#jaskier x male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatspookyagent · 1 year

Text

Being Jaskier's S/O (Bard!Male!Reader) would include...

Warnings: None!

a/n: These headcanons are sadly shorter than most that I write up (probably because I’m not writing and describing a whole relationship from very first meet up to finish lmao) but I hope that y’all enjoy this nonetheless. I am open to writing up more headcanons that are Witcher based in the future. And since Jaskier is lacking in some departments (Male!Reader & Black!Reader wise), I’ve decided to start with him first. Anyways y’all know the drill, if ya liked what ya read, REBLOG IT!

If you want to be tagged in any of my content, don’t be afraid to tell me via my ask box or through messages! Just remember to be clear about what specific kinds of content, characters, and fandoms you want me to tag you in or if you want to be put on my general tag list! I’m always looking to add more people and I’d be more than happy to add you (if you wish)! :3

Being a bard and Jaskier’s boyfriend means ultimately being both his muse and best friend

Would confide in you about his newest songs ideas and you’d always be the first to hear them whenever he performs a sample of it for you

You both first met in a bar, were you held an open challenge to see if anyone could out sing you or earn more applause than you while performing

Since you out played him significantly, he's been entranced by your skills ever since and decided to strike up a relationship with you, friends first but gradually lovers next

Takes your opinions personally and with utmost seriousness since you’re not only his partner but also a bard yourself

Gladly will always be there in order to lend you an ear or piece of advice as you would the same for him

Loves to discuss how different lutes sound and which ones look aesthetically the best with you because you can actually understand his excitement towards sexy lutes

Also you're the only one willing to make a ranking of best and worst materials to make lutes from with him

Speaking of lutes, he names the lute that he was carrying when he first met you after you

Will not let anyone but you use it or even touch it because it’s just that sentimental to him

If you name the lute that you were carrying when you first met Jaskier after him, he’ll probably have a good cry about that one later

And Jaskier will absolutely lose his mind (affectionately) if you carve his initials into your favorite lute

Enjoys talking and swapping stories with you while polishing each other's instruments around a campfire

A campfire is actually where you first confessed your affection for Jaskier, it was within a love song about two male bards just trying making their mark on the world through song alongside a white haired Witcher and his steed

From then on singing and laughing around campfires has been one of your top ways of bonding with the other male

Other ways you’ve expressed your love to Jaskier is by making and singing duets with him

Y’all are actually quite well known for singing together specifically ballads but also really romantic songs that touch just about everyone’s heart deepy

If Jaskier becomes your muse and you open up to him about this, he’ll also confess that you’re his muse as well

The two of you truly haven’t written and sung as many songs as y’all have now until you met one another

You’d also never been invited to perform at a ball before but since you and Jaskier became so popular, both of your voices have now had the honors of gracing many halls of kings and queens alike

It reflects with the amount of coin increasing in your pockets and fancy hand tailored matching outfits that both you and him adorn

If you’re not one for crowds particularly royal crowds, both you and your coin tossing boyfriend frequent many bars while traveling with Geralt, and are known on a more humble and local level than noble and global

The poor and hopeless citizens of many kingdoms, look to both you and Jaskier to entertain them, and distract them from their everyday worries

Either way, you’re both the ultimate bard power couple in any lands that y’all happen to be in

Now when it comes to specifically being a companion of Geralt’s, he enjoys having two bards at his side more than he likes to let on

While yes both and you Jaskier can be rather dramatic (and also noisy) as well as pretty much target practice when it comes to how useful the two of you are in battle, Geralt needs company beyond that of a horse from time to time whether he openly admits this or not

Not to mention you and the babbling brown haired nuisance named Jaskier, help to spread the word of Geralt and his deeds in a good light

Your penchants for being able to talk people’s ears off and distract them, can at times help the Witcher out whenever he’s in a pinch or when brute force isn’t really an option

Also Geralt can use both of you to look after Roach in various ways especially whenever he’s not around or doesn’t have the time to

You and Jaskier like to run your songs in progress by Roach who always proves to be a tough customer in that regard similar to her Witcher owner

After long days of walking, wailing, and song writing, a much needed rest is in order with your brown haired accomplice

Ways in which you and Jaskier wind down include taking baths together or preparing a bath for the other

Since there’s never really a silent moment between the two of you, reflecting on how both of your days went to each other is a recurring topic of conversation

At times that can drift off into convos about music or musical instruments but moments like this are for you and the other male to check in with and dote on one another

Which means that there’s quite a bit of pampering and more gentle laughter being shared as well as forgetting about all the other people that there are in the world

As far as you and Jaskier are concerned, you’re the main characters, it’s your shared story, and everybody else are just background characters

94 notes · View notes

issdisgrace · 9 months

Text

I updated my request info. I added Carmy from The Bear and Wesker, Carlos, and Leon from Resident Evil. So feel free to request stuff with them.

38 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 2 years

Note

hi:D for kinktober, can i request number 28 (cumming in your underwear in public) for jaskier x male reader? witcher netflix series, ofc. preferably dom reader, sub jaskier, but the other way around is okay too:D

Oh hell yeah. I am thinking mage reader using mage hand in public but it is like inside Jaskier's breeches 😏😏😏

#great request anon 10/10 #jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x male reader #male reader #the witcher

23 notes · View notes

inactive-hellish-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

fandoms/characters

i have a lot of interests and ill mostly write for characters/people i hyperfixate on so this list will be a little all over the place and kinda specific at times. i hope you can still find what you're looking for, though.

marvel:

stephen strange

tony stark

peter parker (tom holland, andrew garfield)

natasha romanoff

thor

steve rogers

how to train your dragon:

hiccup

supernatural:

sam winchester

dean winchester

the old guard:

andromache the scythian (andy)

fantastic beasts:

newt scamander

redacted asmr :

lasko

geordi

sam

quick note for redacted, im willing to write both for the character x listener (freelancer in lasko's case), or a reader-insert

lab rats:

chase davenport

the witcher (netflix series):

jaskier

geralt

naruto :

kakashi hatake

miraculous ladybug:

luka couffaine

#stephen strange x male reader #hiccup haddock x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #sam winchester x male reader #newt scamander x male reader #andromache the scythian x reader #lasko x reader #chase davenport x male reader #jaskier x male reader #lasko x freelancer #geordi x cutie #sam x darlin #kakashi hatake x male reader #luka couffaine x male reader #luka couffaine x gender neutral reader #lasko moore x freelancer

41 notes · View notes

alwaysahiccupandastrid · 10 months

Text

Okay but I’m gonna need a sudden influx of Jaskier x Reader fics I’m being serious

Don’t make me write them myself, I promise you all you won’t like the result-

#jaskier #jaskier x reader #he’s bi so it’s a win for both fem and male readers #the witcher

165 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 2 years

Text

*scrolling through an x reader tag*

"Hey that looks familiar"

*reads op's name*

"Oh it's mine"

#i keep doing this #i just have an awful memory #markiplier #markiplier egos #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #fanfic #fanfiction #markiplier egos x reader #x reader #the witcher x reader #jaskier x reader #x fem reader #fem reader #x male reader #male reader #x transmasc reader #transmasc reader

601 notes · View notes

fantasyqueen502 · 9 months

Text

"I am a husband now, a father, and damn good one."

A/N: Jaskier x male Y/N who is a Cyclops. Story idea that most likely has grammatical errors. Let me know. Feel free to comment, like, and enjoy.

Summary: Jaskier's time after the fight and separation with Geralt.

Rated: PG-13

Fighting, blood, swearing, injury and mentions of sex.

A hooded man carries barrels of ale on his shoulders like nothing. "Bout time. It’s a full 'ouse, and we’re running low!'' a very short and greasy man rants.

"Forgive me." comes from the pitch-black hole in place of his face shielded within the hood. Stocking the barrels onto the rack with each thundering step.

"Forgiveness," the small man scoffs.

"This is a bar, not Sunday school," he corrects. Scurrying out of the way as the large man walks to his horse with a cart of more barrels of his finest ale, whiskey, and wine "Brew too good for royalty". If only. This was the only bar that paid him; it was below any other winery, but he didn’t have the choice of getting what he deserved.

"Do you know how many others beg for me to do business?" he inquires. That was a lie. "I just might take up on their offers if you disappoint me again," he threatens.

"Won’t happen again." The man grits his teeth, trying his hardest not to growl, imagining wringing his hand around the small man’s throat and giving him some peace. Hoisting two barrels onto each shoulder, whimpers sound, catching the small man’s ear.

"You brought that runt again," he groans. "All it does is wail and squeal, causing my patrons to leave because they can’t even hear themselves think. "Thing sounds like it’s dying. Half the--" the man chokes as the large man punches his arm clean through the barrel of ale. A stream pours from it as he fills a mug.

"This shipment is on me," he whispers, extending the mug into the small man’s trembling hands. "Ale’s on the house!" he bellows, the crowd cheering and rushing over to fill their pints. "I’ll stock the basement in peace if you don’t mind," he continues darkly.

"D-Don’t take too long," he tries to threaten.

"Wouldn’t dream of it,"

With the party going on above, the soft whimpers turn into loud cries. As the large man rolls his neck and shoulder.

"Shhhhhhhhhh," The hooded man says, taking off his cloak and looking over his shoulder at the red-faced babe. Balling her small fists into his back as she wailed. Loosening the sash and cradling her in his arms. "What’s the matter, Tola?" he calmly wondered.

Tracing the horrific scars that stretched across the left side of her face, he smiled as her cry stalled, taking his finger in her fist. The scars were even on her entire left arm. "I wish I could take the pain away." He holds her close. Resting his forehead against hers. She had thick lashes and a doe-brown eye looking up at him. A song starts, and she calms. He is in bewilderment as she seems to smile crookedly, tilting her head towards the strumming of a lute.

Walking up the steps, he looks at the stage and finds a man who is a personified peacock. Strutting about while belting out notes with so much passion, he hears a muffled coo from Tola under his cloak. He chuckles, feeling her snuggle her chubby face between his shoulder blades. Taking a seat in the back. She needed a good nap, and he needed a moment of peace. Folding his arms one over the other and resting his head on them.

With a yawn, he readies his horse, which whinnies and pulls away from him. "What’s wrong, girl?" he asks, stroking her snout. Following her line of sight, hearing pained grunts. Following them to a dark alley. Two men stand beside a man throwing up on all fours in the mud.

"Serves ya’ right!" one shouts, spitting on the man.

"Fucking! Cocksucker!" the other screams, winding up his foot and kicking the man in the stomach. Crawling onto his knees.

"I'm all for presentation and the art of building up suspense, but for my sake." He sways forward, stumbling back and looking up at the men. Groaning as his head pounded, he was sure his brains were knocked loose. "Get the fuck on with it!" He hissed. Tilting his head back to laugh. His teeth were stained pink from the blood that flooded his mouth. "Just… I'm begging you." His breath hitches, and his lips tremble into a frown. "Put me out of my misery." He sobs. "Just kill me." He begs, holding up his hands in prayer. The men snickered, exchanging looks with sick glee. Socking the bard in the face and laying him out flat on his back "Since you asked so nicely." Unsheathing a Buck knife, the cloaked man grabs the man by the back of the neck. The man yelps, striking his knife into the dark figure's shoulder to the hilt. He seethes, throwing the man into the brick wall, his head painting it red. The movement caused his hood to fall. The cloaked man grunts, yanking the knife from his shoulder and turning to face the second man, who trembles. He roars at the burn of his wound, causing the man to run away as fast as he could in fear. Calming his breath, he hears the bard's groan.

"I should have known." The man rants, struggling to his feet and holding his arms out to his sides for balance. "You don't have the balls to—" he trails off, trailing his eyes up from the worn boots. Meeting the giant that loomed over him in the moonlight. Jaskier gawks as he meets the giant man's eyes—well, one big eye in the middle of his face. "A cyclops." He gulps, his eyes widening in horror. The man grunts, waiting for the man to either run away screaming like humans normally do or lunge at him to attack. But the bard was just full of surprises. His eyes rolled back along with his body, which fell to the ground once more.

The bard groans as his hand goes to hold his head. Slowly sitting up from the couch he laid on. A warm fire; it was night, and he gasped at a steaming bowl and cup of water. Scooping the warmed potatoes and meat into his mouth.

"Didn't think you'd wake up."

He freezes, staring into the corner of the room, trying to make out the figure in the shadows. He gulps, tumbling as the stranger steps into the light, poking the fire.

"A-are you going to kill me? Use my meat for stew and my bones for bread."

"You're thinking of Giants." He corrects. "I'm a Cyclops."

"Oh." The bard sounds

"Humans are too gamy anyway." He chuckles at the bard's horrified eyes. The bard laughed awkwardly, not knowing if the one-eyed man was joking or not.

Following the squealing cries up the stairs, pushing open a cracked door to a nursery. Peering over to see a screeching infant. The bard couldn't help but coo, his brows furrowing with concern. Half of her face was scarred.

"You want your daddy?" He asks. "He should be back soon." He hushes. "How 'bout a lullaby? Works on all the ladies." He swings his lute from his back to his front. Strumming a tune.

"If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He sings and claps his hands. "If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He does so, making a face and causing the infant's cries to soften just a bit. "If you're happy and ya know it and you really wanna show it, If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He finishes looking at the babe to see her quietly whimpering. Poking her bottom lip, her big brown eye with her thick lashes soaked with tears. The moment is interrupted by thundering footsteps.

"What are you doing?" He demands in a growl.

"I heard her crying and you weren't around," he tries to explain being shoved as the father inspects the babe, who resumes crying.

Trying to console her as she screams louder than before. Looking at the fallen lute, he picks it up, shoving it into the bard's unsuspecting arms.

"Play!"

The bard couldn't hear the father over the piercing wails, but he could easily read the desperation in his eyes. He cleared his throat, strumming his strands to find everything in tune.

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He sings with an ear-to-ear grin, and the small babe's screams soften. Her big doe eye watched him with curiosity. Ending the silly children's song, her heavy eyelid closed as she fell asleep with a crooked smile.

---Years later---

Downing the remnants of his drink and passing the glass off to a barkeep. The last of the drunken parents now vacated the pub that was with life moments ago.

"Bard." causes him to whip his head, and a scoff leaves his lips. "Witch."

"What are you doing here?" he sneers. "And what fresh hell did you just crawl out of?" he gestures to her disheveled appearance. Damp hair and dirt smudged her face and apparel.

"Sewer," she answers plainly, taking the first step. "What’s your excuse?" she jabs back, quickly closing the space between the two.

"A sewer," he cackles. Never in a million eons did he find himself in better standing than the witch that terrified him. He took his chance. "I always knew you were a blood sucking, joyless—" he bites his tongue as her tiny frame pulls him in for a hug.

"--hugger?" he states in confusion. "Hugging. We are hugging," he announces, trying to convince himself that what was happening was indeed happening.

"Oh, gods," he sighs, holding him at arm's length. "I missed the days when my biggest problem was an ever-present sing-songy twit," she smiles.

"Uh, drink? I’m gonna drink," he stammered, squirming out of her grip. "I’m not having this conversation unless I’m drinking." He makes his way around and behind the bar. Placing two pints onto the counter, looking to the witch who takes a seat.

"You’re the Sandpiper."

"What? No. Yes. No," he yelps, frantically trying to play it off. "How do you know that name?"

"You pick up a thing or two when you’re in hiding."

"You’re in hiding?" He snorts, his brows quickly shooting to the skies. "Because you’re part elf… Yennefer, I completely forgot. I’m so sorry," he says genuinely. "I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy, and, yes, you are…" he searched for the right words. "Firmly lodged in that category, it has to be said, but… What they’ve done to you and your people is… Unspeakable."

"But some people are speaking."

"There are anonymous benefactors working behind the scenes, helping me, helping us, helping us make this right. I was at the great oak, Bleobheris, when it was raided. The Seat of Friendship, as the druids called it. Where every free thinker was welcome, no matter their race, their creed…they come for the elves, Yennefer. They’ll come for the dwarves. And sooner or later, they will come for everyone." He stares off, swallowing thickly. "Anyone that they deem the "other," so… Eventually… No artist is safe."

"Why help? What’s in it for you?"

Opening his mouth to answer the creak of the front door. The bard's face lights up at the sight of who stepped through. Yennerfer turns to see a small child. In a powder pink shoulder cloak. Hood up as she took each concentrated step.

"My heart." He smiles, kneeling before the child, who lifts her hands high to be picked up. He does so resting her on his hip. "Where's daddy?" He asks, pushing her wild bangs from her eye. She coos, snuggling into his neck and playing with the lace of his blouse. She points to a far window as Jaskier nods. "Want. Coin. Want. Coin," She babbles.

"Whose this?" Yennerfer couldn't help, but smile.

"My heart, Tola." The bard smiles. "My daughter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tola." She extends her hand as the small girl takes it. "I'm Yennerfer." She smiles.

"She's usually quite shy," he comments, somewhat impressed.

"Children are great judges of character."

"Coin!" She continues.

"Again?" He asks with an overdramatic expression, holding her high above his head. She nods adorably.

"Toss a Coin to your Witcher." He smiles as she giggles. "O’ valley a plenty."

Seated in a jail cell after a failed transport and an interrogation with a man wielding fire. Escape with Yennerfer only to be caught and interrogated again by guards.

He now stood before the Witcher himself, who tore out his soul and left him on a mountain, asking for his help.

"Jaskier---" the brute grumbles.

"No, Geralt!" He cuts off, surprised to see the white-haired man meekly biting his tongue. "I am a husband now, a father, and a damn good one!"

Walking out of the jailhouse, taking cover through alleyways. Geralt stops, and the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"What's the matter?" Jaskier asks.

"Quiet!" He hisses, throwing the bard behind himself and readying his sword as a familiar figure steps from the shadows. The figure roars, charging.

"Ger---" Jaskier reaches, but the Witcher bellows and charges. "NO! STOP! STOP!" he shouts, his heartbeat in his ears, as Geralt swung his sword, and the figure dodges and knocks the sword away with sparks from his metal bracers on his forearms. Lifting his arm, Jaskier holds it back.

"Fuck off, Jaskier!" he growls, shoving him onto his ass. The dark figure looks at the fallen bard with concern. Taking the opening, the Witcher drives his sword into the beast's shoulder. With an exclamation of pain, Jaskier scrambles to his feet. Geralt yanks back his sword, lifting his sword high for the finishing blow. Swinging it, he stops. The Witcher's sword nicked the bard’s neck, standing between him and the beast. He swallows, and fear holds him stiff.

"If you want to kill my husband, you'd have to go through me."

His yellow eyes narrowed. Gritting his teeth Jaskier slowly raises his hand, moving the sword away.

The Witcher growls, sheathing his blade.

"Y/N, Geralt, Geralt, the love of my life." He smiles as the pet name dampens the flame of seeing the bard’s teeth stained pink and the scabbed-over cuts on his lips and brow.

The men both grunted their greeting.

"I do have a type, don’t I?" He mumbles to himself.

At home, Jaskier demands that Geralt watch their daughter. The cyclops growls at the thought of his precious gift in the hands of a Butcher. "I trust him." He assures him with a hand on his chest. "He's a right softy with children."

Running a bath, the bard returns with an armful of rags and a bottle of alcohol. Assisting his husband with his cloak and shirt, his eyes watered at the grunt of pain from lifting his arm. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles, holding the alcohol-soaked rag to the wound. The hisses and guttural groans from his chest "This is my fault," he croaks.

"My dandelion." He coos, holding his cheek, forcing him to look into his eye. Reading the bard like a book. "Who do I have to make suffer?" He growls. His bruised temple and stained smears of dry blood around his nostrils.

"I'm fine." He assuredly swatted away his husband's hands, going to test the temperature of the bath. Hissing as he shakes his injured hand that touched the warm water. Stepping out of his trousers into the bath, Y/N takes his hand and ignores his recoil, finding it covered in red blisters and giving each finger a tender kiss.

"Little Tola won't have nightly lute lullabies." He sighs.

"Your voice is music enough." He assures.

"Must you always shower me with compliments?" He breathes. Y/N chuckles, locking his strong arms around his waist and forcing him into the bath, joining him fully clothed in the water. Jaskier exclaims, but laughs, sighing with content eyes flickering from his husband's eye to his lips.

"What of me, my dandelion?" He whispers huskily. The bard rests his total weight on him.

"Hmmm." He hums in thought, running his nose along the scruff of his jaw. Looking with big eyes. "Make me forget." He pleads.

Sitting up and holding him close.

Geralt stoically sits in the living room. Slowly closing his eyes to block out the sound of squeals from the bard and rhythmic banging. Spending his fair share of nights at brothels and whorehouses that seemed not to be so loud. Water begins to drip from the floorboards.

Feeling a tug at his pants and looking down to see the small, one-eyed girl. Black hair in a messy bob. Staring up at the ceiling as the bard's pleas for God rode the air.

"Suppa'. Suppa'." She babbles.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares back.

She points to her open mouth, causing the Witcher to exhale through his nose. Walking into the kitchen with the girl holding onto his leg. Giggling, he makes her a simple loaf of bread with butter. Handing it to her with hesitation. She gingerly takes small bites, hopping happily in place.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #jaskier x reader #julian alfred pankratz #Jaskier x male Y/N #dandilion #imagine #geralt of rivia

42 notes · View notes

deadlynavigation · 2 years

Note

After reading your rules I’d like to request a Geralt x male reader (cuz the last one you wrote was AMAZING)

Could it be about male reader taking care of a hurt Geralt and cooking for him in his little cottage

The reader could be a magician with healing abilities maybe

Reunited

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Male!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of gore

Author's note: Because who doesn't love banter with Jaskier? Still looking for requests, people, keep them coming.

I don't own The Witcher. Pls don't come after me.

Do not plagiarize or translate any of my works or their included assets.

“Geralt, where are we going- Geralt! Geralt. Geralt, where are we going?”

Geralt sighs. He resists the urge to ram Roach into Jaskier, send the bard flying off the road into the lake next to the road. It’s so, so tempting. Just a nudge and he would have absolute silence.

Alas, it would take too much time. And Geralt is too desperate to see his lover to sacrifice a couple seconds. So for now, Jaskier isn’t chin deep in muddy water and Geralt is dead set on the tiny cottage ahead.

The house is painted in the sun’s dying hues, twilight fast approaching. Blues and purples fall across the flimsy roof that Geralt has repaired so many times, highlighting every little detail. Be it the garden bursting with herbs and flowers leading to the home or the engravings on the door, Geralt can notice it all, made even more beautiful with the colors shining down onto it.

Jaskier rambles on, suddenly pausing as he glances at the witcher. He whips his head back after the short look, an odd emotion sparking on Geralt’s face. It’s one Jaskier knows well, but had never seen on his companion’s face before- love.

Where are they going that would erase Geralt’s emotionless (and somewhat pissed off) stare?

The question bounces around in Jaskier’s mind, unable to be quelled until it finds a satisfactory answer. It doesn’t stop as Geralt jumps off Roach, or when he ties the horse to a worn-down hitching post with a whispered promise of returning, or when he hesitates for a fraction of a second before banging his fist on the door.

“Geralt, what-”

“Hush, bard.” Geralt grumbles, trying to pick up any sound of footsteps from inside the house.

“But-” Jaskier persists, only to be interrupted by Geralt’s hand on his mouth. It covers his entire face, but Geralt isn’t complaining.

“Mm-mmmm-mm,” Can a witcher’s eyes roll out of their skull? Geralt entertains the thought as he rolls his eyes for what seems like the millionth time.

Just as Jaskier thinks to lick the hand over his mouth, the door opens.

You lean on the doorknob, dressed in loose trousers and an untucked shirt that is surely stained with ingredients from the dinner you had been preparing. The strings of the v-neck hang down, revealing mere inches of your chest. They’re enough to drive Geralt crazy.

“Hello, my love,” the witcher murmurs, your face lighting up when you realize who it is. He steps forward, an almost-unnoticeable limp to it that you’ll berate him for later. For now, though, you’re happy to be herded into your lover’s arms, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. Geralt’s eyes flutter shut, a miniscule grin spreading across his face. You lift yourself up onto your tiptoes to steal another kiss, teeth clashing against each other. You can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. It’s been too long without seeing one another for your kisses to be orderly.

You’re both soaking in the familiarity of it all, basking in the light of reunited love as small pecks are given and received. It’s all so welcome to you, so safe to Geralt. A place to put down the swords and embrace in front of the fireplace.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here, Geralt?” An exclamation sounds from behind you. You quickly spin out of the witcher’s embrace, curious as to who he brought along.

There stands a shocked-looking man, his vibrant clothes blending in perfectly with your garden. A lute is strapped to his back, and he has the hands of a musician. He can’t be more than 20.

“Um, yes. Hello, fair stranger. Love the hair, highlights your eyes. But Geralt, what?” The boy’s volume steadily increases throughout his rant, panic seeping into his eyes.

“Jaskier.” Geralt responds, an edge to his tone.

“Thank you, Jaskier. I don’t believe we’ve met- Geralt?”

He sighs, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. He’s really regretting not using the lake to his advantage now.

“Y/n, this is Jask. He’s a bard, he travels with me. Gods know why. Jask, Y/n. My lover of five years.”

The bard is silent for a minute, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stares at you unabashedly. You can hear the frogs croaking in the background, announcing the approach of twilight. Tree branches rustle in the slight breeze, the occasional leaf swooping by. All is silent.

“Five years,” Jaskier whimpers. He sounds almost betrayed, but no mind is paid to it as Geralt stares at something beyond you with amused eyes. His hands still cradle your waist, a comfortable amount of pressure being exerted.

“Is he ok?” You whisper in Geralt’s ear, trying to see over his shoulder. Your foot starts tapping on the ground, arousing dust with your nervous habit.

Geralt immediately drops the half smirk. If you’re concerned, it’s time to stop.

“Jask, you’ll catch flies. Don’t worry, y/n, he’ll be fine.” The witcher throws a glare behind him that seems to scream don’t mess this up.

“Um, yes. Yes.” Jaskier forces out and stumbles to the door. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this shocked- Geralt has had a lover this entire time. It’s not even that the bard is disappointed (Geralt isn’t really his type), but he always thought the man averse to love. When really, he’s been in what appears to be a very loving relationship for five fucking years.

What in the absolute fuck is going on?

----**----

It’s almost midnight, the fire crackling as it dies down. You’re wrapped in a hug with Geralt, Jaskier upstairs in a nest of blankets. The second you fed the boy and gave him the quilts he was dead to the world- Geralt must have been overworking him.

It’s a calm environment without the enthusiastic bard. Sitting in Geralt’s lap, his arms around you, you have never felt more at peace. Warmth spreads through you, the atmosphere changing to one of relaxation and love.

“I missed you,” Geralt mumbles into your cropped hair, nuzzling into the familiar scent of lavender.

“I missed you as well, love.” You murmur in return. You feel his lips press against your forehead, slowly migrating down until he reaches your neck. It tickles, causing a smile to appear on your face.

“Geralt, stop that.” You squirm away from him only to be dragged back into his arms. The witcher chuckles as he keeps at it, completely disregarding your previous comment.

“Stop it-” You’re cut off by your own laughing, Geralt’s grin growing with your volume.

When your lover has finally decided to knock it off, you fall back against his sturdy chest, breathless from the exertion. You would have laid there blissfully until morning, breathing in the smell of sweat, blood and Geralt-

But you hear a faint groan.

You shoot up, climbing out of Geralt’s lap while maintaining eye contact.

“Where is it?” You demand, knowing he won’t give any information to you unless you pry.

Geralt is too tired for this. He just wants you in his arms, to hug you tight and block you from the monsters out there.

However, he’s known you for seven years. You won’t stop until he gives in.

“My hip,” he grumbles. His hand lands on the exact area as you rush around the cottage gathering the needed supplies to pull his shirt up. Blood is leaking out of the wound steadily, a red patch on his clothing providing further proof that he strained it a bit much.

Somehow, seeing the cut makes it so much worse. All the hidden pain he’s been bottling up since he knocked on your door tumbles out. He grits his teeth against the rush of stabbing sensations, praying you’ll be able to take some of the pain away.

When you kneel in front of him, you’re already mumbling under your breath, elder words scattered throughout the chant. Your hands are surrounded by a golden glow, held just above Geralt’s wound. Slowly, slowly, blood starts to backtrack, the red drips across his leg and side retreating back inside Geralt’s body. Once the liquid is pushed back in (sparing no amount of odd squelching sounds you could live without), the actual cut starts to close up. It’s sewn together with threads of gold, fading into the witcher’s skin after providing a pulsing glow.

Geralt will never get tired of watching the process unfold. Your hands, drifting apart and back together as you handle his wounds with a grace that he could never even hope to reach. It’s beautiful- you’re beautiful.

Once you finish, the golden clouds retreat back into the air, becoming mere wisps that float about the cottage. You stand shakily, gathering the bandages beside you and taping them on to Geralt’s now healed skin. Just as a precaution. Once that’s done, you flutter around the house, putting the materials back as you try to steady your shaky legs. Magic always drains you a fair bit.

Geralt is well aware of this, so as you return to the couch and sit next to him, he drags himself up and reaches for you. A rare moment of vulnerability from the witcher- how can you pass this up?

So you welcome his warmth, radiating from his body as he pulls you into his chest. Illuminated by the dying lights of the fire, the fatigue seeping into both of you, you revel in the peace, Geralt’s love the last thing you feel before you drift into sleep.

(Navigation)

379 notes · View notes

thewritersaddictions · 2 years

Text

Requests Master List

This will be in no certain order of what fanfiction they are coming from. They are more going to be in the order that I have received the requests or asks.

A/n- @firefly-graphics for divders.

Rules of requesting

Ask/Requests

The Witcher: (TB) Jaskier- Big Girl (August 6th, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TE) Joyce Byers- Dismayed (August 9th, 2022)

The Witcher: (TH) Ciri- The Lost Sister ( August 17th, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TE) Joyce & Bob- Dating Them (August, 21st, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Strings (September 1st, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Live,Life,Love (October 8th, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson-All For You (October 22nd, 2022)

The Walking Dead: (TL) Rick Grimes- That Girl (October 28th, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Toxic Love (December 5th, 2022)

The Witcher: (TH) Geralt of Rivia- Lessons (December 21st, 2022)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Christmas Morning (January 6th, 2023)

The Witcher: Radovid x Adda- Little Thief (February 25th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TM) Yennefer- In love (March 2nd, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Battleground (March 13th, 2023)

Resident Evil 8: (HM) Salvatore Moreau- Clingy (March 15th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TH) Geralt of Rivia- Brutal Life (March 17th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TH) Geralt of Rivia- Pained (March 20th, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Birthday Boy (March 29th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TH) Vernon x Ciri- Just Love Me (May 30th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TH) Vernon x Ciri- The Loves (July 1st, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Blessing (July 25th, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Mean Dreams (July 28th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TH) Geralt Of Rivia- Spell Bound (August 28th, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Playmates (August 30th, 2023)

The Witcher: (TB) Jaskier- Runaway Princess (September 24th, 2023)

The Walking Dead: (TW) Negan Smith- Blend In (September 27th, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- The Long First Day (November 4th, 2023)

Stranger Things: (TA) Eddie Munson- Best Sort Of Surprise (January 12th, 2024)

Marvel: (TR) (TASM) Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy- Wife Treatment (February 10th, 2024)

Resident Evil 8: (HH) Professor!Heisenberg x Student!Female Reader- Needy Little Girl (03/03/24)

@igotbasicdrag

#request #fem reader #female reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #strangers things #joyce byers x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x reader #joyce byers #joyce x reader #gender neutral reader #male x reader #gender neutral s/o #platonic

13 notes · View notes

bigfan-fanfic · 1 year

Text

A Captive Bard (Male!Reader x Geralt x Jaskier)

Requested by @capturingthecountryside Can we get more ? Perhaps a scene in season 2 where Jaskier is shirtless in the pond in his tight breaches and riding boots.. perhaps Geralt ties him up for some kink play ;-) or vice versa please leave the tight pants and riding boots on this time :-)

"Honestly, Geralt, you ought to take better care of your rescuees. I nearly got impaled on those swords of yours."

Geralt growls. "You're the only person I know who complains about being rescued."

"Who asked for your help? I would have gotten out of there on my own. Probably."

Geralt lets out another huff. "Then I won't bother rescuing you the next time your mouth lands you in trouble."

"Now, I didn't say that. Goodness, you're sensitive."

"Jaskier." Geralt snaps. "Do you EVER stop talking?"

The bard doesn't miss a beat. "No."

He whips off his red longcoat, to the witcher's surprise. Jaskier strides into the lake, pulling off his shirt as he goes, and for a moment, Geralt is stunned, just looking at the bard's surprising physique. And an idea starts to form.

He's no idiot. It's been clear that Jaskier talks a big game and flirts with everything that moves, but hasn't been taken care of for far too long. He needs a bit of punishment.

Geralt grabs a coil of thin black rope that you gifted him with after he insisted you teach him how to bind captives in your special ways. Now, when you tied him, he had been willing, and Jaskier might not take too well to this, but oh well.

The bard had been chattering incessantly, deliberately pivoting so that the witcher would have a good view of his flexing muscles.

He dunks his shirt into the water, the splash concealing the sound of Geralt slipping into the lake behind him.

Jaskier glances onto the shore, registering for just an instant that Geralt has disappeared, before rope falls across his vision and Geralt yanks it tense, pulling Jaskier's arms against his torso with no small amount of force.

"Geralt, what the hell are you doing?" Jaskier protests, as Geralt plants a knee on his back as he pulls Jaskier's arms behind him, using more rope to draw his elbows as close together as possible before adding another knot.

Jaskier grunts with discomfort as Geralt binds his wrists, his arms bound harshly behind his back, preventing much shifting.

"If you're not grateful for my rescue, then you can just be my prisoner instead."

Jaskier makes a noise, not of distress, but of interest, when Geralt yanks his arms up, forcing him to bend forward, the tips of his hair dipping into the water. He wiggles his rear against Geralt's crotch as the witcher forces him to walk like this out of the lake, and he swears he feels a hardening sign of interest before Geralt spanks him.

Jaskier yelps. "Geralt, Geralt, wait."

"What?" Geralt growls simply.

"Are you really mad, or is this for... am I going to be played with?"

Geralt growls again. Jaskier shudders.

"You're mine now, Jaskier, and I'm taking you away to my prince."

Jaskier shudders, then futilely attempts to struggle. "You'll never get away with this, you brute! I have a witcher who will rescue me!"

Geralt rolls his eyes and shoves Jaskier's wet shirt in his mouth and takes a leather strap from Roach's saddlebags to secure it with. Jaskier moans in protest as Geralt takes another coil of rope to wind around his torso and arms, pulling his arms almost painfully against his torso, ensuring he wouldn't be able to move anything independently.

When Geralt gently rubs his hands, checking for circulation, it occurs to the bard that the witcher definitely knows what he's doing, and it sends bloodflow straight to his crotch. Which Geralt pays absolutely no mind to as he lifts Jaskier over Roach's back, lashing him down like cargo.

"MMMMMPH!" Jaskier does yell this time when Geralt folds his legs, crossing his ankles before tying them together, and attaching them to his wrists and back. He's nothing more than a helpless parcel, and with this position, his rear, clad in his tight leather pants, pushed into the air, any movement makes him feel precariously placed. He feels like nothing more than another set of saddlebags.

Geralt simply packs up Jaskier's things and coat, and grabs a bolt of silk cloth to wrap around the bard's eyes, concealing his face and blocking his vision.

Giving into temptation, Geralt twists in the saddle to rest his hand on the swell of Jaskier's rear, making the bard whine eagerly, trying to get any semblance of stimulation. Geralt simply spanks him again before urging Roach on.

He definitely wonders how Jaskier will respond to any passing travelers, seeing a handsome, well-muscled shirtless prisoner struggling in a tightly packaged bundle - and then he grins at the idea of Jaskier covered in rope marks that the witcher put there.

And then the idea of being bound WITH Jaskier occurs to him, and he eagerly spurs Roach on faster.

#jaskier x male reader #geralt x male reader #male reader x geraskier #the witcher x male reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher headcanons

338 notes · View notes

cuddly-dean-baby · 6 months

Note

I saw your need for requests, and I come bearing a request! Could you write a Geralt/Male!Reader in which Geralt comes home super dirty and very tired but his boyfriend takes care of him ( I.e. bathes him, bushes his teeth/hair etc. pretty much whatever you feel like writing 😂); And then brings him to bed and tucks him in? Just anything super sweet and fluffy because he deserves all of that and more! Plus I’m a sucker for reverse comfort fics. Hopefully more requests come your way and you can get back into your writing groove! 💖💗

Pairing: Geralt x M!Reader Words: 337 A/N: So I decided to merge these two together since they’re kinda similar and I went off the top of my head, I don't know what I did

With his boots shuffling against the floorboards, he toes them off, noting in mind to clean the mud and blood off of them later on as he can’t be bothered right now.

As he lifts his head up, he sees steam come out of the bathtub, knowing that his husband ran it for him.

Geralt knows not to deny your love languages for him, so he strips out of his armour and clothes as he walks over to the bathtub. He eases his body into it, groaning in satisfaction as the heated water relaxes his muscles. He feels his eyes become droopy, so he closes them and rests.

He wakes up moments later to feel you brush his hair. Moaning a bit, he tilts his head to the side, feeling the plush of your thigh against his cheek as he closes his eyes again.

You smile, tying his white hair into a ponytail. “Food’s waiting for you.”

Geralt groans tiredly, meaning that he doesn’t want to move. “I’ve gotta clean my boots, clothes, and armour.”

“Already done, out on the line.”

He lifts his head off your thigh to look over at his said clothes and armour near the fire on a line, his boots clean of mud and blood. He opens his mouth to say something, but Jaskier runs in, going on about something.

“Jaskier!” Geralt growls out, making the bard shut up.

“Oh, sorry, coming back later.” Jaskier is out of your sight within seconds.

Geralt plops his face back against your leg, not liking how he got disturbed. He groans in disagreement as he feels you move out from the back of him. “Bed, now. I’ll bring you some food.”

As he’s about to say something again, you interrupt him. “Roach is fed and brushed.”

He finally gets out of the bathtub, feeling you dry his body with a warm towel. “Mm.” He leans his body against you, pushing his face against your neck.

“The scary Witcher going soft for his husband.”

“Shut up.”

Henry Cavill + Characters Tags @enchantedbytomandhenry

The Witcher Tags @justreadingficsdontmindme @chrisevansangel

#the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher fic #the witcher fluff #the witcher x reader #the witcher x male reader #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x male reader #geralt fic #geralt fluff #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader

176 notes · View notes

mjolnir-76 · 4 months

Text

Geralt Of Rivia X Male!Elf!Reader

genre: fluff, comfort

words: 822

summary: Geralt comforts you after you catch sight of a new scar, leading to you braiding his hair as promised and falling asleep in each others arms

after some decision, you, geralt and jaskier arrive at kaer morhen for the winter. you and geralt share a room and share a lovely night together. you both hop out of the bath after relaxing by the fire, drying yourselves off. you walk infront of the mirror, shorts hanging low on your hips and you pull a shirt over your head when you pause, seeing the protruding scar on your abdomen. you remove your shirt from just over your head, dropping it softly to the ground. geralt glances over at the noise, tugging on his own shirt. your fingers gently feel the bumpy skin, eyes contorting in disgust. you love to trace geralts scars, hear every story but on yourself, you felt it made you look gross, undesirable. like it ruined your smooth skin.

"what are you doing?" his deep voice enters your ears. it brings you out of your thoughts and you quickly grab your shirt from the floor, "doesn't matter" you say, unravelling your shirt when geralt takes it off of you, throwing it on the bed behind you. he grabs your bare waist, pulling you closer, his thumb stroking over the scar. "i know what you're thinking, i've spent many a night thinking the same" he murmurs, spinning you around softly to face the mirror again. he kisses your shoulder before he takes off his shirt again. you sigh as you know what he's doing, he points to one of his scars in the same place as yours, "look, we're matching" he says. "yours are just.. different i don't know" you say, finding it difficult to put your thoughts into words. "but they're not. the longer we spend together getting into fights, they'll build up. and then you'll have stories after stories for each one every time i trace them. they won't look out of place, they'll be your trophy" he says, wrapping his arms around your bare waist, pulling your back and kissing at you neck and shoulder.

"you know nothing can ruin you in my eyes, it only gives you more depth. makes you more beautiful, if that's possible" he says with a smile. he gently sways you and you lean your head back against his chest to which he rests his chin on your slightly damp hair. "i love you so much" is all you mumble, revelling in the warmth of your human heater. he kisses your head, "i love you more" he replies and you twist in his grasp, wrapping your arms around his upper abdomen. "nooo" you murmur tiredly into his pec that your cheek rests on. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, one hand softly stroking your head. he laughs quietly, "tired darling?" he asks and you pull back from his arms, "not too tired to do your hair like you promised" you smile up at him as he hopes you forgot about what he promised. "fine, be quick about it alright" he says and you peck his lips before moving onto the bed. your hop on and rest against the headboard, patting the space between your legs.

he smiles slightly and crawls onto the bed, settling comfortably between your legs. he wouldn't admit it but he loves being in your arms. he's big spoon to anyone who asks, but you know he likes to be held. you grab a brush from the side and gently drag it through his now dry hair. you smile at how soft it is, putting the brush down and running your fingers through it. geralt groans, eyes closed, fully relaxed. you can tell he's close to drifting off but he's actively fighting it to stay in the moment. your fingers gently start to weave together sections of hair skilfully, your routine of doing your own hair every morning coming through. geralt wasn't aware of how much this meant to you. as an elf, braided hair had a lot of meaning and symbolism, it was a craft your mother had taught you when you were young. little did you know geralt was fully aware, it's the only reason he let you do it.

after feeling your gentle hands massage his scalp he may let you do it more often. you normally wore braids in your hair and you mirrored a couple of styles you usually had in his, showing your connection. you tie ribbon after ribbon, weaving together braids and hair in intricate patterns. he just has so much hair, it's incredibly relaxing for both parties. you finish the last braid, smoothing down his hair and kissing the top of his head and wrapping your arms around his upper body. he slowly shifts, turning around to face you, "lay down love, let's get some sleep" you nod and geralt lifts his body up on his arms, letting you slide down until your head meets the pillows. geralt moves to lay beside you but you pull him up instead to lay on your chest, still between your legs. he smiles and let's you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his ear to your chest. your heartbeat lulls him into sleep aswell as your fingers still sifting through his now braided hair. his warmth and weight are so comforting, you never want to leave this moment.

#geralt x y/n #geralt x you #tv show geralt #the witcher games #geralt fanfic #geralt fluff #original character #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavil x male reader #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavil #henry cavil fanfic

69 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 5 months

Text

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl.

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy.

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound.

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire.

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave.

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked.

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night.

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you.

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.”

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you.

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin.

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency.

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one.

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself.

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!”

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que.

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared.

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer.

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#gender neutral reader #male reader #the witcher #the witcher s3 #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher fic #dandelion #jaskier #milva

128 notes · View notes

hertzwritings · 2 years

Text

The horror and the wild

A/N: We’re BACK BABY! I’m sorry for the lackluster posting, but life happens, you know? Anyway, we’re back with prompts and I cannot say how much I’ve looked forward to this. THERE’S STILL PROMPTS LEFT ON THE LIST, SO GO CRAZY, MY LOVES! Prompt: “You’re bleeding.” “Just a little.” “It’s a femoral artery, asshole.”

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit, and it would really help me out with my bills this month.

Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine, in particular), and my requests and askbox are always open – there’s no limits because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

GERALT OF RIVIA MASTERLIST

PROMPT-LIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female reader

Contains: language, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood, mentions of medical stuff, light fluff, a little angst, sexual tension, smut (MDNI), fingering, p in v, a little Feral!Geralt, crempie, unprotected sex, MASSIVE AGE GAP (because Geralt is truly an old dude), a little elder speech

W.C.: 3.861

The horror and the wild

You heard them before you saw them. The dull thuds of blades hitting soft bodies, the screeching of the nekkers and the grunts from a familiar voice; Geralt was out again.

It had been several months since you’d last seen him at Kaer Morhen, when you came to aid with the plants needed through winter. He had been gruff – as per usual – and pointed – also on par for him – and he had left in the dead of the night, despite not really talking to you. He was an arse, most of the time, but you understood him well enough to know it didn’t have anything to do with you, not really.

He was just like that. Jaskier had laughed loudly, when he finally figured out who you were, and had the time of his life seeing you verbally stepping on Geralt. Both of them liked it, you supposed. It had been for the almsot ten years, you had known Geralt.

You sighed and grabbed your own blade, crafted from Hattori after you helped him escape his death in Novigrad. It was a nice gesture, and the two-handed sword was one of beauty; the blade itself was slightly curved, carved with intricate symbols of protection, while the handle was wrapped in soft, black leather, the top of silver glinting in the sun. You loved it. You rushed outside, trying to pinpoint where on earth the sounds were coming from, and to your horror, you realized that it wasn’t just male grunts and Nekkers screeching; no, the familiar clicks of endregas echoing around the woods. Damn it. He might be accomplished with swords, but if he was alone with both endregas and nekkers, he was going to die. You ran through the thicket, leaves and branches cracking under your weight, as you ran to the fight.

You had been right in coming – Geralt was breathing heavily, sweat pouring over his brows, his sword a flurry of silver. “Fuck!” He grunted when a Nekker jumped his back and he shook it off, but you saw how tired he was. You jumped into action when you saw him falter for a moment, your blade slashing through bodies of nekkers, trying to reach him. “Kind of you to… Umpfh… Join the fight.” He said through gritted teeth. You flashed him a smile, before swinging your sword behind him, catching an endrega on the soft spot between its plates. It tumbled to the ground, the acidic blood pooling under it.

It had been hard, long and far too dangerous, but the two of you had managed to get out nearly unscathed. You were bleeding from the head (thanks to the sharp talons of a nekker) and Geralt was hoppling behind you, dragging his left foot behind him, trying his best to keep up.

“Geralt?” You turned to look at him and noticed how pale he had gotten. You could see your hut from where you stood, but that didn’t matter to you right now. All that mattered was the way his hand came away from his thigh, covered in dark blood. You gasped and rushed to his side, hitching your arm around his waist – you were about a head and a half short than him, and you were sure that in any other situation, you both would have laughed at the absurdity of you trying to support him like this, but right now, all that mattered was him.

“Fuck.” You almost rolled your eyes at him and ordered him to keep pressure on the wound, dragging him to the hut. When you crashed inside, his skin had grown almost as grey as his hair, and he was breathing raggedly. You laid him in your bed and realized the situation was much worse than you had feared – red pooled under him too quickly for your liking, and the black pants had somehow covered just how much he was bleeding. “You’re bleeding.” You said quickly, scrambling to find your medicines and the kit, you used to stich up wounds. It might not be the smoothest work, but it would do. “Just a little.” You ripped his pants from his legs and groaned, feeling sick to your stomach at the sight of the open wound on his thigh, green and blue veins of venom spreading around it. “It’s a femoral artery, asshole.” You replied dryly, before wetting cloth and proceeded to wipe it down. He clenched his jaw, when you began stitching quickly, adding bunches of your herbs and concoctions to the wound, that already had started slowly healing. Thank the Gods for mutant-genes. “What the hell were you doing out there alone, Geralt?” You muttered under your breath, fingers stained red with his blood. It had stilled a lot since you stitched him up, and he was gaining some pallor back. He grunted and gratefully took the cup of water, you handed him. “I didn’t get to tell you goodbye.” You scoffed. “And a goodbye is worth your life, is it?” “Maybe. In my defense, I didn’t expect to be attacked.” “We’re in Velen, you oaf, there’s always a chance to be attacked here.” You said with a huff, wiping your hands on your pants and tying the bandage around his thigh firmly, before standing up. His fingers shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to your seated position. “I…” You found his eyes, and the familiar warmth you always felt when you were around him, returned. You saw the apology in his eyes, and shook your head. “It was fine, Geralt. You had to find Yennefer, remember?” You said slowly, trying to keep the lump in the back of your throat, back. It had shattered your heart that he apparently had been so enamored with the sorceress, but you wouldn’t stand in his way. He deserved some good in life. Ciri was one, but if he wanted Yennefer… He should have her. “I found her.” He said slowly. “And we broke the curse from the djinn.” You swallowed. “I didn’t know there was a djinn to take into account.” He smiled softly, one of the rare smiles, that could melt ice – it was like years had been removed from him, when he smiled like that. “There was. Now, there isn’t.” “Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. “You should relax for a moment, Gwynnbleid, or I’ll have your head.” He nodded and reluctantly let your wrist go. It felt oddly cold. “Don’t leave.” He mumbled under his breath. “I would never.” Your cheeks heated under his gaze. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

It took longer than normally to draw the bath. You kept adding things, simply to avoid looking at him again, but when you finally finished and gestured to it, it became clear that he couldn’t get in on his own. Fuck. “Hold me, I’ll support you.” You mumbled and gently tried to help him off the bed – he followed pliantly, leaning on you for support, since his left leg didn’t work at all at the moment, and when you reached the tub, another issue became clear. His clothes.

His pants were ripped already, since you had ripped them to gain access to his wound, so they would be quick work, but also leave him almost naked. You sat him down on the wobbly stool next to him and undid the strings on the side of his armor-plates with shaking hands, staring intently at them. The armor fell loose around him, and you gingerly removed the plates from his chest and abdomen, trying desperately not to think about how warm he was under your fingers. As soon as the armor had fallen away, you began unbuttoning the buttons on his undershirt, eyes trained on them as if they were the single most interesting thing in the world. “You’re blushing.” It was an observation. “Well, you’re getting naked.” You said, unbuttoning the last button and lifted the shirt from his waist, letting it slide past his chest – noting the scars and chiseled abs and chest, which didn’t dampen the heat in your cheeks – and his head, before flinging it in the wooden bucket you had filled with soapy water to wash the grime away from his clothes. “Thank you, me feainn.” He mumbled. You swallowed thickly. “Always.” You began undoing the straps of his pants and kept your mind at ease; it was very damn difficult to keep focus on anything but him, and you nearly moaned when you saw he was naked under the pants. You were certain his heightened sense of everything made it very clear how you felt at the moment, but if he noticed, he didn’t let on. “Stand.” You asked gently, turning your head away from his groin. He grabbed the windowsill and stood on shaky legs, as you tugged the legs (well, leg) down and finally removed the leather pants fully from his body. “I…” You cleared your throat. You were a professional. “Hold my shoulder, I’ll help you into the bath.” When had it gotten so hot in here? His skin was burning against your shoulder, and his scent permeated your senses completely, leaving you shaking just as bad as he was. He sat down with a soft sigh, that went straight to your core, and you drew a deep breath, before handing him a bar of soap. “I’ll wash your clothes and see if I can mend your pants.” You needed to get out of the room.

------------------

It took almost a week for him to gain enough strength to walk again. The venom – which you both deduced had been from an endrega – hadn’t spread too much, but it had been enough in combination with the wound to render him, in his words, utterly useless. You didn’t mind his presence in your little hut. It felt warm and tight, but in a way, that just seemed right. When he did begin to walk again, you had joked that you needed to raise the roof of your hut, since the top of his head constantly hit the supporting beams, and he had a permanent bruise (which was a feat, since the Witcher healed in no time) just over his brow, because he kept bumping into the doorframe. It was almost endearing.

“You seem to be better.” You stated as you watched him walk around the hut, piling wood into the hearth. “I am.” He said, lighting the fire. You sat on your bed, crossing your legs. “I suppose this means that you’re leaving soon.” You smiled sadly. “I cleaned your swords, by the way.” He frowned at you. “Why would I leave?” You shrugged. “You always do. The road calls you more than the whisper of the forest calls me.” He knelt down in front of you, and despite being on his knees, and you being raised above the ground on your bed, his face was still level with yours. Tall, handsome man. “I am not leaving. At least, not until we have talked.” “Talked? Geralt, you don’t talk.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “First time for everything.” You licked your lips, trying to breathe through your mouth to evade the scent of him, because it would settle in your bones and never leave you again – it would simply make you yearn for him, and you couldn’t handle that. “I…” “Y/N.” for the first time since you found him the woods, he spoke your real name. Normally, he’d call you minne, me blath, or me feainn – you tried not to let those get to your head. Your eyes snapped to his amber ones, and you made the mistake of inhaling through your nose. The scent, that was inherently Geralt was intoxicating, but in combination with the lemon soap, you normally used, it was sinful. “I am not about to leave you. We should…” He licked his lips, and you felt your heart skip out of your chest. “Geralt.” You interrupted. “You should go find Yennefer. Ciri, too. They must be missing you.” “Ciri knows I came to find you. Yennefer…” He sighed. “Yennefer is currently pissy with me. Understandable, though not justified.” “How so?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you. His fingers rested right next to your knee, and they twitched, almost as if he wanted to put his hand on your knee but restrained himself. “The djinn. It created a bond between us.” You nodded. You knew the story well, having had it told countless of times – Jaskier hated it, you disliked it, but Geralt seemed content with it. “I asked the djinn to undo it.” You nearly choked on your own spit. “I’m sorry?” “That’s why Yen is angry with me. Hurt, I guess.” He said slowly, his amber eyes searching yours. “I… Didn’t feel anything when it was lifted. I thought…” He sighed. “Yennefer thought it was more than a curse from a djinn. It was for her. I have love for her, but not the love she expected nor wanted.” Your mind was reeling. He wasn’t… In love? “Which means…?” “You know I’m not good with words, me minne.” He grunted. “Try. I need… I need to know, please, Gwynnbleid.” You echoed his elder speech. “I didn’t have the love to give her, because I had already, unwillingly, and very unknowingly until a few weeks ago, given my heart and all it possessed to someone else.” “Unwillingly?” you stammered. “Yes. I have always been content with being alone. I have never been lonesome, and since Jaskier came along and then Ciri, I hardly think I’ll ever be lonesome, even if I tried.” You laughed a little. That much was true. “But… The last visit to Kaer Morhen…” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I saw you, finally. For the longest time, you’ve been in the back of my mind, which was irksome at best, distracting at worst.” He smiled. “And you just stood there, talking to Lambert and Eskel, while Vesemir laughed along, and something just…” He gestured to his chest. “And I had seen you before, several times over the years, but I finally saw you. You were under the window, and the sun shone down on you, lighting you up. And I knew I couldn’t stay. Not at Kaer Morhen, nor could I stay with Yennefer.” You blinked three times. This was the most you had heard Geralt speak in the ten years you had known him. “And we have always been friendly. You’ve helped me more times than I can count. But… I never truly saw you.” “Geralt, I don’t…” “Just… Let me get this off my chest, I beg you.” He pleaded. You nodded, and out of instinct, you lifted his hand to your knee, let it rest there and intertwined your fingers with his. A jolt of warmth ran through your fingers to your heart. He glanced at your hands and smiled before he looked back at you. “I don’t expect you to return any affection stemming from a 100-year-old man, but I wanted… I don’t know. To tell you. I would stay if you asked. I’d be content with making concoctions and weed your garden for the rest of my life, me feainn.”

Your mind was reeling. “I…” You swallowed thickly. “Didn’t know you were a hundred years old.” “105, if we’re being pedantic about it.” You grinned. “That’s quite the dexterity you have for a 105-year-old, Geralt.” He chuckled, but didn’t answer, simply waiting for you. “You know…” You looked at your intertwined fingers. “I’ve always thought myself as somewhat of a lone soul. At least, until I met Jaskier because that dolt won’t leave anyone alone.” Geralt hummed in response. “I just… I met you when I was shy of 18, and you seemed to have been whatever my world revolved around. I never wanted to tell you, because you had too much on your own, Child Surprise, Yennefer, Jaskier, the life you live. I didn’t want to interfere.” “You wouldn’t. You would be the sun, I would orbit.” He said softly. “As you are for me.” It was all you could say. There wasn’t much more to say, at any rate. He knew. “Y/N…” his voice was pained. “What would you have me do?” you looked at him. His eyes had darkened slightly, and you dislodged your hand from his to cup his cheek. His stubble scratched your palm slightly, and it made you shudder. “I wish for you to do what you want, Geralt. I’m not in a position to ask or tell you what to do or what to want, because your life, your choices are yours and yours alone. If you want to stay, you can. If you want to go back on the road, you can. If you want me to come with you, I will.” You whispered.

He didn’t answer but took the beat of a heart to lunge at you, his lips descending hungrily on yours. You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as closely, you could. It was addictive, the way he kissed. It was almost animalistic, teeth and tongue, like he wanted to devour you – you didn’t mind it one bit, and moaned when his teeth tugged on your lips, earning you a small growl in the back of his throat. You didn’t know when or how, but you were on your back, your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to snap your hips up to meet him, and he smiled against the kiss, his fingers quickly undoing the skirt, you had been wearing. If you had any say in it, none of you would be wearing clothes ever again.

You were nude under him in less than a blink of the eye, your nipples pebbled; he grunted and removed his now-mended pants, pushing them to his thighs. You felt his fingers first, dipping between your folds, and you surrendered yourself completely to the feeling of his calloused pads toying with you; you were moaning and writhing under him, as his fingers dipped inside of you, curling upwards with a soft moan that echoed your own. Your back arched, and your fingers pulled his face back to meet yours, kissing him deeply as he drew pleasure from you with every stroke of his long, thick fingers.

The fingers, that normally dealt pain and death to the monsters of the world, brought you pleasure beyond anything you had experienced before. It was like fire was licking your very soul, your entire being captivated by the slight movements of his fingers, as he pumped them in and out of you. You kissed him desperately, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging intertwined with the fire, that licked gently against you. “Geralt, I…” You moaned against his lips. Your hips rolled to meet his fingers. “I’ve got you, me feainn.” He whispered, speeding up slightly and you came undone. It was like a collision of planets went off in you, spreading their warmth from the tips of his fingers through your entire body. Your cells were screaming in pleasure, and you had no control over yourself, legs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from you, and kissed you again, lining his cock up with your wet entrance. You were begging for him in whispers, letting them wash over him in the same way he had washed over you. “Y/N…” He moaned your name as he entered you, groaning when he sank completely into you, and you understood now, why the women of the taverns spoke in such reverie about him. You could cum just from this, his stillness, because he filled you so much, it was near impossible to think he’d have room to move. “Fuck, Y/N…” He groaned and slowly drew back and snapped his hips, allowing himself to pump in and out of you. You whimpered at his thick cock dragging against your walls when he found a pace, his cock sliding against you, your little hut filled with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting. “Please, Geralt…” You moaned his name. “More.” His eyes snapped to yours, molten gold meeting you, and he growled. You clenched around him at the sound. “Don’t jest.” “I don’t. Please.” You whimpered again and rolled your hips.

He lost control of himself, it would seem; he growled again and buried his head in the crook of your neck, his teeth finding the sensitive spot along your neck, biting down and marking you, his hips speeding up wildly and his fingers gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. You mewled and tried to keep up with him, but he refused to let you do anything but take it, and at this moment, you were more than willing. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good…” He mumbled against your skin, leaving wet trails from his lips. You couldn’t think, speak or even fully comprehend anything but the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of you.

Your orgasm hit you at the same time as he buried himself deeply, his head nudging your cervix and a growled mine fell from his lips. You tensed like a bowstring, your back arching, pushing your chest flush with his. He stuttered when your wet pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper, and let himself go. With a string of curses and your name in elder speech, he filled you with his spend, fucking into you hard enough to make it spill from the sides. You were moaning through a coarse throat, having screamed yourself nearly mute.

“I… Sorry.” He mumbled, kissing your neck, jaw and finally, your lips softly. “What on earth are you apologizing for?” You said with a small laugh. “It was too fast.” You grabbed a chunk of his hair and pulled him up – he whined, and you stored that information for later – to make him look at you. “It was perfect.” “Next time, I’ll make sure you get your pleasure at least three more times.” You chuckled and kissed him as he slowly pulled out. He fell to your side, still panting slightly. “I don’t think I’d be able to go three more times.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his waist and pulled yourself flush against him. “Ha, that wasn’t a question. It was a promise, me minne.” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head.

“On one condition.” You answered. “Hm?” You smiled against his chest. “We leave this place. Take me with you on your adventures.” “Death sentences, you mean.” “Death, adventure… I’m sure Jaskier would call it all the same.” He chuckled, and the sound warmed you more than a crackling hearth ever could. “Speaking of Jaskier… I left him at Cunny of the Goose.” You grinned. “He’s fine, he’ll get to woo the ladies and the men with his songs of woe.” You frowned. “Actually, why did you come here? I haven’t seen a call for a Witcher for a while.” He kissed the top of your head. “Is it not obvious?” He lifted your head with two fingers under your chin, his eyes boring into yours.

“For you.”

** Minne: Love Me Blath: my flower me feainn: my sun

------------

TAGLIST: @acaceta @a-skov @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887 @enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4 @thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea

859 notes · View notes