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abluescarfonwaston · 5 years ago

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Shapeshifter Au -4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Inspired by @spielzeugkaiser art here

So. Geralt knew.

He didn’t know how long Geralt had known for. Didn’t particularly want to know.

Had he just worked it out from his scent as a bear? Had he recognized the lute that was smashed on Filavandrel’s floor? Had he used his Witcher senses to figure it out when he was a lark with a broken wing sleeping in his saddlebag? Was it some little tick that had given him away of there months together?

He didn’t want to know.

He woke up the morning after the incident and promptly shifted into his human form. Packed up his part of camp and waited.

Waited for the questions, for the false promises, for the placating words.

‘I wont tell’ ‘How does it work?’ ‘You’re still Jaskier’

Geralt groaned, sitting up slowly. Blinking sleep from his bleary eyes that rare way he did when he felt safe upon waking. Found him across the burnt out fire.

He tensed.

Geralt nodded and slowly set about disassembling camp.

The world skewed slightly to the left as they set off.

He waited for Geralt to snap at him to ‘just turn into something Roach could carry’ when he complained about his feet hurting too much.

Waited for Geralt to tell him to ‘shrink into something more manageable’ when the bed at the inn was too small for both of them to reasonably share.

Waited for Geralt to request he turn into something useful- to help track down a monster or carry his weight or or or-

It was easy to not shift. He went weeks without shifting as he waited. Waited for Geralt to make some attempt to be reassuring about how he ‘knew’ what Jaskier was or some request that made it clear Geralt thought he was some party trick or. Or something.

And still Geralt was silent on the matter.

It was annoying. It was so damn annoying.

That’s all it real was. He was annoyed. Annoyed that the song he’d worked on for two weeks had gotten a tepid reaction and that his chemise kept static sticking to his arms and it was hot and the bar was loud and and and-

And he wasn’t entirely sure why he was yelling at Geralt but he was and Geralt didn’t even have the decency to look affected by it. Just said his name warningly. And sure maybe he’d be embarrassed about acting like a tantruming toddler later but he wanted to hiss and scratch and draw maybe just a little fucking blood. So that maybe- fucking maybe- someone would understand just how pissed he was.

For the first time in weeks he wanted to shift. Shift into the angry tomcat he felt like. Small and angry in a world that was so much bigger and more dangerous than him but that still had claws. Could still yowled and scratch and make bleed because he might have been small but that didn’t mean he was helpless.

But he couldn’t. Because they were in a bar and everyone was staring at him or pointedly not staring at him and Geralt was throwing him over his shoulder and hauling him to their room. His fingers digging into Geralt’s shirt as he struggled to keep them from becoming claws ripping little pinholes into the fabric. He couldn’t shift because there were people and he was still yelling because he was still so fucking angry-

The door slammed closed behind them and Geralt shifted him so he was holding him up by the armpits and at least he had the decency to look a little irritated but he didn’t want to be held so he shoved a hand at Geralt’s face to push him away and-

And the shape collapsed under him.

He shoved his orange paw against Geralt’s face and lashed his tail and hissed all the same.

Orange. Most of his forms were brown. Because brown was the color of his hair and he liked his hair. But someone told him once that all orange cats were male and whether or not that was true he liked that. Liked that when people saw this form they’d know he was a boy.

Sometimes that felt important. Because most people couldn’t tell what gender most animals were and would just pick one for him. Usually it didn’t matter because he didn’t care but sometimes he did and he liked that maybe his gorgeous long orange fur made that more obvious.

But now Geralt wasn’t even looking irritated anymore! Even with his paw unsheathing claws threateningly against the stubbled skin of his cheek.

No he looked surprised and then it melted into a disgustingly soft smile. Swear to gods If Geralt tried to pet him right now-

Geralt glanced down at his tail, lashing back and forth without pause.

“Ah.” He was swiftly deposited on the bed, Geralt settling back on the floor. “The bar was loud wasn’t it.”

Well he didn’t know what that had to do with anything but Geralt just sat across from him, staring at the wall above his head. Not attempting eye contact.

That helped. He needed to watch Geralt but eye contact would have been too much for him to handle right now with every too loud noise from the bar still scraping at his skull.

Slowly his tail settled behind him and he let his eyes sink close. Safe in the knowledge Geralt wasn’t going to do anything.

He’d explained cat body language to Geralt several months back. Because Geralt had explained (heartbrokenly complained really) that cats didn’t like him. Because he was a ‘mutant’ and they knew it.

Which was complete hogwash.

They didn’t like him because he was a big unfamiliar person approaching feral cats who were better acquainted with the toe of a shoe to the belly then the gentle curl of fingers under their chin. Because he tried to approach them like dogs and didn’t have the time to win over anything but the cuddliest of cuddle slut and there just weren’t that many of those around.

Lucky for Geralt he was a proud member of the cuddle slut kitty brigade. After he’d concluded his lessons on how tail lashing was not like tail wagging on dogs- it meant they were highly stimulated and which could easily pass into Overstimulated- and how to introduce himself and all the best places to pet he’d taken his leave of Geralt for the evening.

Approached him as the cuddly fluffy orange cat he was within the hour. Making his home on Geralts lap and purring as loud as he could demanding all the cuddles he’d been denied in his human form.

That. That might have been when Geralt figured out what he was now that he thought about it.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had given him away. Especially if he couldn’t change it- like his scent. Or if he could- because then he’d have to. To stay safe.

He jumped off the bed and head-butt Geralt’s hands until Geralt started petting him. Laid down across his lap as Geralt gently covered himself in his fur with each soft stroke.

He should look into a white form. So he could really mess up Geralt’s all black color scheme.

Geralt’s hands eventually stilled and he begrudgingly shifted up. Tucking his head into Geralt’s neck he mumbled, “Shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Seemed like a bit of an overreaction to me eating the last mushroom.”

“You know those are my favorite.”

Geralt snorted and ran a hand through his brown hair. “It was my plate.”

“I have no idea what your point is.”

“Right.” He nuzzled into Geralt’s neck. He couldn’t really smell how they mixed together as a human but the shapes that could always found comfort in it. “You.” He paused. “Transformed again.”

His heartrate picked up and his gut start churning. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever really. He’d never had to and he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t want Geralt to say something that would make him angry or sad or break his heart. He just wanted to be a human for Geralt. Simple and easy and human.

Not that he was simple or easy. Or human. Probably.

Whatever he was it probably wasn’t human. Not really. But he wanted to be. For Geralt.

Geralt’s other hand came up and squeezed lightly around the long healed bone.

“I wont ask.” Geralt said as Jaskier swallowed a sob. “But I’ll help. If you want.”

“It’s not a curse.”

Geralt hummed acknowledgement.

“It’s just me. It’s always just me. Okay?”

Geralt made a noise like he maybe understood. A little. But not much.

“I can.” It felt weird to say it out loud. “Shift into anything so long as it’s still me.”

“Anything?” He saw the smirk and pointed stare he was making at the chair.

He smacked his shoulder. “If it’s me.”

He was living. Living and breathing and moving and thinking. How was he supposed to be something that wasn’t?

“Not like a Doppler then.”

“Would have thought the bear shape rather gave that away.” Dopplers could become anyone- but were restricted by mass. He wasn’t. Sure he shifted down or up in steps normally but that was because it was easier. Because feelings normally built in size instead of appearing all at once.

Geralt conceded the point with a nod. “Does-“ He stopped.

When it became clear Geralt wasn’t just collecting his thoughts he nudged him. “Ask.”

“Does it hurt?” Geralt wasn’t looking at him and his face was flat but he could feel the tension under his hands.

“Nope!” He reassured. Geralt tensed further.

“In the woods-” He started.

“Those were extenuating circumstances! I’m sure it looked terribly grisly from your perspective but I just couldn’t find a form that fit because.” He stopped.

“Because you were scared.” He nodded into Geralt’s neck. “Of me.”

He stopped nodding.

“Everything’s not about you Geralt.” He pulled back enough to glare at him. Geralt returned it. “It’s Not. Sure I was scared of you but I wasn’t scared of you. I know you wouldn’t lock me up and sell me to a circus to turn tricks or a mage for experiments or anything. I know that. There’s just a difference between knowing and knowing. Okay?”

Geralt studied him before slowly nodding. He tucked his head back into Geralt’s neck.

He wanted to stay here. Here with Geralt. It pulled a question from his gut that he didn’t want to ask- that filled him with fear even as it spilled from his tongue.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to the bard.

“Come now you must have a preference.” A voice that was cocky and sure prodded. A voice that was his but was not his. “A shape you’d prefer me to be?”

His face turned and he felt distantly as his eyes glittered and a smile blazed on his lips. Feeling terribly out of control as he begged his heart to race. To respond. ��To fight whatever power directed his body without his command.

As Geralt’s lips began to form words he could feel the magic preparing to shape him. Bind him in that form. Lock him without shackle or key into whatever Geralt wanted him to be.

“What would it matter?” Geralt said, face relaxing into a small smile and raising a brow. “It would still always be you.”

He sank into Geralt’s shoulder as the compulsion faded, taking with it his fear. He didn’t know what that was and he didn’t particularly like it but- “It would be.” He agreed.

It would always be him.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #shapeshifter au #today Geralt gets to pet a kitty #The kitty is Jaskier of course but still #also establishing the rules if your into that like i am #geralts a bit softy and that is all #writing

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shamebats · 2 years ago

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#wwdits #nandermo #ofmd #blackbonnet #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #blackbeard ofmd #nandor the relentless #poll #tropes #ship dynamics

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open--till--midnight · 3 years ago

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No End In Sight

pairing | geralt x fem!reader

summary | You escape the home you've grown out of, doomed to a life of malcontent, with your childhood friend, Dandelion, by your side.

warnings | language, very brief mention of animal abuse, just fluff, and Geralt being a big softie

wc | 4.6k

****

Geralt knew that witchers had feelings. Despite the trials and mutations, they were still human. Even if others denied their humanity, these people were the ones that perpetuated these rumors. It wasn’t worth the trouble of explaining, besides, witchers weren’t supposed to meddle in human affairs. And these rumors were, indeed, human affairs. Geralt knew this as well, but it didn’t stop him from involving himself with humans, well one human. His closest friend, Dandelion.

Despite his constant singing and his unstifled, and somewhat foolish thirst for adventure which perpetually landed him in trouble, the bard lit up the somber witcher’s life. He looked forward to the times he would join him on the path, and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he enjoyed his music. The bard had managed to loosen Geralt up a bit, which he would be thankful for the next time he met up with him.

You had grown up with Dandelion. The unusual childhood hijinks were doubled in intensity as you were almost perfect mirrors of each other. The only difference between you was that he was most definitely an extrovert and you, an introvert. You complemented each other incredibly well and formed a bond for life, that would never be broken.

This bond very nearly saved your life, as you liked to say. Life had grown boring, and boredom was your worst enemy. It ate at you until you felt as if you could go on no further. And what more? You had been doomed to a life in shackles. If the bard hadn’t stolen you away you would have been married off to the highest bidder. The very morning your mother had informed you that a possible husband had responded to their letter, you ran to Dandelion and begged him for help. He agreed with unrivaled enthusiasm, wanting nothing more than to travel with his best friend and chosen sister.

Dandelion and Geralt had already arranged a meeting at an inn between Novigrad and your home in Oxenfurt. It was less than a day's ride, so you and Dandelion had no trouble getting there alone. You were riding on your horse, who you called Daisy, as he walked beside you, as usual, playing his lute.

“You sure you don’t want a turn?” You had asked him multiple times already if he wanted to ride the horse for a bit to rest his legs. Every time he declined, but you didn’t mind, your feet had not been accustomed to walking for that long. You just wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

“Yes, my dear, I am quite fine.” He beamed up at you, but the smile faltered slightly as he took in your expression. “But you don’t seem to be, what’s wrong, little bird?” He drew the pet name out, knowing it always made you smile, though, this time it only earned him half a smirk.

“Does Geralt know I’m coming?”

“Well, no. Why do you ask?”

“What if he doesn’t like me? I don’t want to burden him. Would he refuse to let me come with you? ”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’s not the kind of man to turn away a desperate person such as yourself.”

“Very nice, Dandelion.”

“But of course, in all seriousness, I doubt he’ll mind. He loves me! He’ll love you too, y/n, how could anyone not? And in the very unlikely scenario he flies into a rage, well, we’ll just have to go somewhere else then. His loss. It’s us or nothing for the White Wolf.”

“You’re not very good at encouraging people, you know that?”

“Pff. I’m amazing at it. I’m a poet!”

Conversation had died down for that last leg of your journey, along with the sun whose last rays darkened over the horizon. Once at the inn, Dandelion led your horse to the stable and offered his hand to help you down.

“I’m nervous, Dandelion. What if he really doesn’t like me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I talked to him beforehand? I could tell him you’re getting food for Daisy. Let’s say you give me five minutes, then come in. No surprises!”

“That would be really great, thank you.”

“Anything for you, my dear y/n.” He finished with a bow and left for the tavern, leaving you counting down the minutes. You had to shove your hands in your pockets for the sake of your nailbeds. Who knew five minutes could feel this long?

You patted your horse on the head before heading in, “Wish me luck?”

You sucked in a shaky breath before making your way through the crowd. Now you almost regretted sending Dandelion in alone. Geralt would have had time to hide any distaste he may have for you for the bard’s sake. Who knows what Dandelion had said to him, was he upset and just hoping to get this over with? You knew you wouldn’t be able to stop wondering.

It was easy to see Dandelion’s purple jerkin from across the room, and next to him sat maybe the most intimidating man you’d ever seen. He was even more intimidating than Dandelion had let on. You figured he had exaggerated a few of the details but maybe it was his familiarity with the White Wolf that watered down his description.

Both eyes were on you as you bumped against the densely packed patrons. Once you took a seat next to your friend you realized you had no idea what you would say to him. Gods, he was even bigger up close. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks when you blurted out your introduction, “Hi, I’m y/n. Dandelion has told me so much about you, it’s very nice to meet you finally.”

“It’s a pleasure, y/n. Dandelion has told me quite a bit about you too.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine. None of it is true, I swear.” You were relieved you were able to make a joke, even if you didn’t know if it had landed or not.

“Well, I hope it’s true. He speaks very highly of you.”

“Of you as well.” The words didn’t quite get out as you wanted, but you hoped they made sense.

“I doubt that for some reason.” He let out a laugh, which was really more of a huff, as he took a swig of ale.

“Wow. I’m already a third wheel. How exciting.” Dandelion crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, eyeing his two companions. Almost sizing them up.

“And I can’t believe you would think I would have anything negative to say about either of you.” He made an effort to glance at Geralt for that last bit, “Except for maybe your brooding, big guy.”

“Thanks, Dandelion. So you’ll be joining us?” Geralt turned his attention to you.

You were surprised by the airy nature of his question. His eyes never left yours as he took another drink. They were much warmer than you imagined, no malice or anger at all, just a man taking you in and asking a simple question.

“Only if that’s alright with you. I wouldn’t want to intrude if I’m to be a burden.”

“No such thing. I still let Dandelion come along, and all he does is get himself into trouble.”

“Hey! If I remember correctly, I’ve saved your hide multiple times, sir.”

“Right, how could I forget.” He looked at Dandelion with nothing but adoration for his friend, “I would be glad if you joined us, y/n. Even if it only means having another ear for this one to yap in.”

You giggled, “Well, I’m used to that. And I have to tell you, I’m not much better.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.”

The rest of the evening went smoothly. The three of you talked as if you had done this a million times before. And it wasn’t just you overcome with a sense of relief. Dandelion had secretly worried that Geralt would say no, or that he just wouldn’t get along with you. He didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt, but it was a gamble he was willing to take and lucky for him, it went perfectly fine. Geralt tensed up when Dandelion came in and told him about you joining them. He worried that you would be scared of him or would be put off by his gruff demeanor. He worried that things would get awkward and complicated. But when you greeted him with a kind, albeit, obviously nervous smile, he grew fond of you immediately and his worries faded.

Geralt decided it would be best for both him and his companions to get a good night's rest. He went to the innkeeper and got two rooms, a single for him and a double for you and Dandelion. You thanked Geralt once more before saying goodnight and following your friend up to your room.

“See, I told you it would be fine.” He tossed his things beside yours on the floor before spreading himself out on his bed.

“Shut up, bard.”

“Ah, you love me.”

“Goodnight, Dandelion.”

“Mhm. Goodnight.”

****

It was about two years later when Dandelion broke the news that he had to leave. He had business elsewhere, but only finalized the decision upon making sure you and Geralt would be ok together. You had nowhere to go and didn’t want to be a burden but Geralt had assured you that he preferred your company. Though he wouldn’t want to admit it out loud, you knew it wasn’t that he preferred you over Dandelion, but more that he just didn’t want to be alone.

He would admit to that sad fact, though, if it meant hiding the more likely reason for him wanting you to stay. The truth was that he yearned for you. It took him a while to finally understand the way he felt when he was around you.

At first, he didn’t think it could be love. He had felt that with Yennefer, but he knew this was different. His fate was bound with the sorceress, it was a separate thing altogether. He knew if he wanted to be with Yennefer, he could, he had no problems finding the courage needed. With you, though, he felt as small as a mouse. He could defeat the most dangerous monsters known to man but wasn’t brave enough to hold your hands or say he loved you. It was frustrating, confusing, and far scarier than anything he’d ever encountered.

He risked you running away from him, being frightened by his affectionate attention. Though you never gave him any reason to think this, he thought you would say he was a freak and run away. It was too hard for him to believe that someone he loved this much would ever feel the same. He put you on a pedestal, and though he was not a religious man, he would worship the ground you walked on if only you asked.

Your feelings were much of the same. You had been raised to view love only in the shadow of marriage, which was a purely political arrangement to you. These new feelings confused you as well. Sure, you’d always dreamed of true love but it had seemed so fantastical to you that you never considered it could be a reality. And the situation before you was so much different than any fairy tale about true love. Your days were spent with a witcher, a man whose sole purpose was to hunt and kill. He carried two swords and instead of shining armor, he donned studded leather.

You too were afraid of scaring him away. It could be too much for him, he could be disgusted by the knowledge that you saw him as something other than a friend. It was far safer to continue in ignorance than risk everything you held dear.

So, instead of confessing, the two of you attempted to show your love through gestures. Small things, really. Insignificant to some, but for a witcher and a lonely woman, they spoke volumes.

****

“When are we going to stop?” You had been riding all day and the sun had already set. Usually, you stopped before dark fell, you didn’t know why he kept going.

“The next town is just up ahead. We don’t have enough for a room, but it’s safer to be closer to town than further into the woods.”

When you yawned, Geralt looked up at you at your spot on Roach. He noticed your eyelids were growing heavy and sooner than later, he knew you would slip off the saddle. So, he swung himself up so he could sit behind you, allowing you to lean back against his chest.

“Thank you.”

He hummed in response and wrapped his arms around your waist, grabbing hold of the reins. Each unknowing that the other didn’t ever want to move from this position. You tried to commit his warmth on your back and the weight of his arms on your thighs to memory. He did the same with your scent and your warmth, as well. He never felt stronger than he did with you in his arms. He could conquer the world if he wanted to.

Geralt stopped when he found a spot to set up camp. He leaned you forward on Roach’s back so he could set up your bedroll, hoping you wouldn’t fall as he quickly set up a small fire, signing Igni to light it. He managed to get you down and onto the mat without any trouble. That night, Geralt’s sleep was filled with images of you. It was the only thing he ever dreamed about, he only ever had nightmares before.

You woke up the next morning, a sleepy smile creeping across your face when you noticed where you were.

“You didn’t wake me up?” Geralt was tightening the straps on the saddlebag, quickly busying himself when he heard the telltale change in your heartbeat that meant you had woken up. He didn’t even realize he was staring before he heard it.

“You would’ve been pissed if I did.”

“Eh, fair.”

****

Geralt’s last contract was easy. There was a small group of drowners in a swamp near a small village. The only injury he sustained was a somewhat deep gash on his forearm. It would have been easy for him to stitch up but you had insisted, not that you had to, he immediately agreed.

You hoped he hadn’t picked up on your increasing heart rate as he lifted his sleeve up to allow you access to the wound. He had, in fact, noticed it, but he figured it had to be due to the mud smeared over the bloody gash. Either way, he didn’t say anything about it. He cherished the intimacy of the moment, even if he had to guide you on every bit of it. It took much longer than it would have, and hurt a lot more than if he had just done it himself, but he craved your touch and basked in the attention you paid him.

“They don’t look good. I didn’t do very well, did I?” You stared at your work after snipping off the ends of the threads.

“You did fine, doesn’t matter how they look. They’re stitches. It’ll do the job. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You grumbled lightly, but loud enough for him to hear. He laughed at your frustration, which made you furrow your brows at him. That just made him laugh again, harder than the one before.

****

Geralt stopped to set up camp at mid-day. He found a quick contract that he could complete before sunset, so he said goodbye and left.

You busied yourself with patching up holes in your clothes. Geralt’s were easy to fix, the only damage seemed to be scratched from monsters. Yours, on the other hand, wore down to thin threads. You didn’t see the need to buy new clothes often, you were always dirty and going from town to town, impressions didn’t matter all that much.

The clothes were all mended by the time Geralt returned. He looked as if he hardly broke a sweat while he was gone.

“Well, you look great. You decide your monster hunting days are behind you?”

He fake laughed before explaining, “Turns out it was just some kid killing all those animals. They put him in jail. Still paid me though.” He tossed the coin purse on the ground between you.

“That’s terrible.” He hummed in agreement.

There was a brief pause before you spoke again.

“Aren’t they heavy?”

“What?”

“Your swords.”

“Swords?” He was confused by your concern for something as simple as that.

“Swords? Yes, your swords. Aren’t they heavy?”

He shrugged as you walked over to stand behind him.

“Here, let me take them for you.”

Your first try was unsuccessful, they were, indeed, very heavy. The second try wasn’t much better. In his seated position on the log, even if you could lift them both up, you wouldn’t be able to get the sheath up over his head.

“You ok back there?” You could hear the smirk in his voice so you smacked his upper arm and continued, pitifully.

“I’m serious. You’re not going to be able to get them off.”

“Bull. I can.” Gods help the man who dared to claim you couldn’t do something.

He laughed as you yanked the upper strap over his head, though you lost control and the swords fell. But not before you caught them, the tips on the ground as they leaned against your forearms.

“Did it. Ha.”

“Right.” He lifted baldric up with one hand before leaning them against a nearby tree.

“You ass.”

“Not my fault you can’t lift a sword.”

“Two swords! Two giant- stupid witchery swords.” You cringed at your childish description of the swords, hoping he would move on.

“Hmm. I guess my giant stupid witchery swords will just stop protecting you then.” He leaned against the tree, arms folded and smirking at you.

“Well, fine. I can manage.”

“You can’t lift a sword, remember?”

“Aughh!” You screeched, throwing yourself to the ground in front of the campfire.

You never thought you would hear a witcher giggle. But here you were, and there he was, leaning against the tree giggling at you.

****

It had started raining four hours ago, and it had not yet stopped. You truly believed that the storm was following you, and would stay over your heads until the end of time. Neither of you rode on Roach as the trail was muddy and already hard enough for her to walk in. You couldn’t tell but you were certain the tips of your fingers were turning blue. When you looked over at the Geralt to say something, he looked perfectly fine so you decided not to say anything.

Your cloak was much thinner than his. Previously, it had protected against the light rainstorms but it provided no protection from this beastly weather. The rain had soaked the entire way through the wool, stripping you of any warmth when it also drenched your clothes.

Neither of you talked much, the storm was too loud and he seemed to be lost in thought. You had been trailing behind him so he hadn’t noticed your tragic state. Not wanting to bother him, you kept quiet. And besides, you knew there was nothing either of you could do about the rain and stopping wasn’t an option.

Geralt hadn’t heard anything from you in a while, so he turned his head to check on you. He took in your shivering and the miserable look on your face, noticing how your clothes were darkened from the constant stream of water pouring onto them. You were silently thankful that the rain disguised your tears, not wanting to add to your already weakened state.

“Fuck, y/n.” He softly scolded you, “What the hell were you thinking?”

He unclasped your cloak and swapped it with his own, wringing yours out before putting it on. The cloak was big on you, roughly the same size as his, so there was no problem with it fitting him.

“It’s just going to soak through again. Now you’re going to be cold and wet.” You grabbed his wrist before he could clasp the cloak around his neck.

“Don’t worry yourself, I’m good. You need it more than I do.” he paused after he finished with the clasps, “y/n your hands are cold as ice.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, your hands really were as cold as ice and your teeth would not stop chattering. He dared to hold your hand before you continued walking.

“Thank you.”

A wave of relief overcame him. You did not flinch away, no, you smiled and thanked him. Despite the cold and wet, the smile plastered on his face did not leave, not for a long while. You hadn’t noticed but if you did, you would have melted right then and there.

You both marked the unofficial start of your relationship when the two of you began to hold hands more often. It was never discussed, it just started happening. Although at first, it was only in the cold, as good an excuse as any, eventually it was every other time the two of you walked together.

Even when temperatures grew unbearably hot and your hands stuck together with sweat, your fingers never untangled themselves. Again, this was never spoken about. Just the same as him, you didn’t want to separate, no matter the circumstances.

****

Cold weather was a gift the both of you. New beginnings grew out of the discomfort the weather caused you.

You found yourselves in the tiniest of towns during the early spring. Neither of you realized how far north you were until the snow began to fall. You found refuge in one of the three rooms in the town's only tavern.

It was clearly a very poor town, as marked by almost everything. The meager amounts of wood in the hearth in the tiny room provided almost no warmth. Any, if all, of it, was swept away by the drafts coming through the window.

Though you had rented two of the rooms, you only inhabited one. The first night of being snowed in, Geralt had been led into your bed. He himself was cold and he lay awake, having given up the prospect of sleep. His mind brought him thoughts of you. They were pleasant until he was jolted by worry. If he was cold, you must’ve been freezing. He made no effort to be quiet as he left for your room. He had been told they would be the only ones there at night, small towns and such.

He was let in after only knocking once and was greeted by you pulling on his hands, urging him further into your room.

“Oh my gods, Geralt. I’ve tried everything, I cannot warm up.”

He responded with the same sentiments before putting another log on the fire.

You knew that skin-to-skin contact was the best way to keep warm, but it wasn’t you who suggested it.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we’d be warmer if we- if we have less on. If we are closer together.…..” he mumbled the last part, not looking at you, but you understood him. “Or we could just take off as much as we’re comfortable with?”

“Mhm. Just don’t wanna be cold.” You slipped off your pants and he rid himself of his shirt, leaving you in your shirt and him in his trousers.

You made an effort not to stare. Even though you had seen him shirtless countless times, the situation was never this intimate. You quickly hid yourself under the covers, Geralt slid in behind you.

One of his arms folded under the pillow and the other held firmly around your waist. Your hand found its way into his and almost immediately felt yourself drift into sleep.

When you woke up, you had a fresh layer of sweat upon your skin. A small blessing, you thought to yourself, finding it a bit funny you were happy about sweating. Geralt’s legs were tangled around yours and he held you close to him as if he thought you would be gone when he woke.

You craned your head to get a look at his face. He looked utterly peaceful. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned and you don’t think you ever saw him this relaxed. It surprised you that you got to see him sleep. You always fell asleep before him and woke after he did.

You were oblivious to the reason for his relaxation, but he knew better. This was all he ever wanted, even if he got in under different circumstances than he would have preferred. You didn’t move until he woke up. At first, he settled into you more but you think that when he realized you were awake he pulled back.

“Sorry.”

“No need.” You sat up and smiled down at him. He wondered if he could commission a painting from memory. The sight of you, your sleep-puffy face marked with pillow lines, staring down at him with eyes just as sleepy. Beautiful eyes, he thought to himself. He normally didn’t like when people looked at him, but with you, he never wanted your eyes to wander off.

It would be a long while until either of you confessed your feelings. But that didn’t stop the feelings from manifesting in other ways. Your hand holding became even more frequent, though thinly disguised as a need for reassurance and comfort. Every time you would stay at an inn, you would rent one room and sleep in one bed. The excuse for this was as simple as saving money for better and more important things. Which, the more you thought about it, wasn’t exactly a lie.

When life became more stressful than usual it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to find the two of you cuddling, where ever you could. And though neither of you said anything about these progressions, you both covertly acknowledged them whenever Dandelion rejoined you. It would be back to separate beds, no hand-holding….nothing. While you expected things to be awkward once the bard left again, it never was. Things went back to normal, well, your normal. You were both happy.

Things changed once you both admitted your feelings and exchanged I love you’s. Not in a bad way, no, you weren’t sure anything bad could happen to the two of you. The confessions just cleared things up. It made all of your actions mean a whole lot more. Your hand-holding was escalated by arms pressed tightly together. Nighttime routines were now filled with soft kisses and whisperings of sweet nothings.

You never put a label on it. It wasn’t necessary. He knew your views on marriage and he agreed, though, he would agree with anything you said if it mattered to you. You would do the same for him. When you asked him if he could teach you how to hunt he explained how scared that made him. Of course, he knew you were capable of defending yourself, but you were just a human. You understood and gladly agreed.

When you told Dandelion, he wrote the most beautiful ballads. They even earned Geralt’s praises, though he was sure they were only because of his love for you.

Nothing changed, not even after death. He was buried beside you and Geralt could finally relax. The cold earth didn’t seem so cold in your company. You would be safe from now on, and so would he.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher x reader #geralt x you #geralt x reader #dandelion #geralt of rivia x reader #lilywrites📝

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crowleyellestair · 3 years ago

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Helll, I just found you blog and I love your Witcher content! Can I request Eskel being a softie for his so and the other witchers teasing him about it?💛

Heyo Hiyo! Sorry this took a while but life just happens. Thank you so much for requesting! This is disgustingly fluffy. I hope you like it, even though it's a bit loose on the 'teasing' part. Sorry If I missed any errors -- Much Love!!

No warnings - gn!reader

masterlist

Blueberries.

The bane of Eskel's existence. As someone who couldn't afford to hate, the intense distate for the small barries was shocking. It's one of the only topics that could get him riled in a conversation, stepping out of his normally calm and collected state.

"I know it's a bit hypocritical of me to judge, but tell me, what's one thing they have that isn't trumped by any other fruit?" Of course, it's said in a tone that only Lambert really cares to use. One that begs you to argue so it can be proven right. One ready to fight. By the end of his spiel, he's usually at the edge of his seat, fire burning behind his eyes and looking ready to pounce. It is quite the spectacle.

So, when Geralt stalked by his brother's room, he was shocked into a petrified state. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, of course. Y/n sat at the desk, one hand holding a quill to parchment. Their other was grabbing a thawing strawberry that Eskel handed them. He was relaxing between their legs pointed towards the fireplace. On his lap, a plate of frozen fruit from the enchanted icebox that saves provisions year round. Harsh gold eyes watch as Eskel plops a blueberry into his mouth. He almost laughs at the half hidden look of annoyance seconds afterwards.

Eskel looks to the door in curiosity, sensing his presence simply standing. Geralt is set into motion when an ever silent-footed Lambert shoves him from behind.

"Get a move on ass-face. You're taking up the entire hallway." Eskel snorted, repeating "ass-face" in a questioning tone. The White Wolf simply pointed as Eskel absent-mindedly popped another berry into his mouth. Lambert had followed the finger in time to see it. The action put him into a stupor as well. Eskel's brows drew together, frown accompanying them. The two could sense his annoyance at the breaking of the calm atmosphere. Eskel looks down at his shirt and pants, looking back to his brothers slightly more annoyed. It was only a hand gently coming into view when he shifted attention.

"Strawberry please." Without verbal response, he placed the Strawberry into the open palm. Y/n quickly placed it in their mouth, and went back to their business. The boys had quirks, and weird situations like this occur all the time, so this was nothing special to a spectator. It was only Lambert's loud but shocked voice spewing a new fact that drew Y/n in.

"You hate blueberries." Y/n's eyes snap to the divided bowl of only strawberries and blueberries. For a moment, Y/n was embarrassed. Three years of being companions and something more, and they had no idea. It had never come up, now that they rack their brain. Eskel liked being in charge of the meal, finding cooking to be a calming task. Up to this point, they had only been asking for the strawberries simply due to the size of them. Whoever was the tender should be proud in their growing skills.

Eskel shrugged. One of the knees he sat between jostled his shoulder gently. He tilted his head back, but didn't turn, only realizing now how embarrassed he is that his secret was out.

"You don't like blueberries? Why didn't you say so?" He shrugged again casually, starring at the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to look in anyone's direction. The entire top half of his body moved as he sighed.

"You haven't asked for blueberries yet, so I assumed you wanted the strawberries." Y/n smiles, and it could be heard clearly in their voice.

"Yes, but if you hate blueberries, I would have eaten them." Eskel's heart skips a beat for a moment before responding. Though, out of embarrassment, it had a tinge of sass that didn't come from anywhere but the heart.

"Well, what if /you/ hate blueberries?" Y/n's entire being buzzed with affection.

"You know I don't hate them." It was true, he knew they were fond of the fruit just as much as any other. As if trying to end the conversation and save his pride, he reset himself to how he was before the cat got out of the bag.

"You want strawberries right now. Blueberries won't kill me," he states oh so matter-of-factly. Lambert was about to pass out in his spot. That was the same line Vesemir has fed him every year when he refuses to eat deserts the old Witcher has made using them. Geralt snort's with so much force that it almost hurt just to listen to. The white haired hunter simply grabs his younger brother by the arm, dragging him away from the door.

Y/n lets their hand fall open, just like before. With a light tone, they ask,

"Blueberries please?" Without hesitation the brunette tries to place a strawberry in their hand. The human sets down the quill, one hand grabbing the fruit, the other, his hand. With as much care as possible, Y/n bring's his hand to meet halfway to their now bent over form. Their lips brush against his open palm before guiding it back to where the hand was hanging prior. Eskel doesn't turn, but he couldn't. He felt like the smile he wore would seem manic. He popped another blueberry into his mouth, content for once to eat the fruit. Love, hot on his tongue, finally making the fruit taste fine.

#eskel x reader #witcher x reader #witcher imagine #x reader #eskel x y/n

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geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek · 4 years ago

Text

"Geralt."

"Mm."

"Geraaaalt."

With a huff, he lowers his phone to look at the figure in his doorway. In the dim light spilling in from the window, he can just make out the bulky shape of Jaskier wrapped in what must be three blankets over his head.

"What, Jas."

Jaskier pads into the room on socked feet and slumps over the foot of his bed with a dramatic groan. Geralt rolls his eyes, mouth twitching despite himself at the antics. He nudges Jaskier's form with his foot gently and then again a little harder when all Jaskier does is whine again.

"Stop," Jaskier says, muffled by his blankets. His hand sneaks out of the cocoon to swat at Geralt's leg.

"You stop," Geralt shoots back, kicking him again just for the hell of it. "What do you want."

More muffled words are his answer.

"I can't hear you, Jas."

There's a bit of shuffling, and then Jaskier's voice is much clearer when he whines, "I'm cold, Geralt. Do something."

"What do you want me to do?" Geralt asks, setting his phone aside. It's nearly dead, anyway, and his eyes are starting to hurt. He rubs them as he says, "Downed power lines are a bit out of my limited area of expertise."

According to the time on his phone, they've been without power for going on almost fourteen hours now. The freeze had set in the evening before and only gotten worse throughout the night. It hadn't been too bad at first, with residual heat still warming the apartment, but it's slowly seeped away in the hours since. There's a biting chill in the air now that even he can feel despite being under his own covers in bed.

Jaskier scoots himself up onto the bed, crawling up to slide under the comforter next to Geralt and bury his head beneath his arm. Geralt doesn't protest, just lets him resituate as he pleases because sometimes it's better to just go along with his best friend's whims than to fight him on them.

He settles with his face buried in Geralt's armpit and tangles their legs together, sighing in contentment. "You're warm," he murmurs, sounding on the verge of sleep—which, Geralt realizes, he must have been before he came into the room. Getting too cold is probably what woke him up in the first place. "Cuddle me."

It's an innocent request, but it makes warmth settle in his chest and his cheeks. Jaskier's always been extremely tactile, and it's something he's had to get used to over the years of their friendship, but things like this—cuddling in bed together—still make him blush and stutter like a schoolkid with a crush.

Which...isn't that far from accurate, if he's being honest. Maybe he's not a schoolkid anymore, but he's definitely got a crush on his best friend.

Hopelessly in love with him, some even say, though those some can shut the fuck up (Yen).

But he's also physically incapable of telling Jaskier no, so he lets him bury his face in his armpit and throw a leg over his hips and curl as far into his side as he can get, seeking warmth from the chill in their apartment. He lets out a quiet, happy sound when he's finally comfortable, and it just about melts Geralt into goo with how cute it is.

With a silent, resigned sigh, Geralt pulls him closer and puts his other arm behind his own head, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness and trying to calm his fluttering heartbeat.

Jaskier's breathing eventually slows back into the deep, even rhythm of sleep, and Geralt closes his own eyes, figuring he might as well try for a nap too, since there's no telling when the power will be back. He listens as Jaskier makes little humming noises, his own version of sleep-talk, and a smile curls his lips even as he suppresses the urge to chuckle.

"You sing in your sleep, you know," he says softly. He turns his head and presses his nose into Jaskier's hair, inhaling the smell of his shampoo—something warm and comforting. "It's cute. You're cute. You know that? Really cute. You make me feel like a kid sometimes, seeing my crush smiling at me and getting all flustered about it."

Jaskier hums a long note, and Geralt pauses, tensing, thinking he's awake enough to hear him. When Jaskier only curls into him more, still asleep, he relaxes. He runs his hand up and down Jaskier's arm wrapped around his chest.

The quiet permeates for a long moment, their breathing and the wind outside the only sounds to be heard. It's nice. Peaceful. His favorite kind of moment, just him and Jaskier curled up together. He wants it to always be like this.

On impulse, Geralt lets his lips press against Jaskier's head. "Love you, Jas. Maybe one day I'll have the balls to say it to your face so I can keep you forever."

"You get really sappy when you think no one can hear you," Jaskier says, voice muffled against his chest. "It's cute. You should do it more."

Geralt freezes, panic creeping in. "Jas—"

A hand finds his face, cutting him off, and Geralt snaps his mouth closed before he does something really stupid, like suck on the finger pressing against his lips.

"Ah—no take backs," Jaskier says, slightly more awake. He shuffles around, sitting up to lean over Geralt. "You said you want to keep me forever, so now you're stuck with me forever. No returns. No refunds. All sales final."

It's too dark to see his expression, but Geralt likes to think he can see the blue color of his eyes in the dim, overcast light coming in from the window. He pictures the way Jaskier's mouth is probably curled at the corners like it does when he's being a little shit—like now—and wants to kiss it.

"Jas," he tries again, but it comes out half-hearted and weak. There's no real fight in him. The panic has faded, replaced by a light feeling like budding hope. His heart is fluttering; it's a nice feeling.

The finger on his lips is replaced with Jaskier's mouth, the kiss so brief and soft Geralt isn't even sure it happened until Jaskier leans down to kiss his forehead, then his cheek, ending with a peck on his nose. It's so fucking endearing, it nearly makes him melt inside.

"I love you too," Jaskier murmurs, settling back down beside him. He buries his head back in Geralt's armpit, winding his arms around his chest and tangling them back together. "Always have, you big softie. Now sleep. It's cozy. Don't wake me until the lights come back on."

At that moment, the low noise that indicates the heater is running fills the room, followed by the alarm clock on the bedside table lighting up, numbers flashing and needing to be reset, as well as his bedside lamp. Power's back, it seems.

Geralt lets out a loud guffaw at the look of utter indignation on Jaskier's face when he sits up in a jolt, the way his lip juts out in a truly award-level pout. He shakes his head, reaching out to knock him gently on the chin and get his attention.

"Hey," he says. Those blue eyes move to him, shining in the wash of light. "Kiss me properly."

Jaskier's mouth curls in a soft smile just like he knew it would, and Geralt meets it with one of his own as he leans over him again.

#the witcher #geraskier #fics.#im soft lads #needed to get a bit of fluff out

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this.

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed.

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void.

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out.

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky.

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices.

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market.

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands.

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.”

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt.

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times.

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...”

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote?

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles.

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur.

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs.

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron.

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!”

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.”

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #my work

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years ago

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leaves

this started as a hc but turned into a long thing about geralt being a huge softie. enjoy.

___

jaskier collects leaves that he thinks are pretty during the fall and presses them in his song writing notebook so he can look at them during the winter when all the leaves are gone. and, he'd never admit this to anyone, but he knows exactly where each leaf came from, and what he and geralt were doing when he found them, so they help him stay close to geralt in the cold months when he's away at kaer morhen.

geralt doesnt understand the fascination cause “they're just leaves jaskier” and gets kinda grumpy when jaskier walks extra slow during the fall to admire and inspect the leaves. but he secretly enjoys the way that jaskiers face lights up in front of their camp fire at night as he shows geralt each leaf he collected that day and tucks them safely into the pages of his notebook.

jaskier used to show them to roach to inspect but after she ate a particularly beautiful one on accident he does not allow her anywhere near his precious leaves.

one year jaskier and geralt part ways a little earlier than normal, geralt deciding to begin the trek to kaer morhen sooner than he normally would due to a lack of contracts so jaskier goes to oxenfurt earlier as well. the leaves are just beginning to change color as they part ways.

a few nights into the journey geralt is making camp for himself and roach when he sees a bright red leaf sitting on the forest floor, exactly the kind of leaf that jaskier would pick up and admire and wax poetry about before tucking it into his notebook. but jaskier isn't there, and geralt feels a little pang. he glares at the leaf the entire time he's setting up camp.

the camp fire has burned down to the embers by the time geralt is ready to lay out his bed roll, but he can still see the leaf at the corner of his vision. he sighs and gets up, knowing that it will continue to bother him unless he does something about it. he picks up the leaf, brushes off the dirt far more lightly than he would ever care to admit, and goes to tuck it in to his saddle bag in the roll of parchment he keeps on the off chance he has to write a letter.

roach snorts at him. “shut up,” he mutters back. “its just a leaf.” roach nuzzles his arm. “no, i don't miss him. im just...bringing him a souvenir. we had to part early this year.” another snort. “yes, i know you know. but he didn't get to see the leaves this year. i don't want him to be disappointed.” roach headbuts him as if to say, you dumb witcher. geralt ignores this, but gives her some nice pats before retiring to his bedroll.

in the next town geralt buys a random book. he doesnt know what it is, he bought the cheapest one he could find. but he's not going to read it, he just needs something to keep jaskiers leaf in so it doesnt crumble to bits before the spring. he swears roach laughs at him for that.

throughout his trip up to kaer morhen, geralt finds himself progressively walking slower, taking time to admire the leaves as the bard had once done.

he picks up the second leaf a week later after a battle with some drowners. he’s heading back into the town, having come across his first contract in weeks, holding the head and covered in river muck and guts when he sees a perfectly yellow leaf on the ground in front of him. he picks it up gingerly, trying his very best not to get guts on it (and he nearly succeeds). if the alderman thinks its weird, a witcher coming back with a drowner head in one hand and a yellow maple leaf in the other, he doesnt say anything. roach does tho, whinnying the second she sees it in geralts hand. he ignores her, and presses the maple leaf into the book a few pages after the brilliant red one.

after that he adds to the collection more frequently. an reddish oak leaf he finds on the ground outside of a tavern, a brilliant orange leaf he finds at his campsite, a yellowish orange leaf the size of his face that he finds along the road and so on. roach makes fun of him every time he reaches for the book, but geralt ignores her. they're merely souvenirs for jaskier, nothing more.

collecting leaves slows him down considerably, but he cant bring himself to care. he's even disappointed when the last of the leaves disappear and the first snow sets in.

but that doesnt stop him from collecting things to add to his book. he gathers different small pine branches, holly leaves and other things that he knows jasper has never seen before because they grow too far north. he becomes so caught up in his hunt for interesting plants that the snow is already falling thickly by the time he reaches kaer morhe, despite him leaving for the keep so early. eskel and lambert chide him for being late, but he ignores them, happy that he managed to fill most of the book with leaves for jaskier.

that whole winter the book remains in the bottom of geralts pack, wrapped carefully in his spare shirt. he thinks about it often, but doesnt dare bring it out for fear that one of his brothers will catch him and make fun of him for being a sap. he's not a sap, he just found some leaves for his friend.

winter drags on far too long in geralts opinion and leaves as soon as the passes are clear, antsy to get back to his friend and give him the book. but on his way down he discovers yet another beautiful thing that jaskier would love: wildflowers. roach is slightly more appreciative of this because wildflowers are things that she is allowed to eat. geralt often feeds her them to see if she approves. if she spits it out or refuses to eat it, then it doesnt make it into the book.

in the space he has left in the book he fills it with wildflowers, sometimes going out of his way to collect them. there are buttercups, dandelions, little blue ones the color of jaskiers eyes, poppies, apple blossoms, daffodils, and even a few rose petals that he buys from a stall in a market. the book is brimming with nature now. he has to be careful not to lose any of his treasures.

finally, he arrives at his and jaskiers meeting spot. he stables roach who gives him a headbut of encouragement and he grabs the book carefully wrapped in his shirt before he makes his way to the tavern, suddenly very nervous.

jaskiers voice is already wafting out of the tavern as he draws closer, having beat geralt to the meeting spot for once, and geralt hesitantly steps inside, knowing jaskiers eyes will be on him the second he goes in. he’s overcome with thoughts, what if jaskier hates it? what if he thinks it's dumb? what if he laughs at him?

he enters anyway, because he's a witcher for fucks sake and he can handle his friends scrutiny. immediately he sees jaskier, sitting in the corner, working a crowd. as always, jaskiers eyes snap to him the second he steps foot in the tavern and he winks. geralt gives him the smallest nod and heads to his table in the corner after ordering an ale. he tucks the book out of sight on the bench next to him.

minutes later jaskier barrels over, eyes bright with the life of the crowd he had been entertaining.

“geralt!” he exclaims. “finally. i thought you stood me up, you big oaf. i never make it here before you do, i thought you may have been eaten! although im not sure by what exactly, i don't know what species has a taste for witches, dragons maybe? well never mind, youre here now and you better have a good excuse for being so late, even im starting to get bored of this town and you know how i love towns...”

geralt smiles into his ale, he missed this, but he'd never admit it. his eyes flick over to the book sitting on the seat beside him, unsure whether or not he should give it to him.

jaskier, being the observant fucker he is, notices. “geralt what do you have on the seat there? is it a monster head? you know what happened last time you tried to hide a monster head in a tavern, i thought the town would chase us out with pitchforks they were so angry! surely you wouldn't-”

“here.” geralt mutters, cutting him off, unwilling to listen to that horrible story.

jaskier stares at the lump of black fabric on the table. “geralt, why are you giving me your shirt? its not really my style, i’m not one for black really, makes my skin look too pale.”

“open it.” he says into his ale.

jaskier does, and stares at the book dumbfounded. “a history book? geralt you know that i am a master of the seven liberal arts, im a professor at oxenfurt! i have all these boring books in the library, i didn't need you to get me one, although it is very thoughtful of you to- oh”

geralt, tired of hearing jaskiers babbling, flips open the book, revealing the bits of nature he had spent their time apart collecting. jasper is silent, which geralt takes as a bad sign. maybe roach was right, maybe he didn't like it, maybe he'd wasted his time for nothing.

“cause you....you didn't get to see...the leaves this year,” he mutters, looking into the tavern, unable to see the inevitable disappointment on jaskiers face.

“oh, geralt,” jaskier whispers. “you collected all of these for me?”

geralt doesnt say anything, but his silence is enough.

“this is why you were late. you were collecting these, for me.”

“its okay if you don't..like them” geralt bites out.

“oh no no no no, geralt, they're wonderful.”

geralt looks at jaskier and sees him touching the pine branch he took form the trees outside kaer morhen, tears brimming in his eyes. “you don't hate it?”

“no, love.” jaskier smiles softly. “i adore it. and i adore you. and id love it if you tell me about all of them, please.”

for the first time in years geralt feels something like a smile tugging at his lips and he picks up the pine branch from jaskiers hand, telling him how it came from the tree outside his window, the one that he looked at everyday as a kid growing up. the same tree that lambert once dared him to climb and he nearly did before being spotted by vesemir and scolded at. jasper laughs and sniffs the pine carefully before placing the branch back in the book.

they pour over the book for hours at their table in the tavern. geralt cant remember the last time he's talked this much, much less about himself of all things, but jaskier is more than happy to listen.

if you want to be tagged in future works of mine shoot me an ask !!

#witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #geraskier #greaskier fic #witcher fic #idk where this cam from but i vibe #if anyone wants to be tagged in my future rambings #please let me know #i hope you enjoyed this hc fic type thing #geralt is a huge softie and i love him #saph scribbles

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darkverrmin · 4 years ago

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They stumble upon Jaskier's mother in a small town, on their way to Kaer Morhen. She sees them first, calling Jaskier's name (his real name) and waving at them. Jaskier runs to her, picking her up and spinning her around. Geralt can't help but to smile at that.

"Mum, this is my partner, Geralt of Rivia".

Geralt gives her a small bow. "Pleasure to meet you".

She smiles back at him politely. "I'm happy to meet you, Geralt! Where are you boys headed?"

"Kaer Morhen" Jaskier answers her. "It's the Witchers' keep, I'm meeting Geralt's family".

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She cries, glancing at Geralt. "I wish we had more time to get to know each other, but I should head back soon. You know how impatient your father can get".

Geralt notices Jaskier's body visibly tensing at the mention of his father, but he doesn't say a thing about it. "Our inn is just over there. Want to grab a quick drink?"

She smiles again, cupping Jaskier's cheek. "Sure".

***

Jaskier's mother is so sweet and polite towards Geralt, he almost feels uncomfortable. But it's nice that one of Jaskier's family members actually likes him. Although Geralt knows that Jaskier doesn't give a fuck about it.

After ten minutes or so, she starts talking about Jaskier's father. Jaskier clenches his jaw and Geralt notices how uncomfortable he feels. The Witcher clears his throat and gets up from his seat. "I need to check on Roach in the stables. I'll leave you two to catch up. Again, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Panktraz".

She gives Geralt another polite smile and nods. "You too, dear. Hope to see you again soon".

***

Geralt is brushing Roach when he hears Jaskier walking out of the inn and protesting something loudly.

"You don't know him".

Jaskier continues speaking, obviously annoyed. "Stop it, mum. I'll have none of it".

His mother's voice follows. "Darling, just listen to me-"

"You're wrong".

"I'm just trying to protect you. He's not right for you".

Geralt freezes in his place, listening to the conversation carefully. They're far enough so he can't see them, but Witcher senses allow Geralt to hear every word.

"I don't need to. I see that he is not right for you".

"Ha! And what is right for me, ma? A rich, noble duchess? To please father?"

"Julian, you know I disagree with your father on many things. But I think you deserve so much better".

"You don't know him. At all. He is an amazing man. He's kindhearted, brave, smart, charm-"

"Doesn't seem like that from our conversation".

Jaskier gasps. "Oh, so now he's bad because he's not much of a conversationalist? Dear Gods, mother-"

"I want to ask you a question. What can he offer you?"

"...What?"

"What kind of life are you leading with him, Julian? You don't have a house, you can't have a famil-"

"I don't want a house. And he is my family. I love traveling with him".

"You need someone who will make you feel safe. Who can protect you".

"I can protect myself, ma. And I trust Geralt more than I trust anyone".

"Oh, you're still so young".

Jaskier sighs. "I'm 25. Not much of a child anymore".

"Don't you think you're with him just because you like the adventure? The danger?"

Geralt closes his eyes, exhaling sharply. He listens to Jaskier's answer.

"Do you want to know how I really feel about him?"

A moment of silence.

"I love him, ma. With every fiber of my being. He's- He's just so amazing. He loves me too. I feel alive when I'm with him. I love our adventures, I love our life. I don't need to settle down somewhere. This is the life I chose for myself, mother. This is the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with. Because I want him and him only".

Geralt feels something warm spreading itself in his chest. Jaskier continues, his voice calmer.

"For the first time in my life I can say that I'm happy, ma. Every morning I wake up by his side, I'm happy. I... I love him. And don't worry, he treats me well. He really is a big softie, you just need to get to know him a bit. And gods, he's so smart. I'm learning something new from him every day. He's... He makes me happy, mother. I'm happy. Isn't that all that matters?"

His mother sighs. "If that's the way you feel, I guess that's good. Can't say about happiness, didn't have a lot of that with your father. But... I just want you to have a good life".

"I am having a great life, ma. The greatest. Believe me".

"Alright, darling". He hears a kissing sound. "Take care. Maybe write more often, so I'll know you're alright?"

"I promise".

"And maybe come around to visit on holidays?"

"We'll work something out, ma. Promise".

"Great. Goodbye, Julian, take care. Love you".

"Love you, too".

***

Jaskier shows up at the stables a couple of minutes later. He gives Geralt a bright smile. "How's our girl doing?" He asks, nodding at Roach.

"Alright" Geralt answers him. He walks over to Jaskier, pulling him into a tight hug. Jaskier chuckles, before hugging back.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. Just... You know that I really care about you, right? You're everything to me. I... You make me happy, Jas".

Jaskier smiles into his chest, squeezing his lover. "I know, dear. I know".

#geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #gerald #jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt x dandelion #geralt #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #witcher #the witcher #geralt × dandelion #dandellion #dandelion #geralt x julian #julian alfred pankratz

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missingartist · 4 years ago

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The Witcher’s Mate- Chapter 26

Smut warning! Over 18s only

She was in trouble. She knew it, but her mind was still foggy from the pleasure to even process the fact she should be scared. Between her legs, she was nestling a powerful witcher, not just any Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, The butcher of Blaviken, and her mate. Her soulmate. The man in whom was made for her.

It all didn’t seem real. The past months seemed like some strange dream, leaving Brightwater, the road, Triss, Yennefer, finding out she was a Mermaid with an actual tail, not just any merperson, the daughter of a queen. That all led her to this moment, the moment she would lose her virginity, cease to be a maiden and become a mate. She would receive his bite mark, and he would claim her, precisely like the Witcher Mate said. The etching flashed through her mind, her pearly white teeth bite down on her lips as her eyes gazed up the witcher.

The flickering fire illuminated Geralt’s face; his feature was painted in pure adoring lust. It was unadulterated Geralt, raw and primal; his eyes were moulted gold swirling with need and love.

Warmth encompassed them as he pressed himself against her fully. A smirk stretched out across his lips as she gasped loudly as his cock skimmed across her wet and nestled against her sensitive slit. Coating himself with the mess she created. Her blue eyes gazed up at him, unsure but open she watched as his eyes fluttered shut. This kiss was slow and needy; the love and tenderness expressed almost made her sob. The soft moans filled the room; a gasp pulled from her, a Geralt pulled his kisses across her skin till his face was buried into her neck, his tongue marking the space where he would claim, that he would mark, sink his teeth into and make them one. Her roaming hands gripped his shoulder blades and down the expanse of his back, nails scratching and digging into his skin as her hips bucks against his.

A primal growl ripped through the room as Geralt slammed his down onto hers, pinning them firmly onto the mattress. A shudder runs through her body as the witcher nipped at her skin, sending into a heavy pant. Callous fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head to the side, giving him more access to the exposed skin. His other hand trailed down the side of her body, hooking underneath her thigh, hitching in up against his hip, dragging his thick cock against her burning core with a hiss.

‘I am going to mark you up so good, my little nymph.’ Geralt purred before returning to suckle at her neck, pulling another mew from her. ‘Everyone is going to know you are mine.’ Nip. ‘I’m going to take such good care of you… you're going to let me aren’t you be my good little mate. Mine. Mine forever.’

A small cry pushed itself from her body as Geralt rocked his hips against her, his cock grazing over her swollen clit. Nudging clumsily at the opening, making her jolt against him.

‘Geralt’ Adva whimpered against him, pushed against his chest.

"Shhhh, it's okay’ Geralt pulled back to look at her. The same swirling eyes from early look down at her. ‘If you need me to stop, tell me my little flower. Relax as much as you can for me.’’ Geralt grunted so lowly into her ear that she had her spine trembling in anticipation.

The head of his cock dragged sinfully down her core before lining up against her. The first stretch barely got him through the first inch. Geralt stilled and ran his hand down her side, lifting her other leg to wrap around his hip, opening her further. Geralt placed soft kisses up the column of her throat, whispering soothing words as he inched himself further. Adva blinked away tears at the painful intrusion; Geralt's thumbed away the stray tears as she breathed away the pain. Geralt slid in a few more inches as he cursed at the tightness as he was fully seated inside her warm pussy. An electric shock travelled through her as she felt the spark ignite against her.

Eyes shut, Geralt revelling in connection with his soulmate, he felt her adjusting walls fluttered against him as she adjusted to the fullness of him. She was no longer a virgin; she was his. She hummed in the feeling, the pain was still there, but she felt it; she felt him connecting to her. Geralt hum at her neck, lips brushing back up her jaw until he was once again buried in her neck, above his prepared bite mark.

Adva’s eyes slammed shut; the feeling was strange, painful, but intoxicating. Every nerve ending was on fire and alive for the first time in her life. Geralt softy cooed against her skin as he gently rocked against her.

"...fuck." he hissed as he is grinding his hips against her into her swallowed clit. Adva gave a low moan pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and biting hard. Moving on instinct and being awarded the light drag of Geralt’s cock against her walls. The sensation is pulling a small pleasured squeak from her through the pain, relishing the slow movement of his cock against his walls. Despite the burn, the feeling was indescribable.

Geralt immediately pulled back and then slowly slid forward again.

Adva all but screamed as she felt Geralt push back into her. Her hands slipped to his ass as she dug her fingers into plush flesh. Above her, Geralt grunted and groaned as her tight pussy clenched around. His hips languidly drew in and out of her.

The feeling was nothing like she had ever encountered; it was slow and steady but dragged the most pleasant feeling from her. In the pit of her stomach, she felt a coil tightening as Geralt slow move in and out of her.

Geralt bite back a moan as her tight walls pulling him back in at every movement. The feeling was intense. More than he had ever felt before. Her walls quivered and shuddered beneath him as he set a slow, unforgiving pace. With each thrust, his balls trembled at the feeling and spurred him on toward his orgasm, but despite the need for release, the urge to mate was so much more urgent. Skillfully he pushes forward, ignoring the need to slam into his mate, to bite down and brand her; instead, he clenches down on his teeth and slide in and out of her tight channel.

She felt the build; it was slow, too slow; it was coming; she could feel it as Geralt piston his hips against her, his thick body grinding against her clit. She knew what was going to happen, but yet she couldn’t prepare herself for it.

The orgasm hit her out of nowhere, slammed into her as she screamed into the roam, feeling pulsed through her. Geralt grunted as her push tightened around him, holding him like a vice. A primitive roar pulled itself from his lips as he pulled out of his needy mate.

Adva whimpered needly as she felt him pull out and, as if she weighed nothing, flipped her onto her front, pushing her head into the pillows. Geralt growled as he took the pure white globes of her ass, a deep primitive feeling call to him as he lent back and watched as his thick cock plunge in and out of her. The pace had gone from agonising slow to brutal and rough; the bundle of nerves he had previously discovered were now at the forefront of his assault; every push of his hips left him juddering against them as he thrust in and out her.

Her hand twisted in the bedsheet; as she tried to ride out her first orgasm, she felt another orgasm building.

‘Geralt’, Adva screamed as thrust after thrust sent her further into the bed.

An agonising howl erupted from his chest as his balls began to tighten as; he wrapped around her body and pulled against her neck, and hoisted her up against his chest.

‘You feel so good, Adva. My mate, my beautiful mate. Mine’ Geralt purred as he buried his face in her neck, nipping at the tender flesh at the base of her throat.

Adva was helpless against him, his thick torso rubbing against her back, the fine hair of his chest massaging against her sensitive skin. The hand around her throat was firm, and she held it against him, his mouth tonguing her flesh against her while his other hand wrapped around her body and nestled his skilful fingers against her slit.

‘Gods Geralt, I… need…please’, Adva sobbed against him.

‘That is baby come for me…that’s it mate.’ Geralt purred as his teeth sank to the creamy pale flesh of her neck

A scream ripped through her throat as her walls spasmed against Geralt's cock. As the connection tightened around them.

As her walls tightened around him, Geralt released a thundering howl that cut through the room as he came inside her, his cock swelling inside her. Spurt after spurt coated her pussy as he bit down harder.

‘Mine’, he mumbled against her skin as she collapsed against him.

A weak cry crawled up her throat and pushed past her lips as another orgasm rolled through her. It felt all the more intense compare to her previous one, for her body had something to clamp onto as the spasms rocked her small frame. Eyes grew wide as she felt Geralt cock swelled in her, and with every drag of his enlarged, the connection burned into her, prolonging wave after wave of pleasure, imprinting him deep within her. It wasn’t till Geralt was buried deep inside her, unable to move, that the last tremors run through her body.

Her whole body was utterly lax. If it weren’t for Geralt holding her to his body, she would be in a puddle in the middle of the bed as she revelled in the fuzzy feeling of her climax. In her blissed-out haze, she felt Geralt lower onto the bed, his mouth never leaving the tender flesh of her. Kissing and licking the bite marks and purring contently as his fingers travelled down to where they were still joined. His fingers were ghosting over the mess of their joining. A deep purr of contentment rumbled between them.

‘Mine’, Geralt mumbled between sloppy kisses.

‘Yours.’ Adva sighed as Geralt run her tongue over the mark.

Sorry it took so long. Work is killing me but the weather has been so nice I took my laptop into the garden and wrote this.

Please like and comment they make my day

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