#witcher drabbles

[dear-galileo]

witcher drabbles

my collection of drabbles written for the @thepassifloradiscord drabble challenge!

all of the drabbles are exactly 100 words and are standalone stories. relationships and type of fic are listed at the top of the chapter

i wrote 14 in the 2 hours of the challenge, they have all been uploaded here!

my ao3 can be found here

there is a mix of geralt/jaskier and aiden/lambert in there, mostly gen fluff fics

#em posts #my fics #witcher fics #witcher drabbles #geraskier #geraskier fics

[hannibard]

Witchers were feared by all, especially "The Butcher of Blaviken" and yet Jaskier was never scared of Geralt, which made zero sense. Geralt might not have been the emotionless killing machine the Continent made him out to be but Jaskier couldn't have known that.

Afer spending time with him, Geralt realised that it probably had to do with the bard's terrible self-preservation instincts. He got into trouble constantly and always followed Geralt on hunts, no matter how dangerous.

When the witcher once asked him about it the bard replied with his brightest smile: "I'm here for a good time, not a long time". It made Geralt roll his eyes but when he thought about it later, he realized with a chill that the bard meant it.

He already knew there was more to Jaskier than meets the eye. The bard talked nonstop and yet Geralt knew almost nothing about his past. He fleeted through towns and relationships, but nothing was permanent and none lasted. When he thought no one was looking at him he had a melancholic look in his eyes, void of the usual shine.

It always puzzled Geralt but now he couldn't help but face the terrifying truth: Jaskier didn't care at all whether he lived or died.

#drabble #tw implied suicide ideation #i hope someone more equipped than me could write something with this prompt #bc i can't do more than that #the witcher #text #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #crispy

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Until Sunrise | Geralt of Rivia Drabble

Summary: Geralt doesn’t plan on leaving until sunrise. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Geralt x Reader (Y/N)

Tags: smut, prostitution, bathing, Geralt’s thick thighs, mentions of blood, thigh riding, p in v, sex, unprotected sex, orgasms

WC: ± 1K

A/Ns: Not new to smut, but new to Geralt so go easy 🥴🤣 Hope you enjoy my obligatory bathing Geralt turned smut offering to be accepted into The Witcher fanfic world ❤️

The Witcher Masterlist || Support my Writing Here

“Please, sir, allow me.”

Geralt scoffs to himself under his breath, but loud enough that she can hear it. He’s clearly amused by the very title she’s thrown his way. She knows she’s probably a little more coy than the other whores he’s used to, but that’s exactly how she likes to play it. 

“Do you know what I am?” he asks her, obviously still bemused as a smirk plays on his tempting mouth. 

“Of course,” she agrees, unable to stop the playful smirk from curling across her own full lips as she replies. “But you’re still going to pay me handsomely, are you not?” she adds, a playful glint in her eye as she wades through the water towards the witcher. 

She’s unable to take her eyes off of his broad, thick body, the way the blood soaks into his skin, the way the water ripples and laps against the tight muscles underneath, the slight curl in his pale blond hair as the steam of the bath dampens it. Y/N isn’t sure she’s ever seen a more perfect specimen before. If she thought she was pleased to have been selected by The Witcher when he entered the brothel earlier this evening, she’s even more pleased now she’s alone with him, naked and soaking in a warm bath together. 

Geralt’s eyes seem more golden in this lighting as she gets closer, and he brings his longs arms out to stretch them along the back of the bath, the muscles in his shoulders only bulging thicker, water evaporating from his skin before it has the chance to drip across the broad span of his biceps. 

Y/N reaches for a rag, wetting it in the hot water before bringing it to the witcher’s skin, dabbing at the dried blood staining it, careful to get every drop. A low hum vibrates through his throat and straight through Y/N’s core as he closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, relaxing into her touch with ease. 

“Is it true what they say about you?” Y/N dares to ask, rewetting the cloth to bring it further across his shoulders, her fingers wrapping around his thick arm, digging into the impressive muscle as her thighs instinctively rub together under the guise created by the water. 

“What do they say?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling in his chest as he speaks, only serving to make Y/N even more desperate to feel him; taste him. 

“That your impressive stamina doesn’t end with fighting,” she smirks, watching as he slowly opens his eyes to look at her. 

He scoffs, staring directly into her eyes for a moment or two, and Y/N begins to wonder if she’s said the wrong thing and overstepped her line. But then a smirk grows wider on his lips. 

“Well I don’t plan on leaving here until sunrise,” he informs her matter-of-factly, before reaching for her wrist and pulling her closer, catching her before she can slip deeper into the water. 

He pulls her into his lap, her legs straddling his thick thighs, having to spread pretty far apart just to accommodate him, but she groans all the same, feeling his hands push into her hair, his large arms trapping her tight against his body. She can feel how hard he already is between her legs, trapped between her pelvic bone and his own. She reaches under the water, her hand seeking him out, her fingers wrapping around his length as she moans louder, realising they don’t even touch thanks to the girth. 

“You just keep on impressing me,” she quips, but Geralt only growls in response, tugging on her hair harder, pulling a whimper from her lips as she bucks her hips against him, her aching pussy dragging back and forth along his hard, muscular thigh. 

Another primal grunt escapes The Witcher as he lifts Y/N with ease, and when he drops her, it’s onto his cock as it sinks deep inside her, stretching her open with a burning pain she welcomes. Y/N moans, throwing her head back, her hair soaking in the hot water, her breasts pushing into his face as the stubble that adorns his chin scratches against her delicate skin. Geralt places chaste kisses to her chest, his teeth scraping over her hardened nipples, his fingertips digging into the flesh on her back as he instantly begins to fuck up into her. 

Y/N takes the brutality; welcomes it even. She’s never felt a pleasure like it, she’s never been fucked so thoroughly in such a short space of time before. Her orgasm is already building deep in her core, climbing higher and higher as her fingernails bite deeper and deeper into the witcher’s chest. 

“C’mon,” he encourages, pulling her down to send himself what feels like impossibly deeper, his cock throbbing inside her as she finally comes undone around him, her pussy clenching rhythmically as her orgasm ripples through every fibre of her body in a constant wave of ecstasy. “That’s it,” he hums, Y/N’s head flopping forward as she slowly begins her descent from the high of her climax back to the very bath they’re in. 

“Who needs stamina when you fuck like that?” she jokes, breathlessly. 

Geralt doesn’t reply, he just stands, lifting her in his arms with such ease that it only makes Y/N feel even more powerless. He’s still inside her, throbbing and filling her like she was made just for him. He carries her over to the bed, throwing her down onto it, and Y/N can’t help but stare up at him, even more in awe now she can see him in his impressive entirety. 

“I’ve already told you, I’m not leaving until sunrise,” he growls, grabbing her ankles to pull her closer to the end of the bed. “And I plan to get my money’s worth.” 

Liked this fic? Want to see more Geralt fics? Please consider leaving me feedback by replying or reblogging :) Feedback is fuel!

#until sunrise #geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfic #smut #drabble #negans-lucille-tblr #lemon

[witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff]

𝔎𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔰 𝔐𝔦𝔨𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰

𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩!

𝔄 𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥

𝔈𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰

ℜ𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫'𝔰 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢

𝔈𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡

𝔄 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔉𝔲𝔫 ℑ𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

𝙷𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝙰 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝙰 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎'𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚌𝚢

𝙰 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙵𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝙴𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

𝔊𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔒𝔣 ℜ𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔞 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔒𝔣 𝔞 𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔄 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔘𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶

𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔙𝔬𝔴𝔰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢

𝔄𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡

𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔒𝔣 ℜ𝔢𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔱

𝑲𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝑨𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒊𝒎 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑴𝒄'𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

Masterlist Part 2

#henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #imagine #Materlist #x reader #klaus mikaelson #Witcher #one shot #klaus mikaelson x reader #TVD #fanfiction #Masterlist #female reader #drabble #fluff #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #HOTD #Smuts

[flowercrown-bard]

Geralt stared at the nervously chattering guy, unblinking. 

He was an idiot. 

A brightly dressed idiot who had driven to the wild life rescue centre in the middle of the night, close to tears because he had found an injured animal on his way to a party. 

"Can you save him?"

"Her," Geralt said automatically and took the small fluttering thing from the man. Oh, hadn't he mentioned? The guy was an idiot, who had stopped his car to help an endangered and dangerous species. 

The guy was an idiot. 

Geralt already felt his heart fluttering like the griffin's wings. 

#Modern with magic au #Drabble #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #Witcher #Ficlet #My writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

#geralt of rivia #geralt #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt x reader #harald halfdansson #harald x reader #dark harald #dark!harald #harald finehair #vikings #the witcher #bookstore au #au #series #drabble

[13atoms]

Heart Moon (Geralt x Reader)

A little Valentine’s day drabble! There’s a heart moon above our sleeping heroes, and the beginning of a love story growing between them. | 1.2k | Fluff/Romance

   💐♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐 ♥ 💐

You groaned, rolled your shoulders, and curled up against the cold forest floor. Across from you, Geralt was soundly asleep, the proud line of his nose catching the moon light, the harsh line of his jaw softened by his slumped neck.

Roach was somewhere behind you, mooching around in the undergrowth, not far from her tether. Jaskier was curled up on furs, sleeping in a bundle with his lute strung up on a tree, safe from mud and danger.

Night watch was no fun, but it gave you a moment alone. And that was rare, especially since Jaskier had rejoined your party a few weeks ago. You liked having him there. The noise, the joviality, his complaining just as your feet began to ache. You liked him, his spirit and his company, a fellow human beside Geralt’s superhuman stamina and senses.

The Witcher had never made you feel like a burden, but beside him it was hard to feel like you were pulling your weight.

The bard’s presence had brought something else into focus. That your relationship with him was different, to the one you shared with Geralt.

You had long suspected it, that there was something unusual in the way you curled around him when the night was cold, or the way he never finished eating until you were full. He never finished the water skeins until your thirst was quenched. Never let you carry your own bags until he was at capacity.

He didn’t do that for Jaskier. You didn’t want to hold Jaskier like you wanted to hold Geralt.

And late into the night, you’d stay awake into Geralt’s night watch shifts, just for the chance to talk to him alone again.

You liked Jaskier, loved him, as a friend and a confidant.

You’d never longed for his company as you longed for Geralt’s.

It was a red moon, rising strong and high above the continent, leaving a strange glow on everything.

Geralt’s pale skin was tinted with it, the water nearby reflecting it, the light dissipating to pink as it painted all that was below.

There were rumours, about pink moons. Old wives’ tales, stories for children. For romantics.

You wondered how many Geralt had seen, in his long life. This was only your second – you had seen one as a child, and laughed at the celebrations which took place in your village.

It was a night for mischief and flowers and kindness. Gifting and smiling and loving.

You watched how the light caught Geralt, his pale hair fanned out against his sleep mat and face pressed to a fur. Perhaps, a few dozen miles away, the nearest village would be celebrating as yours had. Maybe it was celebrated no where else on the continent. It was so rare, you had never thought to ask.

A pang of heartache for your home threatened to overwhelm you, tightening your throat and forcing your gaze from Geralt like he might feel the intensity of it.

Without much further thought, you arose, beginning the hunt for flowers.

The season was just beginning, but hardy early species survived. Snow-white droplets of petals and tiny pale blue flowers, blood-reds and buttery-yellows cut by your knife and gathered in your hands until you realised you’d wandered too far. Trying not to make too much noise, and not truly worried, you rushed back, the crook of your arm full of delicate blooms.

As you returned the moon was directly overhead, Geralt fidgeting in his sleep at the sound of your return. His golden eyes batted open, scanning the campsite until they settled on you.

“Sorry,” you whispered, descending back onto your sleep mat, flowers in your grip.

“Not to worry. We must be due to swap soon,” he murmured, voice low for fear of waking Jaskier, and gruff with sleep.

He rolled onto his side, perched up on an elbow. You were always amazed at how quickly he recovered from being awoken. He missed nothing, eyes flickering  to the flowers in your lap.

You were making quick work of stripping the stems of leaves, knife slipping easily down the delicate stems.

The Witcher watched your hands for a few moments, before rolling onto his back.

“Heart moon,” he murmured, and you swore you saw a smirk on his lips, the flash of his pointed canines.

Both of you stared up at it through the clearing in the canopy of the trees, knife resting still in your lap.

Geralt took his time as he sat up, finding a place against his bags to lean, before gesturing for the flowers in your lap.

“Collect your own,” you teased, a laugh on your tongue at his dejection.

“I’m warm here. Give me half.”

You faked a bit of grumbling, but acquiesced, and soon Geralt had his own pocket knife out, stripping the stems with the ease he stripped flesh from bone.

You returned to your task, taking quick glances up to see the concentration on the Witcher’s face.

“I hope these weren’t for Jaskier,” he grumbled, no malice in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, focussed on removing the roots from a bunch of conical purple flowers.

“Just felt like it. It’s tradition, under a heart moon.”

The Witcher hummed in agreement.

“Tradition to be given flowers, I believe. Who were you giving them to?”

“Both of you. Myself. Roach.”

When you looked up, Geralt raised an eyebrow. You didn’t talk about home much, but now felt right. A quiet moment, just the two of you.

“We always gave flowers on a blood moon. To children, parents, friends, siblings, neighbours…”

“It was always lovers, I thought.”

You fixed him with a look, stilling the blade in your hands once again.

“Sometimes lovers,” you confirmed.

“It must vary, across the continent.”

“Must do,” you conceded.

You’d started to fashion little bouquets, your own flower pile split in two, smiling to yourself as you found twine to wrap them into neat forms. Geralt watched with unveiled interest.

With a groan at the movement, you uncrossed your legs and stood, placing one bundle by Jaskier’s sleeping form. The other you nestled into Geralt’s travel pack. Sitting back down, you noticed Geralt’s movements had stopped. His eyes glanced between the bundles, then back to his lap. Finally, to you. You stifled a yawn, looking back to the bright red moon where it sat between trees and the stars.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice quiet, hands unmoving by his flowers.

For a few moments, you took one last look at the moon. You might see another in your lifetime, but it wouldn’t be like this. Not with your closest friends, one of them a Witcher who you hoped might see you as even more precious than that.

You took in the image of Geralt, lap covered in flowers and golden eyes fixed on you.

Finally, you laid down, curling beneath blankets and on your side facing the Witcher.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goonight,” he murmured.

You laid still, eyes closed, listening to the sound of him slicing at leaves, imagining him bathed in that pink moonlight.

As you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep you heard him stand, moving away, no doubt not wandering far. You let sleep take you.

When you awoke it was to the early morning light, the heart moon vanished, the Witcher nearby. Golden eyes flickering away from yours as they opened, and you found yourself half-way buried in flowers.

#this is daft and cute and unbeta'd #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #13atoms #valentine's drabble

[mollymawkwrites]

Kiss me, Jaskier thinks when Geralt berates him for forgetting to tie the pack with their food on a high branch to protect from hungry animals.

Kiss me, Jaskier prays when he shivers in Geralt’s arms as they wait for the snow storm outside their shelter to pass.

Kiss me, Jaskier dares with his eyes as he rants to an annoyed Geralt about his frankly insulting third place at the Beauclair Poetry Festival.

He is barely awake enough to form a single thought, roused before dawn by his heathen of a Witcher, when Geralt kisses him with a soft smile.

#drabble #geraskier #the witcher #my writing

[darklydeliciousdesires]

“Maybe if you’d been paying attention, you’d have seen it, how much I love you.” okay I saw that prompt and immediately thought of Geralt

Oooooh, a request from the bestie! I love this! Okay, here we go. I hope you like it, love!

The rain is cold, hard and foreboding. Much like him, you think, as you watch him leaving your home, his boots heavy along the cobblestones, each of them feeling as if he is leaving an imprint upon your heart.

You cannot go another... goodness knows how long, in wait to reveal the secret that just lead to you both fighting, and him departing.

"Geralt," you call through the deluge, the tall man halting, turning.

"What?" That word is delivered on a shrug, his frown knitting his thick, dark brows. "What could possibly be left to say that hasn't been said already?"

You stride out to him, the rain quickly soaking you through, his face still a picture of hostility as he looks down upon you. "Something I think you have failed to notice, something I cannot keep within any longer. I love you. I apologise for my part in our quarrel, but I was frustrated."

"For?"

"For the fact you did not notice, Geralt. “Maybe if you’d been paying attention, you’d have seen it, how much I love you.”

He looks to the heavens above, sighing, his amber eyes returning to you, softened this time. "I did. I did notice."

You are puzzled in the wake of this. "Then why did you never speak of it?"

He reaches for you, calloused hands gently caressing the sides of your neck. "Perhaps this old Witcher needed to hear you tell him." There's a pause, Geralt leaning to you. "Tell me again."

His forehead softly rests against yours, your insides a mass of churning anxiety, love, and disbelief. "I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"Geralt of Rivia, I love you."

His smile blooms like a rose touched by the warmth of spring. "Good. Now, allow me to take you back indoors and spend the rest of the afternoon showing how much I love you, too."

And by all the gods in the various heavens above, how he shows you that love.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher smut #ddd drabble requests

[islenthatur]

The other witchers didn't know how to think of the colourful human that Geralt had brought back to the Keep with his child surprise. He was not what they had expected, truly, they didn't know what to expect at all considering they didn't know he was coming but if they did it wasn't this.

"Geralt for the love of Melitele..." The man sighed exasperated as he bullied a potioned dosed Geralt into a chair by the fire. Nimble fingers removing armour with ease, face and emotions uncaring of the bottomless eyes staring back.

"Hm." It was a grunted with a sigh.

Jaskier sighed. "I worry for a reason, looks like a claw got under the armour, it'll take me but a moment to stitch..."

"Hmm." Geralt hummed again, slightly drawn out.

The witchers watched with wide eyes as the Bard paused slightly with a scowl. "Yes, I know it's unnecessary, but I'm still going to stitch it."

"...hm."

"So help me Geralt of Rivia..." Jaskier threatened slow and low, his blue eyes flashing as he presses the damp cloth carefully around the wound. "Don't you take that tone with me. I worry, doesn't matter of you're a witcher."

Lambert had enough. "How the fuck can you understand Geralt?"

Jaskier paused and cocked his head to the side with a furrowed brow. "Twenty years of travelling, it's easy enough know when you have that experience by ones side..."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier/geralt #jaskier dandelion #geraskier #the witcher fandom #writing drabble mood

[bluewritinghood]

Witcher! Watch out for that tree!

“You didn’t have to throw that guy through a table you know.” Jaskier says absentmindedly plucking at his lute as he walks beside Geralt down the dusty path.

“He was being an ass.” Geralt reminds him.

“Yes, well it did get us kicked out of the inn though so maybe not worth it?” Jaskier says still plucking at his lute more than likely trying to subconsciously perfect a tune that would soon make an appearance in one of his latest songs.

“He called you a cocksucking bastard.” Geralt reminds him gruffly. “I wasn’t going to let it go.”

“I mean it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called I could give you a whole list of insults a mile long that’s been hurled at me this year alone and never repeat the same one twice.” Jaskier laughs at his own expense.

Geralt offers an irritated grunt by way of reply.

“I mean it wasn’t even really an insult since it’s true, I mean half of it at least.” Jaskier says tuning his lute slightly.

“You were an illegitimate child?” Geralt asks surprised.

“Oh gods no. No matter how much my father would like to claim otherwise, I meant the first part. You didn’t know I was Bisexual?” Jaskier asks sounding genuinely surprised.

Geralt doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything at all, doesn’t look away from Jaskier even as they approach an enormous tree in the road. But surely Geralt couldn’t miss it, its trunk was wider than his shoulders for heaven’s sake.

Geralt runs smack into the tree with a dull ‘Thunk’ stumbling backward.

“Good gods Geralt are you alright?!” Jaskier says jogging the few steps he had fallen behind Geralt to catch up with him and check on him. “How in the world did you miss that tree?”

“You’re into men?” Geralt asks instead of answering the question.

“Yes, I thought that was painfully obvious. Don’t tell me that’s why you ran into the tree it’s honestly not that surprising. I mean I’m kinda fruity.” Jaskier says with a laugh.

Geralt just stares at Jaskier until his smile fades.

“You’re not opposed to that sort of thing are you?” Jaskier asks suddenly a little worried that this of all the things might be what ends their friendship.

Geralt is a silent as a stone for a few minutes leaving Jaskier to wonder what exactly he would say if he ever said anything at all.

“No.” Geralt finally grunts out relieving Jaskier of his fears.

“Well that’s a relief.” Jaskier says with a nervous chuckle.

Geralt continues to stare at him until Jaskier finally asks. “What exactly is the problem then?”

Geralt finally stops looking at him only to start looking anywhere but at him. “I’m in love with you.” He mumbles.

“I’m sorry come again?” Jaskier guffaws. “Because I thought a certain sorceress occupied that stony heart of yours.”

Geralt shakes his head reverting back to his normal taciturn state.

“You’re telling me I’ve had a chance with you all this time and you’re just telling me now?” Jaskier asks voice raising an octave.

Geralt finally seems to get the message that his feelings are reciprocated because the next thing Jaskier knows he’s being pushed up against the tree and Geralt is kissing him.

Ao3 link to this story.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45596839

#Ao3 is down for god knows how long so I’m posting some of my stuff here #ao3 problems #ao3fic #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #Witcher Tv #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt fanfic #jaskier fanfic #Drabble #fluff #swearing #bisexual jaskier #they have one brain cell and it belongs to Roach #545 words #word count: 545 #DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the walking dead nor do I claim to. #own any characters in this fan fic or from The Witcher This transformative work has been created purely for entertainment purposes. #No profit is made or sought. No copyright infringement is intended. #All publicly recognizable characters settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. #The original characters and plot are the property of the respective owners. #I am in no way associated with the owners creators or producers of any media franchise. #No copyright infringement is intended.

[dapandapod]

There are few scarier things with Lambert than when he’s around children, and the children likes him. This Jaskier learned the hard way when he heard him and Ciri making smalltalk by the fire, thinking it was a perfectly innocent conversation. Which he shouldn’t have, because it is Lambert and Ciri.

“No, you are not thinking big enough. Dream big!” Lambert had said, waving around with his arms, and Ciri giggled. Could have been innocent, right?

Wrong.

The explosion rattles the already shaky foundation of Kaer Morhen.

From the distance, he hears a loud woop and an even louder “LAAAMBEEEERT!!!!”

#the witcher #drabble #kaer morons #Lambert #cirilla of cintra #jaskier #kaer morhen #dont trust the lambert lambert what a prick #explosions #somewhere in the background i have hid a #geraskier #because that is who i am as a person #dapanda writes

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Pretend

It was an unspoken rule that a Witcher never willingly removed their medallion unless the reason was life or death. As with most rules, there was an exception.

They were always the last thing to be removed whenever Lambert and Aiden fell into bed together. They could practically hear their elders lecturing them both but chose to ignore them, considering neither of them wanted the reminder of why this was a bad idea judging them from around each others throats.

For a few hours, they allowed themselves to pretend. They weren’t Cat and Wolf – hereditary enemies ever since a betrayal neither of them had played a part in. Hell, they weren't even Witchers. They were just Lambert and Aiden: Two occasional lovers who ran into one another in an inn. Nothing unusual in that.

Their medallions would be the first thing to be replaced when they came back to themselves but for now, they sat on the small wooden table. Their chains tangled together in a mimicry of their owners in a too small bed with not enough time.

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher drabble #the witcher drabble #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #Lambert #aiden/lambert #lambert/aiden fanfic #aiden x lambert #lambden

[valdomarx]

"Eye of newt and toe of frog…"

Yennefer smirks as she pours a cupful of pungent liquid into her bubbling cauldron.

Jaskier peers nervously over its rim. "And, uhh, what is that?"

The witch cackles. "It's a most potent magical ingredient… vanilla extract!"

He fidgets against the chair he's tied to, straining at his bonds. "Well that is certainly quite the recipe."

"Hmph." She gives him a menacing look. "It's a recipe… for love."

"Oh," Jaskier breathes. "How intriguing."

"Soon you'll be totally in my power."

She takes in his wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He sighs dreamily. "Already am."

#samstree #asdakshdk jin this reworked drabble is inspired you 😂 #yennskier #the witcher

[flowercrown-bard]

Geralt smoothed down the front of his doublet Jaskier had picked for him, scowling at the mirror. They looked good next to each other. Like they belonged together.

"I look like Valdo Marx."

Only he didn't have that stupidly charming smile that Jaskier had fallen for or the winning personality that had Jaskier swooning.

"Yeah," Jaskier sighed dreamily.

Geralt's chest ached and he wanted, wanted, wanted. "

"But it's just me."

Jaskier softened and he brushed Geralt's hair behind his ear, revealing his scarred face.

"That's the best part, the outside is new but now it reflects what's already in you."

#drabble #yes i did use quotes from legally blond the musical #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #legally blond au #i guess #my writing #ficlet #witcher

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your next study session is a special excursion. Paranoid about your talkative professor and his distractions, you opt instead for the off-campus smoothie shop you passed a dozen times but never went into. You order a simple strawberry banana concoction and claim a table in the corner for your mission.

You take your laptop out and the giant tome with a cluster of tabs poking out from the pages. You've narrowed down your possible topics. You don't know why you're so indecisive. You just feel entirely out of your depth. Ask you about a Hapsburg or even a Roman emperor, and you're good, but gods and goddesses, giants and beasts... You just can't nail it down.

The coming and going of customers is steady but not disturbing. Most enter, order, and promptly leave. The average patron has a gym bag and appears to be on their way to workout.

You peek up now and again but quickly lose yourself in your research. There's something to say about the plight of the feminine figures in Norse mythos. It surely seems a tragic existence. Somehow, you can relate.

You flip to a tab and lean in to read. You reach for your smoothie blindly and take a sip as your eyes flit back to your laptop. A cup lands heavy on your table and a figure falls in the chair across from you. As if they know you, as if they belong there.

It's that man! With the blindingly white eyes and similarly shocking hair. Hair pokes out above the vee of his peculiar tunic and his hair is wave with a sheen of sweat. You give him a confused look and flutter through the pages, ignoring him. You won't ask how he found you, might be a coincidence, but you'd rather he get the clue and leave you alone.

He reaches over and stops your search. He pushes the pages flat and growls, "you wrote in it?"

You squint at him, curling your lip. You shrug. You bought the book. Who cares if you added a few annotations in the margins.

"How could you write in it?" He sneers.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Don't be stupid," he tilts his head, "I know you remember me."

"Mmmm," you drone dully and slide the book from under his hand.

Silence. Still and suffocating. You have nothing to say to him and it seems he approached without a clear plan. You really don't understand what his end goal would be. He can go find the book somewhere else.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" He hisses.

"Excuse me?" You glare at him above your laptop.

"Sure seems like you don't."

"It's a history project. I can figure it out."

"Hmph," he wrinkles his nose, "well, I am a font of knowledge on the subject."

"Really? What are your credentials?"

"I don't need a piece of paper to tell me what I know," he scoffs.

"So you know nothing?"

"Watch it, girl."

"Or what?" You blink, shocked by the interlaced threat.

He laughs darkly and crosses his arms, "you think you're smart."

You shake your head, "I'm studying, so... that's the goal."

He shifts and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. He watches you as you ignore him for the blinking cursor on the screen.

"When a man talks to you, are you usually so rude?" He asks.

You nearly recoil. You give a scoff of your own. What year is this?

"I don't know you," your eyes dart up to meet his, "and I don't want to know you. Why would you even--"

"I'm not ugly," he says, a jarring statement. You wouldn't argue, he isn't hideous; on the outside. "And I offered to help. So..."

"Yeah, but you're not nice either."

You shut the book and snap closed your laptop. If he won't go, you will. You stand and he does too. He's big. You might be tall but he's a brick wall.

"Where are you going?" He asks, almost stupidly. That stern, empty cadence of him is almost robotic.

"Away from you."

"Why?"

You furrow your brows. Really? Is it not obvious?

"I'm talking to you. Asking you questions about yourself. It's small talk."

You let out a long 'um', not able to come up with anything else.

"Geralt," he offers his hand in an overly formal manner.

You can't respond. You don't understand what the hell is going on? You might be a social hermit but this man is entirely inept.

"I don't meet many people interested in mythology, but--"

"I'm not interested, dude."

He sputters, "why?"

"Because... you're a jerk," you shove your things in your bag and zip it up. "Wow, are you really that oblivious?"

You see his eyes scanning as he thinks. It's almost like he's never reflected on his own behaviour. You can't imagine why he is still looking for a friend.

"So... you're not going to tell me your name?" He asks at last.

"Bro, I'm about to scream," you warn as you shoulder your bag, "just get out of my way."

You swipe your smoothie off the table and take a step forward. He doesn't move at first. He stares you down as you steel yourself, glancing at the employees behind the counter.

"What school do you go to?" He asks.

Your head nearly explodes. You have never been so lost in a conversation. You grip the strap of your bag tight and set your jaw.

"Move," you grit out, heart racing.

He pulls his chin back as if surprised. He steps away and waves you out from behind the table. You slowly walk forward, swallowing as you try not to shake.

"I'll figure it out," he mutters.

"What?" You spin back to him.

"I said," he turns to face you, sitting again and taking his cup to sip on the straw. He pops his mouth off, "have a good day."

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #dark geralt #dark!geralt #the witcher #drabble #au #bookstore au #series #common knowledge #harald halfdansson #harald x reader #harald finehair #dark!harald #dark harald #vikings