#riviamagines

[riviawitch3r]

I have a request! Its completely fine if you decide you dont want to do it, I just cant stop thinking about it and was hoping to get the idea off my mind. It would fall along the atypical lines of Modern!Reader falls into the world. They travel w/ Geralt & Jaskier, & sing songs while they are on the road from their world. I love the idea of Jaskier constantly asking questions bc the music style is so different from the normal. (And Geralt possibly being interested in Readers answers as well!)

A/N: This sorta devolved from what you asked and kinda got away from me, I'm sorry. I've also decided to split it into two parts so here's the first!

Warnings: Geralt is a bit of a brute, Geralt is jealous, food and insults get thrown around. Also someone tries to hit the reader but nothing actually happens.

Word count: 2,235

Serendipity (1)

You didn't know where you were.

You'd been walking home from your bus stop, earbuds in and not a care in the world. You were following your usual shortcut through the woods behind your apartment when everything got......strange.

The world seemed to blur and tilt and condense all at once so you had no sense of direction and could scarcely breathe as everything blurred and you wondered if you were perhaps dying.

Then your back slammed into the ground, knocking the wind from you.

Wheezing, you slowly sat up, pulling an earbud out and looking around you in confusion. You were just starting to get your bearings, studying the unfamiliar forest around you, when an arrow whistled past your face close enough to graze your cheek. You flinched and scrambled back with a yelp, taking cover behind a tree.

"Geralt wait! I think it's a girl, what if she needs our help you brute?"

"What if it's a trap laid out to lure us in and rob us blind?" a gruff, surly voice (Geralt,you supposed, based on the other's words) replied.

The first voice tutted. "Always such a pessimist."

"It's the only reason I'm still alive, Jaskier."

The first voice (the one you thought was Geralt had called him Jaskier) didn't answer, but after a moment a young man leaned around the tree you hid behind, blue eyes bright and smiling warmly. "Sorry about that, are you alright?"

"I'm….fine," you said slowly, staring at him. He looked like he was headed for a Renaissance Faire, dressed flamboyantly in an olive green and yellow doublet and brown trousers. He was likewise gawking at you, and you self-consciously ran a hand through your hair and straightened your jacket.

"What strange attire," he seemed to marvel as he looked you up and down. "Geralt, come here," he called over his shoulder. Turning back to you he added, "Are you alright? It looks like his arrow nicked you."

"I'm fine," you repeated. "Just a bit….lost, I suppose. And very confused. Where are we?"

"Not too far from Oxenfurt," Jaskier replied cheerfully. Your head began to hurt. Was this some kind of LARPing situation?

"Where is that? And how did I get here?"

Jaskier tilted his head, but Geralt spoke before he could, standing and glaring at you suspiciously.

"What is this?" He held your phone and earbuds in his fist, shaking it at you in an accusatory manner. "Some sort of spying equipment? Who do you work for?"

You looked at him in bewilderment and irritation. "That's my phone. And why are you accusing me? You're the one who almost shot me, I'm not the dangerous one here. In fact give me that back." You held out your hand. Geralt narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you mean "phone"?" he demanded, making no move to return it to you.

"My cell phone," you snapped, exasperated. "That I use to call and listen to music and play games like everybody else does."

Jaskier snatched the phone from Geralt, turning it this way and that curiously. "This odd little contraption can do all that?" he asked you earnestly.

…….this was surely a joke. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm going home." You snagged your phone from Jaskier, winding your earbuds around it and tucking it safely in your pocket.

Geralt grabbed your arm in a bruising grip, startling a yelp out of you. "You reek of magic," he growled. "You're going nowhere until you explain--"

You'd had enough. Geralt swore nastily when your knee connected with his groin and you swiftly wrenched your arm free, but Jaskier jumped in front of you before you could run, hands held up in a pacifying manner.

"Wait! I'm sorry for him, but please don't run away. I have so many questions for you," he pleaded.

"Jaskier," Geralt growled.

"Trust me, Geralt, I've got a good feeling. Please?" He smiled at you as you hesitated. "We'll walk to town, I'll buy you a drink in the tavern, and then we can part ways after if that's what you want."

You crossed your arms. "A drink and a meal."

Jaskier beamed. "Done. Let us be off!" He offered his arm to you. You shook your head, but followed him as he led the way, presumably into town. 

You could hear the quiet rustle of the underbrush as Geralt stalked behind the two of you, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

**°~°~°~°**

The tavern was dim and filthy and smelled faintly of piss. You wrinkled your nose and considered walking right back out. But Jaskier was already speaking to the barkeep while Geralt went and claimed a table in the corner, choosing the seat that put his back to the wall.

You pursed your lips before reluctantly walking over and sitting across from him. He leveled a glare at you, which you returned in kind as you began to comb your fingers through your hair, trying to work out the twigs and leaves tangled in it. He pulled his hood up and glowered at the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

The two of you sat in silence thick with tension and animosity until Jaskier bounded over and slid into the chair next to you.

"Come now, why the sour faces? It's exciting, meeting new friends!" he declared, setting tankards down in front of each of you.

"She's not my friend," Geralt muttered, at the same instant you snapped, "He's no friend of mine."

The two of you levelled a startled look at each other before going right back to glaring.

You grabbed your drink and took a large gulp, letting out a pleasantly surprised hum at the taste. It wasn't as cold as you usually took your drinks, but the slightly fruity taste made up for it. You sipped it more slowly and Jaskier winked at you.

"This place may not look like much, but they do brew a very fine ale," he told you, lifting his own cup in a toast before taking a drink. He twisted so he sat sideways facing you, one arm slung along the back of his chair and the other resting on the table. "So, first things first. Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but call me Jaskier." He winked before inclining his head towards his companion. "That's Geralt of Rivia. And you are?"

Despite your general unease at this whole situation, and your irritation at Geralt specifically, you were having a hard time not being charmed by the oddly dressed man.

You allowed a small smile. "I'm Y/N L/N."

"Interesting, I've never heard a name quite like it. And where do you hail from, dear lady?"

You told them the name of your town. Jaskier raised his brows and Geralt's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe I've ever heard of it," Jaskier said thoughtfully. "And here I thought I'd visited everywhere worthwhile the Continent had to offer."

A young lady dressed as a barmaid brought out bowls of stew that….didn't look too appetizing, brown and mushy. But the promising scent of spices wafted up to you, so you tentatively picked up a spoon. The first bite melted on your tongue, savory and tender.

Jaskier watched you expectantly, eyes bright. You swallowed and licked your lips. "It's good. Thank you."

Jaskier clapped his hands together. "You clearly have impeccable taste, my lady." A quiet laugh slipped out, you couldn't help it.

Jaskier asked you many questions about your home, your life, and your interests, and you did your best to answer. He was oddly enraptured by what you considered fairly commonplace information, but being the focus of his attention was a bit flattering. 

He bought you drink after drink, strummed on his lute and hummed a bit and shamelessly flirted, but you didn't take him too seriously, he was just having a good time, you were fairly certain. He was fairly good with the lute, you had to admit, and he effortlessly lifted your spirits as the afternoon wore on, all the troubles you carried slipping from your mind.

Except.

Except for Geralt, silently watching the two of you with a glower.

You turned to him sharply when Jaskier went to refill your drinks yet again. "What is your problem?" you demanded.

"You are my problem. You reek of magic and other things I can't identify, and the things you tell Jaskier make very little sense. I can only assume you're lying to gain his trust, but that won't work with me."

You looked at him in indignation. "I'm not lying. And I have no intention of harming Jaskier, because he's been very kind to me." You opened your mouth to say more but you realized something suddenly and gave him an odd look.

Geralt somehow managed to scowl harder. "What?"

"You care for him. That's why you're acting this way." Geralt's eyes narrowed at you, but you noticed he didn't deny it. "You're trying to protect him because he's important to you." The tight feeling in your chest eased as understanding washed through you. "I'm not going to hurt him, Geralt."

"So you've already said," he growled, jaw tight. You watched him carefully and felt an amused grin start to tug at your lips.

"I'm not going to take him from you, either."

Geralt's face froze and you knew you were right. "He's sweet, and charming. And I like him. But I'm no threat to him, or to you. So you can relax."

".....I don't--" Whatever denial he had ready was cut off by Jaskier plopping another round of drinks on the table. You took a drink to hide your amused grin as Geralt snapped his mouth shut. At least he'd stopped glaring at you, gaze now directed at the table.

Jaskier looked between the two of you. "What did I miss?"

Geralt's jaw flexed and he shot you a don't you dare sort of look. You quirked a brow at him, all of your previous irritation having melted away. "Not a thing," you assured Jaskier without breaking Geralt's gaze. You caught the barely-perceptible droop of his shoulders as he exhaled a breath.

Jaskier looked between the two of you before shrugging and plopping down again, offering you a charming grin. "In that case--"

"Enough of your antics, Jaskier," Geralt suddenly sighed. You bit your lip to hide a smirk. "We should find accommodations for the night before it gets dark--"

He was interrupted by a chunk of stew hitting his face with a wet smack. He froze, and you stared before twisting around to look at the other patrons. A lot of them were staring at your little group. One man had his eyes fixed on Geralt with a sneer.

When he saw you looking at him, he spat on the floor. "We don't want his kind 'round these parts," he announced nastily. Quiet murmurs broke out all over the room, none seeming to disagree. Geralt sighed roughly and you looked back at him. He'd swiped the food glob off his cheek and was making to stand, looking resigned.

"Geralt, no--" Jaskier protested.

"It's not worth looking for trouble, Jaskier," Geralt muttered. The two of them were so busy arguing, they didn't notice you slipping away, carrying your bowl of stew and walking to the man sat at the bar.

He looked at you with a lecherous smile that made your stomach turn. "Glad you've seen sense. Best for a lovely lady like you to not keep company with the likes of them--" He was cut off when you dumped the entire bowl over his head. There were a lot of gasps before silence filled the tavern.

"I'd rather loiter with them than with a beast like you," you declared quietly. His stunned look swiftly twisted into one of rage and he raised his fist.

You braced yourself, but before it connected the man's wrist was grabbed by a hand wrapped in black leather. The man froze and you tensed slightly as you felt a warm presence at your back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Geralt's voice was low and dangerous; you felt the rumbles vibrate through your back.

The silence stretched as Geralt and the man stared each other down with you stood in between them, heart pounding. You huffed and twisted to look at Geralt. "Enough. If these are the kinds of people that frequent this place then I want nothing to do with it." You placed a hand on his chest, pushing lightly, which caused him to finally break his staring contest to look down at you. Your breath caught -- you hadn't noticed before, but this close you could see the shocking gold of his irises, burning with anger. Those had to be contacts, right? Some really cool contacts, but nobody had eyes like that.

You cleared your throat, pushed again. "Let's go."

He nodded sharply, flung the man's arm away and stepped to the side. You walked past him to where Jaskier was gaping at the two of you like a fish.

"I can't believe you just--" he began.

"We're leaving," you interrupted. He blinked and broke into a wide grin.

"Quite right. Lead the way my good lady." You huffed and stomped out of the tavern. You heard Jaskier behind you, presumably speaking to Geralt.

"I am absolutely going to put this in a ballad!"

**°~°~°~°**

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[whitewolfandthefox]

Heaven Help A Fool: Part 2

Follow-up on @riviawitch3r’s Heaven Help A Fool. An anon requested it and they didn’t quite have time, so I wrote a Part 2 with their blessing! Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: super fluffy happy family, childbirth, softies 

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Words: 1373

You screamed as a wave of pain washed through you, forcing your body to curl as you rode it out. Jaskier sat beside you, looking pale and anxious. He turned to look at the healer next to the two of, “Why is she in so much pain? She’ll be ok, right?”

“Don’t worry, this is normal. Childbirth is never a pleasant process, just help her breathe through her next contraction, that’s the biggest help you could give right now”, she replied. Reaching over, she changed the cold compress she had on your forehead as you laid back against the bed, closing your eyes in exhaustion. You inhaled sharply through your nose as the next contraction hit you, desperately hanging on to your husband’s hand to keep you grounded through the pain.

“That’s it, my love, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like this.” Jaskier tried to coach you, demonstrating the breathing the two of you had been practicing in the months leading up to the birth of your child.

“Jaskier, I swear to the gods I will murder you if you keep doing that,” you ground out, teeth gritted against the pain. “You’re never touching me again, if this is what I have to endure for that. You’re not worth it.” Jaskier blanched at your words.

The healer laughed, reassuring Jaskier, “Many mothers say that, don’t worry.” Looking at you, she continued, “I’m just going to check you, my dear, you should be getting close.”

Panting through the end of your contraction, you slowly relaxed back against the headboard. “I hope so, 9 hours of this has got to be enough for the little monster to be ready to come out.”

Jaskier gasped, “Little monster! How could you call our precious child that.” As you swung your head to pierce him with your stare, he frantically backtracked. “Little monster, yes, we can’t wait to meet them.”

As the healer released the blanket covering your legs, she looked up at you and smiled. “Good news, you’re ready to push. The next contraction that you feel, I want you to give it your all. We should be meeting your little one very soon!”

As she finished her words, you could feel the next contraction rolling over you. You crushed Jaskier’s hand, ignoring the pained yelp your husband gave. Leaning back, you panted as the contraction finished, tears rolling down your face. “I’m so tired,” you whimpered, rolling your head to look at Jaskier. 

“I know, my love, I know.” he murmured. “You are doing so well, you are so close.” He reached up, changing the compress on your head before sweeping your sweaty hair away from your face and dropping a kiss on the top of your head.

The next contraction hit, forcing a pained groan out of you. You and Jaskier breathed through it, before you collapsed back against the bed. “I can’t do it,” you cried, “it hurts.” Jaskier gripped your hand, dropping his head to place his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, dropping your head to rest it against his shoulder.

“Ok, up.” the healer said, gesturing at Jaskier. “What?” you almost giggled at your husband’s bewildered face before the next contraction turned the rush of air into a whimper, desperately clutching at his hand. 

“Up and behind her,” the healer continued. “Sit behind her and support her from behind.” Understanding dawning on Jaskier’s face, he helped you lean forward before climbing onto the bed behind you and settling you between his legs, pulling you back to lean against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

He finished moving just as your next contraction hit, you grabbed for his hand, pushing as you panted through the contraction, just as the healer had shown you. “The head is crowning!” the healer exclaimed. She looked up at you, “One or two more good pushes, Y/N, and you’ll be meeting your child.”

As the next contraction hit you, you let out a short shout, pushing as hard as you could. All of a sudden cries filled the room, as the healer lifted the tiny body from between your legs. You collapsed against Jaskier, exhausted but happy as the healer cut the cord and cleaned your new baby. She wrapped the tiny infant in a blanket before approaching you, saying “Jaskier and Y/N, meet your new son.”

You gasped, tears running down your face as you reached for your son, taking him into your arms and leaning back against your husband as you tucked the tiny body against your chest. Jaskier dropped a kiss on your head, reaching around you to brush his fingers against his son’s cheek. You turned your body, passing the tiny boy to your husband, laying a hand on his stomach and just feeling him breathe.

You don’t know how long the two of you sat there, staring at your new child, in awe of what the two of you had made, before your son started crying. As you loosened the top of your robe, you glanced tiredly up at your husband. “Why don’t you go get the others? They can meet him, and then we can rest.” Jaskier passed the boy to you and you settled your son at your breast, allowing him to feed.

“You are sure?” Jaskier examined you, before nodding and gently moving out from behind you, moving towards the door. You returned your gaze to the precious boy in your arms, looking up again as Ciri and Geralt entered the room. Ciri immediately bounced towards you, dropping onto the bed, as she reached out, stopping herself before looking up at you in inquiry. Seeing you nod and smile, she gently brushed her index finger against the boy's palm, giggling when his hand closed around her finger.

“What’s his name?” Ciri asked. You and Jaskier glanced at each other, before you looked over at Geralt, who was hovering by the doorway as Jaskier came to stand next to your bed. “We decided on Nicholas Geralt Pankratz.” Geralt’s eyes were shining with an unnamed emotion. “If that’s ok with you, Geralt.” Jaskier added.

Geralt nodded sharply, but the two of you could tell that he was touched. You beckoned Geralt in, watching as he approached the bed before dropping into a chair next to it. You whispered something to Jaskier, before passing Nicholas to your husband, who stood and made his way over to the man who you had given your child his second name for. Geralt’s face took on a shocked look as Jaskier gently arranged the small boy in his arms, before stepping away.

Slowly, Geralt lifted a hand to brush one finger against the child’s face before touching the palm of the waving hand, a soft smile gracing his face at the antics of the boy in his arms. He looked at the two of you, as you rested against Jaskier, tucked under his arm. “He’s beautiful,” Geralt whispered, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you replied. “It is because of you that we are together again, you gave us the courage to find each other. You have done so much for us, it is only right that we honour that.”

Jaskier smoothed your hair back from your face, before continuing. “We had hoped that you and Ciri would be his godparents.”

Ciri gasped before exclaiming her assent, delighted that she was honoured in such a way, making her way over to the chair that Geralt sat in, perching on the armrest and reaching to set her hand on the baby’s forehead. Geralt slowly nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the baby in his arms. The two of them sat like that until Nicholas’s eyes started to close. Geralt carefully passed the baby to Ciri who walked to the two new parents.

You and Jaskier settled on the bed, Jaskier sitting against the headboard and you settled on your side between his legs. Ciri passed the baby to your husband, smiling and leaving the room with Geralt following. Your eyes slowly drifted shut as you could hear Jaskier murmuring quietly to the baby in his arms, content that your little family of four had grown to five.

**~*~*~*~**

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[riviawitch3r]

Steadfast (1)

A/N: this.....was supposed to be a one-shot....and this isn't even the part I originally meant to write and post. It just...got away from me so there will be a couple more parts to this.

Warnings: none, I don't think

Word count: 2k

Summary: being different doesn't make you a monster, but people can be cruel to those they don't understand

You've always been…..different. More in touch with the world around you. From a young age, you were able to discern the thoughts and feelings of people and animals alike.

It started out innocently enough. Helping the alley cat get a thorn out of its paw. Running an errand for your mother before she had the chance to tell you it needed doing. Assuring the butcher's boy that his feelings for the innkeeper's daughter weren't as unrequited as he feared.

You always kept quiet about the nature of your abilities. You had grown up in this village, but that meant you knew exactly what the people thought of those who were….different. You'd heard the rants in the tavern while you were serving drunkards and travelers for hard-earned coin you squirreled away in the hopes of traveling far from here someday. Your abilities were too similar to sorcery, you knew they would look at you with fear and hatred if you were discovered.

So you kept your head down, did your work, and tried to make what small differences you could. Your mother thought you were just particularly clever, with a gift for women's intuition. When bar fights inevitably broke out, you were able to soothe the drunken men with a few soothing words and a touch to their arms, allowing you to project your calm demeanor over their anger with a small mental push that no one need ever know about.

Things continued on, safe and same as always.

Until the Hirikka.

Risuld, the barkeep, came in one night, bleeding from a gash on his temple with an ugly bruise blossoming in a shape awfully like a hoof print. He was raving about an awful creature that had attacked him, trying to convince the men to go hunt it down with him.

Frowning, you focused your attention on Risuld enough to brush over his memories.

The creature was tall and ghastly, it was true. But it had done nothing until the barkeep had thrown a stone at it in an attempt to chase the thing away from the gardens it was sniffing around.

You sighed deeply as you withdrew from Risuld's memories. The thing was thin as a skeleton, probably starving. You pitied the thing, listening to the growing hysteria of the townsfolk. The growing panic of their voices, the cloud of fear and anger like a miasma tainting the air, it was giving you a headache, making it hard for you to focus.

You closed your eyes and set down the tray of drinks you'd been carrying, taking a deep breath and withdrawing until the only thoughts and emotions you could sense were your own. It made you feel cut adrift, isolated and unmoored, but the throbbing in your temples subsided a fair bit.

You opened your eyes in time to see the man who'd been brooding in the corner all night rise from his table. He finished his ale in one swig and, eyes locked on Risuld, announced "I will take care of your creature problem" in a voice whose low rumble traveled through the room like a roll of thunder, silencing everyone as they turned to gape at him. He stared back calmly, unfazed by the scrutiny.

You narrowed your eyes, taking in the white hair and amber eyes, the musculature and - most importantly - the swords strapped to his back over heavy armor. A Witcher. A monster killer.

Edging backwards, you slipped into the kitchen as Risuld spat a hostile "we don't need your help, damned mutant". You didn't stay to hear the rest of the confrontation, hastily stuffing some bread and apple chunks into your apron and fleeing out the back of the tavern.

You'd seen Risuld's memories of the creature fleeing, you could guess which way it had headed. You jogged into the woods as the dusk air swept coolly around you. You shivered, took a deep breath, and forged on, trying to watch for broken branches or tracks, anything to keep you going the right way.

It wasn't long before you encountered a cave by a stream, hearing quiet snorts and snuffles inside. Pausing to catch your breath - in your apron and dress you weren't exactly dressed for a trek in the woods, but time was of the essence - you reached out with your mind, searching for the creature's thoughts with your own.

You were right - when you made contact, you became aware of hunger so bad it made your belly twist with nausea, dizzying and harsh. Breathing deep to ground yourself, you asserted your own thoughts. As the creature senses your presence a low growl was heard, and you caught sight of amber eyes studying you from the gloom of the cave.

Staying calm, you thought of the crunch of a crisp apple, and the taste of fresh bread. When you shared these thoughts, the growling ceased, replaced by a low whine. The eyes moved closer as the creature moved hesitantly towards you, nose snuffling hopefully.

You knelt down, placing the food from your apron in the grass, never taking your eyes off the beast. Its nostrils flared and it lunged forward. You sensed no ill intent, no malice, but you still couldn't help the small shriek of alarm when the beast knocked into you in its haste to get to the food, knocking you into the shallow water of the river bank. The shock of cold water wrenched a yelp from you, and you leveled a glare at the creature devouring the morsels you'd provided.

"This is the thanks I get for feeding you?" you grumbled, pulling yourself out of the water with a huff.

"She's a simple creature, you can't expect much else," a deep voice rumbled behind you.

Gasping, you lurched to your feet and stumbled to face the Witcher, putting yourself between him and the creature that was now snuffling in the grass for more food. He raised an eyebrow coolly, arms crossed as he leaned against the tree.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, voice like a growl, pushing off the tree and splashing through the stream towards you. His brows furrowed and his amber eyes looked stormy. You took note of the swords on his back again and, after hastily looking around, snatched up a somewhat-sturdy-looking branch, brandishing it in front of you.

"Stay back!" you warned rather than answering him. He halted in the shallow riverbank, eyes narrowed to slits. You shivered - partly because you were still wet, but mostly because he was much bigger and stronger than you, and you were in his way, and you'd heard the stories about Witchers not having emotions, and you certainly couldn't sense anything from him so maybe that was true, oh gods be merciful he was probably going to kill you--

"I'm not going to hurt you," he huffed, scowling, interrupting your panicked thoughts. He crossed his arms and you huffed. Thinking quickly, you sent a ribbon of thought out, contacting the creature and trying to impress upon it the urgency that it run, flee, get far away right now.

Instead, it came by your side and shoved its snout in your apron's pocket, snuffling for more food. Its large head pushed you off-balance and you once again fell on your butt in the dirt with a yelp, your meager defense knocked from your grasp on impact.

The Witcher huffed and took another step towards you--

"I said stay back!" you cried, and unthinking you formed the warning into a thought, hurling it at the Witcher like a rock as you flung out a hand towards him, as if you could somehow keep him at bay.

You saw the moment the impact hit him, his pupils narrowing to slits like a snake's as he inhaled sharply. 

Had he been anyone else, you knew, he'd have frozen, eyes glazed over as he obeyed the command. But to your dismay, he seemed unaffected beyond a tensing of his muscles. He approached you and the creature crouched over you. In your desperation, you scrambled out from under it and flung yourself on top of the beast, hugging it and trying to shield it with your body.

"It's done nothing wrong," you insisted,eyes squeezed shut as you braced for the agony of a sword piercing you, or perhaps a spell would be how you met your demise-- "It was simply hungry, it meant no harm, leave it be!"

There was a quiet scuff in the grass, then a cool touch to the back of your neck and you sucked in a sharp breath and went rigid, braced for pain--

"I already said I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to kill the Hirikka either," the Witcher growled. "They're harmless, and have already been hunted to near-extinction by idiot humans. I've no reason to harm her."

"....her?" you asked in a small, timid voice. Daring to lift your head, you glanced over your shoulder at the Witcher up through your lashes; he was glowering at you impatiently. You noted with relief that his sword was still sheathed, relaxing marginally.

"Yes, she's a female. And harmless, as you said." Slowly, you released the creature - a Hirikka, he'd called it - and sat up. A large hand gripped your arm above your elbow and pulled you to your feet and you yelped, squirming and struggling and glaring at the imposing man holding you tightly.

"You have magic," the Witcher said, appraising you intently, amber eyes hard to read. "Earlier, you used it to try and influence me. Is that why you came after the Hirikka, you thought you could handle it yourself?"

You felt all the color drain from your face, leaving you abruptly light-headed. But you lifted your chin and met his gaze as you said, "I came to protect an innocent creature from the cruelty of those who don't understand it." 

An odd expression flickered over his features, there and gone before you could decipher it, and he released you abruptly. You stepped away from him, rubbing absently at where his fingers had left red marks, sure that they'd bruise. 

"And you….understand this creature, do you?" the Witcher asked quietly, regarding you steadily, face stoic.

Most people, even without trying you could sense their surface thoughts and feelings with no effort. The constant chatter and hum, while overwhelming at times, was a soothing background you were used to. This man, however….it was like slamming up against a wall; there was nothing you could sense, and the silence was unnerving. It made you shiver, and he noticed the tremor with a slight frown.

"I understand it enough to not be afraid," you muttered, hugging yourself. Why were you defending yourself to him? You made to move past him, wanting to go home and warm up.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly when you were shoulder to shoulder with him, making no move to stop you, but his eyes were fixed on your face intently.

Turning slightly to meet his gaze again, muttering "Y/N. And yours, Witcher?"

"Geralt, of Rivia." His gloved hand suddenly traced your cheek and you jerked at the unexpected contact, eyes going wide-- "You're hurt," he informed you.

Frowning, you touched your own cheek. Sure enough, there was a thin cut and your fingers came away gleaming with blood when you pulled your hand back to look. Nausea made your stomach churn again and your knees went weak.

Geralt sighed deeply. "Sit down. I'll start a fire," he said quietly, and began walking off, presumably to gather wood.

"What--why--I don't need--" you sputtered, watching his retreating figure in bewilderment. He turned and fixed you with a stern glare that made your weak knees buckle dangerously, so you heeded his advice and sat on a nearby log.

"You were injured doing what was meant to be my job," he growled. "So you will sit, and I will start a fire, and then you will let me treat that wound with a salve."

"But--!" He ignored your protests, vanishing into the thicket. Heaving a frustrated sigh, you made eye contact with the Hirikka. "What have I gotten myself into?"

She blinked at you and had no wisdom to offer. Instead she came and laid on the ground at your feet. Sighing, you patted her head and settled in to wait for Geralt's return.

Tags: @dreamwritesimagines @queenxxxsupreme

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[riviawitch3r]

Steadfast (2)

A/N: I swear this wasn't the direction I meant for this to go in. It just keeps taking on a life of its own and dragging me along for the ride.

Warning: Attempted assault, panic attack, aaaaaangst (I'm sorry)

Word count: 3.5k

Part 1 can be found here

The hirikka seemed to lose interest when she realized you had no more food to offer and wandered away, leaving you alone in the gathering twilight. Suddenly every snap of twigs, every rustle of leaves seemed sinister. You shifted uneasily, considered just heading home. But just as you'd gathered your courage for the walk back through the darkening woods, Geralt returned, firewood bundled in his arms.

He fixed you with an unimpressed glower until you slowly sat back down and looked away. He snorted quietly and set about building a fire.

You found your gaze drawn back to his profile as he murmured an incantation that set the wood ablaze. Before you could look away his eyes flitted up and locked on yours, reflecting the firelight so they seemed to glow like simmering coals.

He reached for you and without thinking you shied back, recoiling from the attempted contact. He frowned, expression turning stony. Well. Stonier.

"Stay still," he growled, reaching into the small pouch tied to his belt and pulling out a small glass jar. Using his teeth, he pulled off a leather glove before dipping his fingers into the jar, coating it in a salve.

"Sorry," you muttered, unmoving this time as he began to slather the concoction over your cheek. It was cool and the vaguely unpleasant smell made your nose wrinkle. 

But the touch of his callused fingers to your bare cheek sent tingles skittering over your skin. You caught brief flashes -- bitter and dark and hurting, aching like a wound you've had so long you've forgotten to be bothered by  the constant throb, and yet that same darkness contained gentle pulses of light and warmth struggling not to be consumed -- brief glimpses of his thoughts flashing by too swift to comprehend. Usually such a touch would have you reeling, swept up in the current of the other person's mind until you struggled to maintain the boundary between their thoughts and your own sense of self. Clearly a Witcher's defenses weren't so easily penetrated.

Attempting to distract yourself, you found yourself studying his face, watching shadows and light play there as the firelight danced over his features. Watching his face -- stoic, focused, impersonal -- you caught another flash, a glimpse of yourself as he must see you: muddy, scraped and bruised, but sitting tall with your shoulders back, eyes narrowed as they watched the Witcher's movements warily. You sensed his hesitation as he reached for you again. That dull ache he carried in his chest became more acute, harder to ignore as he carefully smoothed the salve into your skin, as though you were made from spun glass.

"It's not because I'm afraid of you," you blurted before your mind could catch up to your wayward tongue.

Geralt froze, his hand withdrawing as he looked at you. He said nothing, but he watched you intently, as though waiting for you to elaborate.

Swallowing, you lifted a hand towards him, pausing just before your fingertips made contact and meeting his gaze. Amber eyes narrowed slightly but he made no move to stop you. Emboldened by taciturn permission, you grazed your fingertips along his jaw, tingles racing along your hand and up your arm.

"When people touch me," your voice came out as an unintentional whisper, afraid even now of sharing something you've fought to keep hidden so long, "When I touch them, skin to skin…..it opens some sort of link from them to me, intensifies everything I can sense from them until I can't tell their thoughts from my own. It's become instinctual to avoid such contact. It's overwhelming and….and it would e-expose me." You stuttered because, still touching his jaw lightly, you sensed a flare of thoughts rising to crash over you like a wave, anger and sadness and then bitter acrid fear--

His hand pried yours away gently before releasing you as though your touch had burnt him. Huffing out a breath, you dropped your gaze and slid back until your knee no longer pressed against his -- and when had you gotten so close, anyways? You were always so reserved, where had all your caution gone?

"You lack control," Geralt grunted. He turned so he was facing the fire rather than you. "Not your fault," he added, hearing your indignant huff as you wrapped your arms around yourself. "I imagine you've had no one to teach you what you would need to manage such an ability."

"Of course not," you murmured, rubbing your arms. The fire was doing a decent job of warming you physically, but speaking of this so openly, to a near-stranger, left you feeling cold in a different sense, vulnerable and uneasy. It was a struggle not to tremble.

"I could teach you," he muttered.

Blinking, you turned to stare at him -- surely you hadn't heard him correctly. But when he slanted a glance at you from the corner of his eye, he seemed completely serious. "What you tried to do earlier, it's not a bad start. You just need to refine and focus your power--"

"How do we start?" you interrupted eagerly, sliding closer again on the log but stopping before your leg pressed into his. He blinked, and you were fairly certain the glint in his eyes had been amusement. He twisted slightly so his torso turned towards you, locked your gazes together--

--and his mind devoured yours. Vivid colors and memories whirled through you, taken in through senses so sharp it was almost painful, monsters and screaming and laughing and ale and a string of lover's eyes flashing by in a bluehazelgreenbrown dizzying rush, gentle caresses and rhythmic motions of warm flesh pressed to yours giving way to the phantom sensation of claws and teeth and blades tearing through skin and muscle, bones being crushed and bent and broken, agony making your vision go white and your hearing full of static--

You came back to yourself lying flattened in the dirt, panting and staring up at the stars through twisted tree branches high above.

"That was an awful first attempt," you heard Geralt grumble nearby.

Attempting to haul yourself up to a sitting position was met by sickening vertigo and a large hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently but firmly back down. Focusing on your breathing, you tilted your head to glare at him.

Geralt's lips were pressed together tightly, and you took it to be irritation based on his scathing words. But a closer look and you realized his shoulders hunched slightly, almost…..guiltily.

"What happened?" you questioned in a hoarse voice. He kept one hand on your shoulder to prevent you from moving again and hovered over you, checking your vitals. Strands of his hair spilled over his shoulders to brush gently against your neck, surprisingly soft.

"I thought you would have defenses up, but you were open and unguarded. When I lowered my defenses it….overwhelmed you." He shot you another look, his fingers on your shoulder digging in almost painfully. "Any other human would not have emerged from that intact. …. what do you remember?" He seemed reluctant to ask.

Closing your eyes, you cringed as you thought back, head throbbing painfully and tears pricking your eyes, slipping from beneath your closed lids.

"Not--not much," you muttered hoarsely. Had you cried out? Everything was a bit of a blur beyond amber eyes and the following cacophony, but if you thought back past the initial strain, there were a few hazy impressions.

Involuntary spasms making your body twitch and jerk around, your shoulders being shaken...and perhaps a low voice growling your name. Possibly...fingers tracing through your hair.

But Geralt was avoiding your gaze, so you weren't sure what to make of that.

You slowly sat up, aided by his gloved hand at your back helping you stay steady. Squinting, you realized the sky was lightening and gasped in dismay. "What time is it?!"

"Approaching dawn -- that romp through my memories took a lot out of you," Geralt said gruffly, pulling you with him as he rose to his feet.

"I need to go -- I've been out all night, someone's bound to have noticed!"

"I can't be sure you're fully recovered--" He began to protest, amber eyes narrowing at you.

"I'm fine!" you insisted as you cut your gaze away, ignoring a brief dizzy spell. "Thank you for--" For what? Not killing the hirikka? The migraine? "--the salve. But I must go!" Before he can try to further dissuade you, you fled, splashing through the creek and back through the forest towards the village.

***

Your mother was still asleep when you slipped into your home in the grey light of dawn, you noted with relief. After a cursory scrub of your skin with a damp cloth and a change of clothes, you felt a bit more ready to face the day.

As you were tying your hair back you paused, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Studying your reflection, you saw no evidence of your misadventure. Perhaps darker-than-usual rings under your eyes. But Geralt's salve had done its job well. At first glance your cheek was perfectly smooth, but as you tilted your head the light brought into relief a very faint white line, like a years-old scar long healed.

You traced it gently, recalling the memory of leather-clad fingers following the same path…..and later, callused but gentle fingers….

Blinking, you shook your head to clear it of your dazed musings, dropping your hand and turning away from the mirror briskly. As you came to the top of the stairs you heard voices speaking in hushed tones downstairs.

"--haven't seen Y/N, I don't think she came home last night." That was your mother, Allene, concerned and soft-spoken. You frowned and creased your brows, gathering your thoughts before reaching out a tendril, trying to pick up what you'd missed of the conversation. Allene was still half asleep and Risuld' s thoughts were….unpleasant to dwell on, dark and lecherous and made you shudder and withdraw as though scalded. Neither was very informative, so you settled on the top step to listen, looping your arms loosely around your legs.

"If you do see Y/N, tell her not to run off again," Risuld spoke sourly. "She has a job to do, and if she wants to continue working in my tavern she can't run off chasing flights of fancy whenever she pleases."

"I'll tell her, Risuld," Allene assured. You expected Risuld to go, then, grumbling. But you only heard the creaking of the floorboards, as though he was shifting his weight foot to foot. ".....was there something else?" Allene prompted gently. Probably only you could hear the impatience in her tone, and you smirked a bit.

"The way Y/N conducts herself, it's not proper for a lady," Risuld finally groused.

It was silent for several moments.

"The way she conducts herself." No longer patient or gentle, Allene's flat tone made you wince. You were glad you weren't the one it was directed at.

"Yes," Risuld insisted blithely, "she's reckless and disrespectful and unruly--"

"I'll let her know you stopped by, Risuld," Allene interrupted, and moments later the door slammed. Stifling a grin, you slipped down the stairs, looking around the corner to see your mother, standing slightly slumped with her forehead on the door, eyes shut.

A prickle of guilt tightened your chest; you never meant to complicate your mother's life, hated seeing her look so weary. But before you could speak, she called your name. "Y/N. How much did you hear?" she asked, and you didn't bother asking how she knew you were there. There were times you wondered if maybe your powers might be hereditary, but you could never bring yourself to ask.

"....not much," you spoke quietly. You went to your mother and hugged her. She returned the embrace fiercely. Your face tucked into her neck, you were showered in warmth and love and protective rage, but you could sense how tired she was. You clung to her a bit tighter.

"Have you been causing trouble again?" she asked, fingers sliding through your hair.

"Nothing uncalled for,"you promised. It earned you a soft laugh.

"Still your father's daughter, I see."

"Father didn't raise me to read and write and hunt as well as the men in our village just so I could snivel and cower before them," you spoke, a melancholy ache in your chest. The loss of your father did not hurt less for being a familiar pain, having lost him when you were still young.

"No, he didn't," Allene agreed, touching your cheek. "Neither did he raise you to be such a hellion." But the twinkle in her eyes gave away her teasing.

"I'm sure he'd say I got that from you," you replied somberly. Darting away with a laugh when she swatted at you.

"Off to work with you, then, you've been sorely missed."

Still laughing, you slipped out and made your way to the tavern, heart light and a spring in your step.

As you passed the alley outside the apothecary, you had no warning before a hand snaked out and seized your wrist in a vice grip and jerked you off your path.

You stumbled and were pinned to the wall, disoriented by the suddenness of it and by the pressing swirl of thoughts from whoever had grabbed you, dark and wanting and vile. Before you could cry out another hand clamped over your mouth.

Hot breath panted against your ear and a press of moist lips made you cringe, struggling as your heart raced. "You should pay more attention, Y/N," Risuld's voice hissed in your ear. Lust and greed poured through him and beat at you, making your stomach turn. "Witchers and beasts lurking about, it's not safe….something could happen to you and no one would ever know."

Panic unfurled in your chest and you stared at him but he wasn't looking at your face, no his eyes were glued to your chest as he released your wrist to wrench at the front of your dress.

You bit his hand until the metallic tang of his blood touched your tongue and he swore. He sank his fist into your stomach, forcing air from your lungs and tears from your eyes, and his hands were scrabbling at you--

Your thoughts crystallized as adrenaline rushed through you, sharpened like a dagger that you hurled in his direction with all the force you could muster: GET OFF OF ME!!

With no breath in your lungs the command was silent, but you saw it hit him, felt him shudder against you and withdraw. When you dared to glance up, wheezing, you saw his eyes glassy and dazed, a thin line of blood leaking from the corner of his left eye and tracing down his cheek like a tear.

Sickened and afraid and enraged, your only thought was to get away. When you shoved Risuld, he staggered and fell to his knees. You spun on your heel and fled.

Half blind from tears, you had no direction in mind beyond escape, following the road as you fled, thoughts racing in a panicked incoherent whirlwind.

What did you doWhat I had toWhere are you goingAwayWhat will you tell motherI don't know….How will you explainI don't knowYou dazed him but he'll recover, and he'll tell everyone what you didI didn't mean toThey won't care. They'll kill you. Unless You go back and kill him, hide what you didI can'tYou have toI can't I didnt mean to it was an accident he was going to--i didn't mean to--I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to I'm sorry--

Since you weren't paying attention, you slammed straight into Geralt without pausing. The impact sent you reeling -- it was like slamming into a wall, he was tall and solid with muscle and you didn't even budge him, despite knocking a few glass phials out of his hands -- but before you could fall he steadied you.

You blinked blearily up at amber eyes. His brows furrowed as he looked down at you. "Y/N? What are you running from?"

He let go of your arms but your fingers, instinctively fisting his shirt front, were reluctant to let go. He ducked down a bit so his face was on the same level as yours. Breathing raggedly, you found yourself unable to speak around the lump in your throat.

You abruptly remembered that he kills monsters, and hidden Risuld's face came to your mind again, eyes glassy and shedding tears of blood. You had no idea what you'd done to him, but it was...monstrous. Grotesque. Everything you'd sworn you'd never be. If Geralt found out what you'd done--

Your breath hitched and you tried to tear away but he grabbed onto you again. A shriek tore its way out of your throat, finally, and you struggled like a wild animal, clawing and kicking and screaming.

"Y/N," Geralt snarled harshly, "look at me." You resisted but then his hands -- no longer gloved, when had he removed them? -- were holding your face, his forehead pressed to yours and the contact was too much, he was too much and you sobbed brokenly, struggling and beating at him.

Then, his mind still enveloping yours, everything went....still. Silent and calm, his thoughts smoothing out before being replaced by tranquil silence that enveloped you like a blanket. It smothered your panic and you gulped in air, gradually calming down and going still, gaze still locked on his.

That's better. His lips didn't move, but you heard his voice echo in the space shared between the two of you. Can you tell me what happened?

Your hands trembled as they came up to cup over his, holding them to your jaw as you shut your eyes. You couldn't make yourself speak the words, but you reluctantly let him see your memories. The panic swelled up again, but in this space it was distant, blocked out by the security of Geralt's mind shielding yours. You did sense his controlled rage and you sniffled quietly.

I didn't mean to….. Your guilty thought trailed off, unable now to stop seeing Risuld as you'd left him, what you'd done to him.

"Never apologize for protecting yourself," Geralt growled out. By speaking aloud he shattered the peace he'd created and the outside world came rushing back in. Opening your eyes,you saw his amber irises shining with rage and disgust and you recoiled--but he was still holding himself open to you,you knew that his anger wasn't directed at you.

In his eyes, at least, you were not the monster.

The knot in your chest loosened a bit, allowing you to breathe easier.

And your ears finally registered the sound of shouting and the thunder of footsteps before a stone struck Geralt's brow.

He grunted and finally pulled away from you, glaring over your shoulder.

As you twist around, fear lanced through you again. A mob had gathered, glaring at you and Geralt.

"You've overstayed your welcome, witcher!" someone called, to a chorused agreement. More stones sailed past and Geralt jerked you behind him, swearing under his breath as he lifted his arm to shield his head.

"Release Y/N, you beast!" "Y/N we won't let him hurt you!" "Get away from her, butcher!" they shouted over each other.

"Stop!" you cried hoarsely, trying to move around Geralt but he easily held you back. "Stop, leave him be!"

"He's bespelled her!" "Get him!" The mob surged forward and Geralt drew his sword. Your heart seized. You didn't think you could stand any further violence today.

"No!" The word burst from you with a scream, and something was wrenched from your chest and burst forth, the very air rippling as the whiplash hit the mob. As one they froze mid-stride, and Geralt went rigid.

Looking out at them, you felt a sting of betrayal at the fear and hatred in their eyes as they found themselves unable to move. But some part of you always knew this day would come, when you could no longer remain hidden.

When you could no longer remain here.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, you grabbed Geralt's wrist and tugged. "I don't know how long that will hold...we should go," you whispered, throat raw.

He looked at you, a question in his eyes. Unable to speak again, you nodded. He studied you for a long minute before sheathing his sword and led you off quickly.

Sniffling, you followed him to the stables by the inn. He went in and emerged with a chestnut mare. She pawed at the ground, but seemed to calm at Geralt's gentle touch to her neck. Wordlessly, Geralt put his hands on your waist and lifted you up onto the saddle before swinging up behind you.

His chest pressed against your back, and you felt his legs squeeze the mare, urging her to a brisk pace.

You realized that even this close, you were getting nothing from him. He'd closed himself off once more.

Racing from the only home you'd ever known, you'd never felt so alone.

Tag list: @dreamwritesimagines @queenxxxsupreme @vanitysfairr @sk493494 @laphirablack @crazyfangirl76 @ronniethelost @afterthenightprevails @alwayshave-faith @stretchkingblog97 @krymson182 @cloverhighfive @wanderingcas @my-dreams-under-your-feet

[riviawitch3r]

Wow! You are on a roll today baby! Can we get more Geralt fluff, I don't even care anymore the man just needs to be hugged and kissed and cuddled. Well, what can I say I'm a sucker for strong men with big hearts.

A/N: Ehehehehehe okay so l i s t e n, I should /really/ be asleep right now. Or at least working on Steadfast. But instead.....here we are. Bc I have no self control and just love Geralt so goddamned mUCH

Warnings: not a one!

Word count: 1,025

Unspoken

Tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap, tap.

The pattern being knocked on your door sent a thrill through you. Without hesitating you scrambled off your bed and flung the door open, looking up into familiar golden eyes.

"Geralt," you breathed, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Y/N," he greeted. His smile was subtler than yours, but you read his pleasure at seeing you in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the warmth sparking in his eyes.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, heart fluttering when you heard his indulgent chuckle.

"Are you hungry? How long are you staying? Are you tired? Would you like a bath? Do you--"

Geralt gently pulled you to a stop and put a hand over your mouth to stop your stream of babbled questions.

"Slow down, dove. We have time," he murmured. Then, eyes sparking, he moved his hand to cup your chin gently, tilting it up as he leaned in. You met his kiss with a dreamy sigh, sliding your hands up to wrap around his shoulders as his other hand came to rest on the small of your back, drawing you in. You melted against him, and felt his chest rumble as he chuckled again.

The kiss was slow and sweet, unhurried as his lips moved gently against yours. When you finally pulled back, you felt like goo inside, warm and pliant.

You reached up to touch his face gently. "I've missed you."

Geralt turned his head, nuzzling your palm before pressing his lips to the heel of your hand. "And I you, dove," he breathed against your skin. Yo shivered, not missing his smirk as he noted your reaction. Huffing softly, you kissed his cheek.

"Go eat something while I draw you a bath. You look tired, my love."

His features softened in the way he only ever allowed them to when alone with you. His lips touched your forehead and you closed your eyes.

"As my lady commands," he teased quietly. His fingers slid through your hair and down the nape of your neck before slipping away.

You opened your eyes again just in time to see him disappearing down the hallway towards your kitchen.

Smiling softly, you went to go draw him a bath as you'd promised. He'd said you had time, and that was a rare luxury for the two of you.

You planned to make the most of it.

**°~°~°~°**

The evening was quiet, peaceful. Geralt was laying with his head on your lap, dozing, and you felt fondness swell in your heart until it ached as you watched him.

The lines of his face smoothed, his hair falling loose across his forehead, lips loosely parted as he breathed slow and deep.

Unable to help yourself, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Hm?" he hummed sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep," you whispered. You ran your fingers down his back and watched the tension drain out of him as he sighed pleasantly, stretching languidly in a manner that rather reminded you of a cat.

"You smell happy," he mumbled. "What are you thinking about?" He shifted so he laid on his back, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

Smiling, you stroked his hair back from his face, allowed the touch to linger, tracing the plane of his forehead, down the curve of his cheek and the slightly stubbled line of his jaw. His eyes fell closed, seeming to bask in the light touches.

"This is a good look for you," you whispered. His lips tilted up but he kept his eyes shut.

"What look is that?"

"Rested. Content." You touched a kiss to each of his eyelids as you spoke, felt the barely-there tremble that went through him. "Safe and whole in my bed." You moved your lips against the corner of his mouth, so they brushed his in a parody of a kiss as you spoke quietly in the shared space of your breaths.

"Y/N," Geralt breathed your name in a low, gruff voice. You heard his unspoken need, saw the hairs on his arms raised and the faint prickle of gooseflesh raised on his arms. It always amazed you, the affect such simple, gentle touches could have on Geralt. And you were touched that he allowed you to see his reactions; you knew he had mastered self-control and could easily hide, but instead he let himself be vulnerable, gave you his absolute trust.

You treasured it more than anything else he could ever give you, more than jewels or gowns or any other fine things he worried he couldn't provide for you.

You shifted just enough to press your lips to Geralt's, light as a butterfly's wings. He exhaled shaking against your lips, seeking, and you moved so your body lay along his. His arms encircled you, held you close as you kissed Geralt slow and deep.

Eventually you pulled back, cupping his face until he opened his eyes to meet your gaze.

"I love you, Geralt."

As soon as the words left your lips, you felt him go still and coiled under you, nostrils flaring and eyes widening. He looked like a spooked deer and you smiled sweetly, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his throat, pressing tender affirmations into his skin until he slowly went loose under you again, trembling slightly.

You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

It was a bit faster than usual. You smiled against his skin.

His fingers came up to slide through your hair, slow ministrations that drew a pleased sigh from you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you drifted into a a doze in his arms.

Content in Geralt's arms, you knew he was returning your sentiment the only way he knew how. Words were not his strong suit and you knew this. You read the meaning in his gentle touches, the very slight hitch in his breathing. The tentative touch of his lips to the top of your head.

He didn't need to say it. You understood him perfectly.

**°~°~°~°**

Tag List: @dreamwritesimagines @queenxxxsupreme @vanitysfairr @sk493494 @laphirablack @crazyfangirl76 @ronniethelost @afterthenightprevails @alwayshave-faith @stretchkingblog97 @krymson182 @cloverhighfive @wanderingcas @my-dreams-under-your-feet @raspberrydreamclouds @xoxoarts @mactho @rainyforrest @alienemilyyyy @lizliz3107 @tomisbaeholland @thesunshinemanman

[riviawitch3r]

Until The Sky Falls Down On Me

A/N: This was meant to be an answer to a prompt I was sent but....it strayed quite a bit from the prompt sooo I'm posting it as a stand-alone. Here's 2.7k of hurt/comfort with sick!Geralt. Title is from Savage Garden's "Truly Madly Deeply".

Warnings: None I don't think? Tell me if I'm mistaken and I'll add the needed warnings.

Word Count: 2,743

Geralt didn't know where he was. That, coupled with the fact that he couldn't move, triggered all sorts of alarm bells.

Unable to open his eyes, his other senses strained to pick up any sort of outside stimuli that would provide insight for his current circumstances.

Touch: something cool and damp on his forehead, probably a washcloth based on the rough texture. He could feel a cool sheet against his chest, which told him that his torso was bare other than his medallion laying there. That it was still, no humming, soothed his unease a small amount.

Sound: A quiet, steady heartbeat and even breathing. To his left, close enough that he could hear the quiet click of what sounded like knitting needles and the swish of fabric as they shifted their weight. Someone was in the room with him. Not reassuring when he was so helpless, but not taking any measures at this precise moment to cause him harm.

Scent: Soaps, medicine, herbs. The bittersweet scent of worry, the faded stench of sour fear. A light perfume that made him want to sneeze.

Taste: Something bitter lingering underneath the familiar foulness of his usual potion. That was what finally triggered his memories: the basilisk he'd been hired to kill had managed to pierce his armor and envenomate him. He'd downed his potion as he stumbled back to the village to collect his coin. He couldn't remember much after that…..the poison must have circulated, made him pass out.

Which meant he was most likely being tended to by the village's healer. That much satisfied, he breathed in deep through his nose and threw all his gathered energy into the attempt to move.

His intention was to spring to his feet and roll away from the unfamiliar presence at his side, preferably with a wall at his back.

The results were….underwhelming, to say the least.

His eyes flew open and….his hands twitched at his sides. Other than that, he remained flat on his back, unmoving.

At his side, the click of needles went still. The formerly steady heartbeat sped up, and he wrinkled his nose, braced for a resurgence of the bitter fear-scent.

What wafted instead to his nose was….the gentle, citrus-sweet scent of gratitude. His nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes darted back and forth trying to see anything other than the damned ceiling.

A young woman leaned over him, smiling gently and looking rather pleased.

"Welcome back," you spoke softly. His eyes narrowed to slits as you reached up, but you only took the cloth from his forehead, dipping it in a bowl at your side and then draping it -- blessedly cool and damp once more -- across his forehead. "You gave us quite a scare, you know. Three fangs buried deep in your ribs, no telling how much blood you'd lost, and your fever has just refused to go down."

Geralt made a noise -- he meant to convey his frustration, wanted to growl and curse. But he was mortified that what came out of his throat sounded more like a pained groan. He despised having such weakness displayed before a stranger, hated how tired and hurt he felt, but there was no helping it.

He watched your brows crease in response to the sound he'd made.

"Take it easy," you murmured. "You're safe." He doubted that. "Your body is working incredibly hard to purge itself of the toxins." He could feel as much. "You need to rest. I'll watch over you until you're better."

Geralt narrowed his eyes into slits in your direction, inhaling deeply through his nose, trying to trace any hint of deception or ill will through your scent. He could identify none and that just made him more uneasy. What exactly did you want from him? Was this some sick study of him, taking advantage of his weakness to study a Witcher and their healing abilities? He knew many who would do awful things for such an opportunity.

His heartbeat elevated as his thoughts raced. You frowned down at him.

"Are you in pain?" you asked him. He was bewildered when you stroked his hair back from his face -- there was no lust in the touch, nor possession. What did you want from him? "I'll give you something to help you sleep."

He made another noise, wanting to protest, but you stood and shuffled around the dimly lit room. You returned with a glass vial. He despised that he was unable to resist as you slid a hand under his head to prop it up gently, unable to turn away as you tipped the vial to his lips.

He was going to spit it out just to be spiteful, but he caught a whiff of the concoction as you held it up, and he recognized the brew; it was similar to one he sometimes made himself, when he could get his hands on the necessary components.

Still confused, but slightly less suspicious, he swallowed the liquid you poured into his mouth.

The effect was almost immediate as you eased him back down, distancing him from his pain and making his eyelids heavy.

"That's better….you've earned some rest." The sound of your voice and the dim impression of your fingers smoothing his hair down were the last things he was aware of before he slid back into darkness.

**~°~°~°~**

When Geralt next roused, he instinctively stretched. And was pleased to find that, though still a bit tender, his body was responding normally again. He opened his eyes and sat up in a fluid motion, looking around him warily.

A fire burnt in the hearth, and a window was open to let in what he judged to be midday sunlight. It also allowed a breeze that felt pleasant against his sweat-sticky skin. Shoving the thin sheet that smelled of fever and medicine off of himself, Geralt climbed to his feet. Standing nude in the center of the room, he sniffed and followed the trail of his own faded scent to find his clothes, freshly washed and smelling crisply of soap and the scent that clung to your skin, folded on a chair in the corner. His swords rested against the wall next to the chair and his satchel was on the ground in front of them. When he picked them up he noticed that you'd also mended his clothes, no more tears or gashes. He frowned, tracing the lines of stitching with his fingers.

He was just sorting through his bag to ensure all his belongings were still there when you re-entered the room.

As soon as he heard the door knob turning he spun around, instinctively dropping into a fighting stance.

He watched you take in the empty bed, saw worry sadness flash across your features before your eyes lit on him, crouched in the corner and watching you with slitted eyes. You relaxed and smiled at him, though you smelled embarrassed and a blush tinged your cheeks as he watched.

"Feeling better, I see. I'm glad. If, erm, if you'd like to get dressed, I was just making lunch." Your eyes slid away from his then, your blush darkening. "You're welcome to join me, I'm sure you must be famished. I'll just--I'll be downstairs, feel free to join me whenever you're ready." He watched with interest as you turned, bumped into a table next to the door, and shot him a flustered look before slipping out the door.

Geralt waited until the sound of your footsteps had faded down the stairs before finally relaxing and straightening up. He could hear the quiet sounds of you puttering around downstairs, the clink of pots, and a hint of spices drifted up to him.

He should leave. Collect his coin and be on his way. But…

The faint scent of spices drifted up to him, and he scowled when his stomach rumbled.

Deciding a meal he didn't have to catch and cook himself might not be a bad idea, Geralt stiffly pulled on his clothes. Sliding his swords into place across his back was familiar and soothing in the midst of all this strangeness. Fortified, he padded down the stairs, following his nose and ears to the kitchen.

He paused in the doorway, watching as you sliced bread and stirred a pot of what he hoped his nose was correctly informing him was beef stew. He listened to you hum and he felt….puzzled. Unsure of what was expected of him in this situation, his instincts prickled uneasily, fingers twitching and flexing restlessly at his sides.

After a few minutes you finally caught him, jumping like a frightened rabbit when you turned and spotted him lurking. "Goodness! I didn't hear you come down."

Geralt didn't respond, watching you as he tried to puzzle out your motives. Tried to understand why, despite your thudding heart, he scented no fear or unease on you. Only a resurgence of citrus gratitude. His brows furrowed.

You smiled kindly at him as he regarded you warily. "Have a seat, it'll be ready soon." You pointed to a table in the dining room and, careful to never expose his back to you, Geralt went and sat. He chose a chair on the far side that kept his back to the wall and allowed him to keep his eyes on you unobstructed.

You went back and forth, bringing over bowls and silverware, the pot of stew, a tray with slices of bread and some cheese. A pitcher of lemonade was the last to be set on the table before you sat across from him.

"Help yourself," you encouraged, smiling warmly at him.

"Why are you doing this?" Geralt demanded, making no move to touch any of the food despite the gnawing ache of hunger twisting his stomach.

You tilted your head slightly. "I can't claim I know much about a Witcher's needs, but your metabolism worked a lot to burn out those toxins. Not to mention you lost a lot of blood, and we're under for almost two days. Some protein will help you get back on your feet."

Geralt made a frustrated gesture. "That's not what I meant."

Your brows wrinkled as you regarded him, as though he were the one behaving oddly. "Then what--?"

"All of--this," he interrupted harshly with a vague, agitated gesture that made his still-sore ribs protest. He watched comprehension dawn in your eyes.

And he felt irritation flare up as you had the audacity to look offended.

"You suspect me of ulterior motives?" Rather than answering, Geralt narrowed his eyes at you. "I don't...I wouldn't…."

"What do you want from me?" Geralt snapped. He only felt more confused and agitated when you didn't flinch, only pursed your lips and fidgeted with your spoon on the table. These responses weren't normal, damn it, and it had him unsure where he stood, uneasy and unable to relax until he was back on familiar ground.

"The basilisk," you spoke quietly. "It killed my father." Geralt frowned, sensing there was more to it than that. You sighed, shoulders slumping a bit. "My brother tried to kill it in vengeance, and it claimed his life as well as many others. Until you." You looked up and met Geralt's eyes again, and he was disconcerted by the warm, soft look in your gaze, unused to seeing such looks directed his way. "You did not have to help us, but you did."

Geralt grunted, suddenly uncomfortable. "I did not do it for free."

"And you think that somehow lessens the good that you've done?" you countered. Almost chiding him, it seemed. "A monster has plagued our village, and you freed us from its terror. Tending any wounds you sustained, giving you a bit of food and a safe place to rest, it is the least we could do as thanks." You looked determined now as you stared into his eyes.

"....and how do the other villagers feel about that sentiment?" he asked. Watched as your jaw flexed, and that was answer enough really.

"It's none of their business. I am the healer, and who I treat and welcome into my home is my decision." You set your shoulders, cheeks flushing with a hint of irritation.

"I'm not worth that trouble," Geralt said quietly. You looked at him, startled, and then you looked sad and he didn't understand.

"That's my decision," you said again. "Eat, and then I'll check on your injuries."

"I don't need--" Geralt tried to protest. You fixed him with a firm look.

"Eat, and then I will check on your injuries, Witcher," you repeated sternly. Geralt gaped at you.

".....Geralt," he finally said. At last he reached for the stew, serving himself a helping. The pleased smile it earned him from you seemed reward enough.

"I'm Y/N."

**~°~°~°~**

"I still don't think this is necessary," Geralt grumbled.

He was sat on a stool as you had him test his range of motion with his arms, checked on the rapidly healing cuts over his ribs that would soon blend in with the rest of his scars.

A particularly hard poke of your fingers made him hiss and he glared at you.

"Stop arguing with your healer, Geralt," you tutted at him without looking up. He stared at you, marveling at the fact that you were so…..at ease. Not only lacking fear, but comfortable, sure enough of your safety in his presence to tease and reprimand him.

It was…..unusual. But he found he didn't mind as much as he had initially, now that he understood the motives behind your actions better.

And you touched him without reservation, fingers skirting over his ribs feather-light. There was no lust in your touch, no morbid fascination, no demanding the stories behind his many scars. Only compassion as you smoothed a soothing salve over the inflamed skin.

It made him feel oddly…...small. Vulnerable, to be so thoroughly taken care of, with nothing asked of him in return....it was unfamiliar and left something in him raw and aching, but not in a wholly unpleasant way. He felt vaguely guilty, unsure that he deserved this treatment, but warm and content in a way he was unfamiliar with but savored nonetheless.

You worked with a small smile on your face, helped him gently back into his shirt once you were satisfied. He was unable to stop watching you, riveted. He watched your cheeks flush again and found it a pleasing look.

"What, have I got something on my face?" you asked self-consciously, touching your fingers to your cheek. Geralt shook his head with an amused quirk of his brow. You huffed. "What is it, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like…..like….I don't know, like that!" you huffed, flapping a hand at him vaguely. "You're not still suspicious of me, are you?"

"No," he spoke, felt the minute softening of his features and allowed it so you would see. He heard your heart begin to thump and it made him stifle a smile.

"Then what?" you asked quietly. You were still rather close, standing next to where he sat on the stool.

"Perhaps this is just how I look at things," Geralt suggested. Allowed his mouth to quirk at one corner, knowing there would be a flicker of mischief in his eyes if you looked.

You were looking, and you caught it. Huffing, you gathered up the soiled bandages you'd removed from him and began to clean up. He chuckled, quiet enough that he knew you wouldn't hear, and tracked you as you moved about the room.

"So, am I well enough to travel?" he asked you after a few moments. You glanced at him over your shoulder, and he didn't miss the way your eyes flickered over his body in interest. Something warm stirred low in his belly.

"Not just yet, but if my estimations are accurate you will be by morning."

"May I stay here again tonight?" he asked. You paused and turned to face him, face open with a sweet and sincere smile.

"Of course, Geralt. As long as you need."

As soon as he saw that smile Geralt knew he was well and truly fucked. Dangerous, to get attached. You were human, it was playing with fire.

But….watching you hum and resume cleaning up the room, Geralt decided one more night couldn't hurt.

**~°~°~°~**

Tag list: @dreamwritesimagines @queenxxxsupreme @vanitysfairr @sk493494 @laphirablack @crazyfangirl76 @ronniethelost @afterthenightprevails @alwayshave-faith @stretchkingblog97 @krymson182 @cloverhighfive @wanderingcas @my-dreams-under-your-feet @raspberrydreamclouds @xoxoarts @mactho @rainyforrest @alienemilyyyy @lizliz3107 @tomisbaeholland @thesunshinemanman

If your URL is bolded or struck through, it means Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

[riviawitch3r]

Fic reccomend: Geralt is obviously touch/affection starved, and it would be great to see a good description of how he reacts when reader shows she cares? The shivers that would run all over his body when she would touch him. The slight falter of the neutral mask he always wears. How confused he would be when reader looks at him with admiration because he's used to everyone else seeing a monster that's only tolerated because he kills other monsters. Maybe his POV? Angst and fluff bruh

A/N: I'm sorry did you say angst? Because I heard fluff. Pure, unconditional fluff. Because Geralt deserves it. Kid!reader softness ahead, buckle up buttercup.

Warnings: Absolutely none (I mean Geralt is covered in gore but nothing explicit so?????)

Word count: 958

Unconditional

"Sir witcher! Sir witcher!"

Geralt growled as the words reached his ears and kept walking, villagers hastening out of his way as he stalked through the street.

He could hardly blame them. Covered in selkiemore guts, refusing to limp despite his leg throbbing like a bitch, and denied his payment by that bastard mayor, Geralt was in a foul mood and he was sure his temper showed.

When he felt a small, warm hand latch onto his he whirled, lips peeled back from his teeth in something akin to a snarl--

And froze when he came face to face with a wide, gap-toothed smile in a young, innocent face. You smiled naively up at him, thin fingers latched onto his grimy hand.

"You forgot this!" you told him, pressing a pouch into his hand. He heard the jingle of coins and raised an eyebrow at you.

He absolutely did not melt when you giggled.

"I know my papa said he wasn't gonna pay you, but I told him a promise is a promise and you got hurt doin' what he asked and he wasn't being fair and so he said that if I thought it was so important that I should give you those coins myself and so here I am, giving you the coins!" you babbled all in one breath, beaming up at him. You were clearly quite proud of yourself, eyes gleaming with admiration, and Geralt felt something in his chest squeeze.

He sighed gustily, pocketing the coin. He started to ruffle your hair, but seeing how filthy his hand was and how clean your hair was, thought better of it. He dropped his hand to his side with a gruff, "Thanks kid."

He tried to tug his hand away from yours, but you latched onto him like a vice. He didn't dare use more force, not wanting to hurt you.

"Kid--" he started uncomfortably. He could feel people starting to watch the two of you, could hear the beginnings of uneasy whispers.

"Y/N," you interrupted brightly.

Geralt pinched his nose and gently pried your hand off of his. When your face puckered into a pout he sighed again, crouching so he was closer to your level and speaking quietly.

"Thank you, Y/N, for convincing your father to pay me my coin. It was….very kind of you. But you should go home now."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "Where are you gonna go, Sir Witcher?"

Geralt will forever deny that he felt his heart squeeze when you called him that. "I'm gonna move on, head out of town."

You frowned at him. "Why?"

Glancing around, Geralt sighed. "I think it would be best for everyone involved if I didn't linger."

"What if there's another monster? Who will protect us?" Such faith in your earnest gaze. Geralt ached in a way entirely different from his physical wounds. He gingerly rested a hand on your shoulder, speaking solemnly. "Tell you what. If there are any more monsters, I'll come back and take care of them."

"Do you promise?" you insisted.

"I promise," Geralt assured you, squeezing your shoulder lightly before letting go. Before he could stand up, you launched yourself at him. Geralt froze, tense as a coiled spring, years of training and instinct bracing him for an attack.

When he felt your small arms wrap around his neck, all the air left his lungs in a rush. His hands, half-raised as though to fend you off, slowly came up to rest on your back and return the embrace. They trembled very slightly, but no one without a Witcher's heightened senses would ever notice. His thighs were aching and throbbing in protest from crouching down, but….

But you were warm and small and soft and you smelt of trust and gratitude. So fragile in his arms, so vulnerable, yet never once doubting that you were safe. It was a greater gift than any coin you could have given him, and Geralt wouldn't have stood up for anything in the world, didn't ever want this to end.

He squeezed his eyes closed, pressing his face into your hair so that any emotion his face might betray would remain hidden.

"Sir Witcher? Are you alright?" you asked quietly.

"I'm…I'm fine," Geralt muttered.

"Because….you're squishing me a bit," you said breathlessly. Geralt immediately released you with a sick feeling in his stomach. Giggling, you leaned back but didn't pull away, resting your hands on his shoulders and smiling brightly. "You give real good bear hugs!" you told him cheerfully.

Geralt couldn't help it. He smiled. A tiny, fleeting thing, but there nonetheless. He did ruffle your hair this time

"It's getting late. Head on home now."

You pouted at him. He raised an eyebrow and did his best to look stern.

Heaving a dramatic sigh so he would know precisely how put-upon you were,you nodded. "My mama will have dinner ready soon," you acknowledged.

"Don't keep her waiting," Geralt told you. He finally dropped his arms so they no longer encircled you. When you lingered still, he gave you another stern look.

With an impish grin, you bounced forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Stunned, Geralt stared after you as you ran back the way you came.

"Don't forget your promise, Sir Witcher!" you called over your shoulder.

Geralt pressed a hand absently to his cheek. Something bittersweet ached in his chest as he slowly came to his feet, but he also felt tingling warmth spreading through him.

"I won't forget," he quietly vowed, even though you could no longer hear him.

The afternoon sun seemed to shine a little brighter as he continued on his way.

**~°~°~°~**

Tag list: @dreamwritesimagines @queenxxxsupreme @vanitysfairr @sk493494 @laphirablack @crazyfangirl76 @ronniethelost @afterthenightprevails @alwayshave-faith @stretchkingblog97 @krymson182 @cloverhighfive @wanderingcas @my-dreams-under-your-feet @raspberrydreamclouds @xoxoarts @mactho @rainyforrest @alienemilyyyy @lizliz3107 @tomisbaeholland @thesunshinemanman

If your URL is bolded or struck through, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Let me know if you want to be on my tag list!

[riviawitch3r]

Masterlist

I'll try to update this often but if anything I write isn't here all my writing is tagged #riviamagines :)

I also cross-post fics on my AO3, and you can add yourself to my tag list here.

One-shots

Gen

"Solitude" ~ Geralt prefers to be alone. Angst, 499 words, I hurt my own feelings and cried writing this someone pls hug Geralt

"Unconditional" ~ A small gesture of kindness means more than you could realize. 958 words, pure fluff. Kid!reader, touch-starved!Geralt.

**°~°~°~°**

Geralt x reader

"Until The Sky Falls Down On Me" ~ Geralt is hurt on the job, and has to accept that for once he needs someone's help. He's unprepared for the kindness shown to him. 2.7k words, hurt/comfort

"Dark Side Of The Moon" ~ Geralt is furious he wasn't there when you needed him, and you have to stop him from doing something he'll regret. 735 words, angst

"Let Me Be Your Mirror" ~ You don't see a beast or a monster when you look at Geralt; he disagrees. Or: Geralt has low self-esteem. 1.1k words, bittersweet ending

"Unspoken" ~ You and Geralt have time to take things slow. 1,058 words, soft, fluff, affection-starved!Geralt, oh my god so tender y'all I died a lil writing this

Untitled but reader showing appreciation for Geralt's lovely strong thighs god bless, 892 words

"Now I Am Under" ~ Geralt loses his temper and upsets you. 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

"You Still Have All Of Me" ~ Geralt can smell another man on you. Chaos ensues. 3.1k words {**NSFW**}

"Let Sleeping Dogs Lie" ~ Geralt is restless. You talk and help him calm down enough to sleep. 1k words {alternately titled "The Safety Boob Fic"}

"Sum Of Our Parts" ~ While going for drinks with Geralt, he learns you're not as helpless as he thought. Deaf!reader, fluff, Geralt's kink is reader being a badass scary lady, 2k words

"Save Your Heart" ~ You almost lose Geralt when he breaks a promise and goes hunting a siren. Angst with a happy ending, deaf!reader, 4k words

"Found In Your Arms" ~ Seeking revenge against Geralt, someone with a grudge captures and tortures you. Angst, bittersweet hopeful ending, 4.3k words

"Something Just Like This" ~ A job goes bad and Geralt needs some comfort. Hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.6k words

**°~°~°~°**

Jaskier x Reader

"No Love Could Be So Fair" ~ Jaskier's fate was sealed the moment he spotted you dancing while he performed. Light angst, mostly fluff and pining, ft. my original poem, 2.8k words

"Lookin' Up" ~ You finally work up the nerve to talk to the cute musician always performing outside your cafe. Coffee Shop au, 1.4k words

**°~°~°~°**

Geraskier

"Utter No Cries" ~ Geralt is a monster trying to be a man. Geraskier, 2.9k words, angst, hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending

**°~°~°~°**

My OCs

Erevi. Snippet 1 | Snippet 2 | Snippet 3

**°~°~°~°**

Series

Steadfast. [Geralt x reader] Summary: after all these years, you realized Geralt was the one constant in your life. While everything else changed, he remained a steadfast presence you had come to trust and rely on. Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Serendipity. [Geralt x reader x Jaskier, 12.8k] Summary: people linked by destiny will always find each other, no matter the boundaries of time or space that divide them.

May I Feel. [Geralt x reader, 5.4k] Summary: The heart wants what it wants, but we can't always follow our desires. (Angst, sad ending, nsfw) Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 {**NSFW**}

**°~°~°~°**

Imagines

Geralt with a physically affectionate reader

Kissing Geralt

Taking a bath with Geralt

Geralt meeting your parents

Geralt + pet names

Geralt + blushing

How to tell when Geralt is flustered

**°~°~°~°**

Event Masterposts

Heart Day 2020 prompts

500 follower milestone prompts