Summary:Jaskier never thought he would find love in the shape of you. Messy and dirty yet so happy to be alive. He finds himself being faithful to only you.
Summary: After steamy looks are exchanged you find yourself in bed with a handsome Bard but after all is said and done. A one night stand might turn into something more.
You and Jaskier have been traveling about the Continent together for…well, forever it feels like. Just when it seems you’ve written a song about everything, you make the acquaintance of a Witcher and inspiration strikes! Though, Geralt seems to regard your artistic voice with indifference, borderline disdain. You’re starting to take his comments personally.
“I like that, it’s just jaunty enough, I think.”
“That’s not how it happened.”
You glanced up at Geralt who, perched on Roach’s back, seemed as tall as the cliff faces around you. His amber eyes were squinted in your and Jaskier’s direction, watching as he often did. Always so alert. Though you surmised it was a habit that came with the Witcher title. But the aversion in his furrowed brow and frown? That was all Geralt.
“Where’s your newfound respect?” He asked, forcing your focus back to his words.
“Respect doesn’t make history,” Jaskier countered before he began to sing again. Geralt stayed still, fists tightening around Roach’s reins as your fellow bard sang away.
“It’s poetic,” you added when you saw the Witcher’s jaw clench. “An artistic reimagining.”
“It’s a lie,” he huffed, “life isn’t poetic.”
“That’s why we make music. We make things…more palatable. Your life of violence isn’t suited for everyone.” You pointed to your cut lip and added, “I know people that would run for the hills with a wound like this. But our songs will mark you in history for your chivalry…”
Geralt grunted, clearly unmoved by your speech. Despite all you and Jaskier tried to do for the Witcher, he was determined to discourage your efforts. You had long since grown tired of his unamused ‘hmming’ and blank, quiet watching. Through gritted teeth you spat out a stinging end to your miniature diatribe.
“…your chivalry, which is yet another artistic reimagining.”
Before he could make another hum of displeasure, you left Geralt in the sandy dust and followed after Jaskier. He reached the chorus in your new ballad as you neared him and, as you fell into step beside him, you glanced over your shoulder. Geralt was still….still, his head moving to take in the sight of the canyon you were walking through. For a moment, you felt that maybe your speech had reached through the iced-over love in his heart.
Then you saw his shoulders sink with a sigh and the deep line of a frown on his lips form as he pressed on Roach’s flanks to push the horse forwards. You wore your own frown as you pulled your eyes to the path ahead. As you walked, you listened to Jaskier as he sang about a more poetic Geralt that slew Elves and caught coins. Never would you admit it, but it was that fictionalized Witcher in the ballad that you found yourself dreaming of in the dark of night.
What made those wonderings all the worse was the fact that the true Witcher, Geralt, your inspiration, was always a mere few paces away. Whether you were staying the night in a grimey inn or were laid across from him with a campfire between you, as you were later that night, Geralt was always nearby. Always a reminder of what, of who, you couldn’t have. Being held hostage by the steep rock faces of the canyon did not help to ease that turmoil. Even over the crackling embers, you could hear Geralt shift in his sleep.
The sound echoed too much of reality and made falling to the fantasy of your dreamy Witcher far too difficult. From where you laid, you glanced to your right, away from the dwindling campfire, over to Jaskier. His lips were parted and soft snores filed out of his mouth only forcing rest farther from you. With a sigh, you looked up to the starry sky.
In it, you found the same quiet, and seemingly indifferent, company Geralt provided. You longed for more warmth; though you would never admit that out loud. The songs you wrote were devoid of romance for that purpose. You did not dare give away any hint of your feelings. Doing so would feel worse than death, you imagined.
And imagine you did. Your mind wandered and you stayed, terribly awake, staring up at the sky for a few minutes more before you got up. With your companions asleep, you were careful with your steps as you made off towards a nearby strip of woods. You hoped that a midnight stroll along the treeline would tire you out or, at least, dull the whirlwind whistling of your thoughts as they raced by.
Yet, you found yourself venturing further into the bush to better escape them. Ferns of all sorts nipped at your legs while a small symphony of nocturnal birds led you deeper. Their singing distracted you enough, but not quite enough to dull your every thought of Geralt, as he consumed so many.
And definitely not enough to ignore how a sudden mass of fog seemed to surround you. Hazy and light, the low clouds sent a shiver down your spine. How eery, you thought before you asked yourself: how could this be worked into a ballad? Perhaps there was a poor fair maiden, lost and alone, who wandered the woods in search of home.
But you were no fair maiden, and that would be considered dishonest if Geralt had any say. You scoffed at the thought. How you hated his influence over you. Every comment he made, every disapproving stare, Gods! However, it wasn’t anger for the Witcher himself that swelled in your chest. No, it was anger for yourself, for falling for a man so, seemingly, cold.
Your body, unable to hold all that disdain within itself, made your foot stomp against the obscured earth as you trekked through the fog. Heaviness nestled in your heart like a root of some toxic plant and you forced yourself to stop, take a breath. The walk through the woods wasn’t helping to clear your head, not anymore. You needed to lay down, push the thoughts aside with the promise of sleep.
Though, when you took the next few seconds to glance around, you saw only fog. “But I am lost,” you murmured bitterly, “and I am alone.”
It was then you heard the crackling of twigs. A white-hot flash of panic flooded your entire being. Where had it come from? Somewhere in the fog! Above? To the side?
Fear sent you into a frenzy of wide-eyed glances between trees and through the mist. You saw nothing but heard something. Something large, you imagined, something viler than the elves of the morning. Something with sharper teeth and a thirst for blood.
Just as you felt the darkness of doom creep over your shoulders, a glimmer in the fog caught your eyes. Almost as if a firefly found itself lost in the haze, a dull flicker of light spread through the mass of mist. The romantic in you hoped that it was a mystical muse lighting your way back to camp. A more primal part of you begged you to step towards your only possible source of illumination.
The Geralt in you, his voice nearly ever-present, scolded you. Turn around and run, that’s what it told you. For the first time, you were compelled to listen.
Quickly, you spun around on your heel and tried to ignore the continuous rustling of fauna behind you. You started forwards, back the way you came, just as the sounds of whatever hidden something grew louder. With each step you took, your apprehension grew, as did the volume of the growling, glowing creature that stalked after you. Your gut twisted with wild nerves, stirring you into the closest thing to a sprint as you could muster.
Lungs heaving, you darted through the trees in a desperate attempt to escape. Astray in the searing panic that was running for your life, you sent frantic, wild-eyed glances over your shoulder. What chased after you was a spindly figure that almost seemed to glow from its chest, shedding a dim light on the forest floor before it. Soulless eyes were sunken in a wrinkled face that was framed by a pair of pointed ears.
You didn’t have a clue what it was, only that its grimace made it less friend and more a dangerous foe.
You didn’t have a clue what it was, until a gruff voice shouted out, “Fogler!”
The yell made you jump, set your footfalls off-center, and primed you to fall flat on your face. Roots entangled your foot, anchoring you firmly and suddenly to the dirt. Stones and sharper twigs bit at every inch of skin you had exposed. You winced at the pain until the scurrying and nasty gurgling of the creature, the Fogler, pulled you back to the threat of death. Then numbed by fear, you turned and saw it.
Claws, long and dark, reached for you. In a feeble attempt of defense, you raised your hands and cried out.
Rather than a strike, thick wetness hit your open palms. Slowly, you lowered your arms and looked at where the Fogler had been moments before. The creature was still there, though it was laid back and a dagger was buried in its chest.
“Are you alright?” Asked the same gravelly, and terribly familiar, voice from before. With wide eyes, you glanced up and were met with Geralt’s amber eyes. He looked down at you, as he always did, with his hand extended towards you, fingers waiting for your own.
“You…You?”
“Were you expecting a valiant knight?” He asked, gently shaking his hand for you to take it. “C’mon.”
You shook your head and stood on your own, despite the aching in your legs. Geralt’s sudden appearance shook you from the panic that claimed you a mere moment ago. “Did you follow me? Were you following me?!”
“You went for a walk in the woods, in the dark, like an idiot. So, yes, I followed you.” Geralt replied, his hand falling to his side and gesturing towards the slain creature behind you. “It’s a good thing I did.”
“A good thing?!”
“Yes,” Geralt replied coolly. Even in the limited light, you could make out his stone-cold features. There was no give in him. No deeper twinge that whispered of concern he held for you. But the way his eyes were fixed on you made you feel so watched, so wonderfully, frighteningly seen. How infuriating he was!
"Gods! All you ever do is watch and grumble and groan! You’re,” you threw your hands up in the air and looked up as if the right words hung there. You found nothing. “You’re-”
“What? What am I, Y/N?”
At the softer tone of his question, you felt compelled to meet Geralt’s gaze. His expression was still blank, waiting, and his posture was, as always, heavy. Shoulders were drawn back slightly, as if ready to hurl another dagger into the heart of a new threat. The way he carried himself made the quiet, honest curiosity in his voice all the more strained.
“Immovable,” you admitted in a breath, “a tower whose shadow I can’t escape.”
Geralt’s lips quirked upwards then, one of those fleeting smiles that you saw him wear all too rarely. Despite his expression, there was a sadness in his voice as he said, “sounds poetic.“
It was then, caught in a ray of moonlight, that you saw a Witcher more akin to the one that had your heart. Geralt’s gentle side shone through in the darkest hour. What sweet torture it was to see him at last, to have him so close, but unable to touch.
As if he read that thought, Geralt’s gaze dropped from yours and you felt a chill run down your spine. He was always out of reach. You had Folger blood on your hands anyway.
"We should get back to the camp,” you mumbled bitterly.
Geralt hummed in response, a sound you assumed was an agreement. Yet, as you began to walk past him, a hand shot out and gripped your arm. You stopped dead in your tracks and found Geralt’s eyes once more. Something shifted, something gave way.
Wordlessly, Geralt’s hand brushed down your arm until his fingers found your wrist. He pulled one of your ichor-covered hands close to his chest. You wanted to ask what he was doing, what he was planning, but you didn’t dare ruin the moment or interrupt the sensation of his skin against your own. When he pulled out an already grimey handkerchief from a pocket on his dark trousers, any question you held died on your tongue.
“Thank you,” you murmured as Geralt wiped the blood off your hands. His movements slowed as crimson soaked in the fabric, but he did not loosen his grip. You saw the amber of his eyes flick down to your lips before he looked into your eyes again.
"Poetic enough for you?”
There was an edge to his question. Not quite like the refined, cutting edge of Geralt’s favorite sword or the usual harsh honesty his words were laced with. No, it was teasing. It was an edge of humor that you had barely seen Geralt express since you met him.
“So much so that I must be imagining it,” you replied, playing into his tone.
Geralt’s eyes wandered back down to your lips at your response. When he met your gaze again, there was a question heavy in his features, his furrowed brow, and parted mouth. You leaned in closer, hoping he would take the hint, take your silent answer to his silent question. When his grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you to his chest, you became grateful for the Witcher’s watchfulness, his intuitiveness.
Through you were far more grateful for the surprising softness of his lips, how easily they melded against your own. How you fit together like a dream, like two lines of poetry that flowed lyrically into each other. Your next song felt like that midnight kiss.
Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x BlackFem!Reader. (Anyone can be Y/N but my one-shots are heavily melanated because I am :)
Warning: Swearing, Dominance
Summary: Geralt lets Yennefer who Y/N belongs to after Yennefer tries to steal Y/N.
A/N: This one-shot is based on Season 2 Episode 7: Voleth Meir towards the end of the episode after Geralt finds Ciri with Yennefer.
Y/N let’s go of Yennefer’s arm as her magic revealed the real reason why she tried to get Y/N to ‘safety’. She stared at Yennefer in disbelief. 'She using me for my powers.“ Y/N thought to herself.
In defeat Yennefer looks at Y/N in pity, "I’m so sorry Y/N.” Y/N walked in search of Geralt with no words spoken. “Don’t go!” Yennefer tries again but was completely ignored.
“I didn’t know who you were.”
Ignored.
“I didn’t know what you were to him.”
Y/N’s walked held determination, “I need to get to him.” Inside she felt betrayed that she trusted his friend for one moment. Yennefer gave such a good teaching lesson but in return to use her powers.
“He’s not here,” Yennefer yelled from behind Y/N. Her heart sunk as she stopped walking, her protector wasn’t there.
“He never was.”
She lied about where they were going plus lied about Geralt meeting them there. Y/N didn’t know who to trust as she turned around with her mouth agape at what Yennefer spilled. “That mage at Melitele’s, he knew you.”
“No.” Yennefer responded quickly.
“You led him to us.” Y/N’s disbelief turned into anger. She made her way back to Yennefer.
“No.” Yennefer denied hoping Y/N could believe her.
“We were in trouble and needed help and you betrayed us!"Y/N yelled at Yennefer getting close, the anger turned into rage.
Yennefer shook her head, "I was stupid and I was selfish.” She said to Y/N but she was more like saying it to herself. She pleaded in desperation,“ You have to come with me. Now!”
Y/N voice was distorted, “I don’t trust you.” she seethed towards Yennefer. The ground began to shake as Y/N’s voice had such an impact.
A huge crack ran all the way to Cintra’s walls. This alerted the guards and a group of them made their way towards Yennefer and Y/N.
The pair quickly make their way towards the horses but didn’t make it in time. One jumped on Y/N’s back tackling her towards the ground. She kicked him off but another one grabbed her by her hood. Y/N grabbed his dagger slicing him across his leg. A guard came from behind grabbing her leg beginning to drag her.
“Yennefer!” She yelled trying to swing the dagger to get him. It didn’t work as he and another guard grabbed her forearm to lift Y/N off the ground. “We got a fighter.”
Y/N resists putting up a fight which wasn’t going to work long. “Geralt! Geralt!” Hoping he could hear her like last time. She resisted as much as she can but she knew they were too much.
As it seemed like an eternity, Y/N could hear the commotion behind the guards. “Stop it! Stay down!” One yelled in her face as she tries to pull away from them. Y/N stopped as she watched Geralt make his way over with pure anger written over his face.
Y/N watched in shock as she observed Geralt swiftly take out the guards, once finished she quickly stood to her feet. That certain feeling grew in her stomach as he was near. The two never broke eye contact both feeling that certain feeling in their stomach. They didn’t feel alone. Yennefer made way to check on Y/N Geralt swiftly lifted his sword directly at Yennefer’s neck.
Y/N made her way closer to them. You’d think after all those months of them spending time with each other she would be used to seeing him fight. It’s like something new to her every time. Always being pulled to him is new to her, it’s never a dull feeling. The way she would do anything for him, just like he would do her. They were in love but both were scared.
Everyone made their way closer to Geralt and Yennefer.
“How could you do this?” Geralt sneered to Yennefer.
“I’m so sorry.” She apologized.
Still holding the sword in a perfect position, Geralt turned his attention to Y/N. “Yarpen and his men will get you out of here. Jaskier, take her to Kaer Morhen. Y/N knows the way.”
Y/N’s heart went back into that sunken place again. She didn’t want to be away from him again, something always happens and he’s never there to prevent it.“ No, I don’t want to leave without you.”
Geralt knew she was scared, his heart yearned to be with her and protect her at all cost but it was something he needed to do. He sighs, “You can’t.”
Y/N’s voice went soft, “Why? Where are you going?”
His eyes soften" To slay a monster.“ He wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything will be okay. "I’ll be with you soon, I promise.”
She knew he meant business and held that promise to her heart. “Please come back in one piece.” Her eyes began to get teary. Y/N was already scared and all she needed was him. Geralt nodded his head as he watched his lover make her way to a horse. He just wanted to hold her and make the tears go away.
“Ah! The Connection Surprise, I’ve heard so much a-” Jaskier tries but it was wrong timing. Y/N walked past wiping her eyes, hoping no one could see.
“The girl…” Zigrin started, “Yours?” he looked to Geralt who kept eyes on Y/N all the way to her horse. When Y/N was out of sight, he made way in front of Yennefer still with the sword drawn to her neck. His golden eyes held anger, staring into Yennefer’s eyes. Geralt’s voice was deep and he snarled.
“Mine.”
Yennefer looks down in sadness and Geralt looks past her answering Zigrin’s question with a little less anger.
“Mine Zigrin.”
Geralt’s attention was back on Yennefer, “Say it.”
Y/N sat in the wagon as the pair grew smaller and her heart yearned for him more.
——————-
Thank you guys for reading, I know it’s been a long time since I wrote something but a new season of the Witcher came out and I just had to write it.
It’s short cause I wrote my favorite part of the episode.
a/n: This fic was inspired by this creator’s drawing. I thought the idea was really adorable and the plot just kinda came together in my mind. So I hope you like it!!
word count: 2.1k
The breeze pushed against your face, causing the smell of wildflowers to surround you, lightening your heart after a heavy morning.
You awoke to the sound of pounding on your door and a bloody Geralt on your step, leaning against the doorway as he could barely stand. You had ushered him in quickly, stumbling under his weight. Tucking him into your bed, you had to work fast on healing his wounds. Afterwards he had fallen right to sleep and has rested ever since.
Feeling secure he would be alright, you headed out to gather more ingredients from your garden as healing him had used up an abundance of your readied stock.
Opening the door to your cottage, you keep your eye on Geralt’s sleeping form as you place down your baskets on the table. Crossing into your bedroom area, you seat yourself on the edge of the bed, looking over Geralt and the perspiration coating his face. You urge your heart to slow down as you watch him. He was alright. He was safe. You had saved him in time.
Geralt began to twitch and jerk, his brows furrowing deeply. You move closer to him in concern.
“Geralt?” You call out, your concern clouding all rational thought. And that’s what caused you to reach your hand out, preparing to move some hair out of his face. But Geralt’s eyes snapped open to see your hand darting out towards him and he reacted instinctively.
One hand clasped around your wrist and the other jerked out to wrap around your neck. Your eyes widened and you let out a yelp as Geralt lifted you and brought you down on the other side of the bed. His hand on your neck kept you from bouncing and his body was quick to hover over yours.
His eyes frantically moved around your face and they almost immediately calmed when he noticed it was you. But they soon widened again as he realized his hold on you and his hands loosened. You let out a few heavy pants.
“Good afternoon,” you greeted breathlessly. Geralt looked into your eyes and your heart picked up as his pupils dilated. Then he furrowed his brows into their usual position and let his forehead drop into your neck.
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, his voice partially muffled by your skin. You smiled softly, your hand coming up to run your fingers through his hair. A guttural rumble sounds from his throat.
“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” you try to assure him. Geralt was usually sleeping outside, not having enough coin to rent a room. He had to be vigilant. You couldn’t expect him to let down all his defenses when he was with you. You had learned not to startle him and an incident like that hadn’t happened in a long time. But your concern for him outweighed your own self preservation. Geralt shakes his head against your neck.
“You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” he argues, guilt and a fierce protectiveness seeping through his tone.
“I want to be,” you argue back, a little more sternly. Geralt was stubborn. You knew if he got any solid ideas about leaving you for your own protection, it would take a lot to convince him you wanted to be his. It took a strong voice to be heard over the raging thoughts in his head. Geralt went silent and you knew you had settled any thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt said again, his body sagging into you more deeply. He was cold. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you tried not to think how close he had come to death.
“As you’ve said,” you state curtly. Geralt sighs and his hot breath contrasts greatly to his cold body, causing you to inhale shakily.
“For coming here. I shouldn’t have.” His words shake you out of your own dreadful thoughts as you process them. Your head rears back as you try and cast him an incredulous look.
“And why not? You were hurt,” you explain, your voice showing how ridiculous you thought he was currently being. His hand leaves your neck to dig deeply in your hair, clutching the strands close to your scalp as his other hand threads your fingers together, squeezing them tightly.
“I don’t wish to only come to you when I’m hurt,” he expresses lowly. You knew how vulnerable that one sentence made him feel as he was not used to such proclamations so you squeeze his hand back in return and press a kiss to his temple.
“Then you should stop by more often,” you say softly, a light smile on your face. Geralt grunts.
“I can’t. There are monsters to kill,” he says shortly. You click your tongue, rolling your eyes at his words.
“And they’ll still be there after spending a few days with me,” you explain the obvious. There would always be more monsters. But you would only have so much time with Geralt…
“Speaking of monsters…” Geralt began. His hands slipped out of your hair and your grasp before he started swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Loud and painful grunts sounded throughout your cottage as he tried to sit up straight. Your eyes widened.
“Oh no. No, Geralt. You are not leaving,” you say forcefully, getting up on your knees and shuffling around him and off the bed.
“I have work to do,” he says simply in return, bracing his hands on the edge. He hesitates to push. You’re swift to tug him back down, forcing a grunt out of him.
“Yes. You do. Healing, that is all the work you’re going to be doing today,” you order brutally. His eyes flicker up to meet your own as he sends you a look, silently questioning if he heard your tone correctly. When you remain staring at him, he cocks his head.
“I’ll heal fine on the ride,” he challenges. You raise a brow in return, your hands rising to sit on your hips.
“With all your wounds stretching and pulling as you ride roach? No way. You’re staying here,” you challenge back, back ridged in fear of him leaving and getting hurt again. You don’t think you could handle it if he went out there again so soon and got hurt.
“I can’t,” he resists again forcefully. You let out a desperate whimper and you step forward, sliding your hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and around his neck.
“Just for today, Geralt. Please, stay and let your wounds seal. At the very least. Stay with me, Geralt. Just stay,” you say, practically begging him at this point. Geralt gazes up into your eyes as if trying to read them. He looks over you for a few long moments before he lets out a long sigh. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his fingertips tickling your hairline.
“Alright. For you and you only. Know that I don’t give a damn about my wounds. I do this for you,” he says sternly, finishing off the statement with a firm nod. Your lips curl into a beautiful smile as you let your cheek fall into his hand.
“I know,” you breathe out, your heart fluttering as Geralt sends you a rare smile of his own.
“So… what is your post healing treatment plan?” He asks, removing his hand from your cheek to palm your hips and tug you towards him till you’re standing between his thighs. Your brows furrow.
“My what?” You ask, not understanding what he’s talking about. Geralt quirks up a brow at your confusion and he squeezes your waist with widening eyes.
“What are we going to do all day? Because if I’m going to remain a prisoner here, I will not be resting,” he states matter of factly. You let out a sharp laugh at the comparison.
“Prisoner, huh?” You ask, your voice teasing. Your hands reach out to hold his jaw and he responds by sending you what’s considered by Geralt to be a cheeky grin.
“Indeed. But the warden is quite agreeable,” he adds, pinching your leg. You yelp, jumping a little before narrowing your eyes and scrunching your nose at him.
You go to shoot back with a quip of your own when the perfect idea strikes you. A smirk is slow to form on your face. Geralt will hate it. But it will probably be the best thing you have ever done. With his white hair and sharp features, it will be marvelous.
“You know what, I think I have the perfect idea…” you say, trailing off. Geralt raises a brow but doesn’t say anything as you help him up from the bed and bring him out deeper in the meadow. It is there you suggest him letting you braid flowers into his hair as he soaks up the sun.
“No.” Is his immediate response. Your lip juts out, your hands threading together as you knee-walk closer to where he’s sitting.
“Oh, come on, Geralt, please,” you beg, hoping the look in your eyes is enough to convince him. He shakes his head, refusing to look at you and instead, looking down to fiddle with a flower next to him.
“I will not fight monsters with flowers in my hair,” he explains, his voice rougher than before as he refuses. You drop the look and the begging to send him a much more serious look.
“Well then luckily there will be none of that today!” You say strongly. Geralt pauses in playing with the flower. He looks up, meeting the hard expression you send him. You two are motionless as you stare off. You notice his jaw clenching the longer you meet his intimidating gaze. Eventually he loses, not being able to resist you.
“Fine,” he grits out. Your features immediately brighten, your eyes sparkling and your smile wide. You clap lightly as you move to sit behind him.
“You’re going to look dashing, my love,” you express dramatically, leaning over to kiss him soundly on the cheek. You feel his cheek warm under your lips but no color surfaces.
“I have no doubt…” he says, leaning back and relaxing enough for you to be able to work.
And work you do. You work silently and diligently, picking the perfect flowers from the ones surrounding you both. You twist and braid the flower stems, hiding them within his hair so only the petals are visible. With selected flower colors and a pattern, you make quick work of filling his hair with flowers in a way that was more than tasteful, it was beautiful.
You look between your work and Geralt as you braid. You notice the way his body relaxes further and further the longer your hands thread through his hair, occasionally massaging his scalp. You see the way his eyes are closed as he enjoys the quietness between you and the warmth of the sun on his skin. No lines between his brows and no natural frown on his lips.
He appeared to be in peace, more so than you had ever seen him. You couldn’t help but add a few extra flowers, if only to prolong the process for him. You didn’t want to disrupt the divine moment of serenity between you.
But eventually, you had to finish, braiding in the final flower. You breathe in deeply before moving to stand in front of him. You hear Geralt mumble a ‘huh’ and you feel bad for a moment as you realize he was close to falling asleep.
“Okay, I have finished! Come, come, look and see,” you urge, holding his hand and tugging on it lightly. Geralt stands, with your help, and the two of you make your way to a pond a few feet over. You both lean over, looking into the water. “What do you think?” You ask, looking at his reflection. Geralt remains silent as he stares at himself. You bite your lip in anticipation.
“I think monsters will quiver in fear at the sight of me,” he says with a small grin. He leans up and you follow, looking at his eyes and waiting for them to meet yours.
“That good, huh?” You ask with excitement in your voice as you bite down harder on your lip. Geralt’s grin widens as he watches you. He reaches out and pulls your lip away from the confines of your teeth.
“Certainly, darling. It’s wonderful,” he says fondly, looking entirely ethereal with the sun behind him, hitting his hair just right. You squeal, jumping out and curling your arms around his neck as you hug him as tightly as possible without hurting him.
“Oh, I knew you’d like it!” You exclaim, knowing that he may have hated the idea but he couldn’t deny the result was nice. Geralt’s arms encase you, holding you firmly against him and ignoring the sting of pain he felt while doing so. Because you were worth it.
“Yes, that’s it,” he replied knowing he would do anything just to make you smile at him.
Summary:“while I bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief” - your love for him started a war and he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you from it
A/n: moodboard by @sarahisslytherin, this fic is part of my taylor swift fic series <3
TW:18+, dark, non-con/dub-con, mlw smut, d&s vibes, heavy drinking, mentions of forced pregnancy, if I miss anything pls lmk so I can correct it.
A/N: I made a post talking ab how no one talks ab a rockstar!Geralt bc he gives a major Peter Steele vibe like if they ever do a Peter Steele biopic I can guarantee Henry Cavill will play it. But anyway I know this is super short compared to my normal writing. If you follow my account (which you should cus duh) you’ve probably seen me post about the death of my mother a few weeks ago (pls no condolence comments on here I appreciate it but I don’t want it to clog up the comments) and this is the first thing I’ve been able to sit down and write long enough to complete it. Anyway sorry for rambling! Enjoy!!!
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Inspired by this gifset, particularly the one above by @henrycavilledits , and the sweet @cas-kingdom. Saved by Vesemir, you were raised with the other Witchers and trained to kill monsters, though you were never allowed to take the elixir and despite the others’ best attempts, you always felt like an outcast. The only one who seemed to understand, who would linger in the shadows with you and listen to your struggles was Gerald. After he left, he never returned, simply focusing on his tasks and leaving you so hurt you can’t bear to look at him when he returns.
Tickling eventually, kind of hurt to comfort, very indulgent for some things going on in my life right now. I may make it more of an OC series eventually, but for now I’m leaving it open as friends, former romance, whatever. Let me know if anyone is interested in more of this.
When you first heard the news, you didn’t believe it. After years of little to no interaction, with him focusing on fighting monsters and wandering in solitude instead of returning to Kaer Morhen, your closest friend was coming back.
