#witchers as cuddle objects

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Had a thought. (I've had a vicious and persistent sore throat/ear infection, so it grew out of that.) Witchers would be GREAT to cuddle when you're sick - they're warm, they don't catch or spread illnesses, they like spending time with friends/friendly humans, they respect boundaries (ie yes to cuddling, no to groping).

Basically, five bucks says any random human at Kaer Morhen could walk into the great hall or onto the training grounds, say "I feel like crap and I want a hug," and IMMEDIATELY have a dozen offers.

Now, if for whatever reason JASKIER got sick or injured and wanted comfort cuddles but Geralt and Eskel were called away for Warlord/Right Hand business, you KNOW that he'd whine at them that "noooo, you can't take my cuddle wolf, not when I'm SICK, at least find me another one while you're gone!"

So they call Aubry. (It's fine. It's far from the first time Aubry's cuddled Jaskier; the man is as good as his little brother.) Sasha and Milena come by with their lovers, and somehow Jaskier ends up wedged between Aubry, Aiden, and Lambert, with Sasha sketching birds for him and Milena reading to them.

The next day it's an entirely different cast of Witchers, with a few humans snuggled in.

Ciri and Zia poke their heads in one day to see Jaskier drooling on Gweld while Serrit sharpens all her many, many knives at the foot of the bed.

"Is he trying to sleep with everyone in the keep?"

Serrit snorts.

Ciri laughs. "No, he just likes cuddling them, I think. He only fucks Da and Uncle Eskel."

#the witcher #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics #witchers as cuddle objects #jaskier cuddles everyone and has no shame #but how scandalous would that rumour be #the warlord's consort has slept with every witcher in kaer morhen #in the warlord's own bed #yeah #he was sick and needed cuddles #everybody loves him to death #they would cheerfully fight for the right to cuddle his scrawny snotty whiny ass

[wolfgeralt]

Stormy Weather

Pairing: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt of Rivia

Summary: Thunderstorms set Geralt on edge, but Emhyr knows how to distract and soothe him.

Word count: 1,466 Rating: E, please see AO3 for full tag list Notes: Another short fic inspired by @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo and @continentcakeshop's Valentine's Rarepair Bingo Fulfilling the prompts: "Cuddling/Snuggling", "Kiss on the hand/wrist", and "Can’t Sleep".

Enormous thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @antimonyschnuck for the wonderful job beta reading these works!

Link to AO3 in the title, or continued below.

Sharing the rickety camp bed was luxurious considering the circumstances, although cramped for two large men, but Emhyr had insisted upon it. The tent was buffeted and buckled by an unyielding, cold wind sweeping down from the mountains, while rain lashed against the canvas like a drumskin. The occasional rumble of thunderclouds rolling over the mountaintops caused Geralt to shiver in the warm, safe confine of Emhyr’s strong arms.

“Hush now,” the deep voice of his lover was the lightest touch in the air.

Geralt could have argued he had not spoken a word, but Emhyr snuggled closer, pressed firmly against the bare skin of his back. Any objection Geralt might have made did not surface.

Ridiculously, Geralt was accustomed to meditating on his knees in the mud, within a barren cave or underneath an ancient tree with a sufficient leafy cover to catch the rain. Yet inside that warm pocket, their haven in the thunderstorm, Geralt could feel each warm breath sweep across the nape of his neck, tickling beneath where it was sheared short- where Emhyr enjoyed scratching his fingertips across Geralt’s scalp to hear him purr.

Geralt’s golden eyes remained open; his normally viper-thin pupils now rounded and able to pick out the silhouette of the trees outside against the fabric of the tent with each flash of lightning. He could see even in the shadow of the trees how they were whipped about by the wind. He could hear the creak of tension in the more brittle wood beneath the rustle of any leaves which had yet to be shaken free. The landscape by morning would be changed into something muddy, broken, and somehow fresher.

Yet with each shape shifting across the surface of the canvas, each flash of harsh, hot lightning, each thunderclap, even the building rumble of storm clouds moving across the sky… It all mounted to set his nerves on edge, his body wired to respond to any hint of danger. It was a miracle Emhyr had him even marginally relaxed, down to the odd flinch which would be quickly hushed away. Geralt usually weathered a thunderstorm out awake, tense, and would be left particularly surly the following day or until he rested properly.

After a sigh, Emhyr spoke: “I cannot manage again.” He sounded ever so faintly slurred with fatigue, his tone a fraction deeper, and damn if Geralt didn’t find him more attractive than ever when he spoke whilst tired and well-fucked. “Are there other ways to distract you? Make you settle down, hmm?”

Geralt shook his head until he was nuzzling into the feather pillow, eyes closed to the impending flash.

“Fucking storm. Feel like I should be preparing to take on a monster any moment now,” Geralt grumbled while pushing and tucking himself back against Emhyr, enjoying how he radiated heat beneath their blankets and furs.

A hard, hot sigh was blown against his shoulder in resignation.

“Do you really need me to fuck you once more?” Emhyr’s voice found its bite again, articulate and a hint of annoyance.

Geralt looked down at where he had begun drawing circles on the back of Emhyr’s hand, silent for a while. Another flash of lightning had him flinching, digging his fingers into Emhyr.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a dry throat, swallowing hard and attempting to sound more assertive and remembering himself: “Yeah. Please.”

“Hmph.” Emhyr sounded impatient, but Geralt could smell through the freshness of damp, forest mulch and the heavy mustiness of the tent and travelling furs… Emhyr was growing aroused anew. Although Emhyr’s cock had done no more than twitch with valiant effort against Geralt’s backside, not quite ready for more. To improve his chances of another round of sex, Geralt pushed his hips back and gave a low groan. He shivered at the combination of feeling Emhyr’s cock, still impressive even when soft, and another echoing round of thunder high above.

“Please?” Geralt whined, closing his eyes to the next flash of lightning, and focusing on the way Emhyr gripped him and felt such a strong presence against his back.

“Very well,” Emhyr drawled with the same disdain he might give when approving something with the treasury or his chamberlain, but somehow Geralt could hear the smirk behind the act. “But rather than you going down on me, speed up the act and use your sign.” Emhyr prompted him with a gentle smack to the side of his thigh. “Remember I am but mortal, dear; I need some sleep tonight.”

Gratefully, Geralt drew Emhyr’s hand up from where it had been rested against his waist. He pressed a light kiss to the back of his lover’s knuckles, barely paying attention to the next rumble in the sky- if anything, it added to the expectant butterflies in his belly.

“Ready?” Geralt asked once he had laid Emhyr’s arm back in its proper place around his waist.

“I am.”

Turning his head slightly, Geralt lifted his hand above the covers, delicately drawing axii in the air, directed back towards Emhyr. A hitched, shuddery gasp, followed by a hearty groan, and Geralt could feel Emhyr stirring against him. He frantically sought for the bottle of oil tucked to one side of the pillow- a lustrous blue glass bulb with a long, thin neck ending with a cork. With axii to influence Emhyr, it took no time at all to coax his body to arousal once more.

While Emhyr made space between them and rutted his full-fledged erection against the swell of Geralt’s arse, he popped the corked oil vial and slathered up his fingers. With Emhyr’s assistance, Geralt was tipped forward and his knee bent as his thigh was lifted to place him on an angle. From that position he could reach for Emhyr’s cock behind him and slick it up, and sensing Emhyr’s urgent, demanding movements, Geralt ensured he was prepared once again with the same wet fingers. Plunging two fingers inside himself at once where he already felt open and sensitive, he stretched himself back open for yet another bout.

Lightning crashed down as Geralt was flattened down onto his belly by Emhyr, making his breath catch. In the next moment, Emhyr was pressing himself back into his witcher’s hole, his growl of pleasure echoed by the thunder overhead. The rumbling faded away as a moan swelled in Geralt’s throat and escaped past his lips on Emhyr’s next thrust. He could only hope the weather disguised the sounds Emhyr had drawn out of him throughout the night.

Geralt clawed at the pillow and sheered through the fabric with little, sharpened canines as he clamped down in response to the hard, near punishing pace set by his lover. The poor camping bed rocked, squeaking quietly between each slap of flesh on flesh and every slick, sordid sound beneath Geralt’s barely muffled moans. For the longest time, Emhyr kept up his efforts, with his every thrust causing Geralt’s cock to rut against the sheepskin fur beneath him.

All the while, the storm raged. Yet Geralt was reduced to thinking of nothing but Emhyr’s heat against his back, the sound of him near savage with lust, and how /full/ he felt of Emhyr’s cock. Geralt’s eyes rolled back as he was pummelled into a blinding orgasm brighter than if lightning had struck their tent. It was short, explosive even, and Geralt lost sense of time for a while following, only aware of where Emhyr lay over his back, laying tacky kisses to his sweat-damp skin. He muttered filthy and sweet nothings while his cock continued to bore Geralt open with a lazier grind and slap of his hips.

Boneless and drifting in and out of awareness, Geralt settled while savouring the sensation of Emhyr’s rutting eventually growing clumsier and his grunting even lower and more animalistic. Finally, Emhyr’s cock twitched inside Geralt once more as he spent himself.

The wind and rain persisted, but nothing but their pants and low groans could be heard for a long time, the gentle peck of lips against Geralt’s heated skin. The worst of the storm had passed by to a consistent pattering of fat raindrops against the canvas roof of their tent.

Emhyr pressed a firmer kiss between Geralt’s shoulder blades and then slipped away from him, leaving him feeling slick, somewhat raw, and incredibly exhausted.

“Close your eyes now. Get some rest,” Emhyr said in a smooth, reassuring tone. “We’ve a long ride ahead.”

Geralt’s lashes dropped, his head going heavy in the pillow as he felt the familiar weight of Emhyr’s arm. His palm brushed over the dip of Geralt’s back steadily, Emhyr content to wait and watch over his witcher.

At last Geralt allowed himself to be swept to sleep by the gentle caress of his lover’s touch.

#emralt #emhyralt #emhyr x geralt #geralt x emhyr #the witcher fanfiction #nice stuff for witchers #bottom geralt #mine

[ignify-caligo]

Hi, yollo, have no idea if you still do this but can I ask for a ❤️ romantic and ☁️ soft headcanons for my boy Isengrim? Newbie to the Scoia'tael gang but absolutely love the shit out of this wolf

Hi, Anon! My inbox has not seen any hc’s request for quite some time now, so yours is a blessing lmao. Besides writing small headcanons here and there, I haven’t worked on any Scoia’tael since last year - which is a crime, to be honest. In all honesty, I love seeing new ppl getting into the Scoia’tael, especially Issy bc he’s one of my faves (even tho I haven’t written much for him). So, without further ado, let’s get into these hc’s. 

❤: A romantic headcanon

☁️: A soft headcanon

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞  

❤: A romantic headcanon

I have a strong belief that Isengrim is one of the best at singing praises of their loved ones amongst the Scoia’tael. He can surely make a simply compliment overflow with love towards someone he loves. Better than that, whatever comes out of his mouth is truth, he doesn’t believe in empty words and praises. Isengrim is as truthful as possible in his relationship and in general, he isn’t the type to “waste his breath” on some cheap lies. Whenever he compliments their loved one, it’s genuine and from the bottom of his heart. His iconic habit is to reverse their loved ones flirting with a reply that will make them swoon. 

When it comes to physical things, one peculiar habit he has is enveloping their loved ones from behind, holding them in a close embrace while nuzzling their nape. This usually happens behind closed doors at the beginning of his relationships, he tends to be quite closeted when it comes to public affections - especially at the time when he was referred to as the Iron Wolf and the Colonel of Vrihedd Brigade. Between his public image and the affection, he tended to choose the prior. 

Amongst the Scoia’tael his the closest to being the one to dance with their loved one (even though he prefers step dancing solo). Holding them close, his hands on their hips while rocking slowly around on the grass, their barren feet feeling every little grass blade is an experience he wouldn’t exchange for anything. He’s more of the type to do this rather than giving their loved one simply trinkets, he holds activities and experiences at a higher value than simply objects. 

As mentioned above, Isengrim tends to set more value on quality time rather than objects that can be easily broken, lost or sold. From a simply supper together to cuddling under a starlit sky, he loves spending alone time with their loved ones, away from any commotion. One of his favourite activities is to read aloud, and if their loved one allowed him, he would happily discuss and read to them his current book that his reading (secretly I love the idea of him being a sort of bookworm). 

One big step in any kind of romantic relationship of his is physical touch. Especially when it comes to the scars on his face because if you manage to touch them without Isengrim either yelling or running away from you, it’s a major giveaway of his love. So far there have been quite a few people in his life that managed to create that big bond with him, with Eldain being one and the latest to do it. When Isengrim gets a simple caress of his cheek, he easily melts into the touch with glassy eyes accompanying it. His public persona of the “big bad iron wolf” gets immediately swiped away with a simple stroke of a loving touch. 

☁️: A soft headcanon

Eldain has a knack to use Isengrim’s name meanings as a nickname (the fact that it’s the witcher version of ‘Moon Moon’ has never gone outta my mind lmao). So it’s not uncommon to hear him say stuff like ‘Oh, there’s our Wolf Wolf!’. 

When he was still part of the war, he tended to wake up earlier than he had to, simply to walk around the camp and check that everything has stayed the same when he went to sleep. Also, he took great care to check up on the elves that had been standing guard, whether it be to simply chat with them or make them take leave because of them almost falling asleep on duty. 

On a side note, I believe him to be one of the ‘ most chill commanders’ amongst the Scoia’tael, though it doesn’t mean he didn’t care. What I mean is that Isengrim had that easy-going relationship with his subordinates, he wouldn't push them too much when he knew there wouldn’t be any good results. At the same time, whenever someone betrayed or made a major error - he would punish them accordingly. The fact his subordinates thought of him as the “chillest” didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn't able to act accordingly. 

Even though Isengrim has the reputation of a feared commander for a guerrilla group, I feel like he would be good with kids. In all honesty, I imagine him having a secret sweet spot for kids. There’s also that kids are obsessed and fascinated with him, especially because of his scars. Though, being awkward at first, Isengrim seems to have a supernatural authority amongst kids, whether non-human or dh’oine. 

Isengrim’s way of showing how important someone is to him is by doing small and usually insignificant things for them. From bringing a cup of tea to one of his “little brothers” commanders or patching up someone's favourite garment, he will gladly do it to show his appreciation for sticking up with him through the good and bad times. 

Headcanon Meme Here

#isengrim faoiltiarna #eldain #isendain #scoia'tael #the witcher books #the witcher saga #the witcher games #caligo's post #caligo's headcanons #caligo answers q. #I feel like these are so rusty written omfl oof #but I hope you like them anon! #tried both being open for interpretation and adding a spice of isendain hope you don’t mind <3

[thefanbasewhore]

Cold night with geralt pls 🥰🥰

summary: geralt isn't the cuddling type but being caught in a brutal blizzard brings out the softness in him.

content: fluff

paring: geralt of Rivia x female reader

Geralt masterlist (coming soon) | tag list is on navigation link!!

"You're trembling." The white haired wolf claims as he instantly sinks to his knees in front of you, concern laced into his brows. The fabric of his pants soaking instantly into the snowy ground but he doesn't seem to care as his gloved pushes your hair back from your forehead. "Come here."

The Witcher opens his fur shall, creating just enough room to wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his shirt. Geralt closes the latch across your shoulders, trapping you between two very heated objects - geralt and the beautifully thick fur that Geralt had bought from a local elder woman from a job back months ago.

"It-its so c-cold," The blizzard had been ruthlessly slowing both of you and the middle of the woods was not safe to stop, this you know. With a unforgivably cold gush a wind a cold chill runs straight through you as shivers rack your being

Snow had being to mat in both his and yours hair, a thick layer of snow making booths even heavier as both you and he travel by foot because of worries that Roach wouldn't be able to handle the resistance of both snow and your body weights.

Geralt allows you a few moments to warm, eyes constantly watching the barely visible tree line. The snow falling so heavily and white that he could barely his own hand in front of his face.

"Just a few more hours, I will sent the tent up, we have some furs. It will warm you." Geralt presses a soft kiss against your hair before reaching for Roach's lead, "Come, get on Roach, a few more hours and we will be in a safe part of the forest."

***

After what seemed like an eternity, the storm had manage to die down, the snow had never stopped falling but now, you were able to see what exactly you were working towards. This didn't make a difference to you though, the cold began to crawl deep inside of your very core, numbing your fingers and toes.

Once he felt the spot was suitable and deemed safe, he hulted Roach, looked at you for one small second before setting up the tent. It wasn't much, it barely had a closed entry and the material was thin and dirty but if it wasn't for you, Geralt wouldn't have one to begin with. The Witcher had suffered way worse then cold weather.

"Come," is the only word Geralt says as he extends his arm out for you. With trembling fingers you reach forward to take his hand and he helps you down from Roach and into the tent.

The one source of light is the lantern that dimly flickers in the corner, furs scattered the ground but pile high on top of one another. Geralt helps with taking off the wet furs across your shoulders, easing it off before throwing it with little care.

"Lay down, petal."

You couldn't resist if you tried, heavy eyes prevent that. Too exhausted to function as the wolf helps you into the make shift bed and not satisfied until pulling the blanket up until your chin. You wholeheartedly expect him to leave, sit out in the cold and stay watch, mostly because he never sleeps, a few times a week you'll catch him with closed eyes but it's not more than a few hours.

He surprises you, slipping under the fur pelt and wrapping his arms snuggly around your person. The thin, white hairs tickle your chin but it is ignored - there aren't many nights Geralt will lay with you, let alone cuddle.

"You are so cold, my love." Geralt frowns, feeling the tremors of your shivering being. The nickname is reserved for moments like these and still makes your heart pound with love. Large palms move up and down your arms, trying to create so heat to your ice cold skin. "Are you getting warmer?"

With out answering you nudge your nose into his chest, taking a deep breath to smell the familiar sent of mint and ash. "I'll be okay."

Geralt frowns once again, maybe he had pushed you too far this time. Geralt often forgets the fragility of human, he presses a kiss against your hairline. "We should have stopped sooner, I apologize."

"I am okay, love." The words do very little to settle the ache in Geralt's chest. Instead he cups your cheek to bring your lips to his own.

"Go to sleep, I'll wake you in the morning. Sweet dreams, scout."

#geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher

[hauntedbrowneye]

More quotes from Joey's interview with Boys by Girls

“The other half [of my life] is cuddling up with my pals by the fire, reading books, painting on the floor, and playing music together. Getting the firepit out in the garden and sitting in our sleeping bags.”

“[Madeleine]'s in charge of me - I'm in charge of the band, but she's in charge of me. […] I'll come home and I'll maybe pop around to Madeleine's and she'll bring a bottle of wine and cook me dinner because she's adorable, and it'll be about two or three hours before she's like, ‘Oh, there you are, Joey’, because I'll still be in Jask mode.”

“I want to do something that's good for my head and my heart, and I want to do stuff that makes other people happy as well, like The Witcher. Striking that balance can sometimes feel like you're being tugged in two different directions.”

“Picking your battles is [like asking yourself], do I really need to take a stand about this? Or do I need to put my gas mask on and just let it go loosey goosey? When you start to demarcate those things, you start to discover what's important to you, and as soon as you get that out, you realise that what's important to you is normally a lot simpler and less complicated than you think.”

“Whenever I play Dungeons & Dragons, as I always say to any of the players that play around my table, the first objective is to have fun. The second objective is to tell a good story. That's infinitely transplantable into real life…”

♡

#joey batey #joey batey interview #boys by girls #quotes #my favourite quotes #the amazing devil #madeleine hyland #friends taking care of each other #taking it a day a a time #valuing what you have

[soundsfaebutokay]

That's it. I need it. And I demand that you must give me ALL of your Geraskier fic recs. I keep wandering the tags aimlessly looking for good shit and not finding nearly enough.

(Special addition of please gimme some completed/one-shot recs because I am not a patient person and I need the feels NOW.)

Never let it be said that I don't know how to take responsibility for dragging you onto this ship. I gotchu, fam.

Abby's Long List of S1 Geraskier Fic Recs

(because s2's got me in a Geraskifer mood and I haven't collected enough s2 Geraskier yet. None of these are s2 canon-compliant.)

Fun and/or Softness and/or Fluff

Crammed In With You by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Across the years, Geralt and Jaskier have needed to share a bed. Then there was the one time they got a room with two beds instead.

If you guessed which of those times was the awkward one, you would have guessed wrong.

non-human Jaskier by shestepsintotheriver

unconnected Witcher fics feat. non-human Jaskier.

Broken Curses by Castillon02, greedy_dancer

A series exploring the ways Geralt and Jaskier trust each other. All works can be read independently.

a heartbeat in hand by asweetepilogue

Geralt notices Jaskier's hands. It's starting to become a problem.

Offerings by Descarada

Secondary Title: Was Anybody Going to Tell Me That Geralt was Courting Me? Or Was I Just Supposed to Find it Out From This Random Herbalist Myself? This is a story about Geralt trying to court Jaskier, and the poor bard missing it completely. A little bit of moronsexuals and lot of vulnerability and sweetness.

Cat's Cradle by handwrittenhello

Jaskier gets turned into a kitten after accidentally upsetting a god. Geralt is going to have a hell of a time keeping him safe now.

spring, summer, spring by yogurtgun

After spending a treacherous winter together, Jaskier and Geralt make an arrangement: they travel together for three seasons before Jaskier finds a town or a court to winter over until spring. However, this year Geralt meets Jaskier a little earlier than expected, during Imbaelk. Between holiday celebrations, solstices and plum schnapps, Geralt falls in love and loses his way.

Winters at the Academy by Beginte

A Witcher in his bard's university town

you're only brave in the moonlight (stay til sunrise) by SummerFrost

Falling in love with his roommate is, objectively, a bad idea—but most of the major decisions of Jaskier's life have been bad ideas, and they've gotten him this far.

Concession by Elisexyz

Geralt not-so-secretly loves being the little spoon. Cuddling Without Plot.

kiss it better by NatTheSongbird

There were many strange things about traveling with Jaskier. He seemed incapable of being quiet, for one. He was a shameless flirt and had no problem falling into the wrong person's bed. More than once, Geralt had seen him start a fight with anyone who spat insults at him.

Stranger than all of that, however, was his insistence on helping Geralt. Every time he came back from a job hurt, Jaskier smacked his hands away and busied himself with tending to Geralt's wounds. And every time, he finished it with a kiss and a cheerful proclamation that he would "kiss it better."

The weirdest part? It worked.

I'll Wish Upon Embers by DrowningByDegrees

Geralt lets Jaskier talk him into sticking around for a village's midsummer festival. He assumes they're staying for Jaskier's benefit, but somewhere between the flower crowns and the bonfire, Geralt realizes it was a gift meant for him all along.

Golden Days (a love story in hindsight) by TeenyTinyTony

As Jaskier and Geralt make their way towards their first “real” midsummer together as a couple they reflect on the midsummers that led them there.

Alternative title: Three times Geralt and Jaskier didn't get to celebrate midsummer and one time they did.

Tailored by TakeTheShot

Since the day that they met Jaskier has not been one thing that Geralt expected. Why he hadn't imagined that the trend would carry on in the bedroom, he has no idea.

A bit of smutty silliness with feels, in which Geralt is surprised to find that he has feelings for Jaskier, is surprised to find that those feelings are reciprocated and then is surprised one more time...

Bardic Idyll by Lisztful

Jaskier is certain he can win the Continent's annual bardic competition, but he needs to be accompanied by a dashing romantic companion in order to enter. Enter Geralt, who is definitely, for sure, only interested in the free food, and not at all in staring lovingly into Jaskier's eyes.

Pretend boyfriends fic, with battling bards, well-meaning friends, and fluff and angst in equal measure.

Woodash and iron and leather by iffervescent

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

Dandelion Clocks by CobaltCephalopod

The little things Jaskier learns about Geralt and what Geralt notices about Jaskier over the years. Starting with the veracity in his claim to have "bread in his pants" at their first meeting.

Keeping Crows by Castillon02

If it was some kind of weird religious thing, it was for a god Geralt had never heard of. Probably it was just a weird Jaskier thing. Crows, of all creatures! Corpse eaters. Grain stealers. No one liked crows. But Jaskier was voluntarily traveling with a Witcher; maybe he just had poor taste.

Slow Burn and/or Plotty

The Paths You Take by CosmicOcelot

“Oh, thank the gods,” Jaskier breathes. “Name’s Lambert, actually,” the witcher corrects, his lips breaking into a crooked grin, “Though I certainly won’t stop you from worshipping me.”

Will you be coming home? by what_a_dork_fish

At fifteen, Julian hires a bodyguard and runs away.

At twenty, he's quite happy.

At twenty-five, he's fucked.

The Stars are Gone When You Look Away by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Geralt is determined to get everyone he cares about safe to Kaer Morhen for the winter, but neither Jaskier nor Yennefer are inclined to be cooperative - and then the truth of Jaskier's past comes to threaten the present.

Stuck in the fae realm with the thinnest of lies to keep them from being separated, Geralt and Jaskier are going to have to solve their relationship and keep their wits about them if they want to make it out of here intact. At least Yennefer and Triss are willing to help...

...if Yennefer and Triss could get over whatever they've got going on between them.

Shining by Nemainofthewater

Things that Jaskier can remember about his family: -His mother stroking his hair, the soft murmur of her voice as he settled more comfortably against her. There was firelight and warmth and love. -A brief moment of triumph and then the feeling of weightlessness as his father lifts him from the tree and cradles him to his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart in his breast. -Reaching up to the sky. He’s not sure what for. Possibly for his parents, though he knows that they are gone, that they have left him, that they are never coming back. -His grandfather’s stern visage. The knowledge that he doesn’t want him. That no one wants him. Being sent to temple school is honestly a relief.

Jaskier is (unknowingly) a dragon and is (forcibly) adopted by Borch, post Rare Species.

With a Conquering Air by inexplicifics

From the kinkmeme: AU Warlord!Geralt receives Tribute!Jaskier as a sacrifice to appease him in every way possible. Jaskier has no choice on the matter and he’s fully aware of the awful rumours that have spread about Geralt and his ruthless conquests. (But we all know those aren’t legit.) A classic angst with a happy ending please! A dash of smut to heal those scars and a sprinkle of new found love!

Jaskier arrives at Kaer Morhen knowing his family gave him up without a second thought, and absolutely sure that the dreaded Warlord of the North will value him even less than his own blood did. But the White Wolf and his pack are not what Jaskier expected...and if he's unreasonably lucky, Kaer Morhen might become far more of a home than Lettenhove ever was.

...He is, in fact, going to be unreasonably lucky, because the Warlord of the North is a far finer monarch - and a far better man - than Redania's king has ever dreamed of being.

Angst and/or Lots of Complicated, Achy Feels

a year and a day by ShanaStoryteller

Geralt makes two promises that he doesn't want to keep.

Tunes Without Words by foxy_mulder

The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around.

It will work. It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

Almost Lover by TheMalapert

Eskel likes poetry, and it it makes Geralt sick that that's the only reason he knows his long time friend has died. When Eskel shows Geralt a book that says Jaskier died, Geralt travels to Novigrad to pay his respects. He finds the bard very much alive, very much unapproachable, and very much drunk. Or is that himself? Jaskier, however, isn't going to let Geralt hide their reunion at the bottom of a bottle.

Press Until It Hurts (But Not Until It Bleeds) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

There are few things more intimate than putting a blade to someone's throat.

all the liars in the world by kageygirl

Geralt has been foolish about many things in his long life, and every time to his detriment; he'll not make the mistake of deluding himself that someone like Jaskier, with all the world open to him and everything to offer in return, would ever really choose Geralt's company in that way.

(Geralt may not be a reliable narrator of his own life.)

An Unexpected Song by trekkiepirate

The peace of the breakfast table was broken by a portal opening barely a meter from the center of the room.

Yennefer stumbled out of it backwards, a bundle held tight to her shoulder and her other arm clasped tight around a bleeding woman in a hooded cloak.

Correction, a bloody woman.

Every Witcher stood, instantly alert. Geralt pressed Ciri behind himself and blessed Jaskier’s lazy habits that meant the bard wasn’t out of his room yet.

Truth of The Heart by CosmicOcelot

Maybe the worst part, Jaskier muses as he stares into his tankard, is that it’s all so horribly... cliché.

The inconsequential companion – tossed aside the moment that the truly intended, cosmically wedded couple finally meet. Because what chance does he stand – what role could he ever play – that would permit Destiny to place him on the same stage – let alone in the same scene – as witchers and sorceresses?

We Remake Ourselves by Jadelyn

Jaskier is secretly a dragon with a crippled wing who can't fly. Geralt is not so secretly an idiot when it comes to things like emotions and relationships. They'll probably figure it out, eventually. Maybe.

can you play me a memory? by pasdecoeur

Ciri meets Jaskier when she's nine. It's all downhill from there.

The Spectre's Wreath by RebrandedBard

Geralt is wrongfully hired to dispose of a vengeful spectre that haunts a lake, only to discover it is the town's unknown guardian and the very spirit of Yule itself. Yule curses Geralt with a wreath atop his head. If he does not receive a kiss before the lake thaws in spring, he will turn to ice and die. With the pass to Kaer Morhen closed up, Geralt decides to spend his last winter in Oxenfurt with Jaskier. But it may not be his last after all if Jaskier has anything to say about it.

Honeysuckle by Amazonia_8

The mutations are specific tools for specific uses. Formidable strength for formidable enemies. Sharpened sight to see what lurked in the darkness. Keen smell to track every kind of quarry. So while the varied scents of men can often times tell him what they are thinking, what they are likely about to do, there is one who's scent is unlike any other. There are precious few mysteries in Geralt's life anymore, even less that is new.

The Witcher Wolf by im_fairly_witty

It’s been two weeks since Geralt shouted Jaskier away from him on that mountain and Jaskier has been handling it like a champ by forlornly wandering alone in the wilderness with his lute. When he (literally) stumbles across an injured white wolf he decides to take a chance and see if he can help it, appreciating the irony of the situation but not quite realizing why it is that the wolf’s golden eyes look exactly like his Witcher’s...

Ivy on the Hill by chaya

"A quiet companion, a noble friend! / Has no compunctions 'bout biting your end!" Jaskier stops, frowns, and repositions his fingers on the lute's neck as if trying to work something out.

"Are you singing to Roach?" Geralt asks, leaning over the saddle horn. "I'm not hallucinating?"

Jaskier looks up and smiles brightly, cheeks pink from the sun. Something in Geralt... doesn't like this. "Well, you do take excellent care of her, but a little praise can go a long way, you know."

hope it's nice where you are by K9_DFTBA

After Jaskier goes viral for being a pining mess during a livestream, Geralt’s family tries to figure out exactly why the couple broke up, given that Jaskier is clearly still in love with Geralt. Meanwhile, Geralt is in denial, Jaskier is absolutely fine, thanks, and the internet is having a bit of a breakdown.

NOTES:

The categories are far from strict. I just roughly put them under the overall vibe (and what mood I'm craving when I reread them).

Several of these are part of ongoing series, but the fics I linked are complete and satisfying on their own.

I've got more recs here. And uh, so so much more, but for next time because this is already long. Let me know if you want another list. :)

#Witcher fic #Geraskier #Geralt/Jaskier #The Witcher #my faves #warlordess #conversations

[sunflowersteves]

the little things || g.r.

summary || Geralt doesn’t always do the best job in showing how he feels about you, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try.

author’s not || just a little drabble for valentine’s day!

warnings || none, fluff, geralt is a little emotionally constipated

masterlist

You had been by Geralt’s side for quite some time, now. Ever since you expressed your wish to travel the world and help others in their conquests, the two of you had been attached to the hip.

Geralt was initially very cold towards you and would only acknowledge your presence when it was absolutely necessary. However, you paid no mind to his bitter attitude and talked to him as though you were old friends. You knew it would annoy him, at least at first, but you didn’t mind.

You would talk on and on for hours about your family, the gardens you had at home, or just how your day was. He would mostly give out a grunt in response when you asked him questions, but slowly you were able to chip at the walls he had built. 

When you started your relationship, everything seemed almost completely the same. You would talk on and on for hours while he intently listened to every single word. You would patch up his wounds and curse at him for being reckless. 

The only part of your relationship that was new was the touching. Oh, how you loved the touching. His large calloused hands caressing your skin in the depths of the covers. His plump slightly-chapped lips pressing into your shoulder, leaving a trail down to your chest. His white, long hair tickling your neck as he cuddled more into your side. 

He wasn’t always the most verbal person ever, but he was your Geralt. He made sure to shower you in kisses and hold your hand when you had nightmares. He’d caress your cheek after a hard day in battle, wanting to feel your soft skin on his. He carried you for miles after scraping your knee on a pile of rocks, your small sniffles making his heart clench immediately. 

It was the small things, really. 

“Sit.” 

You peered over towards him to see that he was gesturing you to sit on the log. It was getting pretty dark anyway, and Roach needed a long rest to be more fit in the morning. You obliged him and sat on the mossy wood, your mind quite intrigued. 

“I heard from a town over that today is Valentine’s day.” His golden eyes flickered down towards yours. He played with his fingers, which made your eyebrow raise in surprise. It was always a little nervous habit he enquired in. 

“I know I’m not the best with words, and I know that it must make it difficult to be with me. But-” He paused, reaching into his pocket and taking something out that was small and silver. 

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my life. I-I, you make me feel so alive. I love you.”

He reaches out to your palm and places his hand onto your small one. He places the small object into your hand and you peer over him, trying to see what it was. He chuckled at your anticipation and finally let his hand go. 

It was a small wolf, about the size of a gold coin. There was a piece of black string attached to the top. It glistened against what was left of the sun in your hand. You gasped at how utterly beautiful it was, your heart bursting at Geralt thinking of you. 

“Geralt...”

“It’s a white wolf. It’s a symbol for Witchers. I thought that... I thought that maybe you could have a piece of me. No matter wherever you are, I’ll always be with you.”

Your smile was wide as you placed it on your neck. You jumped up and latched onto Geralt. His fast reflexes caught you in an instant, his strong arms wrapped around your torso. “I love it! I love it! I love it!” His deep voice then chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Thank you, Geralt. This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

His smile was just as wide as yours, his gold eyes sparkling as he stared into yours. He pressed small kisses to your cheeks, which made you erupt into giggles. 

“I love you, little dove.”

~~

witcher: @lenalxvegood​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire @writingletterstothefire​ @gudenuph​

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire @doozywoozy​ @writingletterstothefire​ @gudenuph​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​ @lxdyred​ @ironbabey​

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt imagine #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill characters #geralt fluff #valentines day #valentines day fluff

[mrsarnasdelicious]

For Poly!Witchers!

Regarding sleeping arrangements, at bedtime what is the arrangement (i.e. who sleeps in the middle vs. who sleeps on the left/right sides)?

Also, what bedtime quirks does everyone have (i.e. who hogs the blankets, who kicks in their sleep, etc.)?

Hoo Boy, you ready???

Big Spoons: Lambert and Geralt Needs to always sleep in the middle: Eskel and Triss Small spoons: You and Jaskier Switches is up to keep everyone on their toes: Coen

Coen: Could fall asleep standing against a tree, so really doesn't give many fucks on how he lays or what is covering him, heck it could be a pile of leaves for all he cares Eskel: Loves to cuddle, with a tendency to koala around the nearest large enough object, be it Lambert, Geralt, you or his pillow. You fit against him best, though. Has one specific 2 x 2 m comforter of a specific make and thickness, sleeps under nothing else. His pillow has to be fluffy and he keeps rolling it over to be on the cool side. Geralt: He gets hot really easily, so he usually sleeps without a blanket. He is not a big cuddler, but only because he tends to get very sweaty when cuddling up. Somehow he always ends up cuddling his lover somehow. Jaskier: Needs to be held!!! And rolled into at least three blankets. Also uses multiple pillows at any given time. Refuses to not sleep in a bed. And he better not be alone in that bed! Lambert: Gives zero shits! Is a belly sleeper and just wants to not choke on his pillow, which usually results in Lambert having his pillow under his chest. Somehow always ends up burried all the way under the blankets like some sort of cave bear and with his hand is someone's crotch. Triss: Sleeping beauty!! Always graceful, always beautiful. Keeps her hair braided when she sleeps. Curls into her lovers' side as she sleeps, she loves to be held!

Geralt and Lambert snore, Lambert louder than Geralt.

Jaskier sleepwalks. Eskel talks in his sleep.

#Geralt of Rivia #Eskel #Lambert #triss merigold #Jaskier #Coen #The Witcher

[captainkirkk]

Cap'n what's your favourite and least favourite tropes in media?

Favourite:

Identity reveals

Platonic life partners, especially when everyone around them can see how much they mean to each other (but never try to suggest it ~must be romance~ or diminish what they have because it’s not romantic)

Platonic cuddling

Whump

That one where where a character’s eyes glow when they’re feeling An Emotion. See also: objects shaking around a powerful character when they get worked out

The “hidden royalty” trope. Monarchy in real life? Makes me gag, but royalty in fiction makes me lose my shit

See also: leader desperately trying to make their land a better place for their people (and being loved for it)

Just the whole “leader trying to look after their subordinates and their subordinates looking after them in turn” trope *chefs kiss*

Rebellions/uprisings in corrupt societies

Outsider POVs

Protectiveness

One character being hurt/kidnapped/etc and the other one going FERAL

Least favourite:

Jump scares

Anything with second hand embarrassment

The “just missed each other” trope, where characters are nearby but don’t see each other or leave RIGHT before the other person arrives. This trope almost made me throw something at the TV when I was watching the Witcher

See also: Character was just about to find out [important information] but someone distracted them, the other character died before they could reveal The Secret, etc. There’s no reason for all that build up only for it not to happen!! Grinds my gears like nothing else

Innocent characters being accused of doing something they didn’t do. Includes fake allegations of abuse/rape/etc

See also: superheroes missing out on birthdays/school/etc in their civilian life because they were out doing Hero Things, and their family/friends/teachers/etc give them a huge guilt trip lecture and everyone thinks the hero is a jackass, when they hero can’t say anything and just has to take it. This trope is in SO many superheroes stories and it kills me every time

#these are just off the top of my head though #ask #anon

[ageless-soul-au]

For your au heroes, How do they display affection?

Twilight: Twi is a hugger and you cannot escape. He's very physically affectionate and he loves spending time w people, hanging out and doing fun things together, usually something physical.

Warriors: Warriors isn't always a touchy person, he's got issues with people grabbing him unexpectedly. But he's also the type to offer a hug or extend a hand for a comforting squeeze when he can tell someone needs it. He's also keen on finding and acquiring things his loved ones like, for example, if he finds out a person likes a rare food that they don't often get in their Hyrule, he'll search it out, learn how to make it, and quietly offer just to see that person go "!!!!!!!". It makes him happy.

Sky: Cuddle Monster Extraordinaire. He's THE Best at fluffy warm hugs, though Twilight has some objections to that, and isn't afraid to offer or receive them. He's also keen on music as a love language. Sad or need comfort? Lullabies. He will jam out with a person for something celebratory, and he will also just sit and chill and play the lyre while the other person(s) do their own thing, infodump at him, or sing along. He's a warm walking radio basically.

Cinder: Cinder is more observant than he gives himself credit for, and especially with Fae, tends to be very aware of what the person he's trying to be affectionate toward needs from him. Whether it be small acts of service, a kind word, a hug or a hot cup of tea and a listening ear, he's generally someone you can count on to know what you need, (and then still be worried he got it wrong.)

Time: Time was much bigger on touch as a kid, but now that he's grown up some (read: is trying to be a cool grown up adult with Witcher vibes who has a reputation to maintain), he's more along the lines of doing and showing via service or gifts than touch. He's touch starved. This young man needs a hug stat, but he adamantly refuses to ask for one. .... maybe Malon can get him to budge a little....?

Legend: he's very big on touch with his partners and even though he needs the same in return, he has a hard time asking for it (at least verbally. He'd much rather lead by example). He also likes running his mouth a lot and thinks it's adorable when people infodump at him, he will listen avidly and remember what they tell him. With friends, he's a doer and actions speak much louder than words. It's "what do you need" and then he will make it happen, no questions asked.

Wild: PDA ALL DAY EVERY DAY on top of doing ridiculously out of his way side quests for people he cares about. Sidon is craving mighty porgy? Say no more, Wild has already Wind bombed himself all the way to Lurelin. He'll come back mildly singed or with his hair on end from being zapped by an electric Lizalfos, and he will be fretted over while he cooks for his bae. He's just.... like that.

Odyssey: Odd loves spending time with people and he will make anything an adventure. He's a very active person and he always will be, and in his opinion, every second spent with someone is important. He loves traveling for this reason too-- he gets to catch up with so many people! He also gets homesick really badly.

Champion: Champion is not good with people or emotion most of the time, even less at showing people his emotions regarding them, but he cares very deeply about everyone he's even remotely close to and tries his best, even if they don't notice, to find things that make them happy. His Zelda has often found small sprouts of silent princess growing in the places she and Champion frequent.

Fae: info dumping and listening to someone rattle off about the things they love. Some members of the chain are starting to think this was born of her trying to get Cinder to talk about the things he liked without feeling the need to apologize for taking up time and space.

Hyrule: Hyrule likes hugs. Hugs, and quiet time spent together. So if Hyrule sits beside you and offers a mug of something warm, or pulls up just to chat, you know what is on their mind. They understand not everyone gets the same kind of comfort from the quiet that they do, but it's still their favorite way to show someone affection and kindness.

Four: Four is a love language linguist of a caliber most could only dream of, but whether you get reciprocation most of the time depends on who's fronting. Blue and Vio are much less likely to be physically affectionate, and Green and Red are the exact opposite. That said, four and Hyrule are extremely perceptive to others needs, and are quick to remedy things in whatever way they can, comfortably, most of the time.

Wind: If you're not Tetra, Gramma, Aryll, or Medli, don't expect a hug. But Wind will absolutely run himself ragged for people he cares about without batting an eye. If you ARE one of those people.... then you know he gives fantastic hugs.

Flicker: flicker loves to give hugs, or do anything he can think of to get a smile if it's someone who's not fond of touching, like Champion is at first. So that entails gift giving, showing off that weird rock he found, inviting people to do things, and small acts of kindness. Flicker is a bby angel in more ways than one.

- Mizu & Kio

#ask #this sat with us for s u c h a long time we're sorryyyy #everyone is here let's goooo #asau twilight #asau warriors #asau sky #asau cinder #asau time #asau legend #asau wild #asau odyssey #asau champion #asau fae #asau hyrule #asau four #asau wind #asau flicker

[vvitchering]

They’ve only just arrived at Kaer Morhen and Jaskier is already in love. The keep is ancient; falling apart, drafty, haunted in more ways than one. But it’s the closest thing to a home Geralt has ever known and Jaskier has never seen the witcher more relaxed and at ease. 

The first few days leave little time for frivolous activities. There are roofs to patch and food stores to inventory and a hundred other chores the witchers busy themselves with before the oncoming winter freezes the mountains solid. Jaskier makes himself useful, helping with meal prep in the kitchens and counting vegetables and stacks of firewood. Geralt’s family is surprised to see him but accepting of his presence, especially when he offers to play his lute and sing for them. Entertainment is hard to come by this far into the wilds.

It’s a week before Vesemir calls a stop to the work and announces that they have all earned a few days of rest before winter training begins. Jaskier is introduced to the hot springs beneath the keep and has to practically be dragged out of the pleasantly scalding mineral-rich water. But it’s the sleeping arrangements that really have him enamoured. Each of the witchers have their own room somewhere in the keep, furnished with comfortable beds and covered in their respective knick-knacks and trophies. He learns very quickly that they prefer to sleep in what remains of their great hall, sprawled out together before the large hearth, in a heap of warm limbs like an actual wolf pack. Naps, however, are individual affairs. With certain exceptions. 

One such exception is Geralt’s incredibly awkward but sweet invitation for Jaskier to join him in his bed for an afternoon nap. The fireplace in his room is lit, filling the space with dozy warmth and the pleasant crackling of the fire. Geralt strips out of his linen shirt and tosses it carelessly to the floor. Jaskier’s doublet joins it. And then they’re finally under the furs and arranged how Geralt prefers to sleep (curled around Jaskier’s back, one huge arm thrown protectively over the bard and holding him securely against Geralt’s chest like a favorite stuffed toy) 

Geralt yawns hugely and Jaskier twists his head around to catch a glimpse of Geralt’s objectively terrifying maw. He’s always found the witcher’s elongated canines and other viciously sharp teeth fascinating rather than frightening, but he knows Geralt prefers to keep them hidden. Very few humans are as accepting as Jaskier. But here, safe and warm in his bed, there is nothing to be ashamed of. Jaskier nuzzles into the pillow he’s made of Geralt’s bicep and reaches out a hand to tangle his fingers with Geralt’s. Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand gently and a rumbling purr starts up in his chest, vibrating slightly against Jaskier’s back where he’s pressed against him. 

Geralt never purrs on the path, never feels safe and secure enough to do so. Now, in an old drafty castle amongst his family and with his beloved cuddled by his side, Geralt rumbles on happily and sinks into blissful sleep.

#geraskier #the witcher #mine #written for a friend on twitter this afternoon #I just needed something fluffy and warm and nice #I know I have stuff sitting in my inbox here to write #forgive me;;;;;;

[viking-raider]

Quarantine: Warm Water *Cotton Candy Goodness!*

Summary: Henry’s sore from his Witcher workout, so you take care of him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 2,225

Warnings: NONE - Cotton Candy Goodness (Yes, More cavities) Fluff, Kal, Very Small Angst, Domestic Kink

Inspiration: A one-shot by @the-soot-sprite​! and I’m just really feeling the small, sweet and domestic things a couple does for each other and together.

A/N: This is really starting to turn into a mini Series xD

When you returned from your run to the store, you found Henry lying stretched out on the couch, softly snoring, his arm slung over his eyes to shade them from the dying afternoon sun. You smiled at him, knowing he must have really worn himself out.

Even though you guys were still in quarantine, Henry was still doing his tough workouts for the Witcher. So, you let him rest and put all the groceries away. But, once that was finished, Henry was still sound asleep. You couldn't help, but tiptoe up to his prone body and gingerly fold up the hem of his blue tank top. You grinned impishly, carefully maneuvering yourself between his long legs and gently lowered your head to brush your lips against his flat stomach. Henry half moaned and half chuckled, in his sleep. He had some of the most sensitive skin you had ever encountered on a man before, and you sometimes loved torturing him about it.

Grinning, you pressed your lips to his belly and took a deep breath through your nose, before pushing it out past your lips, blowing a big raspberry against his stomach, just above his naval.

The muscles in Henry's stomach tensed against your lips, his abs becoming defined under the light dusting of hair that covered his torso, and he busted out laughing, a moment before he was even completely awake from his nap. He squirmed and thrashed as you blew another raspberry against his side and several other locations on his tummy, melting him into a flowing stream of laughter, his hands moving from trying to guard his stomach to gripping your shoulders.

“Babe!” Henry panted and giggled, a huge smile on his tired face. “Ba-Baby, p-pleasse!” He begged you, his feet kicking under your mouth's assault on his stomach. “Oh, fuck! Babe, I'm sore!” He gasped, out of breath.

You sat up, your own grin melting down into a frown, suddenly feeling bad. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You whispered, gently rubbing away the wet spots on his stomach. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You sighed, rubbing your palms up and down his torso, now feeling the tight knots from his hardcore workout.

“It's all right, baby.” Henry sighed, catching his breath and stared up at the ceiling. “You didn't know.” He added, softly.

You frowned harder at him, then pressed an extra gentle kiss to his tummy and got up off the couch, then climbed the stairs to your shared bedroom and into the master bathroom. You stood there for a moment, reconsidering the thought of starting a nice warm shower for Henry to step into, so he could ease his sore Witcher muscles.

“Hm.”

Pulling out a nice fluffy towel and laying it out on the counter, you hummed to yourself as you plugged the drain to the huge tub and started the tap. Smiling to yourself, you reached under the sink and pulled out two round objects and padded back downstairs to where Henry was now sitting up on the couch, trying to find something on the television.

“Which one?” You asked, holding out two different types of bath bombs to him.

“Um.” Henry frowned, brows drawing together as he looked at them, before picking the one in your right hand. “That one.” He said, blinking up at you.

“Okay.” You smiled, and went back up stairs, turning off the tap of the now full tub.

You took out a washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub, put Henry's two-in-one, Cypress and Cedar scented soap next to it, with the Chamomile and Lavender bath bomb. You even lit several candles, situating them around the rim of the sink and the shelf above the toilet. Satisfied, you removed your clothing and went back downstairs, knowing that being naked would instantly entice Henry into listening to you.

“What's going on, Babe?” Henry asked slowly, his eyes wide as he took in your naked beauty.

“Come upstairs with me, Hen.” You replied, in a silky voice and turned away from him.

Henry blindly turned the tv off and followed after you, like leading an animal back to their pen. “What's this, Nugget?” He asked, as you both entered the candle lit bathroom.

“We're going to take a bath.” You smiled at him, curling your fingers around the hem of his tank top.

Chuckling, Henry lifted his arms and let you take his tank top off. Setting his tank top aside, you gently pulled open the ties of his sweat pants and tugged them down his thick thighs, followed by his boxers. You rubbed your palms up and down his sides, pushing up on your toes to peck him on the lips, then moved away from him.

“In you go.” You told him, with a playful pat on the bum.

Giving you a sly smirk, Henry carefully stepped into the tub, moaning as he lowered his large frame into the hot water. He leaned back and stretched his legs out, opening them, so you could take your usual bath time spot between them.

But, you shook your head at him.

“Nope, you're the little duck in this rub-a-dub-tub.” You chuckled at him; he always referred to you as the 'little duck', when the two of you took a bath together, making him, of course, 'the big duck'.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, but moved forward, so you could move in behind him, hugging your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his upper body to reach out and drop the bath bomb he picked into the water. Henry laughed, finally putting together all the puzzle pieces as he watched the bath bomb spin, bob and fizz out its fragrance and turned the water a purple color.

“You drew me a bath, to relax.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

“I did.” You smiled, hugging your arms around his torso and pressed your lips to the very base of his neck. “You need to relax and your muscles are sore, cause you're a hard worker, and you deserve to relax and not have to always work so hard.” You told him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest, gently kneading as you did.

“Thanks, love.” He whispered, touched and warmed at your effort to make him feel better.

Smiling softly at him and kissed his shoulder, you sat there like that with him, for several long minutes, cuddling in the hot and steamy purple water, the pleasing and relaxing scent of Lavender and Chamomile permeating in the warm mist around you. Grabbing a small cup, you had also set out while prepping Henry's bath, and filling it with the bath water, you carefully nudged Henry forward, so he could rest against you and tip his head back. You cupped your free hand against his forehead to keep the water out of his eyes and face, and carefully poured the cupful of water into his dark curls.

Pouring another cup of water into his hair, you let Henry sit back up and grabbed his shampoo, squeezing it into your hand, then gently started working the shampoo into his hair and scalp, going extra slow and massaging his scalp and head as you did. Henry moaned loudly as your fingers scrubbed deep into his hair, it almost felt like you were scrubbing and massaging his brain. He slowly melted, like the bath bomb bobbing between his bent knees; hunching forward and nodding off.

You smiled softly, hearing the change in his breathing. Gently leaning him back against you again, Henry barely stirred as you methodically rinsed out the shampoo, then grabbed the wash cloth, using the soap to lather it up and pushed him forward again, careful he didn't go completely forward. You used the soapy cloth to rub and massage Henry's neck and shoulders, spending several long minutes working at each location to untangle the knots his workout and regular stress had caused, then moved over the broad expanse of his back, dipping into the water to knead his hips, before moving on to his heavy arms.

You washed and massaged every inch of Henry's body you could reach, before rinsing the soap away, then leaned back, allowing his body to comfortably rest back against you. Your fingers trailing up and down his chest and nearly falling asleep yourself. Henry took a deep breath, his blue eyes blinking around the bathroom, the cooling water lapping at his chest as he shifted against you, sitting up.

“How long was I out?” He asked, blinking and glancing at the clock.

“Oh, about twenty minutes.” You chuckled and rested forward against his back, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Sleeping like a baby.” You teased him, kissing the side of his neck.

“It's like you bewitched me.” Henry chuckled back.

“Let's get out.” You whispered, feeling him struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Hmm.”

Was his reply, sluggishly standing up and stepping out of the tub, while you pulled the plug on the water and stepped out with him.

“Here.” You smirked, watching him fumbled with the towel. “You're one relaxed and sleepy, Puppy.” You cooed at him, taking the towel from him, unfolded it and started rubbing him dry.

“I feel like I've been drugged.” Henry lazily smiled back, his large body wavering for a moment, causing him to grab the edge of the sink, to stay upright.

“The wonders of hot water, a clean body and a solid massage.” You replied, rubbing the towel over his side as you moved around to his back.

“You know, what would make it a million times better?” He asked, yawning sleepily.

“Tell me.” You replied, maneuvering him yourself, so he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“A snuggle, in a warm bed with the love of my life.” He mumbled and hummed, as you draped the towel over his head and stated to dry his dripping curls, like you were polishing something.

“I'll get you in bed with Kal, then.” You quipped, smirking as you finished drying his hair.

“It's going to get messed up.” He protested, as you started brushing his wild and fluffed up curls.

“Hush your face and enjoy it.” You tutted at him, taming his curls. “Arms up!” You sang out, picking up his spray on deodorant.

“I can't pick my eyelids up, and she wants me to put up my arms, Kal.” Henry commented to the Akita, who had come into the bathroom during his nap in the tub.

You giggled and grabbed the wrist of Henry's left arm and lifted it, then sprayed his armpit with the deodorant, before giving his right armpit the same treatment. “I love you to death, dearly and truly, but you're brushing your own teeth, yourself.” You told him, drying yourself off.

“Oh gosh, gone from the Witcher to the invalid with one bath.” You huffed playfully, at his whine. “I'll wet your toothbrush.” You said, taking the electric toothbrush from the cup it was stored in, wet it under the sink tap and put a dab of his Oral-B, charcoal toothpaste on it.

“That's all you're getting out of me, sir.” You told him, turning the toothbrush on and handing it to him. “Well, almost.” You poured a capful of mouthwash for him.

Both of you bathed, dried, hair tamed and teeth brushed, you directed your zombie-like boyfriend to his side of the bed and sat him down, then returned to the bathroom to blow out all the candles. You chuckled, finding Henry hunched over again, having dozed off in the minute it took you to blow the candles out. Shaking your head, you pulled down the blankets and gently pushed Henry over, to lay down on the bed.

“Ssshh.” You cooed at his sleepy whimper, then covered him up.

“Babe.” Henry mumbled, not even really awake.

“What, honey?” You whispered quietly back, not wanting to bother him, in case he was just mumbling in his sleep.

“I don't wanna snuggle with Kal.” He murmured, his brow creasing. “I wanna snuggle with you.”

A smile instantly spread across your face, he had been so tired and relaxed, that your Bear of a boyfriend, had completely missed your humor. “Okay.” You said softly, gently brushing your fingers over his wrinkled brow, smoothing the crease away. “I'll let him know, he has to get out of my spot.” You assured him.

“Okay.” He let out in a soft sigh, his entire body going slack against the mattress.

“Sorry, Bear.” You whispered to Kal, who sat at the foot of the bed.

You turned the lights out and crawled into bed with Henry, gliding your hand up his arm and kissed his cheek as he rolled over at your touch, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugged you against his body, tucking you beneath him as he pillowed his heavy head on your breast. You pulled the blankets over you both and carded your fingers through his damp hair, massaged the back of his neck and caressed the space between his shoulder-blades; slowly falling asleep yourself.

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #viking-raider fics #Quarantine: Warm Water *fic* #Quarantine: Warm Water #Warm Water #Quarantine #Bath #Bath bomb #Fluff #Cotton Candy Goodness #Angst #Kal #Kal Cavill #Massage #Charles Brandon #The Witcher #Witcher #Geralt #Domestic #Domestic Bliss #Domestic Kink #Henry Cavill/You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill Fanfic #quarantine series

[ignify-caligo]

🛏 + 😳 or 😤 for my mans iorveth? 🥺

Do you mean OUR man? Jk x’D. Anyways Iorveth’s one of the hottest opponents ever, I won’t take any criticism on that! Writing for him is an absolute pleasure (tbh writing for any of witcher characters is a blessing, they are just ‘aaaa’!!), so without delaying any further, here are some Iorveth HC’s!

🛏: A sleeping headcanon

😳: A confessing headcanon

😤: A jealousy headcanon

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

🛏: A sleeping headcanon

There’s probably no character on the continent, who’s able to catch themselves some obviously needed 8 hours off time. Iorveth is among the group that hasn’t had the average sleeping time in who knows how long now. It’s honestly impossible for him to not have developed insomnia. Like there is no way that he has come unscratched from his time as commanding officer in the Flotsam Scoia’tael. He’s too stubborn to quit his work, only for some necessities like sleeping. He won't leave things half done and based on what kind of work he's doing, there’s a l o t to do. You could describe his daily schedule as eat, fight, plan future raids, and repeat – there’s no time to waste on sleeping.

This kind of behavior turned him into a zombie-like state, where the only thing he was able to converse about was related to their current situation. His subordinates were after a while, finally brave enough to literally herd him into bed at the first sign of the sunset. Even other commanders such as Isengrim (who to be honest is basically like an elder bro) got the news and joined into ‘ Iorveth herding’, something they found originally funny to rub into Iorveth’s face (that is until their own units implemented this tactic against them as well). Everyone has their unique approach to ‘herding’, e.g. Ciaran’s way is to threaten Iorveth with the medics. This is truly understandable, you should never fuck around with the medics when it comes to health issues.

Thanks to that, he managed to establish some sort of ‘routine’ or ‘rituals’ before he turns in to sleep. He usually spends his ‘before bedtime’ time reading some stolen books or playing different calming tunes on his recorder. Sometimes he even ends up falling asleep in the middle of his ‘rituals’, which leads to him cuddling/hugging with random objects. His recorder has become the ‘usual’ bed resident and a bed buddy. He doesn’t often share this, but he feels more secure while holding something in the bed, he can curl around it and have it as a makeshift weapon in emergency situations (even if it is just a simple pillow).

😳: A confessing headcanon

I did mention that he’s stubborn, right? Well, if you think of him as extremely stubborn based on the previous headcanon, I will tell you this; he’s even more stubborn when it comes to feelings and ‘making confessions.’ Even if he was being threatened with the death penalty or worse than that, he would never confess to the fact that his time as a scoia’tael was pointless, because ‘they didn’t achieve anything in the end.’ He was following his heart and that to him was all that mattered. Did they achieve the peace they wanted? No, but they tried, and to him was the important thing.

Oh man, don’t even start on the ‘feelings’ department. He would rather kick his crush’s ass in a sword fight than simply confessing his desire. But at the same time, that sword fight scenario is dramatic. Which is the perfect icebreaker according to him. He’s even more dramatic than William Shakespeare and he would firstly beat the ever-living soul out of his crush… and decide ‘ah… why not *shrugs*’ leading to some feeling confession time. Of course, he would do that if he would stop being a chicken about it. Ciaran’s been totally done with his commander’s antics for a while now.

😤: A jealousy headcanon

When it comes to his jealousy, he’s definitely not the type to be jealous of ‘physical possessions’, like food or gold. Of course, it’s irritating how dh’oine have the privileges to do whatever they want when they don’t even come from this world originally. That’s like one of the reasons why the elves have revolted against them, so that’s a jealousy point there.

But his ‘true’ jealousy streak picks out from its hiding hole when it’s about people and his relationships being ‘threatened’ so to say. He’s not the ‘controlling’ type or any of that sort, but he’s on high guard whenever someone ‘his’ is being confronted by a stranger. Any change of their behavior can lead him to intervene, something like a bouncer in a club kind of deal. He’s reacting in that way because of two ‘main’ reasons. One, he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to ‘his’ person, and two, his jealousy can be described more as fear induced by his insecurities about himself. Iorveth feels the hidden pressure to do his utmost best or the ‘special person’ of his, will entirely cut him out of their life because he failed once more.

Headcanon Meme Here

#iorveth #isengrim faoiltiarna #ciaran aep easnillen #scoia'tael #aen seidhe #the witcher #the witcher series #the witcher games #the witcher headcanon #caligo's post #caligo's headcanons #caligo answers q. #hope you will like this ‘Iorveth analysis’ lmao! 🤣 #thank you so much for asking about the best Temerian elfy!! <3

[strangeradventuresofp]

protect you (geralt x reader)

warnings : language !

requested by : @wellfuckmyexistence​ -  I know you are probs swamped with requests! But I would be hella interested in seeing you write some Geralt X Reader stuff! Maybe reader is also a Witcher? Maybe some cuddles? Maybe some angst? Some arguing??? Idk anything really tbh!

a/n : i tried to do all lol maybe this was too adventurous. i loved writing this! i had so much fun!! thank you so much, i hope you enjoy this<3333

“No, don’t you fucking dare ignore me!” You spat with clenched fists.

The feelings you felt at this moment couldn’t be determined. Your heart felt as if it were shattering in your chest, like fine crystal china breaking, tiny fragments remaining that were finer that dust. It felt like your heart had been punctured a million times over by thousands of tiny pins; it stings at first, but now it leaves you numb – not even remotely painful, just numb. Your entire body ached with such an overwhelming vigour. For the first time in your life you had felt exhausted. And it terrified you.

Being a witcher surely had it perks, enhanced agility, healing abilities, augmented strength. But it also came with a huge stigma, that was completely untrue. ‘Witchers can’t feel emotion’. Boy, if you had a coin for every time you had heard those words. It frustrated you beyond frustration. Sure, you were pretty much created to be soulless beasts, but that wasn’t the case. You were still a human, only with these superhuman abilities. You hated that you were looked down upon to be entirely emotionless. If anything, you thought that you felt emotions more. Especially the strong ones. Arousal, anger. Love. And that was exactly what had happened.

Geralt of Rivia, perhaps one of, if not the, most famous witchers about. He was easily distinguishable. His pale face and white hair made it obvious to tell that it was him. You had met him in an inn one night.

Apparently, you had caused a ruckus, which you didn’t. It was a perfectly normal reaction to a drunk stranger grabbing your arse. Needless to say, he was up against the wall with a knife against his neck within the same second. It gave you so much satisfaction to watch him squirm and hear him plead for his life, all the while hearing the others in the bar shouting foul things to you. You had heard worse, so you didn’t exactly care. That was when this huge man stood up from his solitary corner and made his way over to you. He leant into your ear, words rumbling from his chest.

“Let him go.” He commanded and you chuckled.

“And what if I don’t? You’re gonna stop me, are you?”

“Let him go.” He repeated, more demanding this time. Rolling your eyes, you forced your knife further against his throat before letting go. The man scampered off and you turned to face whoever the deep voice belonged to with a scowl.

When your eyes landed on him, you recognised him immediately, but you refused to acknowledge that you knew him. He looked confused, stepped back a little as if to get a better look of you.

“If you want to stare, why don’t we get a room?” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips.

His face didn’t falter. “You’re a witcher.”

“Lucky guess. What do you want?” He looked at you, puzzled. “I doubt you came up to me to save me from a situation that I clearly wasn’t struggling in. So, I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

“So hostile.” Geralt took a lock of your hair between his fingers before flicking it from your shoulder. A small smirk washed over his lips and you found yourself staring. It wasn’t long after that that you were pinned against the wall by his frame, his face in your neck and his fingers fumbling to get your clothes off of your body.

From that moment, you had travelled with him and Jaskier, the bard that named himself Geralt’s companion. It was nice. You enjoyed Geralt’s company, despite him being a complete brood most of the time. It was nice to have someone understand your struggles and how fucked up you were. You were both turned against your will. It felt good to have someone understand that. As for Jaskier, he was kind to you. You had told him many times that you liked his voice. He often invited you to sing with him, since you had admitted that you often sang to help yourself through witcher training. It led to him subtly changing the words to one of the songs he sang on your adventures; ‘Toss a coin to your witchers, O Valley of Plenty.’

You and Geralt had a very complicated relationship. There were feelings involved on your side and distant ones on his. He had shared your bed many nights, much to the complaint of Jaskier. You understood him and he understood you better than you knew yourselves. You loved him.

One night, after sharing your bed in an inn, he had disappeared into thin air. Neither you nor Jaskier had the slightest idea of where he went. A terrible feeling started to grow in your stomach the longer he did not return to you. Many nights you and Jaskier ate alone. You were not yourself. Jaskier noticed.

“Y/N—”

“I have this awful feeling, Jask, in my stomach. It feels like knots are being tied with my insides. I don’t know what it means; I have never felt it before.”

He let out a small laugh. “You’re worried for him.”

“I am not.” You urged with a scowl. But when you thought about it, the feeling began the morning you had woke up and not found him. You searched outside for Roach, but she was nowhere to be found either. It grew more every day that Geralt didn’t come back.

Now, he had returned, and you were angry. Angry was an understatement. It took everything in you not to bury your knife into his chest the moment he stepped through the inn door.

You slammed the door shut, enclosing the both of you inside the room that you had been living in for months on end. “Where did you go?”

“None of your business.”

“Where the hell did you go?” The poison in your voice would’ve made any other flinch. It pissed you off how Geralt didn’t seem to take you seriously when you were angry. He lay on the bed, just looking at you. Your eyebrows drew further together.

“I can’t believe I told you I loved you.” He avoided your gaze. And in that moment, suddenly everything made sense. The morning that you had awoken to find him missing, the night before you had tiredly let it slip that you loved him. “Is that why?

Did you even plan on coming back?” Quite quickly your eyes were pooling with tears, threatening to fall if he ignored you once more. The tremor in your voice was something that caught his attention and he sat up, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“It was a temporary trip. I came back.” Geralt showed no other indication of his feelings.

“I’m so stupid.” Your breathing was raggedy as you buried your head in your hands, begging for your tears to stay put.

“Witchers can’t feel.” A lie. Why was he trying to lie to you? He didn’t even know himself.

“Come on, Geralt. You and me both know that’s horseshit.” When he didn’t respond, you took the initiative and moved to the bedside table, snatching your knife from it and a small sack of money. Spinning around, you swung the door open, rushing down the inn stairs. You heard him call out your name, but you ignored him. As you tossed the money to the innkeeper, you opened the door that led you outside. Quickly, you mounted your horse, grabbing the reigns.

You felt a hand on your knee.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jask. I can’t stay here anymore, not with that brooding prick about. I’m sorry.”

“But Y/N—”

“I hope we meet again, Jask. You’re a good friend. One which I don’t deserve.” You gave him a half smile before riding off out of the village. Jaskier called your name with a frown as you set off.

~~~

You were a few days ride out of whatever village you were staying in before. It was dark. You unsure of what day it was exactly, and whether it was night or early morning. There was a fire to keep you warm and your cloak, but you used it as a pillow. You had tried the first night to sleep without something to support your head but woke up with a crick in your neck. Supposedly, spending months in an inn that had pillows had meant that you had built quite a tolerance to having one. In complete honest, you had no idea where you were. But you were away from Geralt of Rivia, and that was all that mattered. It was not easy to let the one you loved go, just like it is not easy to fall in love in the first place. This was something you had yet to learn, for Geralt was the first that you had ever truly loved. Sure, you had had harmless flings, but they are harmless. They mean nothing. It was supposed to be the same with him. It turned out to be a lot more harmful to your feelings that it had meant to be.

A snap in the wood behind you captured your attention from your thoughts and you stood, placing your hand firmly on the hilt of your knife on your belt, facing the danger.

“Who’s there?” You cautioned, teeth gritting whilst your eyes adjusted to the darkness beyond the trees. You waited. When you heard another noise to the left of you, you grabbed the lurking body, pushing it hard against a tree. At least you thought you did. The cold of the tree gave you goosebumps up your back and you blinked, attempting the make out the face of the shadow that held its blade against your throat. You stuck your chin up, giving them more access to the skin of your neck. If they were going to cut your throat, they best do it well.

But they released you.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to try to attack me?” The familiar voice made your heart ache.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Pushing his body further away from yours, you sat back down beside the fire, warming your hands by it and rubbing them together. You felt his eyes on you. “If you’re going to just stare at me, fuck off.” Just as you finished your sentence, you shivered. You let out a breath.

Suddenly a pair of large, strong hands wrapped themselves around your figure and pulled you back against a warm, firm object. You could feel his breath against your skin, and you frowned.

“Why did you come looking for me?”

“I was worried.” He said, and your heart fluttered in your chest, though your scowl deepened.

“I am the only female to have ever survived becoming a witcher, and you were worried for me?”

“Hm.” He mumbled.

You sighed deeply. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Being near you. Indulging in my fantasies.” A small chuckle left your lips. “I can’t be around you, Geralt. Not while I still care about you.”

He huffed. “I care about you.” Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around you, as if he would never let you go.

“But, if that’s true, then why—”

“It was dangerous. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

“So instead you left me for months on end after I admitted that I loved you?”

“I was protecting you.”

“You needn’t protect me, Geralt. Don’t you know this by now? I can hold my own. Stop trying to protect me.”

“Never.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and you smiled. You were still angry at him, obviously, who wouldn’t be? “…Do you still…?”

“Do I still, what?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You chuckled. “It’s not easy to fall in love. It’s harder to fall out of love.” Spinning yourself around in his arms, you looked at him.

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Geralt of Rivia.” He hummed contently at your confession and slid his hand to the back of your neck. He pulled you forward, and you found that his lips were on yours. It wasn’t like the other times that you had shared kisses. This one had an innocence to it. You were being authentically unapologetically yourselves and you were happy to accept each other like that. Like lovers. You were in love with each other.

The two of you spent the night in the forest, cuddled against each other by the fire. And Jaskier was stuck at the inn, with no knowledge of where either of you were.

masterlist

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher x reader #the white wolf #the white wolf x reader #geralt imagine #geralt smut #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher imagine #henry cavill

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Knit flowers anon: Geralt, seeing how delighted his little wife is with the knit flowers Eskel made, asks his brother to teach him how to make them as well. Geralts attempt is...interesting to say the least and even witchers have never seen a flower like it before. Jaskier declares he loves it and claims it for a nap at once.

"It's a snapdragon!" Geralt cries, as if it's obvious. Eskel snickers and Lambert outright guffaws at Geralt's sad first attempt at knitting; it's a collection of pink flaps that may make a nice nest for his wife, but it's certainly not a snapdragon.

Jaskier curls up in it immediately and grins, chiming gleefully. Geralt looks to Lambert for a translation.

"He's proud of you, of course. He loves you, of course, you mushy fucks."

Jaskier chimes again, insistently, and Lambert pulls a face.

"Oh absolutely the fuck not. I will not be saying that shit, thank you."

Jaskier jangles lowly, like a very tiny church bell. Lambert pales and Eskel snickers again, not even bothering to hide it behind his hand.

"Uh, he'd like another. And he'd like you to buy softer wool. And he'd..." the Witcher sighs heavily, put-upon, and closes his eyes. "He'd like to know if you're interested in spending some quality time together later, after he takes a nap and conserves the energy for a growth spurt."

Geralt smiles indulgently down at the fairy, who's still nestled in the palm of his hand with the knitted disaster. "Of course, darling wife. Anything to please you."

"Gross!" Lambert objects, watching Geralt lean to press a kiss to the top of his wife's head. Eskel claps him on the shoulder and escorts him away, towards the kitchens.

Jaskier blushes from head to toe and grins, chiming away happily as he cuddled into his lovely new snapdragon.

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geraskier fluff #fairy!jaskier #fairy jaskier #witcher fairy au #bounceacoinoffyouranons #knitting witchers #geralts first snapdragon

[oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co]

The Lovelorn Monster

Welcome to my first Modern AU, which I wrote for @lovelyrita1967  It’s a Geraskier Romcom with extra suffering and gore! Also, it’s a Christmas fic as @booichiboo requested. 16k, M.

You can read it on AO3.

Summary: It's been many months since the mountain incident. Jaskier is alone on Christmas day. His lovely, old house has somehow become a monster-infested hellhole. Now it seems there might be a way to kill two birds with one stone. Only deciding what actually needs killing is much more complicated than that.

cw: blood, so much blood, also a lot of angst (although there’s a happy ending), suicide references, some Geraskier disagreements and heartbreak. No sex, but there’s a fair bit of angsty cuddling and some much less angsty kissing.

*********************************************** 

When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create

No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;

Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Dido’s Lament, Henry Purcell, adapted from The Aeneid

Jaskier stared at his beautiful, tall, richly dressed Christmas tree with pride and a wistful smile. Each ornament was a souvenir or a gift. This tradition gave his decorations deep meaning, but also made him reluctant to come anywhere near the tree this year.

Memories. He had a cardboard box full of them. There was a delicately carved wooden heart covered in rich, red paint he received from Countess de Stael. Then his favourite - a perfect, tiny copy of his lute he had ordered to celebrate his first successful performance for the royals. He even had a little doll that a sibele, a demon who steals children, was using to lure a baby when Geralt cut off her head.

Geralt never approved of Jaskier keeping the toy, let alone using it as an ornament. ‘I don’t need keepsakes to remind me of the last time I killed something,’ his gruff voice would say.

Well, this year it’s going up. Jaskier picked a spot for the doll with a rebellious toss of his hair. It was quite a nasty, clumsily knitted thing. Seeing it on the tree succeeded mostly in creating an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he imagined Geralt sitting on his living room sofa, relaxed, with a snide smile, some acerbic remark already forming in his head.

Perhaps Geralt would ignore the doll. ‘You just love making yourself sentimental,’ he’d say instead, seemingly no connection, just a short, judgmental glance at the tree.

And Jaskier did, actually. No shame in that. It had its benefits. In his mind, Geralt could easily become just the memory of a perfect, lost friend, regardless of how he would feel about the prospect. He was the hero Jaskier once traveled with, no more, no less. They parted ways for perfectly rational reasons.

‘Just give me a couple of years,’ he said to the imaginary Geralt in his mind and smiled with pride. Being the storyteller meant being in control.

Then he noticed a little ornament shaped like a golden dragon lying at the bottom of the box. The sight made him freeze for a moment. He shook off the memory and ignored the draw towards his phone which has been intensifying over the last couple of days.

Everything was going fine. The phone was just playing music, lying perfectly innocently on the windowsill as it should. It was set on shuffle, and Annie Lennox’s “Dido's Lament” was on, a little bit ominous, but also somehow appropriate.

He hummed with the music while hanging up a few golden baubles. As he started to sing, another voice joined in, a distant echo of his hum, a gentle, female timbre following along quietly. It made him smile, eyes suddenly attracted to the window. It was already getting dark, and the Christmas lights he put up outside were reflecting in the glass. A weird glow by the evergreen shrubs made the snow underneath them shine delicately.

The decorations were nearly complete. There was a comforting smell of cinnamon and apples coming from the kitchen. Also, he still had some surprisingly successful homemade ginger biscuits left.

The golden dragon was the last thing he hung on the tree. He flinched a little as he did, but it was where it belonged. Then he moved away to admire his finished work. ‘Better late than never,’ he whispered to himself.

At that exact moment, the next song started to play. Jaskier instantly recognised it and stared at his phone as if it personally insulted him.

‘It's been a blue holiday since you've been gone,’ Aretha Franklin started to sing.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Jaskier whispered while walking calmly towards his phone.

‘Oh darling, won't you hurry, hurry home,’ she continued undisturbed.

He actually liked the song and was starting to wonder if he was overreacting.

‘It's been a blue… a blue holiday. And I'm all alone.’

No, he wasn’t.

‘My dear I need your love to keep… to keep me warm.’

Yeah, sure, like that was ever an option, he thought to himself.

‘I cry when I hear the chapel bells ring… And sometimes I cry all through the night.’

Fuck. Jaskier’s fingerprint lock was a little wonky.

‘Won't you please come home and make my… make my holiday bright.’

Finally, he managed to skip a couple of songs, and quickly discovered he actually preferred some silence this time. He took a deep breath and decided it was time to focus on cooking. That should be comforting enough.

As soon as he turned towards the kitchen he heard a weird, buzzing sound, and then a high, disembodied laugh. Lights flickered. There was a loud crash, a cavalcade of many little objects falling all at once, baubles suddenly bouncing off his furniture. A glass ball he bought at a little Christmas market in Vizima rolled in between his feet.

He swore under his breath and turned back. All the ornaments were lying on his wooden floor, and only the Christmas lights remained. A small dark shape with sharp horns moved along the wall and then disappeared behind the sofa, still giggling to itself.

Jaskier stared at the naked tree, feeling a bit hopeless. Then he climbed up the sofa pillows and looked into the tight space between the wall and the backrest.

Two small, red eyes stared back.

‘Proud of yourself?’ he asked with irritation and heard only a quiet hiss in response. ‘You know what? Fuck you. Sincerely, fuck you.’ He pointed at the thing, his eyes narrowing. ‘No more biscuits for you. You’re going down,’ he threatened, a surprising and, by all accounts, disproportionate amount of uncurbed fury in his voice, hand shaking slightly.

For a moment Jaskier seemed overwhelmed. He took a couple of very deep breaths, then coughed a little and his eyes watered. ‘Right,’ he said to himself, his attempts to calm down obviously failing. He stretched his neck, then rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension with a sigh. ‘Right,’ he repeated as his expression switched to resolve.

He squeezed his phone with newly found determination, and then fiddled with it nervously for much longer than he originally planned.

Finally, he clicked on his least favourite icon of all - the phone app.

The signal was ringing loud in his ears. Time slowed down. He was just about to hang up when he heard a deep voice on the other side. ‘Yes?’

‘Vesemir,’ Jaskier announced, jovially. ‘Merry Christmas!’ He listened to Vesemir return the greeting and massaged his temples nervously. ‘Yes, thank you. Erm… I was just wondering… No, no, I am not going to hang up. Whatever gives you that idea?’ He laughed nervously. ‘I do need help. It’s a dreadful emergency. No… Of course, I would have called otherwise. Yes, it’s quiet because I’m at home. No, I have not been drinking. I am most definitely sober. Yes, yes, yes… No, I do realise… I actually do have a monster that needs to be… witchered? No, it’s not just one, actually… It’s- it’s a couple of things, really. I know it’s Christmas. Yes, I see your point. But… isn’t Geralt working anyway?’

He waited as the line went quiet for a while. ‘Yes, I did just ask for Geralt,’ he confirmed.

No response. Vesemir must have moved away from the phone, and there was a sound of distant chatter. When he returned his voice was hesitant. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I definitely want Geralt here. As soon as possible would be grand,’ Jaskier confirmed again, surprised at how confident he sounded.

‘Fine,’ Vesemir said finally, before hanging up right away, voice a bit more irritated than the situation justified.

Jaskier put the phone away and tried to force himself to breathe again.

You can read the rest on AO3.

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Extra thanks to @ohmybgosh @variousnoises

@thelastsock​ @jaskierswolf​ @rawrkinjd​ @katesierra​ @gilbert-von-kneecap​ @stinastar​ @carmillacarmine​ @ro-the-bard-writer​ @ikeptupwiththejoneses​ @purpleonionofsex​ @marvagon​ @fontegagrilledcheese​ @sarah-midnight​ @geraskierficrecs​ @renfribrooks​ @darknessyuu​ @comfortabletextiles​ @gosh-diddley-darnit​ @ohjules​ @short-potato​ @anie6142​ 

@valdomarx​ I know you don’t read Modern AUs but this one has a wyvern, a rusalka and Geralt is still a witcher. Also, I love you. That’s my argument.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fandom #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #Geralt #geralt x dandelion #the witcher #geralt x julian #Geralt x Jaskier #Jaskier #jaskier loves geralt #geralt loves jaskier #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #the witcher and the bard #witcher modern au