#how many will it take before geralt realizes something is up?

[bigfan-fanfic]

Be Still, Be Soft (Male!Reader x Geralt of Rivia)

@jayfeather965 Follow up on touch starved Geralt. Setting: deep winter at Kaer Morhen. Geralt is sitting in his bf’s lap. With bf’s legs around his torso so that Geralt can rest his head on his bf’s chest. And bf starts to give Geralt a neck rub. (I’m completely sure that Geralt doesn’t know what a neck rub is)

Not many people realize just how studious Geralt is.

Though perhaps this is less due to preconception, and more due to simply never getting to see him with a book in hand.

But the man is not only educated, but tends to enjoy learning information. He's a reader when he can get his hands on a book.

Currently he's studying up on Vesemir's most current edition of the bestiary he's been working on.

Geralt only really relaxes in these deep winter days, when it's a struggle even to leave Kaer Morhen for the courtyard.

The keep is well-heated, but Geralt always suggests that you huddle together for warmth because even now, even after he has told you he loves you and admitted to his brother witchers that you are his, he needs an excuse to hold you close.

You sit on the bed, patting the space between your legs, as you grab one of the books Eskel had brought for you from the Path.

Geralt gingerly sits cross-legged between your legs, awkward and stiff, and you chuckle.

"Lean back."

"I'm heavy."

"Oh? I never noticed." You roll your eyes. He scoffs and slowly leans back, his head on your chest, his broad shoulders against your stomach.

He shifts slightly, ensuring you're comfortable and his weight isn't settled on you uncomfortably, and you gently wrap your legs around him, allowing him to sort of tuck your thighs under his arms.

"Nice?" you ask.

He gives a sound partway between a hum and a growl. Definitely not a purr, not at all.

You both read for a while, before you just can't help but smile at how relaxed Geralt feels against you.

His back is literally to you, and there is no sign of tension.

"Geralt?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you ever had a neck rub?"

He pauses. "A what?"

"You know... where I rub your neck."

Geralt snorts. "Yeah, I sort of figured that part out. Is this... something people do?"

"Yes. Like a massage, but... informal?"

"I see. I suppose... that might be... nice."

You grin and gently reach around Geralt's shoulders to unlace his shirt.

Geralt tries to continue reading, but you can feel him shudder.

You gently push the neck of his shirt aside and slowly begin to rub his neck and shoulders.

Geralt has started to make those low groans of enjoyment, and you start to increase the pressure a little.

Vesemir's bestiary flutters to the ground, as Geralt lets out a sound greatly resembling a moan.

"Can I take out your hair tie?"

"Yes." Geralt almost snaps, eyes shut. His body seems unsure how to process what he's feeling - it's almost hilarious.

You expand his neck rub to a shoulder rub and scalp massage, and Geralt just falls completely limp, relaxed and not resisting at all. His head is completely against your chest, making it somewhat hard to continue.

"I love you so much, Geralt." You smile softly, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"Hnnnnnnniluvyoo." Geralt slurs his words, just utterly relaxed.

You laugh this time, and lean back, safe and secure with your Witcher.

Brought low by a simple neck rub.

[imagineredwood]

I love the headcanon you did of the Mayans leaving you a voicemail while j*rking off, could you reverse it and do a headcanon of them reacting to their s/o leaving them one.

Boy can I 😗

He's both eternally grateful and simultaneously ready to leave wherever it is that he's at to get home and teach you a lesson. He'll call you back over and over, hoping that you'll give him a live rendition and when it goes to voicemail again for the hundredth time, he'll curse, thoughts consumed with what you looked like while you left it. He replays it over and over again, his hand working at his belt furiously as he shuffles off to the bathroom or dark corner. "I miss you, Angel. I need you. It's not the same without you." Your whines and moans and whimpers. You just sound so good. All he wants is to get home to you so he can watch you, but he'll have to settle for the audio. And better believe you're in for it when he gets home.

He's tickled by it. He'll quickly stop it when he realizes what he's listening to and sneak off somewhere private to listen. Has a bit more restraint than Angel and is able to keep his hands out of his pants for the time being. He closes his eyes and plays it over and over, envisioning you writhing as you say his name in the voicemail. "EZ, baby. When are you coming back to me?" He loves how needy you get and he knows that when he finally gets home to you he's going to more than make up for the time apart.

He gets worked up fast, and not entirely in a good way. He already hates leaving you behind, out of town so far away from you. He had you promise to be good and not touch until he came back. It was only a few days after all. But now here you are, moaning into his ear through the phone as you break the rules, letting out mischievous giggles as you rub it in his face. "Feels so good, Bish. Wish you were here, but I think I'm doing a good enough job." Godspeed when he does finally come home.

He teases himself and stays right where he's at while he listens to it. Plays it over and over, listening to your breath hitch, thanking him for the toy he bought you before he left. "It's so good, Coco. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you-" Trailing off as you finally come. He's practically salivating by the time he finally stops the recording, clearing his throat as someone asks him if he's good.

He's less than thrilled, but also rock-hard immediately. Once he gets over the fear from thinking that something is wrong, he settles and growls, hearing you begging and pleading like such a good girl for him. "I tried to wait, but the sheets smell just like you. Please come home. I need it." He's got half the mind to end this bulshit agricultural meeting and just get home to you, but he refrains. He'll take his time and when he does finally get home, he's going to edge you until you can barely see.

He loves it. He loves how adventurous you are and how willing you are to take care of yourself and let him listen. He plays it over and over, imagining how good you look all spread out and needy on the bed. "How many more days, Neron. I'm going crazy here without you." He'd love it more if he were there of course, but it only makes him more eager to get home quickly and in one piece, so he can watch next time.

General taglist (tagged in all work)

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95

@cruzwalters @myakai13 l @lyly00 @Zsakaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady @choochoo284 @whitetxilwxlf @ravennaortiz @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Mayans MC taglist 

@dazzledamazon  @briana-mishell24 @wrcn9fvlcver @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @appropriate-writers-name @blessedboo @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @redpoodlern @myakai13 @cruzwalters @po3ticb3auty @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @carma-fanficaddict

[tiisshu]

did i ever post this particular j/askier/g/eralt allergy thing on here? its over on my ao3 and i had to read it before i remembered writing it lol.

Of Course

"Geralt! There you are, old boy!". Chirped a vibrant and cheerful Jaskier. He had been traveling down along this road for the better part of the morning, it had started out as a dreary and damp spring but it had dawned bright and warm and Jaskier had began the trek to some of the smaller villages along the western realm of Velen. He couldn't really remember ever coming this way at this time of year before, usually choosing to stay in the larger cities where warm fires and crowds could chase away the gloom of mud and the smell of the decaying leaves along some of the less maintained roads. But here he was delighted to have happened upon the stopped Witcher near a stream refilling his water bags.

The answering groan made the edges of his smile widen, " Ah there he is, knew it was that overwhelming charm I missed. What you up to, huh? On your way to another Adventure? Monsters to kill?". Geralt recapped the final water bag and straightened, looking the bard over and trying to remember how many years had passed this time in blissful silence. He supposed there were worse times to have run into the chatty and opinionated Jaskier.

Still, he knew he'd regret it as he often did, Jaskier just... never seemed to assess the danger in a situation with any real skill and Geralt was left with far more objectives in a fight than necessary. He was hesitant to send the bard away though, something that had remained a touchy subject but mostly left unsaid since what had happened in the Mountains

. . . .

In truth, it really didn't take long. The regret that is. After a couple hours of travel and Jaskier's incessant ramblings of this banquet and that woman, and various other tedious things the pair fell into a sort of rhythm with Jaskier singing various lines to himself and making adjustments to a ballad he was composing and Geralt riding atop Roach at a pace that allowed the Witcher to go over some details in his mind on a contract he was hoping to pick up along the way. Each of them lost in their own task.

Huh.. ihh...

Geralt snapped out of his thoughts instantly, for a moment scanning the countryside- wondering what had broken his concentration when Jaskier suddenly twisted to the side and aimed a trio of sneezes at the ground.

Hih'Isssh! Issshuu! Huh' ih'Shiew! "ah, Bless me. Hitting the ol' dusty road a little too hard perhaps", He joked as he dug through his pockets in search of a handkerchief.

He always seemed to have one or two on him, though he'd start out the night without one. Odd little mementos of a love affair, he had once quipped after a party had gone particularly well and somehow he had arrived back at their inn with three tucked into his lute case. He supposed adding the tears in while he played "Her sweet kiss" had been a bit much, but he had been well rewarded for the efforts. Thrice.

Geralt hummed and tried to regain his momentum with planning when Jaskier slowed in pace and tilted his head back, lips parting slightly as he hitched, searching with half closed eyes to see if he could catch a sun ray to help it along.

"Huh... Hih' ... Ahhk'SSSHU! Eh'Hisshiew! 'Tsuu! Gods, s..s-still?", he turned away from the path and blew his nose, huffing indignantly when he found it did nothing to quell the itch deep in his sinuses and he could already feel his breath catching. Geralt sighed heavily and leaned forward slightly, swinging his leg over Roach as he dismounted. Jaskier cast him a fleeting look before he was burying his nose in the handkerchief again, his shoulders shaking with each hitch.

Hae'esshiew! Hishhah!.. Hngkxxt! "I.. Hih'.. I was kiddig about the dusty ro-ah- road", Jaskier tried to explain, realizing that this sudden sneezing really could only be explained by some sort of allergy. Fuck .

It didn't take a Witcher's senses to see just how miserable the bard was. The area around his nose and eyes was beginning to take on an irritated pink hue that stood out starkly against his natural complexion.

After each volley of sneezes Jaskier would cough dryly as he tried to catch his breath, a wheeze was beginning to be audible as he scraped in each breath before he was off again sneezing helplessly into his handkerchief.

Hng-xsst! 'tsuu Snf ...hih'Tshiew! Huh.. Heh.. F..fuck...

"Jaskier".

Huh' Ehg... W-wud? D'esshiew

The Witcher plucked one of the vibrant red blooms from one of the towering shrubs along the path and unceremoniously shoved it up under Jaskier's nose. The bard only managed to tilt his head quizzically and look up at him with those watery blue eyes before realization and the dawning need to sneeze hit him.

"Fuh..fuck Gera-ah-AhhShiew! Hae'eh hih?... Hih'Isshuu! Hngk'tsuu huh.. Ahh'Sssshhiew!

Despite the growing nagging feeling that he should be more sympathetic, Geralt had to roll his eyes, of course the Bard would be allergic to the hardiest and most abundant plant this side of Midscope.

"Honeysuckle", Geralt said then, answering the bard's cut off question. He tossed the picked flower and turned to gather Roach's reins to keep the horse from wandering off grazing.

Jaskier had distanced himself from the offending flower and was mopping futilely at his face as his body tried to rid itself of the invading threat, great allergic tears running down his cheeks and soaking into the collar of his doublet where an angry red rash could be seen cropping up along the jawline.

Heh.. Oh cuh-come on- uH'Hisshiew!

Jaskier at this point thought death might be preferable.

Leave it to him to cause such a scene so soon after convincing Geralt to allow him to accompany him, it had taken absolutely ages, but here he was being a mess in front of a Witcher.

That Witcher, in particular.

He'll tell me to leave again, he thought glumly, blowing his nose as thoroughly as he could now that the sneezing was dying down and being replaced by a dry itchy feeling beneath the surface of his face and a thick oppressive stuffiness that left him needing to breathe out of his mouth exclusively. Lovely.

The next thing he knew though he was being hoisted to his feet effortlessly by the larger man and hauled over to the horse. Geralt managed to extricate the soiled handkerchief from the bard and toss it into an unused saddlebag with a concerning wet squelch.

"Do you need an invitation?", Geralt growled when Jaskier stared at him uncomprehendingly. His watery gaze ping-ponging between the Witcher and Roach.

Geralt prickled with what he assumed was Jaskier just being a little shit and clarified, " Unless... you'd rather stay here", he gestured to further down the path where another Honeysuckle shrub grew.

The Witcher had planned their route down by Pyke Isle where he had heard talk of a few contracts, but as the season was just beginning it's shift towards warmer weather, they'd be better off heading north...

He narrowed his eyes at the bard and gestured toward Roach. Jaskier cleared his throat and seemed to remember himself and clamored to raise himself into the saddle. As if to remind him of what exactly had led to this sudden shift in plans Jaskier felt that demanding tickle buzz to life along the sensitive walls of his sinuses for one last comment and he raised an arm to bury his face in the crook of an elbow.

Hih' Ih... Snf Hih' Isshiew!

Geralt decided that was enough, he pulled a simple square of fabric out of one of the other saddlebags and handed it up to Jaskier before stepping back and tugging Roach's reins gently to begin the trek back to the crossroads so they could travel north.

"You owe me", Geralt said for good measure, couldn't have the bard thinkin' he had grown soft in his old age.

But Jaskier only sniffled and for once was silent.

[friendlyreaderandco]

Alrighty!!! Hello hello. Since I’ve had such great luck with the fic finding help (thank you for all of the help) I figured I would repost my currently missing scenes and one new ask. These should all be completed stories on Ao3.

1. (New) GeraltxJaskier. These two fall into bed together and the next morning Geralt realizes Jaskier was too quiet the night before based on the other times Geralt’s overheard his bard find his pleasure. He gets a bit insecure and spirals thinking he didn’t please the other so in the next few towns he forces him to keep his distance hoping to encourage the bard to find someone who pleases him. Jaskier doesn’t though and Geralt is baffled. Then the Witcher decides to get hammered and the bard interrupts and says something like “don’t drink too much. I have plans for you and need you sober.” At which point Geralt tells him to find another partner and jaskier finally breaks down and asked Geralt what’s been up with him and Geralt opens up about his feeling and Jaskier says, “first of all darling we’re going to talk about how many times you’ve listened to me. Second I was simply overwhelmed and didn’t want you to be (maybe annoyed) by my talking.” Then they leave before Jaskiers finished his set, which Geralt asked about and he says some things are more important and they live happily ever after.

2. (RE-ASK) Stiles x Derek. I remember less about this one but I did try to find it by keyword with no luck. In this one Derek and Stiles are going on a first date and Derek is driving them. Stiles is acting odd. And Derek asked him why he’s not fidgeting or touching his stuff without permission and finds out one of the ladies (Erica and Alison maybe) “reminded” stiles that he’s super annoying and to curb all of his behaviors. Then Derek has to tell him how much he likes stiles for who he is! I know it’s a bit vague. I also kind of remember stiles sitting on his hands, getting permission to go through the glove box and put on a different cd and I believe their date was in a diner type setting.

3. (RE-ASK) JaskierxGeralt had recently gotten together and they are camping in the woods when Jaskier wakes up in the middle of the night (possibly due to a nightmare but I wouldn’t count on it) and decides to go take a bath in the river nearby and after a few moments Geralt joins him. During their conversation Jaskier says he has to act and Geralt should be used to it. So of course Geralt takes that in the worst possible way and says something along the lines of “you have to act in front of me?” Luckly Jaskier reads his self-hatred quickly and panics trying to explain that he doesn’t act because of Geralt but has to sometimes in front of him. I know, vague. Probably why I can’t find it 😭 I don’t remember anything else!!

Any way figured I’d try my luck once more, just in case anyone knew with some answers stumbled across it. Any help in locating these is greatly appreciated!!!

Ahah! Number 1 has been located by myself as I delved the Archive! For anyone interested, please see the link below for What Happens Next by Xxenjoy!

Number 2 has been located!!

[emma-ofnormandy]

hey look, i managed to write a thing despite my muse going the way of my energy as well. a little yenralt thing because they’re on my mind and I am countering my reoccurring fears for them in season 3.

“What are you watching?”

The deep tenor of Geralt’s sent the sorceress’s heart leaping in her chest. Lost in her own whirling thoughts, Yennefer had not realized that he had awoken.  

They had made camp off the main road a way, a clearing by a creek their haven. Ciri had promptly drifted off to sleep, the days of travel wearing on her and Geralt had not been far behind. It was not long before their snores had mingled with the bubbling of the water and Yennefer had been left to her own devices. As exhausted as she was, sleep had been elusive, and she had soon sought solitude in the sky above.

“The stars,” she answered vaguely, her violet gaze never pulling from the inky expanse.

She had a fondness for the burning lights of the sky, their presence a recurring comfort she had grown to rely on. Much of her life had been weighed down by abandonment, her trials and tribulations across the centuries taking those closest to her away, but the stars had remained, and she had come to find herself reliant on their steadfast appearance.

“Have you found the answers to our problems up there, by chance?”

It had been the first lighthearted thing he had uttered to her since they had set out from Kaer Morhen and a glimmer of something resembling hope trembled within her.  

“I do not believe they hold the key to defeating malefic elven specters, political unrest, or vengeful kings,” she countered. If only their situation was simple enough that the answer could be found within the binding of an astrology book.

“That is too bad.”

Though there was a fair amount of space between them, she could feel the heat from his presence as he shifted beside her so his gaze, too, watched the stars.

She wondered what it was that he sought in them. Did they also bring him a sense of comradery or comfort like they did her or were they simply something he’d grown used to watching in the years spent traveling alone.

It was not long before a streak of light shot across the steady backdrop.

“They say a shooting star is good luck.”

His words had been spoken so softly that she had almost missed their utterance. “I cannot see how that could be as they are falling into obscurity.”

Though it was too dark to see, Yennefer knew he watched her, uneasy with her bleak response.

“Some survive.”

A bitter chuckle echoed in her chest; the likeness was not lost on her. Some did survive, a few for centuries, but their continued existence was not something many saw as a sign of good. She had heard men tote the end of civilization based on the recurrence of a falling star.

“You are right, some do survive. They survive long enough to hit the ground and destroy everything in their path.”

The sorceress did not dare chance a glance at Geralt as the morbid words hung between them. She knew the Witcher had no intention of insinuating such a bleak end to an event most found marveling, but after all that they had been through, their disastrous beginning to this misadventure, how could she look at such comparison any other way.

It was only when his fingers brushed against hers and she felt the weight and warmth of his hand over her own, that the tremble of hope she felt extended not only to their rekindling but also to the regretful end she feared. 

[thenightling]

Which Witcher is Witch?

Note: I know there are multiple-in universe Witchers. This post is specifically in regard to the title of the franchise. It's time to address something in The Witcher fandom. In the Witcher novels you have a monster hunter (called a Witcher) named Geralt of Rivia, who adopts an orphaned princess from a fallen kingdom. Her name is Ciri. Geralt had accidentally claimed Ciri via a magical invocation known as "Law of Surprise." When you call upon Law of Surprise in front of someone, whatever they gain next now belongs to you. It can be as random as a sack of flour or a puppy. But the thing about Law of Surprise is it invokes Destiny itself and once invoked it cannot be denied. The person who called upon Law of Surprise cannot decline what he has claimed and the person who has to give the thing cannot refuse to give it or Destiny will intervene to make it happen. Geralt had invoked Law of Surprise (without realizing it) in front of a pregnant royal. When he learned she was pregnant he fled rather than take her child. Twelve-years-later the kingdom was sieged and Princess Ciri was the only survivor, forcing Geralt to embrace his Destiny and accept her as his adoptive daughter.

Now, when I first got into The Witcher a fan boy scolded me that Ciri could not count as a "real" Witcher and that "the author said so." He insisted that because she never underwent the Trial of the grasses she would never count as REAL Witcher no matter what was said in the novels or video games. This was before I learned how the novels and video games actually end, mind you, or perhaps I would have had a better rebuttal for this totally-not-a-misogynist. Recently I saw some interviews with the showrunner and writer for The Witcher Netflix TV series. I am well-aware that there have been many deviations from the novels but I do find it a suspicious tell that the two main things that seem to offend certain fan boys are 1. The canonical realization that Jaskier is bisexual / pansexual and 2. The idea that Ciri will become a Witcher, herself...

The best scenario ending of the third Witcher video game (Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt) is Ciri becomes a Witcher, herself, and goes off on her own adventures. In the novels Ciri eventually ends up in another universe (possibly our own) where she rides off the Knights of The Round Table. The TV series is already hinting at going in the direction of Ciri becoming a Witcher, herself. And now the showrunners have pretty much confirmed that Ciri is the actual main protagonist of the show. But there are angry fanboys whining "But Geralt is The Witcher!" No. Not necessarily. The title may be subversive. You thought you were following the adventures of The Witcher this whole time when you were watching Geralt but the reality is Ciri is who the title is for. Ciri is also The Witcher. Now there are angry fans whining and bemoaning the idea that Netflix has "changed The Witcher" and made Ciri the main character even though "The title is for Geralt." Not necessarily. I'm not sure why so many of the fans seem to be reacting badly to this. It was kind of expected the whole time. It's how the video games end, which are actually set after the novels. And in the novels she rides off with some of King Arthur's men. She's pretty much The Witcher there too. I'm getting deja vu of the angry "My adventures with Superman" fans from just a few days ago who whined about what a "Simp" Clark is for Lois- meaning he's doting and devoted to her and wants for her happiness. Superman was always like this... Fanboys, this sort of sexism went out style in the sixties.

[thelostgirl21]

OMFG! I never saw that article! 😍 It's so awesome!

Also, I wish I knew at what point they decided to just... delete entire scenes and dialogues to replace them with "Extraordinary Things", and what was Hugh's first response/reaction to Joey's suggestion to have Jaskier sing for Radovid instead.

Like, did Joey come up with that idea BEFORE they started shooting?

Or did they shoot that scene in the carriage with Philippa (first scene Hugh and Joey ever shot together, apparently), Joey saw how many layers of emotions and intent Hugh could convey with his eyes, realized that what Jaskier just might need, first and foremost, is someone that shows an interest in listening to him play with a desire to better understand him; and therefore allowed his "inner Jaskier" to take over, compose, and sing something for Radovid?

Because, as "fun and flirty" as the dialogue in that leaked audition scene was, I don't think it would have succeeded in making as deep a connection between them as "Extraordinary Things" did.

Radovid's little "pick your favorite, please," when asking Jaskier for a song, him showing genuine interest in listening to what Jaskier wants to sing about the most (rather than dictating what he'd like to hear from him)...

The amount of respect and interest Radovid is showing for Jaskier's art is not so much about Jaskier's technical skills per say, but more about his songs revealing his innermost thoughts, and the way he perceives and experiences the world around him.

Yes, showing appreciation for Jaskier's lute playing and singing itself, and talking about how the instrument and the artist can elevate each other is nice - especially if it's used as a metaphore for something that would have been relevant to the scene or the context.

But Jaskier already has "fans". However, the people closest to him (except perhaps Ciri) on the show tend to show very little interest in the content of his songs or his singing.

Perhaps things have changed with Geralt since the mountain. But he once said that his singing was like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling; and that the Countess of Stael might have left him because of it.

Yennefer's first time hearing him sing happened while she was threatening him (and she referred to him as a "sing-songy twit" when she saw him again in Season 2. It was said affectionately, but still)...

Yarpen said Jaskier couldn't do anything for him, because he has "ears and good taste".

That "fan" Jaskier met at the docks was an entitled arsehole that didn't care much about the things Jaskier was trying to share or tell through his songs. He just wanted to point out all the things that "needed fixing".

Seanchai was perhaps the first to truly acknowledge Jaskier's storytelling as being something valuable and powerful - worth preserving and saving.

But she valued his skills as a bard as a means of inspiring and bringing hope to others...

So maybe... just maybe, what Jaskier needed was someone that truly paid attention to his words, showed interest the "heart" of his song rather than the "art", and told him that said heart was so beautiful, fascinating, and precious, that it was worth getting to know and even learn.

Radovid is a very active listener that yearns to be a part of Jaskier's world, and to connect with him... Someone that shows interest in what matters to Jaskier and offers support.

"Extraordinary Things" was a stroke of genius, because it allowed Jaskier to be at his most emotionally vulnerable and sincere with Radovid, and helped Radovid realise that it was safe for him to trust and allow himself to be vulnerable and honest with Jaskier as well.

Without it, you'd have had two deeply traumatised souls that have learned to hide who they truly are from others as a survival mechanism in their respective worlds, struggling with letting their guards down and allowing people past those barriers.

So yeah, I'm kind of curious to know at what moment the inspiration struck Joey to have Jaskier be the first one to emotionally strip down naked right in front of Radovid under the "cover" of a song, and what Hugh's response to that idea was.

And I'm also very curious to know who came up with the idea of having Radovid learn Jaskier's song, and then sing the first few lines of "Extraordinary Things" back to Jaskier when Jaskier is questioning him about what he wants.

Was it one of the writer's ideas (as a sort of follow up to the song that Joey had composed), was it Joey thinking/knowing that this would be the best way to get Jaskier to give into his growing feelings for Radovid? Or did Hugh feel that this is how Radovid would respond...

Because there's something very poetic and deeply touching in the way that Hugh sings it... Taking Jaskier's song, and expressing a desire for it to become their song, in a way...

It's a lovely way for Radovid to express a desire to form a relationship with Jaskier, while voicing his concern about his playing "being shit" and looking like he's nervous about falling short of expectations (according to what Hugh said in interviews, Radovid makes a connection with Jaskier that he's never made before, as no one's ever been that honest with Radovid), and having Jaskier responds with "maybe that's something we can work on", sort of showing a desire to commit to the relationship and figure things out with him.

Regardless of how that moment came to be, without Joey basically going "less talking more singing", it never would have occurred in the first place.

And Hugh's acting choices when it comes to how Radovid responds to Jaskier are basically just perfect...

There are infatuations that feel like people are moving too fast in a relationship without knowing each other while idealising the other partner...

And relationships that just sort of "realistically take off right away", because there's this sort of recognition that there's a unique type of compatibility between two people, and both of them wish to explore it while showing a willingness to make efforts, confront their own flaws and issues, step out of their usual comfort zone, and rely on each other to make it work.

And Joey and Hugh's in character interactions are able to convey that. It's absolutely fascinating to watch.

For Cassie Clare, who we luckily get to see more of in Season 3 as Philippa Eilhart, she highlighted that it was a "masterclass" to watch Batey and Skinner play off each other.

“There were scenes that I got to kind of observe. … Philippa's there but she's observing [Radovid] with the Jaskier," Clare said. "You almost don't have to act those moments where Philippa's like, 'I think something could happen here,' because you could feel this chemistry and them playing off each other, and being so present."

"You had to be so present, throwing lines in and the script is so in your body that they could play around that. It was beautiful. It was like a masterclass, being an owl on the shoulder watching over here.”

Also

"He's just really fun to act with," Skinner said. "He ad libs and stuff, and you just have to sort of listen and try and tell the truth."

Now, how much of radskier is finally just them flying around what was given and just landing back on the script when they had to move the plot forward ? I am finally gonna assume from now on that every line is an improv 😅

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

A Great Treasure

(Jaskier just constantly getting kidnapped by dragons and dressed real pretty? Yeah. I’m into it.)

tw: gratuitous, almost My Immortal levels of outfit description because I am A Ho For The Look, dragons being horny, Geralt being soft as fuck but also kinda horny

---

The next dragon that took Jaskier wasn’t nearly as sneaky. Nor was it green. The great, sapphire-blue reptile swooped down above the road in broad daylight and plucked the surprised bard up with its great talons, disappearing over the tops of the trees before Geralt could so much as think to pull his sword. The Witcher heard Jaskier’s startled cry echo out over the forest and urged Roach into a canter. He departed from the beaten path and took off in the same general direction the creature had been headed. “It hasn’t even been three full fucking weeks yet. Fuck.”

Hello, Jaskier! I’m a friend of Etheid’s, the dragon introduced herself. The draconic method of telepathic communication still bothered the bard a little but the blue dragon’s voice seemed more sing-song than Etheid’s had been. Certainly more feminine. Call me Lythos, or Lyth for short. 

“Nice to meet you, Lythos,” Jaskier muttered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. “Let’s talk more when we’re on solid ground, yeah?”

Afraid of heights, bardling?

“Just a smidgen of a little bit.”

Worry not, we’re nearly to my tower.

“Another tower?”

Whatever happened to talking on solid ground?

“I’ve been kidnapped by two dragons in one month. I’m curious.”

I doubt this will be the last time you’re kidnapped by a dragon, either. Not until one of my brethren gives up during their turn or loses the bet.

“Their turn? What bet?! What are you talking about?”

I will explain the situation to you more fully when we land. There is much to be discussed. Many things to plan. Many rules to be determined and recorded for the others. 

Jaskier sighed, glad he’d left his lute tied to Roach’s saddlebags today, and let himself be carried off to yet another strange adventure. “So you guys are just going to keep swooping in and stealing me away like this because it’s fun?”

Yes. And because Borch said that you and Geralt are kind-hearted and friendly mortals. We dragons don’t meet many such humans in our travels; we’d like to reward you somehow.

“So you’re rewarding me by kidnapping me?”

That’s why we included the second part of the deal, with the elaborately designed outfits. It’s not just because we enjoy collecting treasures from all over the Continent and squirreling them away to play with later; it’s also our form of payment to you. If you’re dressed from head to toe in silk and gold when Geralt rescues you then there’s no time to stop and take those items off before you ‘escape’. You can keep them or sell them; anything you are given by one of us should be considered payment for services rendered.

“And the service that Geralt and I are providing is...entertainment?”

Correct. It would be unfair to use up so much of a Witcher’s time without paying him.

“You’d be surprised how many people do that, actually,” Jaskier griped. “Village after village, turning him away without payment just because he’s a mutant and a freak. It’s horrible!”

Now you understand why my kin are so desperate for something good in the world. The love between you and Geralt is pure and strong, that is the other reason we chose the two of you.

Jaskier blushed. “We’re just a couple of flimsy mortals that happened to bump into each other and get along. Most of the time. It’s a very human thing to do. There are other couples in need of some emotional urging, if you’re looking to orchestrate a romance.”

No, we wish only to further yours. Now, would you care to look through the clothes I’ve gathered? We have at least another day before your Witcher finds us. 

“Less than a day if he chooses not to pause for meditation, the fool.”

He will not risk losing you, Lythos sighed happily. I checked in on him earlier; he is meditating and gathering his strength. He has admitted his love for you now and is determined to prove himself. How dreamy.

“That is absolutely precious! Ugh, I love him so much.” 

Then let us make you lovely, so that when he arrives he is doubly excited to see you.

“I can’t argue with that logic. Not from such an ancient and wise creature.”

Flattery gets you everywhere, bard, Lythos teased. She huffed out a thin cloud of steam and Jaskier chuckled in return. 

“I know.”

---

“Are you kidding me?”

Absolutely not, the dragon shook its snout. Try them on. Unless you don’t like it, of course; I have other options, too.

“No, it’s all very lovely. It’s just...I get to keep them?”

Of course. I don’t want to make you change your clothes in the middle of Geralt’s daring rescue. That would totally ruin the romance!

“I suppose that would be rather odd. Even Geralt might catch on to something like that.” Jaskier held clothes the dragon had preferred in his hands, glancing once more at the suggested shirt. “What exactly is this supposed to be?”

It’s a tunic, of course. What else could it possibly be?

The bard gesticulated towards the dragon, holding the apparent tunic out for inspection as if he was shocked or surprised by Lyth’s choice. “It’s completely sheer!”

Yes, and it will make you look so very delicate, Lythos urged. Just try it on with the pants. Just once. You can change if you don’t like it, like I said. There’s a whole closet of costumery at your disposal, Jaskier.

The bard sighed and pulled the pants on first. They were made of a deep, peacock blue silk and hugged him in all the right places. He turned back and forth, observing their fit in the full-length mirror Lythos had provided. His legs were defined but the material wasn’t overly tight; it hadn’t bunched up near his thighs or ass like silk of this kind usually did. “Were these tailored to fit me?”

Yes, they were. 

“How? I’ve only been here for a few hours and you pulled these directly from the armoire!”

Etheid passed along your measurements to the rest of us so that we could better prepare.

“Right, of course. Dragons. Bets. All that fun stuff,” the bard sighed. He tugged the gossamer shirt down over his head and tucked it neatly into the waistband of his high-waisted trousers. Jaskier glanced towards the mirror again and discovered that he looked...he looked amazing. 

The shirt had been designed with a low, swooping neckline that revealed both his collarbones and a good portion of his chest. The thin, almost translucent white material left whatever the shirt did cover still almost entirely visible. When he blushed it could be rather obviously traced all the way down to his mid-chest. The giddy bard mussed his hair a little and did his best pouting ‘rescue me’ face; oh yes, that’s the way to do it. 

Jaskier looked downright sinful. 

“You are absolutely brilliant, Lythos! Geralt is going to lose his mind when he sees me in this ensemble.”

So you’ll wear it?

“This particular outfit is my new favorite. I’ll have to wait until the next dragon shows up before we can turn a profit from this whole bard-napping melodrama venture.”

There is always the jewelry. I can give you a few extra pieces to sell since you love the clothes so much; I have too much of the stuff sitting around and collecting dust anyway.

“Would you like it if I let you choose all my jewelry? I’m afraid I tend to go a bit overboard.”

Yes, yes! The dragon huffed happily, filling the space briefly with a cloud of steam. I have temporary earrings and bracelets and necklaces. I even have anklets if you so desire. 

“Goody!” the bard rejoiced. “I love anklets! I never have good enough reason to wear them, though. This will be lovely. Do you mind if I roll the pants up to my knees? Geralt does so love the sight of my bare skin. I think it would drive him absolutely mad if we showed a little ankle for the Witcher.”

Please do whatever you see fit, my friend, Lythos insisted. You must sparkle for your White Wolf. You must look the part of the treasure he seeks to find!

“Ah, so I’m a treasure this time instead of a damsel?”

Hmm, yes. I think that makes it more interesting. What kind of treasure would you like to be?

“Geralt’s,” the bard breathed dreamily. The large, winged reptile rolled her eyes and huffed again.

Duh, that’s the point. I meant like...pirate treasure? A king’s treasure? I’ve never done roleplay before. Mostly just burning down the houses of rude nobles and kidnapping some princesses upon request. I’m not incredibly familiar with human treasure.

“Oh! I could be your hoard!”

You’re brilliant! Of course! This will be so fun. What if you laid in my tail when Geralt arrived? Like I was guarding you?

“Well then how would he get me away without hurting you?”

I could make him give a speech? Woo you away from me with your words?

“Oh, that’s very clever. Very dramatic. I love it!”

We do make a good team, I think.

“Do you have any makeup? This look would be excellent with some eyeliner.”

You are definitely as entertaining and fun as Etheid promised. I’m sure that Aramaris will enjoy you just as much.

“Wait, who’s Aramaris?”

They chose the next lot after me. Then, after Aramaris has their turn, Vertos would like a chance to partake. 

“Hold on a minute. There’s a waiting list of dragons who want to kidnap me?”

And see Geralt come running to your aid, yes. It is rather sweet to watch and we are all very bored. We’re going to see who can make you the prettiest and get Geralt the most worked up. 

“So this is just a game to you?”

As I said before, it is both a game and a legitimate matchmaking endeavor. Additionally, we’re compensating you for your time and trouble.

“I suppose,” Jaskier agreed. “Plus this outfit is absolutely to die for.”

Yes, and now to the makeup!

---

Geralt was very confused and very tired. He had tracked the dragon through the woods to yet another ancient, dilapidated tower. Jaskier was hidden at the top, no doubt, probably terrified out of his mind. This was the second dragon to capture his idiot bard in a fucking month, though the first time had been extremely unorthodox. Just plain odd, really, considering Geralt’s previous experiences. 

Oh well, nothing he could do now except climb the tower and rescue Jaskier.

---

Jaskier was waiting for his Witcher to arrive while reclining within the coil of Lythos’s enormous blue tail His pants were only a half-shade brighter than her scales and the contrast was remarkably artistic (perhaps by design). The bard was barefoot and his pants were rolled up to just below the knee. Lyth had insisted on decking him out in lots of jewelry since Jaskier was to be her supposed hoard. It will be more realistic and believable if you’re dripping with silver and sapphires, bard. He found himself unable to argue with her logic once again.

Jaskier had a handful of thin silver bands around one ankle, a silver cuff around his left wrist, and another bejeweled cuff at the top of his left bicep, beneath the shirt. Lythos had added a thin silver chain around his neck, which fell to just above his chest hair and ended with a teardrop shaped sapphire pendant. Some kind of crushed gemstone powder had been dusted atop his collarbones and into his hair, making him seem to sparkle in the midday sun. He’d added a light, smudged layer of kohl around his eyes to widen and darken them like he had once at court. The dragon had also demanded that he slide several rings of various styles and sizes onto his long, tapered fingers. It will draw his attention to your hands, she explained. You will thank me tonight, I’m sure.

That suggestion had Jaskier blushing brightly and Lythos had nearly snorted fire from laughing so hard at the young man’s reaction. 

Here he comes! She announced, bringing Jaskier’s back to the present. His blue eyes fixated on the thick wooden door that led from the chamber where Lythos lay curled and ‘guarding’ him to the bedchamber where he’d stayed the last two nights. Very shortly after her announcement there was a determined grunt, a heavy thud, and the door crashed open to reveal Geralt. 

The Witcher was breathing heavily and his nostrils were flared but he wasn’t wearing his armor. He hadn’t been wearing it last time, either, and Jaskier wondered if he was already onto their little charade. “You know I won’t win if we battle,” Geralt admitted, staring across the room at the lounging dragon.

His eyes flickered to Jaskier for a moment, widened when they took in the bard’s appearance, and then returned to staring down the monster. 

I don’t intend to fight you, Witcher, Lythos said, projecting her bored words into both of their minds. Jaskier knew that she was faking the cold disinterest but his heart still picked up speed when one of her large claws hooked beneath his chin and raised him into a slightly taller sitting position. Though I suspect that you’ve come to take back my newest treasure and I am loathe to let it go so soon.

The Witcher nodded, unable to form words. He was nervous for the life of his bard but he was also slightly distracted by the way Jaskier was being forced to arch his neck and tilt his head that way. The bard looked so fucking breakable and soft, surrounded by scales and held partially aloft by such a strong and pointed appendage. His eyes were wide and completely focused on the Witcher, his own peril seemingly irrelevant even as he gasped against the scraping claw. Geralt shook his head to clear it and narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s my treasure, Lythos hummed dismissively. I will do with the human lad as I please. Go away, Witcher, and leave us to play.

“He’s not a toy,” Geralt growled. He reached for his sword and cursed when his hand swiped through empty air. He knew bringing a weapon up so many flights of stairs was pointless but he still should have kept it on him for safety. Jaskier made a gentle, nervous noise and the Wicher flinched. “Please don’t hurt him!”

You would barter for the human? For his safe return?

“Take me instead,” Geralt offered. He held his hands up in surrender and took a slow step forward. Lythos lowered Jaskier back down to his lazily reclined position and raised her scaly brow. The bard was shocked; he hadn’t been expecting the Witcher to do something so drastic right away. He’d anticipated some kind of argument first.

You would sacrifice yourself for him? Trade yourself to me in order to save him?

“Of course,” the Witcher scoffed. Lythos could hear his slow heartbeat starting to accelerate. “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

Hmm. Little treasure, what do you think?

“I can’t let him do that for me. He’s a Witcher, I am merely a traveling bard. The world has more need for him than it does for me.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt half-whimpered. A pleading tone bled into his words as he took another step forward, this time towards the bard, “You foolish man. I know you. You’d grow bored here. You’d grow antsy to travel. You’d try to escape and you’d get yourself hurt or killed or...”

I protect what is mine, the dragon interrupted. He will be safe here. I will keep him happy and entertained.

“Please,” the Witcher sighed. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head forward, white hair falling in a curtain around his ridiculously attractive face. “Jaskier was the first good thing Destiny ever did for me. I can’t lose him.”

I have seen into your heart and know these feelings to be true, Lythos intoned. She spoke as if she was making a very difficult decision and not sticking to a vague pre-determined script. You may take the bard and go, but you must hurry. I may change my mind.

Jaskier clambered out from between the coils of her massive tail and allowed Geralt to sweep him up into those strong, stable arms. He clung to the Witcher’s neck and buried his face to hide his smile. Lythos said her final goodbye to the bard alone; I hope my kin treat you fairly. If they do not, let me know, and I shall take care of it. Thank you for the lovely time.

“Thank YOU,” Jaskier mouthed. 

And then they began to descend the winding tower staircase.

---

“I hope I never see another dragon again in my life except for maybe Borch,” Geralt panted, urging Roach into a slightly faster canter.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, smiling a little to himself. “Running into another dragon so soon after two nearly identical kidnappings would be very strange.”

[bethdutten]

Could you possibly write something for Bucky/Frank/Geralt (whichever you feel fits) where the reader feels like they talk too much so they'll stop talking in the middle of a sentence, sometimes just won't talk for a day, and constantly asks if she's annoying?

I’ve been in a very Bucky mood lately so hope you like it!!

It wasn’t hard to be considered the most talkative in a group like this— Steve was always reserved, Natasha was a silent and observant presence, and Bucky, well. He wasn’t quite comfortable saying much yet.

But it wasn’t until Tony made a comment during dinner with everyone that you even noticed.

“At least we have someone to talk for the rest of you guys,” he’d smirked from across the table, pointing at you with his fork. “You always been like that?”

You blushed, taking a sip of your wine to hide your face. You cleared your throat, shrugging. “I, uh— didn’t really— I didn’t think I talked that much.”

“You don’t.”

The table all turned towards Bucky, utensils scraping against plates ceasing. He was picking at his food slowly, eyes down, seemingly oblivious to the pause in conversation.

Steve’s gaze shifted to you, giving you a sly smile as everyone else seemed to slowly go back to their meals.

You frowned, glancing over at Bucky, but he didn’t meet your eyes or say another word. The conversations felt a little forced after that.

Now you were more conscious of how much you talked.

When in meetings with the group, you’d catch yourself being the only one talking for awhile, and cut yourself off mid-sentence, giving a quick apology before you asked someone else a question so you wouldn’t be the only one talking.

You still forgot sometimes—you’d gone years without noticing, really—and would be laughing with Steve or ranting about a problem with Natasha before the fear would creep in again, and you’d have to ask, “Shit, I’m being annoying, aren’t I? I’ll shut up.”

You made it a point to just not talk at all some days; smile and nod at anyone who said anything to you, but those days made you realize even more that you did most of the talking.

No one seemed to really notice until one night you were sitting in the main living space, an old episode of Succession playing while you scrolled on your phone. You felt the couch dip beside you, and turned to find Bucky settling in with a blanket on his lap, giving you a shy smile as he threw a corner of it in your direction.

You thanked him quietly, burrowing into the soft fabric as you stared at the tv, not really seeing what was in front of your face.

“I miss your voice.”

You turned, the sudden comment by Bucky taking you by surprise. “What?”

He shrugged, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. “You haven’t been talking much. You used to all the time. It was.. I dunno. Comforting.”

You felt the corner of your mouth lift, asking softly, “Yeah?”

He nodded, glancing at you and giving you a grin. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think anyone was really listening to what I said half the time.”

“I listen,” Bucky said earnestly, and you basked in the warmth and genuine acceptance you were feeling from him. You wondered how he was able to do that so easily, knowing not many people made an effort to make him feel that same way.

“I’d listen to you if wanted to talk,” you gently promised, but quickly added, “But I don’t mind if you don’t want to, either.”

Bucky bit his lip, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Would you want to, uh, maybe go to dinner sometime? We can… listen and talk.”

You laughed, the warm feeling in your chest only expanding. “I would really like that, Bucky.” The tenseness that seemed to always reside in his shoulders relaxed, and he leaned a bit more into the couch, a flash of the self-assured Bucky that sometimes comes through.

“Good. So, what is this show about?”

You explained the dynamic of the Roy family while Bucky cuddled closer, and if eventually you ended up dozing together with your head on his shoulder and his left arm curled around your side in comfortable silence, then you’ll just keep that moment to yourself.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Fighting

Jaskier is not much of a fighter. Or, at least at he doesn't look like much of one.

He mostly relies on his Scary Dog Privilege when Geralt is with him to get out of having to fight. Being Besties with a Witcher Pack has it's perks.

Not many people want to mess with you when there is a big, scary looking Witcher following you around. Even less want to mess with you when you are regularly seen hanging out with five.

The only problem is that he can't seem to keep his mouth shut. He always has something to say when someone insults Geralt, or gods forbid, Yennefer. And he usually ends up having to have Geralt save him.

While he talks and jokes a lot and will sometimes get into minor fights when he's with Geralt or one of the other Kaer Morons, he is much quieter when he's alone, or with his band. He desperatley tries to avoid confrontation when he's alone.

If he can't avoid a fight, then he'll try to throw the first punch and then run like the devil. It's not the most dignified technique, but it works.

Fearing for his safety, Geralt had tried to teach him how to fight, taking him out to Kaer Morhen to train with the other Witchers.

Lambert thought it was a joke at first. Surely no one could be that mediocre, could they? The Witchers kept waiting for him to show some kind of improvement and start beating their a**es, or at least land a punch, but it never happened.

Jaskier just kept ending up getting layed out over and over. It seemed that the only thing he was good at, and got even better at was dodging their strikes.

It was almost comical, the way he squeaked and squawked as he barely managed to dodge, looking as if he was managing by pure dumb luck. But the longer it went on, the more Geralt noticed the oddness.

Jaskier didn't seem to be putting much effort into landing a hit. It was almost as if it wasn't that he couldn't, it was that he didn't want to... The few punches or jabs he did throw seemed to be purposfully bad, more of a distraction than an attemtp to strike. There were a few times where Geralt noticed some of his dodges seemed way too fluid and deliberate to be accidental.

Geralt had a talk with his brothers. There was definitely something there, some kind of skill, but their current technique wasn't bringing it out. Jaskier knew they weren't trying to hurt him. They came up with a plan. It ended up being a very bad idea. For the Witchers.

At the next training session all four of the Witchers had come at him at once.

Jaskier had mangaged to dodge a few strikes at first, going with his comical dodging act, had thrown a few punches and kicks, and then he'd tried to run, becoming more frantic as he tried to find an escape route. He'd floundered up after getting hit a few time and started begging them to stop, an odd desperate note in his voice. When they didn't let up, his tone took on a strange, hard edge. He'd felt a hand grab him by the arm...and the knives had come out, and everything had gone to h*ll.

Yennefer had been p*ssed when she found out after they contacted her to come calm him down. She'd spent the afternoon healing the more serious knife wounds and b*tching at them.

How dare you push Songbird to that point!

Ar*eholes, every single one of you!

I'm seriously considering taking away your Bard Priviliges for a week!

Come on, Lark, you are coming home with me!

You're sleeping on the couch when you get home, Geralt!"

Geralt finally understood why Jaskier resorted to trying to talk or joke his way out of a situation if he was alone, and in a heavily populated public space.

Geralt finally realized that Jaskier would fight someone twice his size, or fight any drunk who put his hands on Yennefer, because he knew Geralt would step in before things...went too far.

Jaskier had a feral side that could ruin his reputation, his image, and his career if any bystanders saw it.

After finding out about Feral!Jaskier, Geralt always tried to make sure that either himself or Yennefer were with Jaskier when he was out. It worked for the most part, except for the one time it didn't, and Geralt ended up having to call his brothers to do clean up duty.

[fablewoven]

When one found themselves at so many fancy events, having to cook for yourself wasn't as much of a necessity. Still, if she ever planned on making sure Ciri and Geralt had everything they needed, she'd have to take some tips from him at some point. That being said, she smiled as he came back over with the deer meat and she motioned to the pot for him to put the meat into.

"Careful, or I'm going to figure out something for us to do while we wait for the food to cook, and I'm not sure you have the stamina at the moment," Yennefer winked, moving to wash her hands so she could get some of the onion off of them, using a tad of magic as she went.

Looking at him, Yennefer leaned against the counter as she dried her hands, taking him in. She loved watching him, and there was something very attractive about how calm and content he seemed to be cooking with her. His smile brought her joy, even more so when she was the reason he was doing it, and she nodded slowly.

"You are something else entirely, Geralt," she mused, reaching her hand out to tug at his shirt to bring him a little closer. She hadn't realized how much she had missed his touch until he was closer to her again, and she hummed gently before she looked up at him. "You should wipe your hands off...and then kiss me..."

"I don't claim to be a fantastic cook. I know enough to get by." It is true, though, that perhaps he knows quite a bit more than she does. After all, being on the Path more often than not, bland meat gets tiresome after some time. It is better to find ways to spice meals up when he can. Vesemir had ensured he had the skills.

Contrary to popular belief, he is quite well educated, quite willing to soak up any bit of knowledge that he can. Even with small things such as cooking. After all, who knows when it might come in handy?

They're both free spirits, wild and untamed, unwilling to sit in one spot for long if they can help it. It is one reason they work so well together, even if it means they must part ways for some time. Geralt is never worried about it, they always find their way back to each other, and with Ciri in the picture - Yennefer seems to be spending more and more time training her and being at Geralt's side.

"Of course. I'd want you no matter what." It is the truth, too. He'd want her even if she was who she used to be, without all her magical enhancements. She is perfect to him, no matter what.

While he speaks, he continues to chop the deer into small pieces of meat until he's ready to bring them over to her to put in the stew. "You don't think I want to bathe more often?" An amused smile plays upon his lips, they both know he would much rather bathe than be dirty but alas, that is the life of a Witcher. "Mm. I did but I enjoy hearing it anyway."

[nocapesdahling]

Logs on the Fire

Geralt of Rivia x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You spend the winter at Kaer Morhen with Geralt.

Rating: M (17+)

Warnings/Tags: Established relationship; Soft! Geralt of Rivia; Implied sexual content; Fluff; Domesticity

A/N: I haven’t seen The Witcher season 2 yet, and can’t wait to watch it. This was inspired by experiencing Kaer Morhen in the games and enjoying exploring during that sequence in Wild Hunt. I also really loved the idea of wintering at Kaer Morhen with Geralt.

Word Count: 1.6k

When Geralt had mentioned joining him at Kaer Morhen for the winter, you had experienced a moment of hesitation before saying yes. This would be your first time joining him there and though you had met Vesemir, Coen, Lambert, and Eskel before and liked them all, this would be your first time spending the entire winter in a secluded area with them. You had also hesitated out of surprise, which you hadn’t even attempted to conceal from Geralt, knowing that he would be able to read it easily. You loved Geralt and you knew that he loved you, but witchers’ strongholds and safe places weren’t something they revealed to just anyone.

As though he could read your mind, and who knew maybe he could?, Geralt chuckled before pressing a kiss into your hair. “You’re not just anyone, and I don’t want to be without you for the winter. Come with me.”

You didn’t put up even a token protest, curious to see Kaer Morhen and smiling to yourself as you imagined spending the winter there with Geralt. “Alright, I’ll pack.”

“Make sure you pack warm enough clothes, love. It’s colder in the mountains.”

You smiled to yourself, even as you made sure to grab your heaviest cloak. “I’ll have you to keep me warm.”

Geralt’s “Hmm” sounded so affectionate that it almost made you laugh. It would be a good winter.

You lay on your stomach, reading on Geralt’s comfortable and warm bed and watching the snow fall thick and fast through the open doors to the balcony. You knew that Geralt would scold you if he saw the doors open, but with the fire the room was warm enough and it was such a beautiful view. How could he blame you?

Geralt had been out training that morning with Vesemir, so you’d had the room to yourself and you couldn’t help but think that you’d never experienced a winter so peaceful or pleasurable. You hadn’t realized that Geralt never felt safe outside Kaer Morhen, not truly. He was always on guard, watchful. When you’d settled in for the winter, you’d watched some of the care and worry disappear from his eyes and face. He’d always be watchful, but here when you were safe in the company of other witchers he let his guard down and he took his time. You’d spent entire days in bed, somehow learning even more things about each other and what you enjoyed, and you’d been right. He did keep you warm.

You watched the snow swirl in the wind outside, feeling yourself begin to doze before you heard footsteps on the stairs. You shook your head in fondness, knowing that the only reason Geralt made noise coming into his room was so he didn’t scare you. You marked your page in your book before jumping off the bed to close the balcony doors. You had gotten one closed and were working on the other when you heard a throat clear behind you.

“How many times have I told you not to open those? You’re going to catch your death.” Geralt’s voice was dry as he watched you stop pulling at the other door. “Then, where would I be?”

You turned and looked at him, taking his expression in. He was joking, but he also wasn’t. He didn’t want to be without you, which worked out because you didn’t want to be without him either. If you had any doubts before this winter, then all of them had faded away. Geralt had let you in in ways he hadn’t before, and you had somehow fallen deeper in love with him.

You sighed, making eye contact with him. “I won’t do it again.”

Geralt stepped closer and clasped your hand, “I know you won’t. Not when I’m not here to keep you warm. Why don’t we have a bath, and we’ll open them again?”

You smiled at him before throwing your arms around his neck, “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He pulled you closer into his body as he buried his nose in your hair, “Let me get the water.”

Geralt had reclined into the tub, which you’d both moved to face the open balcony doors, and you had squeezed in alongside him. Your head rested on his chest as you traced his multitude of scars and watched the snow.

You felt his intake of breath and then heard his deep voice from above you, “You know, I see why you like this now.” Here he paused and moved his hand from the side of the tub to run it up and down your back, “It’s… peaceful.”

You hummed and listened to his heartbeat, luxuriating in the warmth of the water and his body. You liked listening to his heartbeat. It in one small way proved that he wasn’t what everyone said he was. He may be a witcher, but he was also a man. And especially to you, never a “mutant”. You lost yourself in watching the snow swirl through the air outside, feeling your eyes begin to close.

“I’m glad you’re here. With me.” His voice was hesitant as it always was when admitting some kind of emotion.

You smiled against his chest before pushing yourself up as much as you could to look into his yellow eyes, “I’m glad I’m here too, Geralt. I love you.” You knew that he might not say it back, he rarely did, but you knew he loved you in return because he showed you every day. And he called you love any chance he could in private.

He grasped your chin and tilted your head up, kissing you deeply and pouring all the feelings he couldn’t express in words into the kiss. You squirmed on his lap, trying to pull yourself closer in the limited space of the tub and feeling him beginning to react against you.

Geralt pulled away from the kiss and stared at you for a moment before speaking, “Come on, love. As much as I want to make you come here in this tub, the water is going to get cold and the snow is going to get in. And most of all, there’s a bed right there.”

Given Geralt spent most of his time on the Path, when he had access to a bed he liked to use it. You couldn’t help the sigh at him stopping you there, even with the promise of the bed. Then again as you watched him get out of the tub, that wasn’t a bad view either. It never was. He tended to the fire, stoking it and making sure it was large enough to heat the room before walking to close the balcony doors. He stood in front of them, looking out at the snow for a moment, before closing the doors and turning back to you.

“Now, where were we?”

You watched Geralt as you lay next to him by the fire, his arms around you, lazy in your satisfaction. His long white hair had dried in a few knots that hadn’t been helped by your fingers and his face was relaxed. You leaned in and kissed each of his cheekbones then his lips before leaving the warmth of the blankets.

His eyes blinked open, “Where are you going? Come back.”

“I’ll be right back. I’m just getting something.” You went over to the mirror and grabbed your brush before returning to the blankets and the warmth of Geralt. He pulled you in close and wrapped his arms around you, which you enjoyed for a moment before trying to separate yourself. “Geralt. Geralt.”

You knew he was ignoring you. “Geralt, love.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to brush your hair.”

“My hair?” His voice sounded sleepy, but also surprised. You’d never thought of doing this for him before, but now that you had it was all you wanted to do.

“Yes, your hair. I want to take care of you.”

He shifted to holding you in his arms and pushed himself off the floor, ignoring your flailing arms as you attempted to grab his shoulders out of surprise. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but most men wouldn’t have been able to pick you up like that. Then again, even if it sometimes slipped your mind, Geralt wasn’t most men.

He sat you down on the bed and stood for a moment, watching you scoot further onto the bed before patting the edge in front of you. With some hesitation, he settled himself and held himself tense even as he felt you move closer to him. You watched the fire cast shadows onto his face, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry I never offered to do this for you before.” You began to brush his hair slowly, taking your time. You hoped that he’d find this as relaxing as you found it. You loved his hair.

The two of you sat in silence for a long time, broken only by your humming of a song your mother used to sing to you as a child, before Geralt spoke.

“I don’t know if anyone’s done this for me before. Taken care of me the way you have. You know that I love you?”

“I do, Geralt. I do. And we take care of each other.”

“We do, love. We do.” He turned his head, so you could see his smile before turning back to face the fire.

You continued brushing his hair, smiling to yourself. This had been the best winter you’d ever had with the best man you’d ever known, and it wasn’t even over yet.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

A/N: I have a few other winter and Christmas fics that I’m excited to post and finish writing as well. 

I have a SFW Alphabet for Geralt on my Masterlist if you would like more Geralt.

[open--till--midnight]

Tree Climber

Geralt x Gn!Reader

Summary: You accidentally scare Geralt

Word Count: 644

****

Geralt was making his way back to camp, clutching his side with one hand and holding a nekker head in his other. The villagers had undersold just how many had been inhabiting the nest. So what would ordinarily be a quick hunt, soon turned into an ambush. He’d managed to take them all out despite being surrounded, but he did receive a nasty gash on his side.

Instead of heading straight to the alderman for his reward, he went back to camp. The cut was deep enough to need stitches, and he knew if he let it go or if it got infected he would never hear the end of it. Since you started traveling with him, you made sure he took care of himself. If he didn’t, it was the silent treatment for him. This proved to be quite effective.

As he neared your camp he realized he couldn’t see you. He walked a little faster despite the pain, maybe you were leaning against a tree, just out of his sight. When he was sure you were nowhere to be found he started to panic.

He frantically looked around, calling your name. There was no sign of struggle and none of your things were out of place. Where did you go? Did someone take you? Someone must have taken you. He dropped the nekker head and started looking for any clue as to where you had gone.

Once you’d had your fun, you called out his name.

“Geraaaalt!”

“Y/n?”

“Up here!”

When he looked up, he saw you. Smiling and perched on a tree branch.

“What the hell, y/n!” His tone was meant to be gruff, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you. He grinned right back, your smile was contagious.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Please just come down, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Duh.”

He rolled his eyes as you shifted on the branch. His arms were outstretched, ready to try and catch you if you fell. When you were down, he held you close before making you look at him.

“Y/n, what if you fell? What if you’d gotten hurt and I wasn’t here?”

“Sorry, dad, I won’t do it again.”

He scoffed and walked away from you, clutching his side once more.

“You scold me for doing something that might have gotten me hurt, but it’s ok for you to hide your injuries from me?”

“I wasn’t going to hide it, I was gonna tell you.”

“Hmm, right. Come here.”

You sat him on a log and crouched down beside him, kit in hands. You motioned him to remove his shirt and he gave you a teasing look, which you responded to by swatting his thigh. It was an easy enough wound to stitch up and it didn’t take you long before you were wrapping a bandage around his torso.

“Thank you, love.”

“Mhm.” Your tone was joking and a smile played on your lips.

“I looove you.”

You scoffed before settling yourself between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Well, I guess I love you too.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“My pleasure!” You gave him a quick kiss before standing back up. “Alright, I’m gonna go back in the tree now.”

“Like hell you are.” Geralt grabbed at your wrist, but he was too late.

“What are you going to do about it, old man?”

He got up, but you were already up on the first branch, quickly making your way higher up into the tree. Geralt stood below you, hands resting comically on his hips before grabbing onto the first branch.

“Uh uh. You’ll open up your stitches!”

“Well it’s either I go up or you come down, sweetheart.”

“Augh! No! I’m not stitching you back up. Besides, don’t you have a reward to collect?”

“The damn alderman can wait.”

“Geralt!”

[annmarcus63]

Geralt wakes up with a heavy gasp, sitting on his heels trying to discern the surroundings. Nothing seems missing, the camp is as he left it, before he passed out, that is. Roach comes to nuzzled at his side, in worry for his master, who pets her with affection, the witcher pushes her aside with a comforting pat and stands up. Nothing hurts, not really, There's only the faint memory of burning pain, and something he can't quite place, resting inside. His head hurts, he's having flashes of something, a sorceress. She's threatening him, no, not him, Jaskier, but the bard is not here, he's at the next town, waiting for him as accorded last winter.

What do you want from him? If you're here you surely you're aware he's under my protection

Bastard played with my poor heart

It is dawn, the birds have not yet woken up. Geralt finds his way back to the camp and begins to pack his things, leaving the metal pot for last. He heats a cup of water to wash off the gritty feeling in his mouth. He suspects a curse has been placed upon him. Though it seems, not a strong one. It's possible the sorceress wasn't expecting to face a witcher. No, she did mention the White wolf as her objective. And then, Geralt realizes that he can remember her words, but separated from each other. Every word makes sense, but when he tries to put them together, he fails to give them mening.

Roach finishes her breakfast, which consists on the patch of tall grass she slept on the night before, and the rest of the apple net that Geralt bought for her two days ago. "Sorry, girl. Once we get there, I'll make sure someone takes care of you." He knows the mare is tired and hungry, both are.

"Sorry, girl. Once we get there, I'll make sure someone takes care of you." He knows the mare is tired and hungry, both of them are. Four days on the road without proper rest and a decent meal takes its toll sooner or later. He prepares her, making sure her gear and saddlebags are well tied but not too much, she gets grumpier when the pressure on her belly makes her slow. He hopes to find Jaskier unharmed, and if he’s unharmed, oh how he long to shout at him for his stupidity. Jaskier’s cock is a natural trouble bringer, maybe he should cut it off for him, that way he'll never have to save his bard from himself ever again.

He arrives by noon. On the outskirts of town, humble little houses of farmers and minor merchants. Children stop their plays to look at him with earnest curiosity, mothers and fathers look at him with distaste. Despite Jaskier's songs, he's still an unwanted guest, although, it's nice to be look with distaste rather than with hatred.

He can distinguish the tall roofs from the wealthy houses and temples downtown. Surely, Jaskier would be waiting for him in the fanciest inn, but Geralt wouldn't go there, yet. If someone can help him with the aching feeling in his chest, that someone must be living outside of town. He asks around and yes, a young lad with muddy hair points him to an old house near a wrecked pig farm.

He can smell the characteristic scent of herbs, poison and magical ingredients before knocking on the door. An attractive woman with gray hair and brown eyes regards him with indifference. "Do you require ingredients, witcher? I'm short on a few of them" she says, stepping aside to let him in. She closes the door with a tired sigh. The house is rather small and has too many objects hanging from the ceiling. He bumps his head with a couple of them before settle in a safe corner. Geralt wonders sometimes is better to ignore the curiosity. A cat died once for it. Yes, he laughs internally at his own joke.

He takes a pouch full of coin and throws it at a small table next to her. She turns instantly to grab it and count the coins inside.

"I'm listening" she says with a satisfied smile on her dry lips.

"A sorceress pay me a visit last night. She placed something in me"

"A curse?"

"You tell me" The woman approaches him with her arms raised, to place her hands on his chest.

Geralt tenses at the unwelcome touch. She talks under her breath so quickly that Geralt can't understand and then she jumps with a joyous screech, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"This is gold. It's not a curse, witcher, is something far more disturbing"

"What is it?" Says Geralt, angry at her blissful way.

"It's not a curse. You surely must know that magic doesn't work the same on your kind" Geralt just glares.

"It is a simple spell. Neither harmful nor durable. A love spell to be precise"

"A what?" Fuck.

You'll stay away from him

Alright, alright. I'll go and leave him alone. After all, I already found his someone else

"A vengeful love spell particularly directed at someone close to you, of course." The sorceress explains. His mind stops when a nasty hunch settles in his guts.

Jaskier.

Unrequited love.

 Vengeance.

Well, fuck.

"Can you get rid of it?"

"I'm afraid not. It’s a too powerful spell for an old rag like me. But there's is no need to worry. Based on your expression I imagine you know for whom the spell was placed" He'll kill Jaskier. No. He'll punch him so hard that his balls will fall off.

"You'll have to avoid this person until the spell worns out. Two weeks at least" Great, Jaskier is just around the corner. If he's lucky, he could slide through town without meeting him. He'll send him a message with some excuse.

But there is something missing "No, you are mistaken, I don't feel love for that person." He cares for the bard, sometimes a bit too much, but well, the fool worth the trouble. Most of the time. But it wasn't love, is it?

"It's a spell for you, but a curse to the other person." Apparently, his internal fight is visible "You'll love this person, knowing you're under a spell but you won’t be able to tell. The spell will disappear, and with it your love for them."

I already found his someone else

"A broken heart" Geralt whispers with a sinking feeling. Is Jaskier in love with him? No, he isn't. Geralt would have known. He can identify the gooey scent that accompanies love in all people. Like orange peles and guava left under the sun. Jaskier never smell like that around him.

"You'll only need to stay away from this person. Now, if you don't require anything else from me..." Geralt grunts while closing his eyes, in a futile attempt to ease the ripping feeling on his chest. It's unfair, so fucking unfair, not for him but for Jaskier. If he's really in love with the witcher then this will destroy him, Geralt will destroy him. No, Geralt would not allow it. He'll not hurt his friend.

He walks to the door desperate to leave the place, to leave the city. "Are you sure that four months will suffice?" the woman nods with a reassuring smile.

"Close the door behind you, please" And Geralt does.

The unpleasant smell of pigs and shit reaches his nose in a hot wave. Roach is tied to a small post in which he left her, she'll be really huffy when Geralt takes her back to the road. Damn, he promised her food and rest, she's tired, even when Geralt isn't anymore. Maybe he could ask the farmers to sell him a net of hay, but he's out of money. He was counting on the bard's money to rent a stall at the stable inn for Roach. What is he going to do? He sees the muddy lad from before carrying two buckets of water. He would send a message with him to Jaskier asking for money. No. Impossible. The idiot would come down running to meet him.

He would have to take a nearby contract in exchange for Roach being fed. Yes. It seems that's the better option, but first, to send the message to Jaskier. He searches for the famous muddy boy, when the most terrifying sound reaches his ears.

"Geralt? is that you, you gorgeous bastard?"Jaskier's voice

[ladyclwriter]

Exile

Geralt x gn!reader x Jaskier

Summary: Geralt, your ex, didn't expected that Jaksier's new fiance was, well, you.

Angst, spicy mentionings, white wolf toxic behavior, Jaskier call's reader "daisy" ( the flower

Not even slightly close to any canon chronological line

He could recall perfectly those days. The sun always seemed to shine brighter when you were by his side, so those memories were all golden to him. Even the blue-ish white snow looked warmer every time he pictured you struggling to take your boots out of it. His smile was always genuine when he lifted you up to Roach, cursing about you could do it alone. Indeed, with you, his smile was always genuine.

Geralt didn't knew if his bard friend actually gave any fake smiles on his life, but he could see you had the very same effect on him. With one puffy arm around your waist, Jaskier laughed in pure joy, proudly showing off his partner while you didn't really looked any shy by his side.

The white wolf froze instantly as soon as you both entered the room. He died a little bit inside — if there was anything alive on him — once the realization hit, holding him where he was, standing far away near a huge marble cornerstone.

Minutes, maybe an hour after you arrived, he noticed you weren't as happy as he thought you were. Yes, you were still as shiny as back in the travelling times. Your smile was as pure as his friend's, and you two seemed like the perfect pair of two little happy canaries. Except for some forced smiles you cracked. Eyes drifting away from time to time, shifting weight from one feet to another. He knew those signs now. You were uncomfortable, maybe bored. And you probably didn't wanted to be there. Still, you laughed at your boyfriend's jokes, and even brought some up.

Geralt felt, for the first time, the weight of his body battling with gravity. He couldn't move his feets, couldn't take his eyes way either. And whatever those feelings inside him were, he was barely dealing with them.

Some bard started singing in another side of the room, Jaskier screaming something about being offended. It took 5 minutes to a duet start, and only then, the Witcher saw your eyes daze towards his. You were laughing at your boyfriend, but without any specific reason, your gaze got pulled into that direction. The whole world seemed to darken and freeze.

You would spot that silvery hair anywhere. The sensation of golden eyes fixated on you, sending shivers down your spine would always be familiar — maybe that's why you've been feeling so uncomfortable and terribly fighting to look at the direction it came. It was an accident. Something inside you guessed it, you knew he was there, even if you fought to believe and accept it. You didn't wanted to look at that specific point, but laughing and swinging with Jaskier, you lost the control of your curious eyes. And you regretted instantly.

As inconsequential and childish your boyfriend could be, he always knew when something was off. He did felt it before, but now he got it straight. “My daisy? Are you alright?”

You couldn't answer. Not when you suddenly forgot how to breath, starting to gasp for air, tearing up with a wolf staring directly into your soul with a grey frown. So you started walking, as fast as you could without calling attention, towards any sight of exit. Opening double doors, you found yourself in a balcony, desperately taking in the winds of the night.

“For fuck's sake, daisy!” he appeared on his puffy clothes, closing the doors behind him, rushing towards your crying self holding at the stone fence. “Are you alright? Anything happened? Did I did something wrong?”

Worried hands took your face gently, turning you to him, so he could search up the answer of his many questions. “Can you talk to me? Can you even breathe? Come on, my daisy, was it Barbara? I know she's a bitch. Was it that bitch?”

“Jaskier!” you exclaimed, silencing him instantly. But he succeeded at stealing a little smile from your lips. “Just... Just give me a moment”.

He held you still, blue eyes filled with worry, eagerly waiting to get the reassurance that no, he didn't did anything wrong. Anyways, some seconds later he walked away, not taking his gaze off you; hanging head with hands on the stone, trying to recover yourself. It took you long minutes to look up, thanking silently the night serene for embracing you. Then you smiled as you realized your favorite bard was there, looking at you all the time, with a puppyish face.

“Feeling better, daisy?” he asked sweetly. You agreed, back of hands wiping face. He didn't knew if he should break the distance, but give you your space seemed better anyways. “We can go home if you feel... Sick”

You felt like it, yes. But his quiet understanding made you own an answer to his questions. So, avoiding blue eyes, you mumbled. “I saw my ex”.

He paused. Blinking, processing and recalling all those stories you told him at your most vulnerable moments. “That one who left you alone in the woods?” shook your head yes. “Oh no. I'm so sorry, my daisy. I would never guess he was from royalty”

“He isn't. But it's not your fault, so don't be sorry” taking a deep breath, you approached his red-cotton dressed body. Arms around him, head under his chin, you inhaled his perfume.

Jaskier was safety. You never, never had that fear of waking up and not seeing him by your side. You never hesitated before saying something, and mostly, you didn't even had to say anything. You were always shining with him, but he never required you to. And he was the one there with you. “I didn't wanted to ruin your party, dandelion”

“You know I'd trade all these peacocks for only two minutes with you”

“No need. You have me forever” meeting gazes, the smiles were as reciprocal as all your feelings. And just when you delicately approached faces to kiss each other, the doors got open.

Shutting your eyes closed, your grip on Jaskier tightened as you desperately kept taking his scent. You knew who was there.

“Gods!” your boyfriend almost screamed. “Geralt of Rivia himself! And in fancy boots! But, um, as much as I love meeting old friends, I'm busy right now”

But you tilted your head up, frowned at him with a hint of anger and intrigue. “Friend? He is your friend?”

“A very old one, indeed. What's the matter?” his smile was so pure and innocent that you could barely believe your ears. Then, just because it was necessary, you looked towards the intruder. He looked as shocked as you were. “What? Why do you two look like if you discovered the queen's most nasty secret? Is there something on my- oh.”

The three of you were frozen, taking in whatever the destiny arranged. “Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck” he put one of his hands on his forehead, the other one on his waist, taking some steps back.

“What the fuck is happening here?” you asked, even if no one seemed to have the answer.

“This must be witchcraft” you trembled as you heard his low, husky voice. Now, his eyes avoided you.

“No fucking way. You two will tell me what the damn plan you made!”

“I didn't see Geralt in ages!” the bard physicalized the time with a gesture of hands. “I didn't even knew he was still alive. I didn't knew you two knew each other!”

“So do I!” you shot back, a little louder than you wanted. Now you were with a hand on the forehead, turning your back to the two. “For god's sake”

The three of you stood there, no one daring to say anything or move a finger. Indeed, the only one who didn't looked conflicted and full of things to say was the bard. So, he cleaned his throat, crossing arms with the cold breeze.

“Geralt, you... What did you wanted here?” cutting the chat, the blue eyed asked, very low and cautious. He was conflicted, seeing his love and his only one friend there. Even more when he knew your side of the story, and knew the Witcher way much more than he wanted to.

Gold and blue sky met, in a silent short conversation. “I wanted to talk to your partner”.

“We have nothing to talk” you stated instantly.

“Look, I know what I did, but I can explain-”

“No need to. Now get back inside there”, you said it like an order, without even hesitate.

Geralt looked at his friend, looking for any help. Jaskier loved you enough to know he had to interfere. You would never be able to move on from your past relationship without this talk. So, he walked until he was in front of you, and touched your arms, lightly rubbing his thumb. “My daisy. We both know this is for the best. Please, give him a chance”

“Why? Why should I? The facts are facts, and I'm with you now. There is nothing to discuss” you insisted, but Jaskier didn't looked like he would give up.

One hand on your face, he looked into your eyes before kissing you. Gently, slowly caressing your lips with his, making your body warm even with the cold of the night. “Yes, you are with me. Just talk to him, and we're going home. Alright?”

Home. How you fucking wanted to be home. Knowing he was stubborn, and always did anything he said he would, you turned around to face your past. Crossing arms and leaning your body against your boyfriend's, you raise an eyebrow. Geralt took a minute to watch his old friend wrapping arms around his old lover's body, breaking his very own heart a little more.

“A monster was following us. Something you could've never faced, I could've never killed with you by my side” started after cleaning his throat, now staring at you, and only you. “Indeed, I had to battle with things that would use you as a weakness. We would not stay together further”

“So you leave me in the middle of the night, in that creepy fucking forest, full of wolves and moving trees?” there was no way you could pretend you weren't angry.

“I said, a monster was following us. I got away before he attacked, and my plan was to come back after defeating him” turns out I didn't, he wanted to say. “But the battle took me away from the camp, and there were more of them. I finished after dawn, and realized I went too far”.

You pressed yourself more against Jaskier, who held you stronger, noticing your anguish growing. He gave kisses on your cheek, neck, and put his nose in your scented hair.

“You would be gone before I came back. So I took it as a... Fate sign. And moved on”

“Just like that? Like if I was nothing?” oh, how it enraged you. Fighting tears, your voice got as high as it could without becoming a shouting. “Like if we were nothing?!”

“Don't you say things like that. You know damn well what you meant to me” he took one step closer, pointing a finger towards you. You too stepped out, but Jaskier kept you close.

“Guess it wasn't that much, since you just fucking left!” you screamed the last words, involuntary tears in your eyes. “I almost died, Geralt. Those fucking wolves and branches almost took my fucking life!”

“Do you really think I do not feel fucking miserable everyday? Don't you think I feel guilty for loosing you? No, you could never know how I asked for death every night I spent without knowing if you were safe” spitting words, you could see golden eyes shine with tears.

“You could never know how I wanted to kill you for believing that you left me to die”, you whispered.

You fainted, covered by bites and deep cuts and blood. Woke up at an stranger's house, a family of merchants who took care of you. Of course, you had to pay back by working for them for a while. And it was at one of these jobs that you met Jaskier. He was singing “burn, butcher burn”, and even after beating up some men that owed the family you worked for, you couldn't stop laughing at him.

Now you weren't. The pieces clicked together in your head, and you stared at your boyfriend. So the song was about Geralt.

“As much as I want to clear things between us, I don't think none of us wants to fight now” none of us are ready to get rid of our bad bloods, for they are the only thing keeping us apart. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness. I know you are with Jaskier, and I don't plan to be friends or anything. Just, please, forgive me, so I can try to move on like you did”

“You won't stick too long to be friends, anyways” you shot, glancing back at him. “Oh, and I know how much of a shitty friend you are. You and your sharp tongue and cold heart”

“You never complained of my sharp tongue those times” it came out in a growl. He only realized what he said when both you and Jaskier looked deeply offended, his eyes falling to the ground. “I'm sorry”

You crossed arms, feeling one of your boyfriend's hands caressing it. Breathing deeply, you started pondering. Indeed, he had a sharp tongue in all possible meanings. You would never dare to try to be friends, for sometimes, in the middle of the night, you missed him. He felt the same.

With him, you felt at the top of the world. Living dangerously with adventures and heavenly tent fucks, he was your very own crown and a home that never settled down. Now, you were both your own exiles. At least, you had the sweetest man alive by your side. And Jaskier did had a sharp tongue too.

“I know it doesn't bring any good to me to hold a grudge against you, so you can have my forgiveness” you said lowly, a big and bright smile growing on your boyfriend's face, who kissed your cheek, happily.

“It's the right thing, darling. I'm happy for you” indeed, every single time you talked about your ex, he wouldn't stop buzzing about the forgiveness part.

Taking Jaskier's hand, standing by his side, your face was like stone, certain of every word. “Now go, Geralt. I don't want to see you ever again” even if something inside you did wanted to.

“I'll go. I'm leaving by the side door as soon as the musicians start. But” oh no. “Can we talk alone? Thirty seconds”.

“No” you answered instantly. Then you felt Jaskier's hand slipping away from yours, for whatever reason popped on his head.

Despair made your body shiver inside, blood heating no longer just with hate, scared of anything that would come from those “30 seconds” that Jaskier strictly mumbled in a possessive way, before closing the doors.

You froze, but Geralt walked towards you with the most intense glaze ever. He always looked like a predator whenever you turned him on back at those times, and it would always drive you crazy. But now, years after that burning passion, you did felt like he was a wolf. Golden eyes piercing, burning every trace of you. But he didn't stopped too close.

“Daisy. He calls you daisy” whispered on his very own growl way. “I called you love”

“So what?” your voice barely came out, a whisper as you cursed yourself silently for wanting to feel his hands in your body, fighting the urge to touch him. One step closer, he lowered himself, your faces inches away.

You closed your eyes, not because you expected one of your hot, messy kisses. But for you couldn't look at him that close. Jaskier is outside. He trusts me.

“I'm his daisy, and he's my dandelion”

Geralt took a deep breath, warming your ear as he bent down even more. Not daring to move one finger — he knew he didn't had to —, he breathed again, showing your urge for him was reciprocal. At that little second, all your time together came back to your mind. The screams, whether for anger or pleasure. The crying and laughing. The back-to-back battles, the stargazing. Every single moment came back at you, turning your whole self to crumbs. He knew it, for he felt like that too.

“And you are my love” for fuck's sake, you didn't knew his voice could get that low. You shivered, trembled visibly, frowning to control your emotions.

You almost fell to your knees. It was hard to come back to the crowd, having to kiss Jaskier wildly to not cry on his arms, to not regret everything you did all your life, to keep focusing on your healthy and happy relationship. He knew what he was doing, and you both knew it was truth, when he said, before walking away:

“And I will, forever, be your love too”.

I feel like this could've been so much better worked and written. Please tell me your thoughts, my insecurities are eating this whole thing 😁

Anyways, thank you so much for reading. Reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕 love ya

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @sunndust

[writingmysanity]

Rumor has it

Prompt: "There are rumors about us" "I know, I spread them"

Pairing: Eskel x reader

Word count: 805

TW: loosely? Local man can't keep his hands to himself- more on the story once Eskel finds him. Back to you. Hmmmm Protective Eskel.

A/N: as per usual- Unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own. I do not own any characters minus Kit- though, I'd love to get my hands on Eskel. >.>

Candlelight flickers off the walls, illuminating your seat just enough for you to read by as you are slumped comfortably to curl into your book. The words on the page seem to leap off, capturing your attention. You didn't notice Eskel come in until his hand is on your shoulder, eyebrows raised a bit curiously. Blinking up at him slowly, you force your eyes to refocus on him, a sleepy smile stretching your face.

“Hey,” you hum, voice quiet in the silence that had surrounded you for what felt like moments, but looking back down at your nearly finished novel you had only just picked up, you realized it had probably been closer to hours. He just nods slightly, smiling softly. 

He always found it amusing when you “woke up” from reading.

“Good?” he asks gently, motioning to the book now resting in your lap, folded around your hand so as to not lose your spot as you turn your attention to him. Nodding, you grin. 

“Very,” he hums, satisfied. He had bought you the book in the last town you visited. It isn't often you're able to afford luxuries, but he tried to find little things to make the travel easier.

You were going to start in about the book, explain it all, like you normally would but something had settled over him- he is tense, eyebrows tugged together, eyes wide and far away. Closing the book altogether, you lean forward, resting your hand over his. 

“Hey,” you call softly, the sound drawing his eyes to you. He looks lost and confused, worries pooling in his bright eyes. “I need you to think louder, I can't hear what's going on in there, darling.”

“I…” he pauses, humming, unsure how to say it or where to begin. Giving him a knowing look, you tap the back of his hand again, bringing him back to you as you watch him lose himself in thought. 

“Just say it as direct as possible. Channel your inner Geralt,” he huffs a laugh, leaning forward slightly, tapping on the back of your hand out of habit and nerves, shifting in his seat, taking a deep breath before muttering it out so low that you aren't able to hear.

“What? Speak up, wolf, I'm hard of hearing.” puffing his cheeks up, he scrunches his nose at you, sighing, the air escaping his cheek slowly.

“No you aren't.” you grin a bit.

“Compared to you, I am. Now come along, speak up. Loud and clear- what's bugging you, dear?” 

“There are rumors about us,” he blurts out, his words quick- rushed. “Around town,” he adds quietly, eyes flitting across your face, waiting for some sort of reaction. Anger. Disgust. Even surprise. 

He wasn't expecting guilt.

Covering your mouth, you force an awkward cough to hide your face, the tips of your ears tainting pink- giving you away.

“Ah, so uh… that got back to you already,” he leans forward again, this time eyes intent upon you, eyebrows raised.

“Kit, what did you do?” puffing in indignation, you fight off the pout forming on your lips. 

“Why must I have done something?”

“Kit,” his voice is strong, not harsh but firm.

“Fine,” you whine, flopping back into your seat, arms crossed, chin resting on your chest so you don't have to look him in the eye. “I may or may not have spread them,” you hum quietly, knowing full well that he can hear you. You expected many things- his own anger, confusion, maybe even disappointment. But he laughs. His hands folded over his face as his shoulders shake. 

Gaping at him, you huff a bit, flicking the hand that comes to rest on your knee in retaliation.

“Why are you laughing?” 

“I thought someone else spread them, I thought…” he pauses, taking a deep, settling breath, eyes dancing with mirth. “Why?” 

Fidgeting in your seat again, you sit up slightly, humming softly to yourself, gaze turning to the fire, fingers padding against your book.

“So um, the other night, at the tavern,” you begin, glancing at him slightly, he nods you along, eyes heavy on you- listening closely. “There was a guy- he couldn't… wouldn't keep his hands to himself. I threatened him, but he just seemed amused by it,” you mumble, toying with your fingers in your lap, eyes flicking up to meet his. He is watching you, eyes alight with a venom you haven't seen before. 

“I uh, just told him that you were my husband.” you continued, swallowing. “And that if he didn't stop that you would tear his arms off.”

“Name?” his voice is stiff, you frown. 

“You’re not going to rip his arms off, Eskel.” he just shakes his head slightly, eyeing his swords in the corner.

“Of course not. I just want to talk to him.”

--

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