Summary: Jaskier's been flirting with you for a while, but are you completely oblivious to his charm, or is something else going on?
Pairing: Jaskier x Female Reader
WordCount: 576
Prompt: “My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?"
Warnings: N/A
A/N: 30 Days of 30 Drabbles for my 30th Birthday
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
Jaskier had heard stories of the Butcher of Blaviken; he’d heard stories of the Shieldmaiden who’d followed him. He’d often heard not to believe in others’ gossip. To never judge a book by its cover. Geralt was somewhat like they’d said—Grumpy, antisocial, brooding.
You, on the other hand, were nothing as they said you were. Yes, Jaskier had already seen you in battle, and you were every bit as skilled and deadly as Geralt. Yes, you can have a wicked tongue, especially when those attempt to oppose your loved ones.
Your tough exterior was nothing compared to your heart. You cared for Geralt deeply. The gentle touch was whenever you attended to the constant stream of injuries. The kind smile you exchanged whenever you interacted with a merchant or the public, even when they gave you a wide berth.
Jaskier began to understand why Geralt and you worked so well. You accepted Geralt for who he was. He was the stormcloud on a rainy day, and you were the sun, always pushing through the darkness, no matter what.
Perhaps that’s why Jaskier feel so hard for you. He’d fallen in love countless times, sung many ballads about love and heartbreak, yet none compared to the ones he wrote of you. He sang softly under his breath while he wandered behind you and Geralt. Jaskier’s heart felt full, his inspiration renewed.
However, there was one slight issue.
His attempts to win your heart had fallen flat so far. It had been rather disastrous.
Jaskier was confident in his abilities to woo anyone. He knew the subtle hints of seduction. He knew how to flatter, how to compliment? Yet nothing appeared to faze you. Nothing caught you off guard. A toughened and seasoned shieldmaiden. You smiled, rolling your eyes as if Jaskier was jesting.
Jaskier had never been more serious. Was there something in his tone? Was his flirtatious face humorous to you? What was he doing wrong?
Jaskier had one ploy left in his collection. It was, well, pathetic. Scraping at the bottom of a huge barrel. It was simple. It was pathetic.
Yet it played on your caring nature. It might just work…If it didn’t, Jaskier would have to ask Geralt for advice. That was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
But Jaskier was desperate.
“My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?” You turned your head, looking back at Jaskier. You burst out laughing. Jaskier wasn’t expecting that reaction. He’d presumed you’d walked backwards and come to his aid.
“That was the worst one yet.” Jaskier stopped, flabbergasted. You’d known this entire time. Jaskier placed his hands on him.
“You’ve known I’ve been flirting with you.”
“Jaskier, you’re not subtle.”
“But-But why haven’t you said anything?” You glanced back at Geralt with a smile on your face.
“Geralt wanted to see what lengths you would go to.”
“You didn’t disappoint. Even I am better than that.” Jaskier was in disbelief. He’d fallen into a game between the two of you.
“Hold on. Did any of it work? Have you been swayed by my irresistible charm?” You moved to stand in front of Jaskier, a soft smile, taking his hands, which to your surprise were cold.
“Jaskier, you’ve had me since I caught you singing about me.” You let Jaskier’s hand, to turn around and walk away. He stood dumbfounded, before coming to his senses,
Geralt x Reader, Jaskier x Reader, Roach x Reader
tw: no
It is my duty to share this concept with the world.
You wake up to a strange sensation on your cheek. You try to brush it away, but someone keeps breathing warm air into your face. A curious mare is staring at you with her big eyes and starts chewing on your hair.
Roach had always been Geralt’s pride, but she had never heard so many affectionate words before. She wags her tail like a dog and eagerly demands even more of your attention.
Sometimes, after drinking too much wine, Jaskier teases, “I think you talk to the horse more than to us.”
Geralt once catches you sleeping with your arms wrapped around Roach’s neck. The warmth of her body keeps you cozy on a cold night. The next day, he says nothing.
When you reach a town, Geralt absentmindedly buys some carrots. You just smile and say, “Thanks for the treat for Roach.”
Roach, used to the harsh life of traveling with the witcher, suddenly finds herself in a world where she’s not only fed but constantly praised. Geralt watches you fuss over his mare. Of course, he values his horse and takes proper care of her—but not to this extent. The witcher decides to teach you how to care for horses, conveniently delegating the responsibility. One of his strongest skills is knowing when to take advantage of an opportunity.
When you’re camping in the woods, you snuggle up to Roach and shower her with praise: “My good girl, the best, the smartest, the strongest.” She snorts contentedly. Geralt stands nearby, leaning on his sword, watching with an unreadable expression. Jaskier immediately jumps in to joke, “Yes, yes, Geralt, you’re a good boy too! Don’t be jealous,” earning himself a painful smack.
When Geralt and Jaskier get on your nerves, you go pet Roach and talk to her: “Tell me, how do you deal with them? You’re the smartest one here!” She just quietly presses her muzzle to your shoulder.
At some point, Jaskier honestly starts to feel jealous—of you, or the horse, he’s not quite sure. He tries to butter Roach up, petting her and saying, “Well, if you’re such a good girl, maybe you could share some of that attention?”
The horse yawns and turns away.
You laugh. Geralt smirks in satisfaction. Jaskier protests, “You know I’m a good girl too! Geralt, tell her!”
Geralt, without looking up from sharpening his sword: “You’re a terrible girl, Jaskier.”
After that, Jaskier secretly starts sneaking Roach treats, hoping to win her over. He refuses to accept that there’s a woman (a horse) out there immune to his charm. But your sharp eye catches it quickly:
“Trying to win her favor?”
“No! It’s a sincere gesture of friendship!”
Roach, tired of noisy Jaskier hanging around, bites him.
You marched deeper into the forest still within Geralt’s line of sight. Jaskier nipping at your heels while you collected firewood.
He was angry for a reckless action that you took in the last town. You were angrier at his lack of faith and aimed low.
“You know what?” You asked, whirling around so fast that he almost crashed into you. Jaskier stumbled and right his footing to stare back at you. You raised a finger and prod him in the chest. “Valdo Marx is a much better musician than you.”
Turning back around, you continued the track forward but you heard it. You heard the downright horrified gasp that left Jaskier’s mouth.
“You take that back.” He demanded.
Without looking at him, you stretched out your arms. “Valdo Marx has a voice blessed by the stars!” You called out into forest.
“No!” Jaskier shrieked.
“Valdo Marx sings of worldly things!”
“How dare you!”
“Valdo Marx-”
A twig snapped and you stopped entirely. “If I hear you shout about that damned bard once more, I’ll leave you both in this fucking forest!” Geralt snapped as he appeared. Livid that he had to be listening to a lovers spat.
Warnings: no warnings as such, yetttt 😮 but again I still always recommend my writing to 18+
Summary/authors note: So… anyone else feel like Geralt and our nameless Cat Witcher need to just kiss already… 🔥 Because let me tell you,writing that scene was hotter than a Striga in summer. So if you are gathering by now I’m kind of mixing events of Witcher and my own story, so no it will not always make sense 😂
Ciri is safe, thanks to you and that weird link you have. traumatized. Her found family, The Rats, lie dead. Ciri sees it all. And she knows you’re not just a random Witcher geralt picked up off the streets (kind of). You’re part of their story now.
You woke before dawn, the chill of early morning clinging to your skin like a second layer. The fire had long since burned to embers, and Geralt was already up,of course he was.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, silhouetted against the pale horizon, Roach and Mischief tethered nearby as he checked their gear with quiet efficiency.
You sat up slowly,wiping sleep from your eyes and catching sight of your own medallion resting just above your collarbone still warm but purring almost contentedly now.
“You always wake this early?” you asked,half mumbling as you reached for your satchel.
Geralt didn’t turn,but a grunt escaped him anyway.“Only when strays snore.”
“I do not snore,” you shot back,drawing your swords briefly just to watch him glance over in amusement.“And I’m not a stray, just call me by my name.”
“Keep telling yourself that,”he said flatly,tossing you a strip of dried meat which you caught one handed with feline grace. “so Y/N, we ride hard today. North, up near the Velda river, there’s word of disturbances in the area”
You paused,chewing slowly.“Disturbances… how did you?..” you paused, he must of been to the nearby town super early to gather information. “you think they could be her?”
For the first time since last night,his expression softened slightly,not much,but enough. “I can only hope”
The wind stirred through the trees like a held breath,and somewhere deep in the forest,a raven called once… then silence returned,filled only by two witchers preparing for what came next,the path,the hunt,the pull toward something neither fully understood yet. But both refused to walk away from. You could smell snow in the air,distant, sharp. The kind that didn’t fall yet but loomed, like a promise written in the storm clouds.
Geralt swung onto Roach with that effortless motion of his, as if he were born in the saddle. You followed suit, Mischief snorting beneath you like she already knew the road ahead wouldn’t be kind. As you turned northward together beneath a sky bleeding from gray to silver, something strange happened. A flicker,behind your eyes.Not pain this time. Not memory. Another vision.
Sudden and vivid.
A girl stands on a cliff,hair like moonlight strands drifting in an unseen wind. She’s young,not more than sixteen but her eyes hold centuries. And when she turns to look at you, it’s not your face she sees, it’s your soul,reflected back like fire through glass. She speaks without sound.
“I see you."
The words,not a sound,not real words,echoed through you like a whisper.
“You’re coming” she whispers into the wind, though no wind carries it. “I’ve seen you in the fire… with him. You must stay with him” and then the vision shattered,the girl vanished,leaving only the chilled air and the soft rhythm of hooves on the path. You blinked hard, the vision dissolving like smoke caught in a gust. Your hand flew to your medallion,still warm, still humming.
"Y/N." Geralt’s voice cut through the fog of your thoughts. He’d turned in the saddle,watching you with those sharp wolf eyes that missed nothing. "What is it?"
You swallowed,the girl's voice still echoing in your bones.“I.. your daughter, her hair, the same as yours? and her eyes? like jewels of emeralds.”
He stiffened, not from anger but something deeper. Recognition.
"You saw her?" His voice was quieter now, almost wary.
You nodded slowly. "Not just saw her...felt her. Like she was calling me through this veil."
Geralt didn’t respond at first. Just stared ahead, jaw working slightly as if grinding down a storm inside. Then, so low you almost missed it. “Ciri”
A beat passed. Then another. The wind picked up,sifting through the pines like a breath held too long. Mischief snorted beneath you,hair prickling along her neck,witchers weren't the only ones who sensed when fate turned a corner. Geralt’s hand drifted to his sword, not in threat,but habit,like he always did when thinking of her. "She’s not like any other, her powers.. I’ve yet to even comprehend what they are” Geralt explains deeply.
You let that settle.
"Why me though, I’ve never met her?" you asked softly.
He turned slightly in the saddle,his golden eyes catching the pale morning light. "Maybe because you're meant to be there when I find her." He paused,then added with rare honesty,"Or maybe she sees what I’m trying so hard not to.”
Your breath caught,not from shock,but from the quiet weight behind his words. Not affection outright,no grand confession but a door cracked open just enough for warmth to spill through. Before you could reply,Mischief suddenly pinned her ears back,snorting sharply.Roach shifted too. You pulled your cloak tighter,focusing on the road ahead. "Right. Disturbances You said, near the Velda River."
Geralt grunted in assent,if he was relieved the moment had passed you wouldn’t ask. "Local villagers talking of a group of outlaws raiding the rich, stolen livestock. money but that one of them fights like no other, they name her falca."
You nodded,trying to ignore the strange buzz beneath your skin. "okay, so that’s a lead right." You paused. "Or it could be a group of bandits that have really good swordsman skills"
Geralt shot you a look that could only be called withering. "Bandits don't fight with precision."
You just shrugged. "First time for everything."
He shook his head, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes."You always have to argue."
"What can I say? I enjoy pushing your buttons old man,"you replied lightly.
Roach’s ears flicked forward almost as if she were listening too. He snorted,not quite a laugh but close. "Old man? I could still put you on your ass,Cat."
You laughed,a sharp,wild sound that echoed through the trees. "I'd like to see you try,Wolf"
He smirked faintly,a rare sight on his usually serious face."Don't tempt me, Cat. I've got a century of experience on you. And trust me, I know how to handle cats."
You rolled your eyes,feigning nonchalance. "Experience doesn't count for much when your bones creak more than your saddle, Wolf." Roach whinnied in agreement,earning a glare from Geralt. "Don't go taking her side."
You threw your head back,laughing loudly. "Seems like even your horse thinks you're a fossil."
His golden eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Cat, or I'll have Roach bite you.”
You tsked. "You wouldn't dare. besides I’d much rather you bite me”
"You’d rather.. what?” Geralt blinked,for once actually caught off guard,his usual composure cracking like thin ice.
You grinned,tossing your hair back with a wink before kicking Mischief gently. “Nothing,Wolf. Come on,we’ve got a daughter to find.”
And with that,Mischief shot forward,hooves pounding against the damp earth as she surged north toward the Velda River. Geralt stared after you for one beat too long,before muttering something under his breath. Then Roach followed at full stride.
You rode in silence as the sun rose higher,the forest slowly giving way to rolling hills and open fields. The river gleamed like a serpent in the distance,and you could make out the silhouette of a town clinging to it’s banks.
You couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at Geralt,half expecting a quip or a gruff observation. But he was quiet, lost in thought. Maybe about what you'd said,maybe about Ciri. Probably both.
The village of Jealousy clung to the river's edge. Maybe a quick stop off would do some good. It was then when you both heard a distant commotion up ahead. Not animalistic,human. No children were playing. No dogs barking. Only the distant clang of steel on steel.
"Something's wrong there," you said,hands already on your blades.
Geralt didn’t need telling twice.He was off Roach before you could blink,his silver sword clear,senses stretched thin as wire. You split up,instinctively,heading for the back alleys and rooftops. You crept along a back street, hearing the clash of steel up ahead somewhere. The stench of blood hit you first. Then came the screams,cut short.
You turned the corner into a narrow courtyard and froze.
Bodies.
The Rats,scattered like broken toys. Cut down in seconds, throats slit, limbs twisted unnatural by sword or spell. And in the center, surrounded by firelight and horror,crouched a girl with white hair,panting,emerald eyes wide as she clutched her sword… only to have it wrenched from her grip by a man clad in black robes, long grey bread and thin hair.
Leo Bonhart stood over her,dripping blood not his own,his smirk slow and cruel.“Ah, the lost little princess, I’ve been promised a pretty penny for you”
Ciri tried to scramble back,but he kicked her hard across the jaw,sending her crashing into an overturned cart.Her head snapped back,dazed but not broken.
You saw red.
Without thinking,you walked into that courtyard nonchalantly, guided purely on instinct and leant against a stone wall like a shadow,your silver blade flashing as you glared at him,in perfect silence except for your voice now aimed straight at him.
“Tsk,Tsk,Bonhart.”
He whirled around, then with the power of telepathy,a rare gift among Witchers.You didn't speak aloud again but instead sent words directly into Ciri's mind.
“Roll left if you can”
She obeyed instantly,far too smart for hesitation and just in time.As Leo lunged at you with a cursed dagger,you met him blade for blade,the force shoving both backward.
He grinned.“Another monster? How poetic.”
Bonhart lunged, his cursed dagger slashing through the air with lethal precision. You parried once, twice,your silver blade meeting steel in a shower of sparks, but he was fast. Stronger than a man should be for his age. But was no match for you.
A flicker at your periphery,Ciri.
She’d gotten up again,wobbling from her earlier strike and raised both hands,tiny sparks gathering between them, gods stupid girl.
"No!” you didn’t shout it,you thought it,directly into her mind like throwing a stone across water.”Stay down!”
At the same instant,you unleashed your own Aard,power crackling from your palm not at Leo but at Ciri.
The invisible force struck her like a wave,sending her skidding backward several feet over stone and dirt,collapsing safely behind an overturned cart just as Leo’s dagger whistled through empty space where she’d been standing.
you growled aloud this time.“She’s mine” but was she, you don’t know why those words came out.
Leo paused,brow furrowing slightly before smirking again.“Oh? Sharing prey now?”
You didn’t say another word,you attacked.
Fast and fluid,your training taking over.Witcher techniques few lived long enough to see,fueled now by something deeper,rage,a need to protect what hadn't even been yours yet but felt so damn close.
He fought dirty,curses flaring on his lips,knives appearing from sleeves but every move was met with precision.You dodged,a kick sent one dagger flying,into the shadows.A quick Igni blast forced him back toward the well,and then You saw your opening. With a snarl,you lunged forward,pinning him against cracked stone.His eyes widened,real fear this time as your sword slid between his ribs and heart in one clean thrust,no fanfare,no drama.Just death,silent and sure. He gasped once,stared at you like he couldn’t believe it…and then slumped dead before he hit the ground.
Silence fell over the courtyard, heavy and thick with smoke and blood. The only sound was the crackle of burning wood from a nearby cart set alight during the fight.
Then,soft footsteps. Ciri emerged slowly from behind the wreckage,hair matted with dirt,blood trickling from her lip,her emerald eyes wide,not with fear now,but awe. She stared at you first,the woman who’d spoken into her mind like no one ever had before,who moved like fire and fought like fate itself. But also with recognition, like she recognised you.
Then she turned her gaze past you…
And there he was.
Geralt stood at the edge of the courtyard,his silhouette framed by firelight,his silver sword still in hand,but forgotten now. His breath caught just slightly,his golden eyes locking onto hers as if pulling her back from another world entirely.
Time stopped.
The wind didn’t blow.The flames didn’t flicker.Ciri took one unsteady step forward…then another.
"Geralt..." she whispered,it barely more than a breath. The weight of that single world seemed to shatter the stillness like glass. Geralt lunged forward,crossing the distance in a few strides like a man possessed,catching her as her knees buckled. She clung to him,breath shallow,face buried in the fabric of his cloak. His hands gripping her shoulders tightly,holding her, as if to convince himself she was really there, flesh and bone and alive.
Geralt POV
She’s real.
Not a whisper on the wind. Not a trail gone cold. Not another false lead or cruel illusion spun by sorcery.
Ciri.
My daughter.
She’s in my arms,shaking,but alive. Breathing. Here.
I don’t know what I expected,tears? A roar of rage at the world for taking her? Some grand moment of reunion sung by bards?No. It’s quiet. So damn quiet compared to everything I’ve fought through to get here,the nightmares,the endless roads.
And yet… when she says my name, it hits deeper than any blade ever has.
Then there's her,the one now standing over Bonhart's corpse like death personified,hair wild,silver sword still smoking faintly from the kill,nostrils flared,eyes scanning every shadow as if expecting more enemies to crawl from the earth itself. My gaze flicks between you both and something shifts inside me,like tectonic plates grinding into new positions after centuries of stillness.
Because I know what just happened here was no coincidence.
She didn’t just save her life.
This was something else.Something primal.Something old as bloodlines and destiny itself. For once,I don’t fight fate.I let it breathe. Looking down at Ciri,stroking her hair gently. Home,but then lift my eyes again,to meet hers, across the courtyard,bloodied but unbroken,wild but steady... And I realise, maybe we weren't meant to find each other by chance. Maybe we were meant to stand on either side of this girl,to guard her together,to protect.
YOUR POV
You watched them,reunion unfolding in silence,your Witcher heart aching for reasons you didn't fully understand. This was new territory and its like something hit you,the vision from earlier not just of her,but of this moment,the fire,the blood,the three of you brought together not by chance,but by design. And when Geralt finally lifted his eyes to meet yours across the courtyard,his expression unreadable but full of something deep and wordless.
Not just gratitude.
Not just alliance.
Something older.
Something that couldn’t be named yet…but would be. A soft voice broke the silence,still weak but clear.
“… I know her face.” Ciri looked up at Geralt,her emerald eyes wide with wonder, then she releases him, staggering towards you."I saw you before...in my dreams. guiding me, guiding him." She paused and turned to Geralt.
The way he looked at you then.
Ciri stepped closer to you now, not in fear, but in recognition,like she’d known your soul long before your body walked into her life.
“She’s part of our story,” Ciri whispered, voice trembling with awe. “The Cat who walks beside the Wolf… not just a guardian.” Her eyes flicked between you and Geralt, too knowing for someone so young. “But the one who completes it.”
A beat passed.
Then another.
Geralt didn’t speak,he rarely did when words failed him as you came to learn. You exhaled slowly, wiping blood from your blade with deliberate calm,as if that could hide how deeply those words had struck. Witchers like yourself, monsters created like yourself didn’t have a destiny.
You couldn’t let this sway you, so then flicking a last drop of crimson onto stone.“Cute, we should get going, from what Geralt tells me, there are many people after you.”
He didn’t smile either but as he looked at you over her shoulder,his golden eyes held something dangerously close to hope.
The fire crackled low behind them,the village still silent except for wind and breath and somewhere deep inside,a future began to take shape.Not one of bloodshed or fate alone,But one where love wasn’t weakness.Where family wasn't found by chance and where two witchers,one sharp as flame,the other steady as stone would stand together,to guard what mattered most.
Even if they wouldn't say it out loud...not yet. The wind carried the scent of smoke and iron as you began to turn away from the village,watching Geralt help Ciri onto Roach with quiet care. She was weak,shaken,but alive. That was enough,for now. But your eyes kept drifting back to the courtyard,the fallen bodies of The Rats still where they’d fallen. Not just outlaws. To her,they were family too.
You didn’t say anything at first. Just moved, salvaging what you could,taking each body one by one and laying them on a makeshift raft of driftwood and reeds pulled from the Velda’s edge.
Ciri noticed first.“They… they don’t deserve to be left like that,” she whispered,hopping down from Roach despite Geralt’s warning glance.
“You’re right,” you said simply,knotting the last rope around the raft.“No one does.”
Geralt watched you for a long moment,hands resting on his swords before finally stepping forward without a word,to help bind the logs tighter,his movements precise,heavy with unspoken respect. When it was done,you stood in silence along the bank as dusk painted the sky in bruised purples and golds.The raft bobbed gently in the current,laden with friends lost,a pyre waiting for fire.
You looked at ciri, her hands trembled,but she stepped forward, casting her hands out,but then she lowered them.Within seconds,the fire bloomed across straw and wood from your hands,gilding her face in gold as tears slipped free,silent but deep.The raft began its slow journey downstream,carrying memories into shadowed waters.
No songs.No grand speeches.Just three witchers standing together,witnesses to grief,and love not spoken but deeply felt. Geralt looked at you,really looked,not just seeing what you'd done,but why. After a beat,longer than usual,he gave one slow nod,and murmured low enough only meant for your ears.
“You didn’t have to do this… but I’m glad you did.”
A strange feeling twisted in your chest at the silent praise, but you masked it with a nod and a brisk reply.
"Just giving them a proper send off. They'd want that."
As you turned to mount Mischief,Ciri reached out, catching your wrist lightly.
Her voice was soft,almost hesitant.
"Wait."
You paused, brows lifting slightly as you looked at her. "Hm?"
She hesitated for a beat,as if wrestling with her own courage. Then all at once she drew herself up,looking you in the eyes.
"Thank you."
There was a rawness there,a depth of feeling that went beyond words for what you'd done. It warmed you,deep in places you were used to keeping numb. You swallowed,fighting a flicker of vulnerability. You looked down at her,then gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't thank me yet, kid. We’ve still got roads to run."
She gave a small nod, lips twitching into something almost like a smile. Then you mounted Mischief with quiet grace,Geralt watching you from the corner of his eye as he helped Ciri back onto Roach. The river carried the burning raft onward,a trail of embers in the darkening water,like stars set adrift. You rode in silence for a while after that,Geralt at the front,Ciri behind him. She kept turning in the saddle to look back on the river,the glow of the raft long gone now just darkness and the distant sound of the current.
As darkness completely settled,Geralt spoke.
"We'll camp close to town tonight."
You nodded, eyes scanning the woods around you. "Good idea, with any luck there might be an inn with decent ale."
Geralt made a noise that was almost a laugh."Always thinking with your stomach." You gave mock glare at his back."Not all of us can live on stale jerky and river water,Wolf."
He threw a glance back over his shoulder at your words,the ghost of a smirk curling his lip. “I can live off anything.” He said flatly. “And so can you.”
You rolled your eyes, kicking Mischief slightly to pull beside him. "Yes but I choose not to suffer unnecessarily."
Ciri giggled behind him,a soft, bright sound that made the night feel lighter. Geralt didn’t reply,but the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction told you everything. As you ride,Ciri speaks up again.
"So... where will we go from here?"
Geralt is quiet for a moment before replying.
"We'll pass through the village,rest for a night. Then keep moving North."
Ciri looks puzzled.
"North?"
You glance at Geralt, then gently offer, “There’s not much left of Aretuza… not after what happened.”
Ciri flinches slightly at the name,the weight of loss clear in her silence.
“But there’s a place called Montecalvo” you continue, voice low with knowing.“Hidden from most maps. A sanctuary for sorceresses are hidden there”
Geralt turns slightly in the saddle,his golden eyes narrowing at you.“You know of Montecalvo?”
You meet his gaze without flinching.“I’ve heard whispers”
A beat passes.
Geralt exhales slowly,staring ahead into the darkened road.
"Then we go to Montecalvo, after rest”
You nod in agreement, but before the conversation can go any further, you reach a bend in the road. A small village comes into view,lights twinkling through a ring of pine trees. Geralt slows Roach to a walk, glancing sidelong at you and ciri.
"We'll stop here for the night. See if they have an inn."
You nod, eyes taking in the village. It's small,but clean,the houses nestled close together between the trees. A few people wander the path, casting curious glances your direction as you pass. Geralt pulls Roach to a halt, dismounting with practiced ease. "Wait here,I'll see if they have any rooms."
You dismount, stroking a hand down Mischief's neck. The mare nuzzles your palm, soft and warm. Ciri watches Geralt walk off,heading towards a tavern at the end of the street.
The air is crisp, the scent of wood smoke and roasting meat. You lean against a tree, crossing your arms to wait. Time seems to drag as you stand,the sounds of the village around you growing louder. People talking,horses whickering,the distant clang of a smithy's hammer. Ciri fidgets in Roach's saddle, eyes fixed on the tavern door,waiting for Geralt to return. Finally after what feels like forever,he emerges, crossing the street to where you and Ciri wait.
He stops in front of you,two keys in hand.
"Two rooms," he says, holding them out to you. "One for Ciri and me. One for you."
You take the keys with a slight nod, feeling an unexpected flicker of surprise.
"A room each, huh? Feeling generous, Wolf?"
Geralt gives you a flat look. "One room's big enough for me and Ciri. You get the other...so I can actually sleep without you snoring in my ear”
Ciri giggles again.
You smirk, tossing the keys lightly in your hand. "Wouldn't want to ruin your beauty rest."
With that,you turn and lead Mischief toward the inn,the scent of warm bread and hearthfire curling through the air.
But as you pass him,Geralt catches your wrist,just for a second,his voice low so only you can hear.
"...Thank you. For today."
You pause,then offer a small,real smile over your shoulder.
"Anytime,Wolf."
Lather that night..
Your room is small but cozy,spare but comfortable,a fire already laid in the hearth, the glow of the flames flickering along your blades. You slide the blades into their scabbards, then sink onto the bed with a quiet groan. The soft wool blankets smell faintly of herbs,the pillows plump under your head. The sounds of the village are muted here,replaced with the soft crackle of the fire and the low, steady creak of the floorboards as someone walks by just outside your door. You close your eyes in the darkness,feeling your mind and body unwind. As you lie there,the tension of the day melting from your muscles,the sound of quiet footsteps outside your door makes you open your eyes again.
The steps pause,just for a moment.
Then they come again,lighter,almost as if whomever is outside is pacing.
Curious,you push up on one elbow,listening. Another pause.The footsteps stop completely. For a moment,the only sound is the steady crackle of the fire. Then,softly,a knock. Just once.
You smile faintly to yourself,already knowing who it is.
"Come in."
The door opens with a gentle creak,Geralt's shape silhouetted in the dim light from the hall. He pauses in the doorway,as if hesitant to cross the threshold. You sit up further,gesturing for him to come in. The floorboards creak under his weight as he crosses toward the bed,stopping a few feet away. He doesn't say anything at first, just stands there,looking down at you with his golden eyes unreadable. You watch him in silence,waiting for him to speak first. But still he doesn't. There's something unspoken in his gaze,a thought or maybe a question hanging in the air.
Finally,you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
"You going to say something, Wolf? Or just stand there all night."
That pulls a faint ghost of a smile from him.
"Just wanted to ask you something."
You nod for him to continue,still sitting up, the blankets pooled around your waist. The light from the fire paints his skin in warm, golden hues.
"Go ahead." You encourage quietly.
He takes a deep breath,as if gathering his thoughts.
"Back in that village... You saved Ciri's life."
It isn't a question,but you nod anyway.
"I did."
Geralt looks away for a moment,then back at you again.
“Not many would have done what you did. Risked everything for someone they barely knew."
You shrug slightly. "I didn't think about it.I just acted."
A beat passes.
"And I'd do it again."
His eyes lock onto yours,deep and intense like he’s searching for something only he can see. Then,softly he speaks.
"I know." Another silence falls,but it’s different now.Heavier.With something else beneath the surface. He takes one slow step forward—then another—until he’s close enough you can feel the heat of him.
Then,without a word,his hand rises,tentative at first,like he’s not sure he’s allowed to do this. His rough fingers brush your cheek,calloused but gentle. His thumb traces the line of your jaw,a touch so quiet it could have been imagined. You don’t move. Don’t breathe. And then you catch his wrist.
Not to stop him. But to hold on.
Your voice is barely above a whisper.“Geralt…”
The fire crackles low behind you,the world outside fading into nothing. Just this room.Just him.Just now. "Careful,Wolf," you murmur,thumb brushing the pulse at his wrist."Start something like this,and you might not get to walk away."
His eyes darken,not with hesitation,but hunger.With something long held back.
"Wasn't planning to," he says low,voice like gravel and smoke. And just like that,the distance between you shatters. You don't know who moves or why but suddenly,he's on you. His hands frame your face,his mouth rough and hot and perfect against your lips.There's no time to think,no time to breathe. Nothing exists outside of this moment,this kiss. You reach for something solid,anything,and find his shoulders. He's granite beneath the layers of leather and cotton,and as you pull him closer,you swear you hear him growl low in his chest,like a wild animal finally catching its prey.
Your fingers tangle in his hair,tugging slightly as he bites your bottom lip,hard enough to make you gasp. He uses that opportunity to deepen the kiss,his tongue sliding against yours. He tastes like salt and steel,and it's intoxicating. He presses you back,slowly guiding you onto the soft bed.His body covers yours,hard muscle against the softness of your body. He breaks the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt over his head then,without warning,he sinks his teeth into the pulse at your throat,biting down hard. You arch into him,a sharp,pleasure-filled sound escaping you. He growls again,the sound so primal it makes you shiver. You feel his smirk against your skin,and then he's licking the spot he just bit,his tongue tracing a slow,teasing path down your neck. His hands slide down your sides,gripping your hips,your thighs,like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.You run your hands over him,feeling the taut strength of his arms,the ripple of muscle in his chest. He moves lower,kissing your collarbone,your shoulders,your neck,every inch of skin he can reach. Then his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath your ear,and he scrapes his teeth over it,not gentle this time.
You swear,the pleasure pain driving you insane. He chuckles,the low sound rumbling through you like a wolf's growl.
"Sensitive" he murmurs,voice rough.
"Shut up." You hiss,reaching for him again.
He catches your hands with one hand,pinning them above your head effortlessly. You don’t even protest,his mouth finds yours again,and all of it dies in your throat. His other hand dips under your shirt,his touch sending shivers across your skin. He's everywhere at once,his mouth on yours,his hands on your body,his weight pressing you back into the bed. You feel your control slipping away and maybe it should scare you, that’s one thing as a Witcher you always had, control. But instead it just makes you want him more. He lets go of your hands,his fingers curling around the edge of your shirt. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, lifting your shirt up and off. His eyes lock onto your naked skin,a sharp inhale catching in his throat like it pains him.
"Gods…"
He swallows hard,like he's still trying to cling onto the last scraps of his restraint.
His gaze moves over you like a physical touch.
"You're so goddamn beautiful."
A low chuckle escapes you,rough with desire. "Took you long enough to notice,Wolf."
His eyes flash,gold and dangerous and suddenly he's on you again,his mouth crashing into yours like a storm. No more words.No more hesitation. As Geralt continues to kiss you,something shifts. Darkness creeps in the edges of your mind,a feeling like ice water suddenly running down your spine. You freeze,hands pushing against Geralt's shoulders. He pulls back,confused.
"What is it?"
You don't answer,closing your eyes to focus. This feeling isn't coming from you,it's coming from somewhere else.From...Ciri. Geralt frowns,his hand moving to your face, concern creasing his brow.
"What's wrong? Talk to me."
But you barely hear him, your whole awareness focused on the images playing out in your head like a vision. Ciri,terrified,running from something dark and deadly, someone.
"Ciri," you whisper, eyes unfocused,voice distant. Your body goes still,rigid,your once golden eyes now blazing white,like twin moons in the dark. A soft glow pulses faintly beneath your skin,the air around you crackling with unseen energy.
Geralt stares at you,his voice low with urgency.
"Y/N?!"
But you don’t answer.
Because suddenly,you’re not in the room anymore.
You're there. In Ciri’s nightmare.
Darkness stretches endlessly.A shattered sky looms above,a blood red moon hanging like a warning. The ground is cracked and dry,blood seeping up from the earth as whispers echo through the air,ancient,cruel voices speaking in old elvish tongue. Ciri stands alone,in her nightgown,facing a figure cloaked in shadows,his back turned but radiating malice so thick it makes your witcher senses scream.
Emhyr, The White Flame.
“You cannot run forever, daughter,” his voice echoes,not loud,but everywhere.“Blood calls to blood.And yours belongs to me.”
“No!” Ciri screams,panting,sobbing.“I’m not yours!I belong with Geralt! With them!”
And then she sees you,a flicker of light through the nightmare,your form materializing beside her,your eyes glowing like stars. She turns,surprised,but somehow not afraid of you at all.
“Help me…” she whimpers,the words barely a breath on broken wind.
Your eyes snap open. The white glow fades,leaving your golden irises trembling with residual energy. A gasp tears from your throat as you jerk forward, hand flying to your chest like something tried to rip it out. Geralt catches you in his arms.
"Y/N! What happened?!"
You're shaking,but it's not from cold or fear. It's rage. Pure,wild fury,her fear,her pain,it’s still ringing in your bones.
"Ciri..." you rasp, voice raw.
"She's not safe," you growl, already moving. You kick off the bed, off Geralt reluctantly. Leaping from the bed and bolting for the door,bare feet slapping against cold wood. Your medallion hums wildly against your chest,a warning pulsing through your veins. Geralt is right behind you,his voice tight with concern."Y/N wait!"
But you don’t wait. You throw open Ciri’s door without knocking. There,she’s sitting upright in bed,panting,sweat drenched hair clinging to her face.Her hands grip the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling into an abyss. Her eyes are wide,haunted,filled with tears she won’t let fall.
"Geralt..." she chokes out,turning to him as he enters behind you. Then she sees you,really sees you and something shifts in her expression.A flicker of recognition.Not just relief,but gratitude.Knowing.
"You felt it too, you saw it too," she whispers.
You nod,stepping toward the bed,your expression grim.
"I saw it."
Ciri exhales a shuddering breath,as if you’d just confirmed something she already knew deep down. She looks back and forth between you and Geralt,her eyes pleading.
"That man... Emhyr...he found me,in my dream."
"It was a warning," you murmur,voice low,mind racing. "A message."
Geralt looks up at you sharply. "You think he knew you were with her in the dream, in her vision."
You look to him. "Or he was trying to find her.Testing her,her defenses,maybe."
Ciri shifts uncomfortably. "I don’t like the thought of...of someone invading my dreams like that."
You cross the room in a few strides, sitting beside Ciri on the edge of the bed. Your voice is soft but firm.
“we will make sure he can’t reach you like that again,” you say. “Not if we’re stronger.”
She looks at you, eyes wide with hope and fear tangled together. “But how?”
You glance at Geralt,then back to her.
“Montecalvo,” you say firmly. “The hidden circle of sorceresses,they’ll know how to shield your mind.They trained some of Aretuza’s strongest. I myself have trained with some of them there.”
Geralt steps forward,arms crossed,but his gaze flickers between the two of you.“And if it’s a trap? If word got out?”
You meet his stare head on.“I think it’s too late for that wolf”
Geralt’s gaze holds yours longer than necessary.
The air shifts again,thicker this time. Not just urgency,this. A current of something unspoken flows between you,charged with what was interrupted,half said words and half started touches still burning under your skin. Ciri notices. Of course she does. She looks between the two of you,brow furrowing slightly,then smirks despite her fear.“So…that’s why you came in here together..”
You blink at her."Kid,I swear..”
“I went to check on y/n that’s all," Geralt cuts in flatly,but there's a flicker at the corner of his mouth."I could hear her snoring."
"Right," Ciri drawls,dark circles under her eyes but spirit unbroken."And that's your hair is all messed up?"
You touch your hair instinctively and curse under your breath. Geralt steps toward you,tone low,but meant for both ears.“We ride at first light.”
His eyes lock onto yours,a silent promise behind them,not just about the road ahead,but about you. About this. Whatever it is,it's not over. Just delayed. And Ciri? She curls back under the blankets,saying nothing more but as she closes her eyes,she whispers,
"Thank you… both.”
Outside,the night deepens.The world waits.But for now,the three of you are safe,in this fragile moment,bound by blood,dreams,and something dangerously close to love. You nod,rising from the bed. The moment is broken,the spell lifted. Ciri yawns,already starting to drift back into sleep,the exhaustion of the past days catching up.
"Get some more rest," you murmur softly.
She nods, burying her face in the pillow. Geralt watches you as you walk out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind you. For a moment you just stand there,staring at the door. Then you feel his eyes on you. A moment later,you feel his hand on your waist.
"Y/N…"
You turn slowly, meeting his gaze in the dim light of the hallway. The silence between you is thick,not with tension, but something deeper. A pull. Unfinished.
His hand doesn’t move. Instead, he steps closer.
“You should rest too,” he murmurs, voice low,too rough to be casual.
You smirk, tired but still sharp around the edges. “Says the man who just spent half an hour pacing outside my door like a lost hound.”
He doesn’t flinch at the tease. Just leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he says:
“Maybe I was waiting for an invitation.”
You don’t pull away.
Then quietly soft whimper escapes ciri in her sleep,just a murmur,but enough to shatter it again,the spell broken not by noise,but by duty.
Geralt pulls back first,his jaw tightens.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You nod,because what else can you do?
With one last look,long and heavy, he turns and slip back to his room,to keep watch at her bedside,to guard her dreams this time alone.
And you?
You go back to your room,cold now,the fire nearly dead. But as you lie down,your hand drifts to where his fingers were on your skin…
Slightly based on my headcanons I posted a few weeks ago. Very very NSFW, so be warned.
Jaskier had been singing all night. Not an unusual turn of events for him, really - he’d been singing for his supper for years now. Usually he could scrape together enough for a bed and board, a decent meal and a drink or two. All in all, he would consider himself a decent performer.
However, even he would admit that he couldn’t compare to the sounds that the beauty beneath him was making.
It had all happened so quickly. A few flirtatious winks had turned into smiles, had turned into a hushed conversation over drinks, had turned into this; the son of a lord wrapped around him in a small, dark room lit only by a single oil lamp.
The table that the young lord was balanced on knocked rhythmically against the wall with each thrust of Jaskier’s hips. The air was filled with breathless panting, stifled moans, soft curses. And gods - he felt like luxury against Jaskier’s body. Soft pampered skin, warm lips that mouthed insistently at his throat, so- fuck, so tight…
Jaskier rocked forwards harder than he’d meant to, and the man below him let out a loud, beautiful keen. Jaskier quickly clamped his hand over his mouth, albeit with a tinge of regret.
“Shh,” he leaned down whispered, laughter dancing around the edge of his breathless voice, “as gorgeous as you sound, I don’t fancy getting caught and chased out of the province.”
The young lord’s eyes glimmered at him over the edge of his fingers before he jerked his head to the side, loosening the bard’s grip.
“I’d rather you silence me with your lips,” he replied indignantly, though his hoarseness ruined the effect of his glare; “Your hand smells of lute strings.”
“Oh, forgive me, my lord,” Jaskier drawled as he dug his fingers into his hips and tugged him forwards, drawing out a soft gasp; “I’m so terribly sorry that my profession causes you offence! I never-!”
“Shut up and fuck me,” the young lord growled, pawing at the laces of his shirt.
