine?” Jaskier asked when she lied down by his side. He got so distracted with his dreams so he felt unsure if she got her orgasm.

“It was… quite good actually,” she took a cigarette from the bedside table and lit it with a match. “You gave me a chance to be in charge and I highly appreciate it. Most of the men are too afraid of the idea of being dominated. Ugh… boring people.”

“Yeah,” the bard smiled. “They’re just too afraid of losing control.”

“Like everyone, dear.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“So…”, started Jane, while lighting another cigarette, “It’s time to get to know each other better. It should be easier as we had sex already.”

“Is it really necessary?” Jaskier asked.

“Oh, you don’t want to?”

“No! No, I mean… you don’t have to do it just because we had sex. Quite good sex, actually, but it’s not the point. It’s not your duty.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Jane smiled and put a cigarette to her lips, taking a deep breath. “I never do anything I have to. Just the things I want,” she exhaled. “So, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How comes such a pretty boy has such a bad taste in women?” Jane asked, making the bard choke on air.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I have said.”

“Wait, I just… don’t understand. I've slept with you and now you're saying I have a bad taste in women?” asked Jaskier feeling confused.

“Yes. Yes, I do” Jane smiled. “You had known me for like two seconds and, when I proposed you sex, you agreed immediately”.

“But you are beautiful! Why should I have said «no»?”

The woman shook her head.

“It's not only about me, you silly bard. It's about every woman you have ever been with. I've heard about it pretty much. Rumors...” she pressed the end of a cigarette to her lips then exhaled. “They spread. Faster than you think.”

“So, you have known who I am when bumped into me in a tavern?”

“Not really. I was aware you look like this famous bard and you have a lute but I didn’t know for sure” Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Not before you said your name. But let’s return to the question I asked.”

“I don’t know what to answer. And what’s so bad about rumors? They make me popular among women... and men”, Jaskier smiled awkwardly. Actually, he didn't want to share his sexuality with his one-night-stand but it seems like he'd already done that.

“Do you think it's for good?”

“Sorry?”

“Being widely known as a good lover, not a good poet”, Jane explained. “Is this what you want? To be just another man who was quite good in bed and that's all?”

“Are you trying to insult me?”

“I'm trying to understand. And somehow prove you have a bad taste in women”, Jane chuckled.

“I do NOT have a bad taste in women. Stop repeating that!” Jaskier exclaimed.

“But it's true. You sleep with every woman who appears on your way. Old or young, virgin or whore... to you it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I think it... doesn't”.

“You are choosing everyone. It's not good taste, I swear".

“What's it then?”

“You should ask yourself, not me. But it seems like it's just... loneliness”.

“Loneliness?” Jaskier asked.

“Yes,” Jane smiled kindly. “It's just loneliness which leads us in beds of strangers. We have sex and then we move on without even remembering their names. We break so many beautiful hearts of people who don't deserve it because ours have already been broken”.

She put the cigarette out and then threw it on the floor.

“We are living in a fucking nightmare”, added Jane quietly. “And destroy every person we touch”.

They both kept quiet for a while. The woman took a new cigarette from the box, stood up, and walked to the fire, giving Jaskier a great view of her naked body. She was beautiful and he couldn't deny it. But also, she was smart.

The bard didn't like to admit it but he always was somehow afraid of smart people. They analyze him. They look deeply into his soul without any permission and reveal secrets he didn't think he had.

“If we have this kind of conversation anyway,” said Jane, forcing Jaskier to look at her again. “Tell me... is there someone who you secretly in love with? Oh... and don't look at me like that, dear. I just wanna understand how many things we have in common”.

“No”, answered the bard immediately.

Jane smiled. “You're terrible liar, Jaskier. At least now.”

“Oh, well... there is someone.”

“Someone who broke your heart but you still love him with all the pieces, I guess”, the woman lighted her cigarette.

“How did you know it's him?”

“I didn't. It was just a guess and you proved it", Jane pressed the end of a cigarette to her lips. “So what is his name?”

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“Is it that man you always sing about? Everyone knows him as a White Wolf or something like that,” the woman asked, slowly returning to bed.

“Yes’.

“Oh, I'm sorry’.

“Why?”

“Because I know this kind of men. They are brave and lovely and beautiful... and absolutely insensitive when it comes to the affairs of the heart. He could accidentally break your heart and still don't know he did it.”

“Are you saying that Geralt doesn't have feelings?” Jaskier chuckled. “It's just a stupid myth about the witchers”.

“No, you didn't get it. I say that Geralt... ugh, I didn't think it would be so hard to talk about,” Jane looked at the bard before she sat at the corner of the bed. “I say that witchers are bad when it comes to feelings. They don't know how to love. They are not emotionless, they are just... inexperienced. I'm not sure it's the right word but still. They don't want to cause hurt. But they make mistakes and break our hearts just because they don't know how to do it right. And it is... the saddest thing I have ever understood.”

“Some witcher also broke your heart, didn't he?”

“Yes. And I thought I was fine until I've found myself hanging around and sleeping with strangers”.

“So, you think there is no chance I will be happy with Geralt?” Jaskier asked and it seemed like a very important question to him.

“Depends on you”.

“How so?”

“If you are ready to teach him how to love and let him break your heart again and again and again with his somehow stupid mistakes... well, maybe you'll have a happily ever after. I don't know.”

“You don't seem happy.”

“I didn't try. I’ve failed before I even started. But you can succeed.”

“You think so?”

Jane smiled kindly. “I'm sure you can. It's about patience... and love probably, but... you won't succeed if you aren't patient enough.”

“Are you still in love?” asked Jaskier after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Huh?”

“Are you still in love with your witcher?”

The woman smiled again but there was a pain behind her smile. “I wanna say I'm not but that would be a lie.”

“What's his name? Maybe... maybe I know him.”

She waited for a couple of seconds. “Lambert. He's son of a bitch but I had fallen for him without even noticing. And then it was too late.”

“What happened between you two?” asked Jaskier. Maybe it was quite inappropriate question, but he wanted to know.

“He cheated on me. And then again. And again and... He shattered my heart into pieces and I ended this relationship because I was nearly to end myself. I'm in love with him but he didn't worth my death. I still have some kind of self-respect, you know.”

“He absolutely did not worth your death. You're an amazing woman. You can find someone better.”

“As well as you, dear. But here we are, talking about our broken hearts.”

Jaskier wanted to answer something but he couldn't find any proper words. Because Jane was right and he understood that. They both can find someone who will love them, who will care about them, who won’t break their hearts.

Oh, no, it’s not right. Truth be told, it always was a dead-end journey and they still took it. They chose the most painful path. They made their hearts bleed, all by themselves. And now they have to pay the cost.

Jane took his hand, forcing Jaskier to look at her again. “Does it feel like hell when you think about him?” she asked.

“Yes, it does”.

“Do you like it?”

Jaskier swallowed loudly, “Yes, I do.”

You can find the next chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364243/chapters/72132126#workskin

#geralt of rivia #geraskier #gerlion #lambert #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #jaskier/lambert #jaskier/geralt #geralt/jaskier #geralt/dandelion #the witcher fic #lambert/jaskier #geralt z rivii #fan fic #fic rec #fic #my ao3 #ao3 fanfic #глютик

[queen-sands]

Hi! Could you do a Geralt x reader angst? Like the reader gets injured or dies? Thank you!❤❤

Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it :)

—

“You are important to me.”

“You cannot.”

“Why the hell not?”

“It is not safe!”

“Jaskier gets to go with you wherever you go. Why is it different with me?”

Geralt didn’t even spare a glance at the bard as he said, “Jaskier is not important.”

Jaskier gasped from his perch on the far corner of the room. “Excuse me?! I am offended.”

They both turned to him and spat, “Not now, Jaskier.”

Once again they returned to their continued staring match.

Geralt could name a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t even be with him, let alone go along with him on dangerous hunts all over the continent.

She had just one reason why she should - she loved him, and she wanted to be close to him. In any way that she could.

Except of course he didn’t know that.

They had never really specified what they were to each other. Most of the time they had together, they spent in bed in her small room up above the tavern she worked at with her cousin. He stopped by when he could, more frequently of late, as if he too could not get enough of her. They didn’t talk much. After all, Geralt rarely did. And after their strenuous delicious physical activity, she would be too tired to talk herself.

Now, after years of this back and forth between them, she was ready to leave her dreary old life behind. She wanted more. More of this world, and more of Geralt.

She didn’t even have to think twice about choosing to go with him.

“Might I interject this strange staring match you two got going on here?” Jaskier called out to them but as expected, received no response. So he continued, “Think about it this way, Y/N. You’d be sleeping on rocks and twigs in the wilderness. Your life will be in constant danger. And there’ll be a lot of walking on foot because Geralt here is very stingy with Roach.”

“I will sleep on Geralt, and that’s plenty comfortable enough,” she countered, earning a snort from Geralt. Jaskier eyed Geralt’s hard muscles as if to ask “really?”

She continued, ignoring both of the disbelieving men. “I am traveling with the mighty White Wolf,” she said, knowing very well how much Geralt despised the glorification of his life. “I pray for those who’d dare even think to harm me. And lets be real. Roach prefers my company far more than either of yours.”

As if to prove a point, the horse nudged her gently with its snout, eliciting a smug smile from her.

Geralt continued to glare at her.

“All quite fair points, Y/N,” Jaskier agreed sagely. “Which brings us to you, Geralt.”

“Fuck off, bard. This doesn’t concern you.”

Unfazed and quite used to his friend’s rudeness, Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t even spoken. “She is a far better cook than either of us, which will be handy on the road for sure. And we won’t have to travel miles and miles for you to find some...uhm...comfort.”

“I will not take her with me on a journey that could surely kill her just so I could bed her whenever I want.” If looks could kill, Jaskier would be dead and buried.

“But it is quite a bonus. For both of us,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor.

He wanted to kiss her so bad but he was also very angry with her. He could not relent on this. “You are not going, Y/N. That’s final.”

“I am going, Geralt,” she said resolutely. “Either you can take me with you, or I will follow you on my own and get myself killed along the way. It’s entirely up to you.”

And just like that, she took the choice right out of his hands.

———

He enjoyed her company far more than he should have. It was easy though. Comfort and joy amidst so much bleakness. With her around, his life didn’t seem so bleak anymore.

When he came back, mud caking his body and blood dripping all over, she greeted him with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the morning sun.

When his day would haunt his night, he could turn to her and find peace within her. He was far from human but she made him feel.

He knew she loved him. She never said it outright, though it had almost slipped out in the heat of the moment. He knew it nonetheless. It was so clear in her eyes every time she looked at him. Every touch of her lips spoke of reverence as he’d never known before.

He knew he didn’t deserve it, but it didn't stop him from taking it. All the love she had to give, he wanted it. He needed it.

He wished he had said it when he had the chance.

———

Of all the things that could have killed her, it was a fucking Kikimora.

She and Jaskier had been far enough away that it wouldn’t have hurt either of them at all. Except when Geralt had cut it down in the midst of the battle, one of its limbs had projectiled their way with the force of the blow...the sharp edge hitting her right in the chest.

Geralt hadn’t even known for a while longer. It was only after the battle had ended, and he had finally killed the beast, that Jaskier’s screams reached him.

He was upon them in an instant.

For a split second, Geralt couldn’t breathe. Her body was already pale, blood drenching her tunic, coloring it in red.

Then he was all movement. There was no time to waste.

He couldn’t let her die. Not her. So many people he had to let go of in his unnaturally long life.

He refused to lose her. Not today. Not when they hadn’t had enough time together. Not when he hadn’t even told her how he felt.

“Geralt…” Jaskier’s voice interrupted his thoughts as he held her up and got on the horse with her cradled in his arms.

“We don’t have time for nonsense, Jaskier. I need to find a healer.”

Jaskier simply nodded. He didn’t have the heart to tell his friend that it was possibly already too late.

———

Geralt rode as fast as he could. He remembered seeing an encampment of soldiers so he rode that way, knowing they’d have a healer. They did.

The woman asked him to wait outside as she tended to Y/N but his glare stopped her before she could even finish the sentence. There was no way he would leave.

So he stood and watched as the healer cut open the tunic to see the wound. It was a deep gash, but the blood seemed to have already stopped.

Either it was healing, or she had no more blood left to bleed out.

Geralt halted that line of thinking quickly. He wouldn’t think about that. She had to live.

He needed her to. He didn’t know what he would do if she somehow didn’t. So he couldn’t think about it like that.

She had to live. That was all there was to it.

When the healer finished up her work and left him alone with Y/N, he allowed himself a moment to finally breakdown.

It wasn’t as if he fell apart in tears. He wasn’t capable of that. At least he didn’t think so.

His heart felt heavy though, as if he couldn’t bear to carry it anymore.

He knelt down by her pallet to hold her hand in his. It was so small...like a child’s. Had she heard him say that she’d have smacked her with that small hand but he couldn’t deny it. Compared to him, her frailty was real. She was mortal. She was weak...at least her body was. Her heart had the strength to love even an anomaly like him but her body was still weak in its mortality.

What had he been thinking?

Oh fuck.

It was all his fault.

Everything he touches, even with the best intentions, surely dies.

But more than anything, what killed him the most was how he had not told her how much she mattered to him while he still could.

“You are important to me.” It was just a hoarse whisper in the melancholy room. One that broke almost...the words getting stuck in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?!

“You are important to me, Y/N,” he repeated brokenly. “I should have fucking told you when I had the chance.” His hand tightening around hers, praying to unknown deities.

“She ain’t dead, Witcher. Gods ye young ones are all so melodramatic.”

Geralt turned around to find the witch standing behind him, smiling bemusedly at him.

“She isn’t moving,” he said, glaring.

“She is sleeping. Can’t you see her breathing?”

Geralt wanted to knock that mocking smile off the old hag’s face but he simply turned towards Y/N. In his grief and panic he had actually missed her chest move. It was faint, but it was moving. Slow and steady.

The relief he felt expelled out of his body with a sigh, and he collapsed on the side of her bed, still holding her small hand. No one saw the tear that slipped past his lids. No one was meant to.

———

He knew death would come for her first. Him being what he was, he knew all along that he would have to one day watch her fade away and die. He knew what it meant to fall in love with a human. That it could never last.

But today was not that day.

He got to keep her just a little while longer.

All he could do was to make it count. It was all he could hope for.

——————

A/N:

Requests are still open via ASKS. I’m slowly making my way through them! :) thank you for your patience! I love you guys!

#the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher imagines #geralt of rivia imagines #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagines #angst

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” + “ Tell me what you want” with Geralt pretty pretty please ?

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Geralt x ReaderWord Count: 1,871Rating: ETaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Now here we have some Definitely Smut action for you. Enjoy!

You’d promised yourself that you were just going to watch.

You knew that Geralt snuck away because he wanted the time alone and that he took his meditation very seriously, but there was something about the sight of the usually commanding presence looking peaceful that piqued your curiosity until you found yourself stealing away after him into the forest. You’d taken your lessons seriously and though there were a couple of close calls, he never realized you were after him. When he found the familiar clearing and seated himself, closing his eyes to focus on his breathing, you watched, hiding behind a tree.

Your eyes hungrily traced the planes of his face, sharp angles softened in repose. The strong nose and the beautiful lips. The silver hair that gently rested on his shoulders. The usually furrowed brow resting though you could see the grooves in it built from years of glaring. The striking, yellow eyes that looked intently into yours…

Wait.

You spun behind the tree though you both knew he’d seen you and could hear the way your heart pounded.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice not angry as you’d expected but just a bit resigned. You slunk from behind the tree and walked towards him, eyes on the ground like a child who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. If you were Jaskier you would have tried to play it off as happenstance or charm your way out of it, but you weren’t the silver-tongued bard. You were just a red-cheeked woman.

“Y/N, if you can sit quietly you can stay,” he said and you looked up at him, eyes shining with excitement that he wasn’t sending you away. You scrambled over to a nearby fallen tree and perched on it, trying to seem calm though you knew he knew better. He gave you a small smile and then closed his eyes, returning to center.

Or at the very least, trying to. But he couldn’t block out the sound of your heartbeat. Or the catch in your breath as you watched him tense and relax the muscles of his neck. Or, most distracting of all, the scent of your arousal. He knew that no one, likely not even you, could be aware of it but it was all be could focus on which was doing the opposite of calming him down. Which made him cranky.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me gods,” he snapped after the 10th attempt at grounding himself only to get swept up in thoughts of what he wanted to do with you. Your eyes widened in shock.

“I haven’t said anything!” you argued. He sighed heavily, running a large, calloused hand through the wavy silver hair.

“I know,” he relented, “You’re just… very distracting.”

“Well I don’t know how to be less distracting than sitting here like a literal bump on a log,” you argued, throwing up your arms in exasperation, “I can go!”

“No, don’t,” Geralt said quickly, surprising himself with his vehemence. He usually preferred his solitude but having you near, though maddening, was also oddly calming in its own way.

“Tell me what you want,” you said, getting a bit grouchy yourself. You were startled by the intensity of Geralt’s gaze as he considered your question. The striking eyes peered into yours and you could see him grappling with something, though you weren’t sure quite what. You’d traveled with Geralt for some time now and while there were moments you caught him smiling at you or gazing at you with an unreadable expression, you often told yourself he was just happy to no longer be alone. But the way he looked at you now was something different. It wasn’t about not being alone, it was about being with you. And gods, did you want to be there with him too.

“Come here,” he said, his tone pleading and you were eager to comply, hopping down from your perch to walk over to where he sat. He took your hand and gently guided you until you were sitting across from him, mirroring his kneeling pose. One hand gently cupped your face and still you saw the conflict in his eyes, a part of him that struggled to know if this was ok, if he was asking too much. You licked your lips and his eyes caught the quick glimpse of your tongue, a look of yearning in his eyes that gave you the courage to reach a hand into the long, silver hair and press your faces together. His arms quickly wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto his lap where you could see the hardening length against your thigh. You moaned into his mouth and he tasted the need you felt for him, angling his body so you straddled him and could pressed him between your legs, clothed bodies grinding against each other in a pantomime of coupling.

He was surprisingly gentle though unrelenting, from the way he kissed you, tongue probing and learning the taste of your mouth and the rough brush of your teeth against him, to the way he caressed you, hands roaming slowly and pressing against you firmly as though he were a blind man seeing through touch alone. His lips traveled down your neck, learning the spots that made you gasp as his hands roamed up your skirt and you felt the rough grip against your knee then thigh then sliding, possessively and intently, between. At the first brush of his fingers against your folds you choked out a little laugh and he began to pull his hand away but you grasped his wrist and held it firm. His eyes sought yours for understanding and you gave him a kiss.

“It’s just… sometimes something feels so good it’s actually ridiculous,” you tried to explain, “Like you know how sometimes something is so bad you just have to laugh? The same can happen for something so good. Just… keep doing that.”

Geralt shook his head a little, still clearly confused but he did not stop when you barked out another little gasping laugh that melted into a moan as he laid you back on the ground and his fingers slipped inside of you.

“So wet,” he murmured against your collar bone, a brief stop on his path to your breasts. He tugged the fabric that separated them from his mouth quickly, rending the fabric. You opened your mouth to protest and declare that he would be replacing that shirt but your head fell back and you gave a lusty moan as his clever mouth pulled the tip of your breast into his mouth, laving at the nipple as he continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, teasing you with dual sensations and leaving you a trembling mess that would have satisfied him if you did not inspire such an insatiable need in him.

Your orgasm snuck up on both of you, your cries tumbling out of your mouth faster than he could catch them with his and he was out of his trousers before the last wave of pleasure hit your body. He took himself in hand and you swallowed hard at the sight of him. You’d always suspected that he would be, well, a lot, but the plain proof of it gave you pause. Geralt stroked himself a couple of times though he was more than hard enough, just taking the time to enjoy how you looked spread before him, soaking wet and still slightly shaking. When the golden eyes roamed up to your face he laughed at the pensive, determined expression on your face as you stared down his cock.

“What?” you asked.

“You look like you’re going into war,” he explained, still smiling down at you in a way that was endearing and somehow even sexier. Why men felt that they needed to glare and pout to be sexy when a broad smile was the quickest way to get you weak at the knees escape you. Not that you’d been immune to his usually stern looks.

“Well I suppose I am a little bit. That’s alright. I will close my eyes and think of Cintra,” you said, dramatically screwing your eyes up tight for effect. Geralt laughed and you felt him brush the head against your entrance, your back arching to meet him on impulse.

“If you’re worried, this doesn’t happen. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft and his hand finding your face again. You opened your eyes quickly and gave him an aghast look.

“Oh this is happening,” you insisted, spreading your legs wider for emphasis.

“Good,” he murmured as he stole another kiss. You felt him press himself inside of you, slowly, stretching and filling you so gently, as he kissed you and helped your body relax and take all of him without any pain as he’d promised. Once inside he held still for a moment to let you adjust to the size of him and he stared into your eyes, holding you as close as two people can physically be, just gazing into them with a thousand words that didn’t need to be spoken because you felt them. You felt him. You rolled your hips back, forcing a guttural moan from his lips and the eyes shifted from adoring to hungry as you lay beneath him, primed to be devoured.

His thrusts were still gentle, moving slowly at first, methodical in his movements as he learned what angles drove the best sounds from you and when you flashed him an impatient look he followed the silent command, rutting into you faster and harder. Your nails pressed crescent shaped marks into his shoulders that he would wear as a badge of honor for days and when you came this time he saw it approaching, felt the way you clenched around him and when you cried out his name it triggered his own release and he marked you in turn, biting down on your neck, the moans sliding out through his teeth and your bruised flesh.  

He rolled off of you and pulled you with him so you rested against his chest, one hand placed above his fast-beating heart.

“Why did you follow me?” Geralt asked after you’d both caught your breath.

“Oh I just wanted to look at you. Oh, that sounds weird doesn’t it…” you said, and you felt the low rumbling chuckle shake his body, looking back up at his face to see him shaking his head.

“You don’t have to sneak after me. Just ask,” he said.

“If I had asked would you have said yes?”

“Probably not.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Well then I guess I’ll just keep sneaking after you,” you said simply. He gave you a little swat and then eased the sting with a gentle massage.

“Hmm,” he said, a sound that suggested he didn’t enjoy that plan.

“What’re you going to do about it, Geralt?” you asked, “Punish me?”

One eye slid open, peering at you from the side, and he heard your heart skip a beat. Oh yes, you’d be getting nice and punished soon.

But first, a nap.  

#Anonymous #geralt x reader #geralt imagines #geralt smut #the witcher #walk walk fashion baby

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Pomegranate Seeds 3

well we got some BIG projecting going on here. if yall didn’t know i had mommy issues before, you sure as fuck do now 😂😂😂

Warnings: insecure Jask, allusions to verbally abusive/manipulative parents, lmao rebellious jask, good ole miscommunication between jask and geralt - but solved quickly, lol swearing

___________

Letter after letter reached Jaskier in the underworld, and time after time, he destroyed them. He didn’t tell Geralt, telling himself it was because the ruler of the underworld had more important things to deal with. He didn’t want to admit he was scared Geralt would send him packing. 

Eventually, Demeter resorted to threats. Threats of famine that she followed through on. She underestimated just how like her Jaskier was, though. He didn’t dignify her tantrum with a response. 

When she sent messengers, he started to worry.

He told Charon to alert him, not Geralt, if another god or goddess came to visit, even one of the more senior demigods. He didn’t want to take any chances. Geralt didn’t need to know anyway. 

But Geralt noticed something was off.

Jaskier would say he was tired, or he couldn’t perfect a specific verse of the song he was writing. Usually it worked, but it was only ever a salve, never a cure, for Geralt’s suspicions. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Geralt cradled him in his lap, lounging in the now lavish courtyard under the pomegranate tree Jaskier had brought back from the brink of death. 

Jaskier nuzzled closer, “I’m just ti-”

“No, I asked you what’s wrong,” Geralt insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze and placing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier lied, hoping the sigh he accidentally let slip didn’t register, “You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Geralt hummed and went quiet for a moment before he curled a bit tighter around Jaskier and whispered, “Do you want to go home?” 

Jaskier scrambled up, sputtering and terrified, “Did she get to you?!” When Geralt just looked at him with an unreadable expression he started to panic, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “Don’t send me back. Please, Geralt. Anything but that.”

“I’d never,” Geralt soothed, standing and hesitantly reaching for Jaskier’s hand. 

He eyed the offer warily, sniffing and trying to calm himself, “Then why would you say that?”

“I thought you were unhappy. You’ve been… acting strange.” 

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s outstretched hand, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt’s torso and bury his face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. It’s just, uhm. I’m just a bit off.” 

Geralt instinctively held him tighter, “Jaskier I want you to be happy, not ‘better’.”

Jaskier just hummed, swallowing back his unshed tears. 

“Who were you talking about?”

For a moment, Jaskier had to remind himself to breathe before he could respond, “Hm?”

“You asked if someone had ‘gotten’ to me?”

Tears spilled regardless of Jaskier’s best efforts, “My mother. She wants me to come back. She’s been sending letters and messengers.”

“And you don’t want to?” 

“Never,” Jaskier insisted, “This is the most freedom I've ever had. I don’t have to hide in the treetops to feel any sense of calm, I get to make decisions, I make things grow when I want, for whom I want.”

Geralt ran a hand over his hair, resting it at the base of his skull and brushing his thumb through the little hairs behind his ear, “You don’t ever have to leave. I love you. I want you here.” 

“I love you too,” Jaskier whispered, “I’m just scared.” 

Geralt gently pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes, “There’s a way you could stay forever…”

The hopeful glint in his eyes told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he continued, “If you eat even one pomegranate seed you will be tethered to the underworld. You can stay and do whatever pleases you. But it is irreversible. One bite and your fate is forever tied to this place.” 

Jaskier thought about it for a moment, searching Geralt’s eyes for something, anything, that could make the decision for him, “I could never leave?” 

“Only if the both of us willed it and only for a short time,” Geralt explained, tenderly wiping his tears away, “I could never keep you here if you were miserable. Try as I might to think about anything else, your happiness consumes much of my thoughts.” 

“Hmm,” Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s touch, turning his head to kiss his palm, “Do I need to decide right now?”

Geralt kissed his forehead, “Of course not. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, curling his fingers around the robes cascading down Geralt’s back, “I like it - the idea. I just… I want to take my time?” 

“Absolutely.”

-

Time wasn’t something Jaskier was allowed apparently. 

The two of them were just climbing out of a lovely bath when a chattering skeleton announced the arrival of a visitor. 

Demeter stood in the throne room with her back turned to them, examining one of the glowing diamonds when they entered. She looked so small, almost insignificant. Her hair was in an intricate braid, she wore a cream toga, adorned with gold that made her look more like a savior than the horror she really was. 

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly and pulled them to a halt, knowing very well Demeter wanted him to speak first. It was a stand off he was familiar with. If he spoke first she had the upper hand, hearing his tone and picking apart his words. She always knew how particular her son was with words. 

“Julek. It’s time to go.”

Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she calmly stated her order, not even bothering to turn and look at him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath and squeezed Geralt’s hand, not looking at him for fear of crying, “No.” 

“Playtime is over. You have duties. The humans did not prepare for you to leave. They’re calling it winter,” she snorted as if the idea was as ridiculous as standing on your head in a temple. 

Jaskier grit his teeth, feeling the rage bubble up in his chest, “I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” She rounded on him with a condescending look of disappointment, “It doesn’t matter if you care. They’re still your responsibility.” 

Jaskier took a step forward, “A responsibility you assigned me. You fixed it before, fix it now.”

“I cant.” 

“Tough shit.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how any of his words were coming out without sounding absolutely hysterical, but he was glad for it. He glared at her, daring her to try again while internally he was scrambling for a plan.

“For this particular magic, I need you. Seasons will take more work than a year round harvest, but you have set them off nonetheless.” Demeter’s voice was softer than usual, though Jaskier didn’t miss the incincerity of her words. She’d raised him. He knew her, probably better than she knew herself for all the introspection she refused to take part in, and he knew she was playing games. 

"Oh? Are you no longer capable?" Jaskier laughed bitterly as he turned to walk toward the courtyard, "The great goddess of plenty and harvest can't sustain what she's built? Unfortunate. I am good at what I do here. I am so good at caring about the souls that end up in our audience-"

"Our!?"

"DONT interrupt me," Jaskier shouted, turned and stomped his heel into the ground making vines burst forth from the marble beneath them, wrapping around Demeter's waist and mouth, "I have also found I'm rather adept at torture when necessary. I love it down here! I love being able to right wrongs and show the righteous to Elysium. I love having a purpose to my actions, not just being someone's unappreciated trophy! And I love Geralt. He treats me so well and loves me so sweetly and wants only to make me happy. Nothing about your 'seasons' and 'bringing life' interests me in the slightest, Demeter. Because that's not who I am. I am rage and justice and I am to be feared, not manipulated. Take your failing crops and go." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and the vines disappeared back into the ground. 

Without looking back, he strode toward the pomegranate tree in the center of the garden, plucking a fruit from the nearest branch and turning to glare at his mother. Geralt was hot on his heels, glancing between the two but keeping quiet. Jaskier had told him he wanted to confront her himself, without her thinking he’d been told what to say. So Geralt stood by and seethed. 

Jaskier pulled a knife from the holster in Geralt’s belt and sliced a nice section out of the pomegranate. 

“Don’t you dare.” Demeter snarled, standing at the edge of the courtyard. 

Jaskier smirked and peeled the white fiber from the blood red seeds with a casual sigh, “I don’t think your opinion matters much here.” 

Jaskier flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade, maintaining eye contact with Demeter as he handed it back to Geralt.

“Are you sure?” Geralt’s voice was just a whisper as he took the blade.

Jaskier picked a particularly dark red seed from it’s home and turned to look at him, “There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.” 

With that he popped the seed in his mouth. 

#geraskier #geraskier greek mythology au #geraskier greek mythology #geralt as hades #jaskier as persephone #hades and persephone #geraskier fic #geraskier au #the witcher fic #the witcher au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #jask #jullian alfred pankratz #god i wish i had a greek god sugar daddy to live with like jask so i could throw down like this #but alas #i live in reality

[jaskierswolf]

The Bard of Kaer Morhen pt.3/4

Previous

Jaskier was still eighteen the third time he met a witcher.

Two new witchers in one year. It was officially his favourite age so far.

He was also beginning to suspect that he had a type.

He’d always loved freely and had never really considered the idea of him having a type before. He didn’t care about looks or gender. He simply just fell in love with whoever was standing in front of him. It was both a blessing and a curse. Sure he had his preferences in bed but that was less about the person and more about the variety of sex, but even then he could adapt his own particular interests to suit his partners. It was all about working out what worked best for both of them and he was extremely good at it.

He was playing in a tavern in Posada when he saw him.

Geralt of Rivia.

Now this was a witcher that needed no introduction. He was infamous, the Butcher of Blaviken. His silver hair drew Jaskier’s attention over the crowd. He was sat alone in a dark corner of the tavern and Jaskier almost missed a note when he realised that Geralt was staring at him.

And oh those eyes.

The same as Eskel and Lambert.

Witcher’s eyes.

Like the finest honey in the Continent.

He finished up his ballad as quickly as he could without completely destroying the performance and then bowed to his adoring audience. They tossed coins in his direction which he hurried to scoop up. He gave a handful to the barkeeper’s daughter as she passed, and picked up a full mug of ale, never taking his eyes off the witcher. He couldn’t. He was trapped in Geralt’s eyes. They lured him in like moths to a flame. Like he was a vampire and Geralt’s blood was the finest he would ever taste.

No.

That was shit.

And gross.

He would stick to honey and flower metaphors in future. He was good with those.

He leant against the pillar and smiled seductively at the witcher who was still staring at back at him in a way that made his heart sing. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

Geralt smirked and picked up his drink. “You’re the bard.”

Jaskier tilted his head, flicking his fringe from out of his eyes. “I’m a bard.” He agreed. “One of many I imagine. It’s a popular profession.”

Geralt growled and Jaskier was gone. His heart now belonged to this man. He was gorgeous and sexy and to the gods Jaskier wanted to drag Geralt’s leather clad ass upstairs to his room immediately.

“Why do you do it?” Geralt asked watching Jaskier with an intensity that was honestly killing him.

“Do what exactly?” He hummed as he slipped onto the bench opposite the witcher and licked his lips.

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to his lips and Jaskier did a little dance in his head. Finally!

“The songs, the coin, the poems.” Geralt tilted his head. “No one else gives a fuck about witchers. So why?”

Jaskier rested his chin on his hands and watched Geralt as he thought about his answer. “Why not?” He settled on. “Eskel saved my life in Oxenfurt, and I thought it would be a good way to repay the debt. I never dreamed it would be so successful.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how Eskel tells it.”

Jaskier smirked as he leant forward on the table. “How does Eskel tell it, my darling witcher?”

Geralt leaned forward so that Jaskier could feel the heat of his breath brush his cheeks. “That you tried to seduce him, begged him to take you home.”

Jaskier’s cheeks felt like they were on fire as he took a shaky breath, arousal flooding his senses. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from whimpering like a fool and cocked his head. “Well, you can’t blame a man for trying, Geralt.” He purred the witcher’s name and looked up at him through his eyelashes.

Geralt reached across the table and grabbed Jaskier’s wrist tightly, bringing it up to his nose. He sniffed deeply and Jaskier furrowed his brow before raising an eyebrow at the witcher’s antics.

“You aren’t afraid?” Geralt breathed huskily.

Jaskier laughed and moved his hand in Geralt’s grip so he was cupping the witcher’s cheek. There was a prickle of silver stubble beneath his fingers and he couldn’t help but stroke his thumb along Geralt’s cheekbone.

“My dear witcher.” Jaskier smiled fondly at the man in front of him. “Why would I be afraid?”

Geralt growled and pulled away and then gestured to the crowd in the tavern behind Jaskier. “Ask any of them.” Jaskier glanced behind him and scoffed.

“They simply don’t know you.” Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know me.” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier let his hand rest on Geralt’s arm and squeezed gently. “Not yet, but I wasn’t lying when I said Eskel saved my life. He saved my life and ensured that I got home safely when there was no reward for doing so, even though I was quite honestly being a bit of a brat.”

Geralt chuckled.

Jaskier grinned sheepishly. “We all do things we’re embarrassed about when we’re sixteen.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “So what’s your excuse with Lambert?”

Jaskier laughed as he remembered his encounter with the prickly witcher from earlier in the year. “Oh come on, Geralt.” He whined but continued to trail his fingers along Geralt’s arm. “Why must you shame me in this way?”

“Seems you have type, bard.” Geralt chuckled fondly and stopped Jaskier’s flirtatious caresses on his arm by catching Jaskier’s hand in his.

Jaskier was incredibly pleased with this latest development. He smiled softly at his witcher. “Perhaps,” He laced their fingers together. “Or perhaps every breath, every rejection, every missed opportunity was just leading me here. To you.”

Geralt scoffed. “Romantic fool.”

Jaskier pouted at the new love of his life. “Geralt.”

Geralt frowned.

“Bard?” He asked looking a bit confused.

Oh.

 Oh.

“Oh Melitele, You idiots don’t even know my name!” He gasped and fell back in his seat, pulling his hand away from the witcher.

Geralt grumbled something under his breath.

“No no no. Use your words, witcher!” Jaskier snapped. “I sing your praises all over the Continent for two bloody years and not one of you knows my name! I am a famous troubadour Geralt!”

“It’s not our fault you have so many bloody monikers. Dandelion, Daffodil, Fleur-de-lis, Buttercup, Daisy, Marigold.” Geralt sniped back. “Two years, bard, and not one person has been able to tell me your name.”

Jaskier smiled coyly. “You’ve been asking about me?”

“Professional curiosity. You’ve made all our lives a lot easier, bard.” Geralt mumbled. “It seems only fair to know who we’re thanking.”

Jaskier tilted his head at the witcher. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

Geralt just hummed gruffly and Jaskier patted the witcher gently on his cheek. To his surprise the witcher leant into his touch ever so slightly, he was certain that Geralt hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

Jaskier was falling in love even more with every moment that passed between them. Yes the witcher was, like all witchers, fucking sexy, but he was also gentle and kind, thoughtful and surprisingly vulnerable? He was certain that most people would call him mad for saying that but Geralt seemed genuinely hurt that the world saw him as a monster.

Jaskier just couldn’t comprehend that at all.

He was dangerous and lethal yes, but only when he needed to be, or at least Jaskier assumed as much based on his encounters with Eskel and Lambert. Eskel in particular had never drawn his sword unless he absolutely had to, Lambert admittedly was faster to attack but then he was less forgiving to the world that showed him no mercy and Jaskier could hardly blame him for that.

“So, Geralt…” Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Tell me a story.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and smirked. “No.”

“No?” Jaskier cried. “What do mean no?”

Geralt grinned. “You’ve had enough second hand stories, bard.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the witcher whilst he considered his words, smiling as he realised the implication behind the words. “I can come with you?”

Geralt hummed and nodded his head. “As long as you stay back and do as I say. Vesemir would kill me if I got you killed.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “Vesemir?”

Geralt grunted but didn’t elaborate which was fine! Jaskier would draw out more details from the witcher eventually. It seemed no witcher was totally immune to his charms.

“So when do we start?” Jaskier leaned his chin on his arms and looked up into Geralt’s eyes, happily getting lost in their swirling amber depths.

Geralt shrugged. “When I get a job.”

Jaskier grinned and leapt up from the table, bounding back to where he’d stored his lute behind the bar. There were still a few songs left in his witcher centric repertoire that he had yet to play, he could easily tweak the lyrics a little, make them about the witcher tucked away in the back of the tavern… the Butcher of Blaviken.

No.

That wouldn’t do.

He appraised Geralt thoughtfully and grinned as his muse came to him.

The White Wolf!

He took a deep breath, brushed his fingers against the strings of his lute and the tavern fell silent as he began to sing.

Geralt hadn’t intended to invite the bard along when he noticed him dancing and flirting with the crowd. He had had no doubt that this was the one. He was Eskel’s bard. He’d watched completely enraptured by the bard’s performance. His gaze drifting over the bard’s surprisingly muscular body. He’d imagined him to be slight and effeminate, like many bards were but that wasn’t the case. His legs were long but muscular. As he perched one foot on a bench and strummed freely on the strings of the lute, Geralt hadn’t managed to stop his gaze from being drawn to the man’s calf.

And his voice.

He’d played effortlessly with the melody and even Geralt’s untrained ear could tell that singing came as naturally to this man as breathing. He didn’t have to strain to reach any of the notes and his voice didn’t shake no matter how much he danced and spun and flirted with the patrons of the tavern.

No, Geralt hadn’t intended to do anything more than simply introduce himself and find out what the damned bard’s name was and yet, here they were travelling side by side towards  the fields where the supposed devil had been spotted.

And he still didn’t know the idiots name.

He swore, silencing the chattering bard who looked at him curiously.

“Everything alright, Geralt?” He asked, cornflower blue eyes shining in the bright sunlight.

“Why flowers?” He asked the troubadour who smirked and gently dampened the resonating sound of his lute strings with his hand.

“We all have our secrets, witcher.” The brunet winked and strode on ahead.

Geralt frowned and ignored the surge of desire that rushed through him at the bard’s easy flirtations. “Well which one is it?”

“Which one is what?”

Geralt grabbed the bard by his shoulders spun him round so he was facing him. Geralt didn’t miss the spike of lust in the bard’s scent and filed that away for later. Not that there would be a later. One adventure, one song and some extra cash. That was all this would be.

“You know damn well, bard.” He spat out and gripped the man tightly so he couldn’t escape this time. “No changing the subject.”

“As if I would do that!” The troubadour gaped in offence and a quick sniff of the air told Geralt that he was only teasing him. “In all my days.”

“Bard.” Geralt was half-minded to forget the whole thing and gallop away on Roach but he was pinned in place by the mischievous twinkle in the bard’s gaze. He sighed and released his grip on the man.

“I call myself Jaskier.” He answered with open arms and a dramatic bow.

“Jaskier.” Geralt frowned. “From Novigrad?”

“Oxenfurt.” Jaskier corrected. “I am rather delighted that it was translated differently across the Continent. Although it does make it a little harder to make myself known.”

“You’re the bard that sings the songs of the witchers, of Kaer Morhen.” Geralt hummed. “The name didn’t matter as much as the stories.”

Jaskier cocked his head. “It did to you.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. “Jaskier’s not your real name.”

“No.” Jaskier admitted.

“Will you tell me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “Not yet, maybe eventually, dear heart.”

Geralt’s heart didn’t soften at the newest term of endearment.

Witchers were made of sterner stuff than that.

But he did smile fondly at his new companion behind his back as they headed deeper into the farmland.

_____

Next

#the witcher #the bard of kaer morhen #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

[the-not-so-silent-back-up]

Until Full Moon

-1 -2 -3

Werwolf!(f)reader x Jaskier

note: I am reposting my own writting because I am planing to continue the Story. And I want my fic on my new Blog. And of coures a big Thank you to @the-winter-witcher for cheking my writting and @calamitycrowley , my beta-reader

description: Since a few month you are a werewolf, and you mostly hide in the woods because you know how dangerous you can become when it’s time. One day you meet Jaskier and Geralt. Unfortunately the witcher recently got the job to get rid of a werewolf. And that’s when it all begins

Chapter -2-

After a few minutes of walking you finally saw a small tent and a little fire, and another man.

"Jaskier are you getting robbed right now or who is this in your camp?"

"Oh no… that's my friend. He probably won't have a problem with you staying here overnight"

You got a closer look at the man. Tall, white hair you don't know if it's the fire or does he really have amber eyes?

"There you are finally. And you aren't alone! Who did you pick up this time"

The man had a rough deep voice.

"Hey Geralt that is Y/N I found her in the woods all alone. Y/N this is my friend Geralt of Rivia."

You reached out to shake Geralt's hand but he doesn't even look at you, he just looks at Jaskier with a really unpleasant look.

"All her stuff is gone, so I said she can eat with us and tomorrow I will help her find it again"

"And you believe that"

Jaskier turned to you again

"Come Y/N sit next to me"

And then he turns to Geralt again, you can feel that he doesn't want you here, does he know what you are. He is a Witcher you finally realised, Geralt of Rivia you heard this name in the villages you passed. Of course he knows what you are, it's his job to identify monsters like you. You can't look at him or at Jaskier. You just stare at the fire that got bigger and warm because of the new wood that the fire eats with pleasure. 

You feel a touch of a hand on your shoulder. Jaskier's  blue eyes are searching for yours, his look is soft and asking. You just nodded. 

"I found her all alone, unconscious and naked in the woods! I don't know what happened to her but I knew that I couldn't leave her there. What would you have done? Oh mighty Witcher, who knows everything better than a stupid Bard." 

Your eyes switched between the two of them, till Geralt catched your look. 

"I guess shouldn't behave like that, I am sorry Y/N, it was a long day, but it's nice to meet you" 

Did he just apologised? Is this a trap or something? 

"It is alright" 

"Yes it was a long day and Yes you are guessing right you should not behave like that towards a young lady..." 

"Jaskier I already said sorry .."

"What about me?" 

You chuckled a bit, but neither of them noticed. 

"Oh Gods can we just eat now" 

"Fine. But you owe me an apology." 

"I put it on the list"

You still don't feel completely safe but you're sure the Witcher doesn't know, or at least he doesn't care. But you are grateful for the food, the fire and the company. You didn't have a real conversation since weeks or maybe months. 

Conversation wasn't the right word exactly. You were listening to the stories Jaskier tells, about the adventures he and  Geralt have had. Watching these two men together was a joy, they are so different and but they get along pretty well. It seems that jaskier always makes the stories a little more dangerous and exciting than it really happened, and Geralt doesn't even contradict him, he just shakes his head from time to time.

"It may can be that it didn't exactly happened that way. But it sounds better like that." 

The fire burns slowly down and there was no firewood left. It has to be really late. And you can feel yourself getting tired even after your unwanted nap in the woods.

"... and then we heard these farmers talking about a wolf that is after their sheeps and cows and whatever. I immediately knew something was going on…"

Oh no

"... after the time with Geralt I knew what they were talking about has to be a werewolf…"

What would happen if you just ran away now. You couldn't look at Jaskier anymore -

"... so I informed them, that they won't find a werewolf at daytime… "

No, Geralt would know what you are if you would do that

"... at first they of course didn't believe me, but after they saw the white wolf, at least one of them knew I am right. He is good at convincing people …"

He would kill you in one second, no doubt

"... so the last one hired Geralt to hunt that werewolf. But the last full moon was last night, so we have to wait almost one month… "

Oh you are aware of that.

"... and he only will pay when Geralt brought him the head of that monster. And that's why we have to sleep here on this meadow, because we can't afford to rent a room for that long time. "

You forgot that you actually asked him why they sleep in this tent. This long time Jaskier was just talking about is actually all the time you have left alive. But does this matter. What is your life worth since you got cursed. You hide in the woods as deep as possible so the damage that you cause won't be that big. But this time you were to slow and that's the price you have to pay now. But what did you live for anyway, all of your family is gone. You don't have friends anymore they all think you are dead. You travel from town to town and hope that no one will remember you. You don't belong anywhere. Maybe this was your destiny.

In your eyesight you see Jaskier looking worried at you, because you didn't say anything.

"Geralt. You have to kill me in one month. I am the werewolf"

You feel the looks on you, but you don't care.

"No that cannot be true."

"Why should I lie to you? "

You got angry

"Only men can become werewolves"

"But I am one. Didn't you asked yourself why I lied there naked"

It's surprising that Jaskier don't say anything.

"It was because I just turned back into my human form after I ate one of the sheeps"

"But they teach us that there can only be male werewolves."

Geralt began again. You felt tears rolling down from your eyes. You aren't sure if the came from you anger or from your fear and sadness.

"But here I am. Go touch me with your silver sword if you don't believe me. Go on and see how it burns my skin."

You didn't realised that you were standing and screaming at the witcher, who was ordered to kill you. You once felt it. The silver on your skin.

"No Y/N I won't touch you with my silver sword, please sit down"

"You still don't believe me? Do you?"

"Y/N please sit down, we can talk about this"

The anger is burning in you.

"No there is nothing to talk about. I am the monster you're the witcher. That's it."

"You are not a monster"

"If you don't believe me now. You will see in a month. See you"

You turned on your heels and headed off to the woods. But you feel your left arm being pulled back. And then you feel it, first the smooth metal and then the burning hot pain caused by it. You screamed so loud you couldn't hear what Jaskier said. The pain brings you on your knees. Can see Jaskier looking at his hands in disgust.

"these damn rings" he shouts

He took of the rings as fast as he can to help you up again. You lied there weeping in the grass, holding left arm. It was only a tiny wound but it burned like hundreds.

He gently picked you up and placed you again next to him. You couldn't stop it you feel safe in his arms.

The pain is getting better and you can finally notice again what is happening around you. Geralt has a really serious face, it seems that he is thinking about what just happened. Now there can't be no doubt anymore. And Jaskier is gone searching for something. 

"Y/N, I am so sorry, I didn't even knew that these were actual silver rings. Please let me take care of the wound. We have a salve for this. Please let me take care of it! I never wanted to hurt you" 

You are still unable to speak. You just look at the man. He looks so worried and sorry. He means what he's saying. 

Your left arm is still pressed to your body, as if this would help. But you stretch out your arm that Jaskier could see the wound. You looked at it once but you just couldn't let your eyes stay there. It looks worse than you thought. You look at Geralt, you don't know why, what the hell is he doing? He scrolls through a book. 

You feel something cold touching your skin. And it burns again but different.

"Hey look at me" Jaskier must have noticed your reaction "It's alright now, it have to hurt a bit but tomorrow it will be almost gone"

You don't see what he is doing with his hands you just watch his face. He looks serious, he looks worried and concentrated about what he is doing, because of you?

"It doesn't matter. Your friend has to kill me anyways"

Jaskier looks at you pretty shocked and you're surprised too about what you just said.

"I am the werewolf, now the can't be a doubt anymore you both saw the prove."

You wanted to show the men you wound but it's already wrapped up in a clean cloth. "oh thank you" Your voice got really quite.

"But it still doesn't matter I am a dead woman, my days has been counted. My breath is limited. My life is over."

You feel the tears start streaming down your face, and what you also feel is that Jaskier is holding your hand.

"No that is not true. We will find a way to solve that problem"

"Jaskier it's not a problem. It's a curse. And how? How can you say something like."

"Because I know it. Y/N do you know what most people don't know about witchers?" he doesn't wait for your answer "They can undo curses, with some old rituals and magic. But most people don't want them to uncurse those creatures, they just want these creatures dead. And they won't pay if they undo the curse. And that's why most people don't know about this, because I don't sing about this and cause they don't want to know about this. And yes if you would have met another witcher he probably would have captured you until full moon and killed you then. But you are a lucky one because you met Geralt of rivia, he is the witcher to break your curse, he will undo it so you will have a normal life again. And he already started searching for some methods."

What you just heard was unbelievable, undo a curse you never heard of something like that before, only in fairy tales.

"But why does he do that?" is the only thing you could say.

"Because I asked him to."

Jaskier got his soft look back, as he swipe a tear from your cheek.

"But why did you do that?" it seems like it's the only sentence left.

"Because it's not fair, you deserve a better life. And because…... I like you."

You couldn't say anything. You just look down to his hand that is holding yours. This moment was something you never had before.

You both got roughly torn from that moment by the deep voice of the witcher.

"I didn't found anything here in my books, I will head to the next library tomorrow before dawn. Can I leave you here? I will be back in the evening. Don't wait with the supper for me. I don't know how long it'll take."

Geralt didn't waited for an answer, he just crawled into the small tent.

#The-not-so-silent-back-up #geralt of rivia #The witcher fic #Jaskier #The witcher Netflix #Reader fic #jaskier the bard #y/n #alina writes #jaskier x reader

[august-anon]

You Like It

Okay so this is probably way out of character, or at least the characterizations are all over the place, because my brain kept getting muddled between Book Geralt and Netflix Geralt, which are two rather different men, so I think this Geralt ended up somewhere between them, so if it feels weird or OOC that’s why lol

Also, I am not super confident in this fic but I hope you enjoy anyway lol

Also also, how did I write a Witcher fic with no swear words lol, I couldn’t find any when I looked back through it

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship(s): could be gen or romo Geraskier whatever you want lol

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Jaskier, Ler!Geralt

Word Count: 2014 words

Summary: For a man who claims to know what tickling is "in theory," Geralt certainly has a lot of questions. He might even require a demonstration.

[ao3 link]

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

It started when Geralt had to pull Jaskier out of harm’s way. Again.

He wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist, gripping him tightly and pulling him back as a pack of drowners burst from the river. When Geralt’s fingers brushed up against (and maybe dug into a bit, he wasn’t paying total attention to Jaskier with monsters right there) his side, Jaskier yelped, a high-pitched thing, and jerked in his grip.

Sparing a thought for if the bard was hurt, Geralt quickly let go and shoved Jaskier behind him. He made quick work of the drowners, the most difficult part being the fact that they attacked in groups.

“After all your time spent with a Witcher, haven’t you the sense to not go near water without checking for drowners?” Geralt said after he’d slain them all, starting the trek back towards their camp.

Jaskier sputtered, flicking his dripping hair out his face. “Excuse you! I was trying to get us some drinking water! Plus, I thought drowners were like every other monster and only hunted at night!”

“Not every monster.”

“What?”

“Not every monster only hunts at night.”

Jaskier scoffed and grumbled to himself as they walked back to their camp. Geralt, with his enhanced hearing, could hear every word Jaskier said, but he chose to tune it out.

The moment they arrived back at camp, Jaskier immediately plopped down where he’d already stretched his bedroll out, throwing off his damp doublet and laying down with a put-out groan. Geralt made a beeline for Roach, rubbing her neck fondly as he fished around in the saddlebags for bandages and salves.

“Where are you injured?” Geralt asked, sitting on the forest floor next to where Jaskier was sprawled, kicking the waterlogged boots Jaskier had also removed out of his way.

Jaskier gave him an odd look. “Injured? Geralt, I’m not hurt.”

Geralt scowled and reached over to untuck Jaskier’s chemise to inspect the skin himself. “You yelled. When I grabbed you. In pain.”

Jaskier made an undignified sound as his chemise was pulled up. “It was not pain!” He yelped.

“Hmm.”

Geralt couldn’t see any injuries. He prodded gently at Jaskier’s squishy sides and ribs to see if anything was ruptured or broken. Jaskier let out the same high-pitched yelp as before and jerked away from the touch.

“What injury are you hiding?” Geralt asked gruffly, pulling Jaskier back onto the bedroll. “Do we need to find a healer?”

Jaskier blushed, pink dusting high on his cheekbones. “It’s not an injury, Geralt! I’m just… sensitive.”

Geralt finally stopped trying to prod at him, staring as Jaskier pulled his chemise back down to cover his torso. Jaskier’s blush spread to his ears, and he wouldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes.

“Sensitive?”

“Oh—You know what I mean, you big oaf! I’m ticklish!”

Geralt stared at him.

Jaskier started back, confusion flashing across his own face.

“Geralt—Geralt, you do know what tickling is, don’t you?”

“In theory.”

“In theory, he says. How has a man never once in his life seen or experienced tickling. What, have you been living under a rock, who do you talk to?”

Geralt stared at him. Raised an eyebrow.

“Right, witcher. Are witchers ticklish?”

Geralt scowled. “How am I to know?”

“Well you are a witcher, are you not?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and relaxed back into his bedroll, chemise rucking up to show a silver of pale skin on his stomach. Geralt awkwardly stared at the bandages and salves he no longer needed.

“It’s just, an odd touch that makes you make noise?”

Jaskier looked back toward him. “It… feels weird. And it makes you laugh.”

“That was not laughter.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes again. “It makes you make a multitude of sounds, most commonly laughter.”

“Why?” 

Jaskier threw up his hands. “I haven’t a clue, Geralt! I don’t know the science behind these things!”

Geralt reached out and started prodding at his side again. Jaskier squeaked and let out a few quick giggles before he managed to shift his body out of Geralt’s reach. There was a pleased flush to his cheeks and his eyes were bright. Geralt cocked his head to the side.

“You like it.”

The pleased flush turned into a full-face, bright red blush. “No! No, I do not!”

Geralt stared at him. “Jaskier, I can hear your heartbeat. I know when you lie.”

Jaskier sputtered for a moment, before crossing his arms and putting himself back on his bedroll, back within Geralt’s reach. 

“Well, perhaps your ears need to be checked!”

“Why do you feel the need to lie?”

Jaskier didn’t answer, just covered his face with his hands and made a strangled noise in his throat.

“Jaskier.”

He still did not answer. Geralt tried a different question, seeing as Jaskier was being unusually unforthcoming on the other.

“What does it feel like?”

Jaskier uncovered his face and looked at Geralt, almost as if appraising him.

“Like this,” he said, and wiggled his fingers against Geralt’s sides.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “That feels normal.”

Jaskier scowled. “Of course witchers aren’t ticklish. Why on earth would witchers be ticklish? I don’t believe it! Everyone’s ticklish at least somewhere!”

Geralt cocked his head once more. “How is it done? Wiggling and prodding?”

The blush returned to Jaskier’s face. His half-hearted scowl deepened, and he spoke sarcastically. “This is the most you’ve spoken in weeks. The only subject to get you out of monosyllabic grunts just so happens to be tickling? Should that be all we talk about, now, hm? Maybe my next ballad should be all about the great Witcher’s ticklish curiosities.”

Geralt reached out and prodded Jaskier’s stomach, trying to get him to shut up. Or, at the very least, make a different noise than his ceaseless chatter. Jaskier yelped and started squirming in place, slapping one hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles.

“If ‘everyone’s ticklish at least somewhere,’ what spots are ticklish?” Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier removed the hand from his mouth to curse at Geralt through his giggles. “You just want me to tell you so you know where I’m ticklish!”

Jaskier shoved at Geralt’s hands, half-heartedly and without any force. Geralt, despite being able to fight him off more than easily, did stop momentarily, placing his own hands back in his lap.

“Call it a ‘scientific curiosity,’” Geralt said unconvincingly, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Jaskier stared at him suspiciously.

“Does your response mean you are ticklish in all the available places?”

“Geralt, I will walk back down to the river and let the drowners take me.”

“No you won’t.”

Jaskier sighed and tilted his head back. “... No, I won’t.”

“Where are people ticklish? Are there places more ticklish than others? I assume it differs from person to person.”

Jaskier looked at him. “Is the great witcher, Geralt of Rivia, secretly a huge nerd? Is that why you’re asking all these questions? You going to go learn the science about it later, too?”

“Just answer the questions.”

Jaskier sighed. “Yes, ticklish spots, and how ticklish said spots are, vary from person to person. People can be ticklish pretty much anywhere, but there are places that are more common than others.”

“Hmm?”

“Must you really know?”

Geralt just stared at him.

Jaskier groaned. “There are quite a few common places. Sides and stomach, ribs, armpits, neck and ears, feet. There are more places that are usually ticklish, but not as commonly.”

“Where?”

“Gods, Geralt, like… Hips, thighs and knees. Hands, sometimes.”

Geralt tilted his head and reached for Jaskier’s hand. Holding him just below the wrist, Geralt gently traced his fingers from Jaskier’s wrist and across his palm. Jaskier squirmed a little where he sat, smiled wide and bit his lip, but did not laugh.

“Hmm?”

“Some places are only affected by lighter tickles. And don’t always make you laugh. But they still tickle.”

“Hmm.”

“Lots of questions for a man who claims to know what tickling is ‘in theory.’”

“It’s not like the boys at Kaer Morhen gathered together and had slumber parties and tickle fights,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier’s face softened. He threw his hands dramatically in the air and gave an overly theatrical sigh.

“Alright, Geralt, if you must relive this childhood stolen from you, you may tickle me. Only for a little while, though!”

Geralt’s smirk returned. Jaskier reeked of anticipation and excitement, and his heartbeat was all over the place.

“You’re just trying to save face while getting me to tickle you.”

Jaskier sputtered and his face went red, but Geralt didn’t give him a chance to respond. His calloused fingers slid back under Jaskier’s chemise and started prodding and wiggling and vibrating into his stomach. Jaskier threw his head back and cackled, half curling up, his legs left kicking in the air. 

Geralt almost chuckled himself at the reaction.

He skittered his fingers off to Jaskier’s side, plucking up his prominent ribcage and into his armpits. Jaskier’s arms clamped down tightly to his sides, trapping Geralt’s hands there.

“That’s not a very effective method of defense,” he noted.

“Don’t tease!” Jaskier squealed through his guffaws.

Geralt raised an eyebrow with a lazy smirk. “That was not my intention. Why? Does it make it worse?”

“Yes!!”

“Then why would I stop? Since you like it.”

“Geralt!”

“Let my hands go and I’ll move.”

“Oh, you absolute—“ The rest of Jaskier’s response was lost to his own laughter.

Geralt allowed himself a quiet chuckle, but lightened his touch to make it easier for Jaskier. After several (rather amusing) tries, Jaskier managed to lift his arms enough for Geralt to grant him mercy and slip his fingers out from under them. He moved his fingers to briefly skitter his blunt nails around Jaskier’s neck and ears.

“Oh, you devil,” Jaskier tittered, panting past light laughter and still squirming madly.

“Where else was it? Feet?”

Jaskier seemed to suddenly decide he’d made a mistake shucking off his boots and shrieked even as Geralt was just reaching for him. He giggled and laughed as he kicked and squirmed to avoid Geralt’s grabbing hands.

“Hold still!”

“Absolutely not, I know what’s coming! Oh, I take back every good thing I ever said about you, I—ahh, Geralt!!”

Geralt allowed himself a full grin at the hysterical shriek that left Jaskier’s lips as he began digging his fingers into Jaskier’s soles. He found he got a particularly good reaction if he dug into Jaskier’s instep or beneath his toes. Both at once was even better.

Keeping in mind the list of less common ticklish spots Jaskier gave him, Geralt moved up Jaskier’s legs.

“Oh, no no no nonononono!” Jaskier cried out.

Geralt almost stopped altogether, but Jaskier’s scent still held no hints of fear or anger, so he kept going.

He squeezed Jaskier’s knees, skittered across his kneecaps, fluttered his fingers behind them (as best he could with Jaskier’s trousers blocking the thin skin from his touch). Jaskier’s laughter was lighter there, breathier. His squirming and frantic rambling seemed to be more in anticipation of something rather than the spot Geralt was targeting itself.

So he moved.

Geralt squeezed up and down Jaskier’s thighs. Geralt had no other way to describe the sound that left Jaskier other than a scream.

Jackpot.

“You’re lucky we’re alone out here,” Geralt said, having to raise his voice to be heard over Jaskier’s voice. “Any predator or bandit for miles would come running the moment they heard you.”

Jaskier showed no signs of hearing him, but his thrashing was becoming less energetic, his laughter becoming hoarse (and Jaskier would (try to) kill him if he made him lose his voice). So Geralt finished it with a few squeezes to Jaskier’s hips, which made him snort.

Jaskier went completely limp against his bedroll as Geralt drew away. He sucked in air greedily, face red and sweaty from exertion.

“You like it.” Geralt said simply, getting up to start setting up a fire in preparation for the setting sun.

Jaskier scoffed, but, for once, didn’t reply verbally.

Geralt smirked. Little victories.

#tickle fic #My writing #the witcher tickling #lee!jaskier #ler!geralt #ticklish!jaskier #the witcher #jaskier | dandelion #geralt of rivia

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

Destiny

Requested by anonymous:

‘Can I have a request where the Witcher is hurt and the reader finds him and she does healing magic and she is healing him and when he wakes up he adores her and cannot get her out of his mind and in a way he felt like destiny put him there to find her and decides to do everything possible to keep her with him’

Warnings: fluff, violence, swearing

Notes: FIRST WITCHER IMAGINE FOR GERALT MY BBY <3

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

“I think I figured out how we can slay it we just-”

“No need witch, I’ve hired someone else to do the job.”

“You - what?” *yn* exclaimed, her voice echoing through the large library. 

“Don’t look so surprised, you’ve had weeks to kill the bloody thing.” Zandah retorted back.

“Does the Mayor know? I don’t think he’d be too pleased to know his trusted advisor had gone behind his Mage’s back.” *yn* snarled as she stormed over to stand chest to chest with the man.

“No of course he doesn’t know, but this problem needs to be dealt with. The people are growing angry.”

“I told you I needed time, I don’t know what the creature is -” *yn* began, trying desperately to defend herself under the scornful eye of Zandah.

“Which is why I hired an expert in the field.” 

“An expert? What do-” *yn* cut herself off, her eyes widening in realisation. “A Witcher. You hired a Witcher.”

“Not just any Witcher. The white wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Zandah explained as he moved past her to grab a book off the shelf causing *yn* to drop the numerous books in her arms onto the table. 

“Are you daft? The only thing the mayor hates more than Witchers are elves.” 

“Which is why I am going to tell him you killed the beast. That way we’re all happy, aren’t we?” Zandah explained as he stood up on a stool to reach for another book. “Sure you’ll live with the guilty conscious of taking someone’s credit and not being good enough at your job, but that’s a consequence I’m happy to live with.”

“And when is this Witcher coming to slay the beast?” *yn* huffed, forcing herself to ignore his scathing words.

“He’s already here and already figured it out what it was, he’s off to kill it now I believe.”

His words made her eyes narrow as she stared him down. Sensing her fierce gaze, Zandah turned on his heels to look down at her from his position on the stool. “Well? What are you still doing here? Don’t you have hymns to chant or something.”

Rolling her eyes she turned on her heel to exit the library. Not being able to help herself she flicked her fingers to the side as she moved towards the door. She smirked as the sound of the stool sweeping underneath Zandah’s feet followed by his shriek as he fell to the ground.

“I’ll get you for that witch!” He shrieked before the books off the bookshelf fell all around him with a satisfying thud.

“Sure you will.” She muttered under her breath, a satisfied grin etched on her face as she made her way outside and into the village square.

Once outside she began to make her way outside the square, towards her small cottage on the outskirts of the village. As she continued on the winding dirt path, she felt a sudden urge to come to a halt. 

The forest grew deathly silent around her once she came to a stand still. Turning her head, her eyes fell on the abandoned baker’s house a few hundred metres or so from her. The baker and his family had been the first of many victims. 

She didn't know what it was, but there was something inside her almost tugging her towards the small house. In all her decades of living, she’d never felt a pulling sensation this strong before. She may have abandoned the Brotherhood, but she still knew better to ignore a sign like that.

Giving her surroundings one last glance, she stepped off the path and began her way towards the house. As she grew closer she noticed a beautiful chestnut horse tied to a tree. A mare, she noted as she grew within a few feet of her.

“Hi girl.” She murmured, placing a gentle hand to the mare’s forehead. “Who’s left you out here all alone, hmm?” She continued, to which the horse whinnied gently and pushed her head against *yn*’s chest.

*yn* gave the mare one last pat before turning her attention back to the house. Inhaling sharply, she twisted the tarnished knob and opened the wooden door to step inside. From the outside it looked completely normal, but once you entered it was something out of a nightmare. Dried blood still painted the walls, floors and ceilings. The furniture was left abandoned and in complete disarray, adding to the evidence of the horror that had occurred inside the walls.

The vision of the family of five all piled in a heap in the living room with their entrails wrapped around their throats and their hands and feet completely severed, still burned freshly in her memory.

She was ready to hurriedly move past the living room, but the sound of a low moan made her freeze. She waited for a few moments in sickly silence to make sure she wasn’t hearing things when the same moan entered her ears.

Someone was here.

She edged towards the living room, curling her left hand into a fist in preparation to cast a spell, before peaking her head around the wall. The first sight that greeted her was a creature she had never seen before. It looked like a cross between a lion, a spider and an octopus. It was completely hideous and terrifying. A Svin, she realised.

It was also very much dead.

The next thing that caught her attention was a bundle of white hair peaking out beneath a layer of blood and guts. Another low moan.

She hurriedly stepped over the creature and kneeled down to reach the bundle of white hair, which upon closer inspection, she realised belonged to the very famous White Wolf - Geralt of Rivia. 

He was so caked in blood, she wasn’t sure what belonged to him and what belonged to the monster. What she did know was that he was injured and injured badly. 

“Fuck.”

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

The last thing Geralt remembered was lying on a hard wooden floor, the Svin he had just killed beside him, with a huge Svin sized claw mark embedded deeply into his chest. 

The first thing he sensed as he came too was that he was no longer lying on a wooden floor, instead he was lying on a comfortable mattress. He groaned as pain seared through his chest. His eyes opened but his vision was so blurry that he could barely make out his surroundings. He instinctively moved to touch his wound but was stopped by a grip on his arm.

“It’s ok, just breathe.” He heard a gentle voice say. “You need rest.” 

He blinked a couple of times as a figure appeared above him. He tried to speak but all that came out was a grunt of pain. “Don’t try to talk, everything’s going to be ok.” The voice reassured him. He breathed out deeply as he felt a wet cloth press against his chest and gently clean the area.

“It’s going to be ok.” The voice repeated as a soft hand reached up to gently caress his cheek. “I’m going to look after you.” Was the last thing he heard before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

*yn* smiled softly as she watched the White Wolf slip back into a peaceful slumber. She leant up and gently tucked a piece  matted hair behind his ear. She turned on her heel and grabbed her mortar and pestle to begin grinding up some more herbs for his injury.

A loud knock at the door made her jump slightly. Hurriedly she wiped her hands on her dress before making her way to the front door. She opened the door slightly and peaked through the gap to see a man with a mop of brown hair on his head anxiously pacing outside.

He looked harmless enough.

“Can I help you?” She asked him as she opened the door further. The man’s jaw dropped when his eyes fell on her. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous grin spreading across his lips.

“Oh yes hello! I’m looking for the Mage, she lives here apparently.”

“Yes, that’s me, I’m *yn*.” She smiled, sticking out her hand politely. “Oh wow, when they described you I was expecting someone... um...”

“Older?” *yn* suggested.

“I was going to say wrinkly and fat but sure, older works.” The man stated bluntly, causing *yn* to raise a brow. 

“Uh - sorry what I meant was - I’m Jaskier, song writer extraordinaire.” He introduced himself, grabbing her hand flamboyantly before pressing his lips to her skin.

 “I’m looking for a friend of mine, he’s about yay high, annoyingly muscly and looks like he wants to kill everything in sight.” Jaskier continued, pointing his hand well above his head to indicate his height.

“Wouldn’t be Geralt of Rivia by any chance?” *yn* asked.

“Yes! Yes! That’s the one, you see I’m sort of his best friend and I think he must be terribly worried without me.” Jaskier explained, causing a small chuckle to slip past her lips.

“He’s inside, he’s sleeping though. He needs time to rest so the potion can take full effect and heal him.” *yn* explained, cocking her head inside as she stepped aside to allow Jaskier in. 

“Oh thank god, Geralt.” He gasped as he wondered in to see Geralt asleep on her bed. “This is what happens when he doesn’t let me come, he’s just way to over protective, he let me sleep in so I wouldn’t get injured.” Jaskier scolded, crossing his arms as he sent the blissfully unaware Witcher a glare.

“I’m sure that’s it.” *yn* nodded, turning her back so Jaskier wouldn’t see the amused smile on her features. She had a feeling Jaskier was more of a hindrance than a help to the Witcher.

“He’s going to be ok, right?” Jaskier asked as he watched her grind up some herbs. 

“Yes. The cut was not too deep, this will clear out any toxins left in his bloodstream.” *yn* explained as she rubbed the ground up mixture into the wound, muttering a cantation under her breath as she did so.

“It’s weird seeing him so - un broody.” Jaskier commented which caused her to let out a laugh. “I’m serious, even when he’s sleeping he usually looks completely pissed off.” 

“You spend a lot of the time watching him sleep then?” *yn* smirked, looking over her shoulder to glance at the bard.

“Ok well-” He stuttered as a small blush crept up on his cheeks. “I am very much into woman but come on you have to admit it’s hard to not to stare.” Jaskier defended himself. 

*yn* laughed and glanced back down at Geralt, taking in his facial features, the bard did have a point - he looked like a damn God. 

“You have a point.” She agreed.

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

This time when Geralt came too, his vision was almost completely clear. He instinctively shot up, the pain in his chest dull compared to the burning sensation he had remembered. 

“Oh Geralt, thank heavens you’re alright.” The voice was not the sweet one he remembered, instead it was a very familiar one. 

“Jaskier?” He grunted as he moved to touch his chest. “Ah-ah-ah I wouldn’t do that. You’re not supposed to touch that... or be moving.” Jaskier spoke, hastily making his way into Geralt’s line of vision.

Had Geralt dreamt up that sweet voice and gentle touch?

He glanced around the small room, noting the numerous spell books and scrolls scattered around as he moved to heave himself off the bed. “You’re not supposed to get u- and you’re up anyway.” Jaskier sighed. 

“How did I get here?” Geralt asked. “Well-” Geralt turned to Jaskier once he detected the mischievous tone, to see an equally mischievous smirk on his lips.

“A very lovely Mage came to your rescue.” Jaskier grinned. Geralt grunted in response. “Her name’s *yn*.” 

"Where is she?” 

“See for yourself.” Jaskier spoke, still grinning mischievously as he pointed to the small window. Geralt followed Jaskier over to the window and peered out, squinting as the blinding sunlight hit him square in the eyes.

He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted. Once they did, he felt his heart warm at the sight before him. In the small pasture that was next to the house, stood Roach and the Mage that Jaskier called *yn*. 

She was patting Roach and saying something to her. He watched as *yn* took a few steps away from Roach before she turned on her heel and jogged away. Sure enough Roach followed after her, nudging her in the back before galloping off to the other end of the field.

“They’ve been playing tag for the last hour.” Jaskier mused, “figured I could work it into a song somehow, could add a bit of femininity to your brutish ballads.”

But Geralt was no longer listening. Instead he found himself mesmerised by the woman before him. Usually he detested the thought of any other living being touching Roach, but the sight of this made him want to smile.

He let out an involuntary groan as a sudden wave of pain shot through his chest. “Geralt? Geralt are you alright?” Jaskier asked, hurrying over to support Geralt as he doubled over.

“I’m fine.” He hissed, wincing as another wave of burning pain rippled through him. “Hang on, I’ll go get *yn*.” Jaskier announced, making sure Geralt was back on the bed before he sprinted outside. 

He could hear Jaskier’s voice in the distance, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. “What happened?”

The sweet voice.

“I’m not sure, he was fine and standing and then he just doubled over.”

Geralt looked up and instantly locked eyes with *yn*. Her face was flushed and her dress covered in dried blood, no doubt his, but that did not make her any less beautiful. 

Goddess-like, Geralt decided. 

*yn* felt her stomach do backflips as her eyes locked with Geralt’s. Seeing him lying down shirtless was one thing, but sitting up? *yn* had been on this earth for many many years, but fuck - was it possible for someone to be that attractive?

“Fuck.” The Witcher suddenly hissed as a stabbing sensation filled his chest. All thoughts, sexual and otherwise flew from her mind, now her focus was back on his pain.

“Well firstly, he was not supposed to be standing.” *yn* scolded as she put herself back in Mage mode and hurried over to her medicine table. “Lie down.” She instructed as she grabbed the herbs. 

“There must be some of the Svin’s poison still left in your blood system.” She explained as she pushed the herbs forcefully into the open wound and muttered a stronger cantation under her breath.

“Fucking hell.” Geralt cursed as the herbs sizzled under her spell, melting into his flesh. 

“Sorry.” She apologised, before moving to his face. Geralt felt his heart beat faster as she brought her face right down close to his, so close that if he moved upwards, their lips would meet.

“No green veins in your eyes. You’re definitely clear now.” She decided as her she peered intently into his amber ones. 

“Thank you.” The sound of his deep voice made her break out of her Mage mode and made her realise just how close the pair were. 

‘For godsake - you’re a powerful witch with decades of sexual experience - pull yourself together and channel your inner sexual deviant!’ She internally scolded herself. 

“Anytime, Geralt of Rivia.” She smirked as she pulled away from him. “Nice to meet you, by the way.” She continued as she moved to place the empty bowl back on the table. 

“Nice to meet you too, *yn* of....?” Geralt queried as he sat back up on the bed, surprised to realise that the intense pain he had felt only moments ago was now completely gone.

“Nowhere, I don’t remember where I was born, I just remember all the places I travelled to.” *yn* explained as she floated over to the other side of the room to grab clean bandages.

“Before Aretuza?” Jaskier piped up causing *yn* to glance over at him in surprise. “Yes before Aretuza.” She nodded. 

“*yn* of nowhere... now that’s a powerful song - you don’t mind if I use that do you?” Jaskier asked her eagerly. 

“No, go ahead.” *yn* answered, stifling a laugh as her and Geralt exchanged looks. 

“So, you’re in the brotherhood?” Geralt asked her as he watched her measure the bandages. 

“I was - I left that life a long time ago, I was sick of advising King’s who didn’t want to be advised.” 

“And now?” He queried as she began to delicately wrap his wound. 

“Now I do this. I travel from village to village, finding places that cannot afford a Mage and offer my services for free.” 

“That does not bore you?” He asked, immediately regretting the words as they slipped past his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s ok.” She laughed quietly. “It does seem boring, but I’ve had three lifetimes full of excitement and adventure. I’ve been here for a few years now, the Mayor and all his subjects are very kind to me, well except his advisor.” She explained. 

“I’ve had my fill, I’m happy to just help people now. I’m sure that must sound quite pathetic to someone who hunts monsters for a living.” She sighed.

“It’s not pathetic, trust me.” Geralt comforted, placing a large hand on her shoulder. His actions made her cease her movements, glancing up from his wound to meet his eyes. She felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks as his fingers brushed against her skin. 

“I um-” She stuttered, breaking their contact as she pulled out of his hold. “You should be fine to travel now.” She murmured, glancing over at Jaskier sheepishly to see him staring wide eyed at the pair. 

“But... you’re more than welcome to stay the night if you need.” 

“Oh yes I think Geralt would absolutely love to-”

“No, we’ll be on our way.” Geralt cut Jaskier off, rising to his feet very suddenly, his face suddenly turning expressionless.  

“But Geralt-”

“Shut up Jaskier.” He hissed, gripping the bard by the shoulders and firmly guiding him to the front door. 

“Wait!” *yn* called, just as the two had opened the door. “Take this with you.” She said as she grabbed a small poultice off the table. 

“Apply it to the wound twice a day for a week, to ensure it heals nicely.” She explained, placing it into Geralt’s hand. Studying his vacant expression for a few moments, she leant up and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Safe travels Geralt of Rivia, and you too Jaskier.” She smiled, caressing Jaskier’s face briefly before dropping her hand to her side.

“Thank you, *yn* of nowhere.” Geralt spoke, and *yn* swore she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips before he disappeared through the door.

And just like a tornado, the pair had come and gone. 

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

“Ok I think I’ve finally perfected *yn* of nowhere version three hundred and one, do you want to hear it?”

“For the last time, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Geralt snarled, warming his hands over the small fire. 

“Oh for fucks sake, you know what Geralt? I’ve just about had it with you.” Jaskier huffed, during his guitar to the side and rising to his feet.  “Why don’t you just admit the reason you’ve been a grumpy sack of shit for the past two days is because you got scared that you felt something real with *yn* and ran away like a little wolf pup instead of giving it a go.” He continued as he moved to grab a loaf of bread from his bag.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Geralt snapped back.

“Ok let’s not play that game Geralt. I saw that connection with my own two damn eyes. It’s like something out of one of my most popular love songs, like destiny.” 

“Fuck don’t you start with that whole destiny bullshit.” Geralt muttered. 

“No Geralt, don’t you start with that whole ‘destiny is bullshit’ thing, I know you believe it.”

Jaskier was right. Geralt did believe in destiny, whether he wanted to believe it or not. And there was something inside him, desperately trying to claw it’s way out that was trying to get him to go back. It was like he was being tugged back in the direction of the small village.

Back to her.

But Jaskier was right about more than that. It was true, the overwhelming feeling of adoration and fascination he had felt for *yn* had scared him. And the White Wolf was supposed to be scared of nothing. 

“Geralt... hello? Can you hear me?” Jaskier’s voice cut through his worries like a knife through butter.

“It would never work.” Geralt heard himself admit. 

“and why not?” Jaskier exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You heard what she said, she’s had her fill of adventure and chaos, and that’s all my life is.” 

“Pfft.” Jaskier scoffed as he made his way back to sit beside him. “I saw the way she looked at you, if you’re trying to tell me that if you went back their right now and asked her to come with you that she would say no, then you’re out of your - ow!”

Geralt looked away from the fire to see that in Jaskier’s passionate flailing of his arms, he’d managed to cut the palm of his left hand. 

“Well that’s just great, the first scar I get happens to be from a bloody kitchen knife, can you pass the - why are you looking at me like that?” Jaskier cut himself once he noticed Geralt staring intently at his wound.

“I have an idea.” Geralt announced, a bemused smirk appearing on his lips.

“Oh no.” 

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

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plenty oh valley of plenty.” *yn* hummed to herself as she cleaned her medical tools. Ever since Jaskier and Geralt had left a couple of days ago, the song had been playing on repeat in her head. 

Sure, it was a catchy song but all it did was remind her of Geralt and she was thinking of him enough as it was. 

Surely she was not the only one out of the two that felt the connection? It was far too intense to be one sided. Right?

A knock at the door made her snap out of her deep thoughts. “Coming!” She called as she made her way to the front door.

“Geralt.” The name slipped out automatically as she stared wide eyed at the mountain of a man in front of her.

“Sorry to intrude, I think Jaskier needs your help and you were the closest village.” It was only when Geralt mentioned him that *yn* realised he was holding an unconscious Jaskier by the collar. 

“You’re not intruding, bring him and put him on the bed.” *yn* instructed, stepping aside so he could haul Jaskier inside.

“What happened?” She asked him as she hurried over to Jaskier’s side. 

“I’m not sure.” She heard him answer as she began to examine Jaskier.  

“How did he get this cut on his hand?” She asked him, noticing the small bloodied slit on his palm. *yn* glanced over her shoulder when her answer was met by silence to see Geralt dancing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Geralt?”

“.... himself.” He admitted quietly.

“Himself?” She repeated, raising a brow once she was met with a nod. “And he’s unconscious because...?” 

A shrug.

“Alright, well I can dress his cut.” She answered, turning from him to hide her grin. Had Geralt really travelled all this way just so she could look at a small cut? 

The room fell into silence as she carefully wrapped Jaskier’s limp hand. “While you’re here I should look at your wound.” She stated, turning to Geralt who had now taken a seat on the table. 

He nodded and pulled his shirt over his head and *yn* was pleased to see that her dressings were still in place. She felt her heart rate increase as Geralt opened his legs for her to stand in-between them. She could practically feel the heat radiating from his body as she slotted in between his thighs. The pair fell back into silence as she began to work methodically on unwrapping the bandages. 

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt spoke up once she had begun to clean the wound with a wet cloth.

“Of course.” She murmured.

“How did you find me? Back at that baker’s house?” His words made her cease her movements briefly, glancing up at him to meet his eyes before looking back down at his wound. “I-I don’t know, I just felt like I had to go there. Like something was...”

“Pulling you?” He suggested. 

“Yes, pulling me.” She agreed quietly, avoiding his intense gaze as she manoeuvred around him to grab some fresh bandages. Her fingers brushed against his tanned skin and she felt his muscles shiver under her touch. She felt a sudden surge of confidence ripple through her and before she could question it, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Can I ask you a question, Geralt of Rivia?” She spoke, shooting him a small smile.

“Of course.” 

“Did you really come back here just for me to look after Jaskier?” *yn* asked as she finished tying the cloth around his chest.

“I think you know the answer.” His deep voice made her eyes flicker up to his amber ones, that seemed to be glowing even brighter than usual. 

“It would be nice to hear you say it though.” She murmured, taking a step closer to him so their lips were only a few centimetres apart. The energy in the room was so palpable, *yn* felt that her knees might buckle underneath her.

“I came back for you.” 

The second the words were uttered, *yn* leant forward and captured his lips in a kiss. The pair moulded together, as if they were always meant to be one entity, Geralt wrapping his arms around her frame to pull him closer to her. As the pair pulled away, *yn* swore she could feel her entire essence literally buzzing. 

A small smile appeared on his lips as he placed one hand on her lower back and another up to cradle her face. “Do you believe in destiny?” He asked quietly.

“I do.” She replied, swallowing nervously as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “And I think I was meant to find you lying half dead and covered in Svin guts.” Her words made a deep chuckle emit from the back of Geralt’s throat. 

“I know you said you were done with a life of adventure, but I think I could really do with a Mage, and a better travelling companion.” He added, cocking his head to a still passed out Jaskier causing her to giggle. 

She smiled and hastily pressed another kiss to his lips, “I’m in.” 

A loud groan caused both her and Geralt to swivel around to see Jaskier coming too, gripping his head as he sat up in the bed.

“Fucking hell, please tell me you two are together and Geralt didn’t knock me out for no reason.” 

“Don’t worry Jaskier, it was for a good reason, a very good one.”

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

[yespolkadotkitty]

Hi, hi! I love your work and wanted to ask about some of your favorite writers and fics! For spreading the love and also, selfishly, to fill up my long weekend lol

Thank you ever so much, little grey face! OK, so you haven’t said which fandom(s), so I’m going to dive right in and give you a smorgasbord of just some of my absolute favourites.... Buckle Up.

Fairy Dust by @di-kut - perhaos my favourite EVER sex pollen fic. Ezra x reader. Buckle up for this one. You’ll need a change of underwear, but it’s also touching and lyrically penned.

Perfection by @nildespirandum. Thomas Sharpe x OFC. Oh gosh. This epic fic will live in my memory forever. A fantastic OFC and Thomas is SO vivid.

Suits and Stilettos by @aims777 - Kylo Ren x Rey. Oh God. I binged this, it’s SO engrossing and amazingly told. I love the representation of the A/B/O universe here.

Traffic @just-the-hiddles. She will tell you that I have literally NOT SHUT UP about this fic since we met. Frustrated Tom, naked Tom, Tom being sexy over the phone to you. I still re-read this from time to time. Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Reckless by @keeper0fthestars - an excuse to fuck Javier on the hood of his car. Very hot, sensual, and each word chosen carefully. Sort-of roleplay as well which is HOT. Bring a change of underwear. Javier Peña x reader.

Another Man’s Shoes by @truthisademurelady. Forever TV fandom, Henry Morgan x Jo Martinez. Henry and Lucas bodyswap while having to solve a murder and trying to hide the secret from their family and friends. I was so hungry for each update of this and I still re-read it from time to time.

Daily Disasters by @concavepatterns . Darcy x Loki. Tasertricks is one of my favourite pairings and Connie is the MASTER of dialogue, fluff, snark and slow burn.

Somewhere Between by @awriterthatwrites (on AO3). Ichabod Crane x Abbie Mills, set after Abbie’s return from the catacombs. Heartbreaking and gently penned.

Look But Don’t Touch by @valdomarx. Geralt x Jaskier, filthy one shots. Valdo is the RULER of Geraskier and she does it with red-hot smut and then whacks you over the head with more feelings than you know what to do it.

Quriosity by @dr_girlfriend (on AO3). Oh God. This fic ate my life for at least three days. Q and Bond are such a good pairing in this and Q’s voice is spot on; I could constantly hear Ben Whishaw and Daniel Craig in my head.

Yes, Ma’am by @spacegayofficial. Tori is FANTASTIC at Whiskey and this is no exception. loved the dialogue and sub!Whiskey lives in my heart forever. Agent Whiskey (Kingsman) x Reader

Curriculum Vitae by @tiffdawg . Professor!Javier is EVERYTHING I WANT in a man. The story is engrossing and I binged 7 chapters before I remembered I was late for an appt.

Digging Up Bones by @songsformonkeys. I think, to date my favourite Whiskey fic. SFM’s wriitng is measured and enchanting. I would also give A LOT for Whiskey to call me Moonshine in that drawl. Whiskey x Reader.

We Were Warriors by @copperdead . THE BEST Triple Frontier fic, like, EVER. The slow burn between Pope and William is the stuff I can only dream of writing. All the boys get their moment in the sun and Pope and Will babysitting Catfish’s kids made me sigh with bliss. Santi Pope x Will Miller.

Rough Day by @no-droids. I don’t know how to put my love for this fic into words. Mando’s voice is spot on, the kid is SO ADORABLE, the FEELINGS are so intense and the smut is hotter than the sun. The world-building is DIVINE and I was sucked into this fic from chapter 1. Reader is brave and creative, and the way she and Din dance around their feelings while sexing each other raw is just... Just read this. You will not regret it ever. The dialogue is well plotted and relatable. I fell hopelessly in love with this writer’s Din Djarin when I wasn’t even halfway through this fic.

Right  WELL I AM OUT OF TIME NOW but there are at least twenty other fics I didn’t get around to shouting out. May I recommend the following: @fishcustardandclintbarton @hopelessromanticspoonie @littlefreya @ly--canthrope @murdermewithbooks @fleetwoodmactshirt @dindjarindiaries and there are so many more and I love you all.

PSA: where possible when I refer to writers in the 3rd person I have checked blogs to see which pronouns are preferred but I apologise unreservedly if I have messed up.

#fic rec post #I'll try and keep adding to this #fic recs #author recs