#geralt of rivia

[ladybossrp]

@naitirizahir 💖

Henry Cavill as Geralt Of Rivia (The Witcher. Season 3)

[gilsart]

Had this one in the drafts for a while. Young Geralt and Eskel :3

[thedemonofcat]

Whenever Jaskier gets his hands in Geralt’s hair—be it roughly or softly—the witcher goes boneless.

This amuses Jaskier at times, and he finds the quirk VERY cute. But, he worries about what would happen if someone grabbed Geralt’s hair during a battle.

When just that scenario happens, Jaskier’s heart nearly stops in his chest!

However, Geralt doesn’t go boneless. He breaks the wrist of the hand in his hair and then stabs the guy.

That’s when Jaskier realizes it may have less to do with the hair and more to do with who’s grabbing it.

Which is awfully flattering!

It was late, the night cloaked in darkness, save for the crackling campfire burning brightly, its glow rivaling the stars above. Jaskier lay close to Geralt, his fingers threading gently through the witcher’s silver hair.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” Jaskier said with a knowing smile.

Geralt let out a low, contented murmur. “You’re soft. It’s… nice.”

“Why, thank you. I do put a lot of effort into keeping them that way,” Jaskier teased with a soft laugh, his eyes twinkling.

Geralt’s lips curved faintly, his gaze warm. “Not your hands. Well, yes, they’re… nice,” he admitted awkwardly before sitting up, searching for the right words. “But you—you’re soft. Like something... good. Something comforting.”

[akelafang]

Jaskier in that last panel 😂🤣 "Let me at em! Let me at em!"

Another (maby cuddly) werwolf witcher/jaskier?

No cuddles (sorry!), they're working!

[dirbenaffleck]

Netflix’s The Witcher ‧ Shaerrawedd

[sunsoaked-feathers]

holds them in my lil hands 🤲🤲

Midnight Hours - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Fic originally posted on my AO3 account

Geralt is bloody stubborn. That’s a fact that most, if not all, people will make their peace with within moments of meeting the Witcher. He doesn’t talk much, either. Jaskier is sitting on penning a dictionary of Geralt’s grunts and other noises and their meanings. Because, well, they do mean different things. But that’s a later project for a later time.

The farmer who had sought out Geralt in the first place offered them a stay in the spare room of his cottage as payment. My boys have long fled the nest, Witcher, he said as he ushered them into the spacious room. Inside sat two beds, both doubles, on either side of the room. Both had freshly washed linens and woollen throws folded on top of them. The farmer rubbed the back of his neck as both Geralt and Jaskier took in the room. With this beast gone, maybe at last we can take on a few lodgers.

Jaskier knows that they’ve been on the road long enough to know not to refuse an offer – no matter what it is. They’ve been given anything from a handful of gold coins to food packs to rooms for the night. Jaskier had stayed with the family while Geralt went off to find whatever it was that had been plaguing them and neighbouring holdings for the past couple of weeks. When Geralt returned after a couple of hours, the farmer, a genuinely kind man who just wanted a monster dead so he could bring in his crops and graze his animals, offered them anything they needed. And what they needed was some sleep.

They will leave early in the morning. Kaer Morhen is still leagues away, and winter is tumbling in quicker than anticipated. Soon enough, snow will come down from the mountains and settle over the Continent, and the roads will be too frostbitten to travel on.

Geralt isn’t stubborn when it comes to collecting payment. He’s learned the hard way that if you don’t follow it up, promised coin can slip through one’s fingers. And in his first early years of being a Witcher, when he still thought too many good things about the world, coins escaped him too often.

But Geralt is stubborn about quite a lot of things. There aren’t enough hours in the day to go through it all, but Jaskier has probably experienced most of it.  One thing though is the frequency in which Geralt has nightmares, and his absolute inability to speak about what’s bothering him when morning comes around. In the early days of their travels together, Jaskier noted how dark circles would sit heavily underneath the Witcher’s eyes. He always assumed that Witchers didn’t need much sleep, so that’s why, whenever he woke up during the night and found Geralt awake, staring off into thickets of trees, he was just keeping watch.

It wasn’t until they started sleeping in the same bed did Jaskier notice how often night terrors would plague Geralt. Some nights are better than others. Some nights Geralt just opens his eyes, looks around the room to make sure that everything is still and alright, and goes back to sleep.

Other nights, though, are more complicated. It took a while for Jaskier to realise that Witchers tend to have slow resting heartbeats. Whenever he slept close to the man, or even with his head on his chest, Jaskier would feel a steady rhythmic beating beneath his cheek. It would be like his own. It wasn’t until he realised that the night terrors are almost a nightly occurrence – and that Geralt was afraid.

A couple of hours have passed. The sky has long since turned ink black, with a smattering of stars strewn across. The moon outside is hidden behind a particularly heavy-looking cloud. It’ll rain soon. Whether it will be during the night or in the morning, Jaskier doesn’t know. Sleep fell over the house almost two hours ago, encasing everyone but Jaskier. Even though his eyes sting, he can’t sleep. It’s gotten to a point in their travels where he’s dealing with another kind of tiredness – one that curls around and seeps into his bones, and it’s not helped at all by sleep. If anything, sleep makes it worse. But he’ll keep pushing himself out of bed in the mornings and on their journey towards Kaer Morhen. Maybe then, with a place to settle, he’ll finally rest.

He knows, though, that if he did just close his eyes and waited, sleep would wash over him eventually. It usually does; even if it’s only for a couple of hours at a time. But Jaskier rolls on to his side, pillowing his head on one arm, while keeping his other in the small sliver of space between him and Geralt. He watches the Witcher sleep. Geralt’s on his back, head tilted slightly towards Jaskier. His usual frown is long gone, smoothed out into a peaceful expression. As soon as he removed his armour and set his head down on the bed, sleep washed over him quickly. Jaskier had been talking to him about something or other – and Geralt doesn’t usually reply anyway, so it didn’t strike him as odd when the conversation was particularly one-sided. But after a long pause after a question, he turned around, and saw an unconscious Witcher splayed out on the bed.

Geralt’s breathing then changes slightly; it gets swallow and quick.

Jaskier reaches out. The tips of his fingers drift along the ridge of Geralt’s jaw. The Witcher’s brows knot together for a moment, before easing back into a neutral expression. “It’s alright,” Jaskier whispers. The words barely carry themselves over the crackle of a dying fire nearby. A soft exhale leaves Geralt’s nose, and the Witcher moves: shuffling slightly over to Jaskier. The bard lifts his arms, letting Geralt’s body near.

Jaskier sighs. Terrors are bold things, waiting in the shadows for night to fall; and then they’ll pounce. But as long as Jaskier is there, he’ll fend off as many of them as he can. He’ll fall asleep soon. He always does. But at some point during the night, his and Geralt’s bodies will gravitate towards each other, and they’ll wake entangled. The rest of the night always passes that bit easier. It’s just these odd midnight hours that are a bit treacherous.

He gentles his knuckle along the arch of Geralt’s cheekbone. He’ll earn another gut-punch for even thinking it, but the White Wolf is nothing more than a lapdog when the world is quiet. Some part of him wants people to see this – the creature that they hate so much is just a man, like the rest of them. But at the same time, Jaskier’s heart constricts at the thought of him being the only one to see this. He keeps touching Geralt - faint, feather-light things that keep the frown from Geralt’s brow and the nightmares at bay. It’s anchoring.

Jaskier is here.

Geralt hums. “You don’t have to watch over me all night, little lark.” The Witcher’s eyes don’t open, but he does roll on to his side, throwing an arm over Jaskier and tugging him closer.

They’ve been sleeping in the same bed for so long that their bodies just know how to fit together. Jaskier curls against Geralt’s chest, setting one hand over his chest so that he can feel the Witcher’s heartbeat. Geralt perches his chin on Jaskier’s crown. “Thank you,” Geralt mumbles, sleeping tugging at him again, “for keeping them away.”

A smile snares the corners of Jaskier’s lips. He buries his nose into Geralt’s neck. “You spend so much of your days protecting me, Geralt,” he mutters, “it’s only fair that I try and protect you too.“

[afriendtoravens]

found here.

"Well," sighed Regis. "Have it your way. I'll have to avoid mirrors and dogs, and will have to beware of sorcerers and telepaths… And if I'm still exposed, I'm counting on you." "You can count on me," Geralt said seriously. "I'm not in the habit of leaving a friend in need." The vampire smiled and because they were alone, he did not hide his fangs. "Friend?" — Andrzej Sapkowski, Lady of the Lake

( for @bloodandwhite. )

[rooksunday]

sobbing wailing etc

[geraltswestwing]

“I am undone without you.”

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier’s family is furious at Geralt’s mistreatment of him! They get back at him the way noblemen do: not inviting him to tea parties, ignoring him at functions, and spreading rumors that he’s impotent.

One thing Geralt quickly discovers about the Pankratz family is that there are *a lot* of them. More than he ever imagined. For all the time he’s spent with Jaskier, he’s still surprised by just how many siblings the bard has.

“These,” Geralt muttered to Roach, holding up a bundle of papers, “are twelve letters from Jaskier’s family. Every single one just says the same thing: you’re not invited.”

The words lingered in the air as Geralt’s mind churned, trying to piece it all together. The letters. The pitying looks people had started giving him. Slowly, a terrible realization clawed its way to the surface.

“Jaskier’s dead, isn’t he?”

[pastaandreievich]

I don’t think we appreciate enough that we got the canon Jask in season 3

Like do you understand the absolute unhinged insanity of reading that nickname in fic for YEARS and then in the middle of some nondescript filler scene hearing that fucking nickname leave Henry Cavill’s mouth and having to do the audible equivalent of a double take to make sure i heard correctly

I remember turning to my friend who doesn’t read fic and just

[akelafang]

Geralt learns how to make gambesons with all the frills and ribbons and lace and colors to keep his bard happy while also providing protection and warmth

Prompt 94

Geralt hates the way Jaskier dresses. Alright- That came out wrong- Just like it does every time he tries to bring it up to Jaskier. He's just trying to help, or bring up a reasonable concern, but every time Geralt opens his damn mouth, all it gets him is a hurt look in Jaskier's eyes, and a smile just too big to be truthful. Geralt doesn't mind the colors. He doesn't mind the lace, or the tulle, or the colors, or the corsets, or the unreasonable amount of buttons and clasps, or the colors. He just doesn't like that there's nothing to the clothing. They don't protect nor warm his bard. Thus Geralt spends all time away from Jaskier, whether for a week because Jaskier is at some bardic competition, or all winter when Jaskier is at Oxenfort and he is at Kaer Morhen, sewing. He reads book after book after book, and practices, practices, practices. Geralt will make his bard pretty colorful frilly clothing that also keeps him warm and protected.

[artemregis]

Is that the Haute-Bellegarde guy?

[akelafang]

Geralt: Oh fuck me Yennefer: Careful, there's a whore in our mits that will probably take you up on that Jaskier: Excuse you, I am not a whore. Whores get paid. I am a slut of the highest caliber thank you very much Jaskier: And yes I would very much like to take him up on that remark

[regwishesshehadmagic]

Crow's Perch