Reader being super affectionate with only Geralt and he’s confused by it and she’s just like “You seem like you need it.”
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Geralt x Reader
Word Count: 673
Rating: G
Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual
a/n: Did somebody ask for Soft Geralt?
He was tired.
It had been a hard hunt and he found himself missing his brothers in arms and his former mentor. He hated being away from Ciri but knew it was necessary and that Yennefer would keep her safe while he worked on hiding their tracks. It seemed as if every time he turned around there was a new crisis, a new fire to put out, a new monster to slay. He found himself dreaming of things that could never be; a home, a sense of safety, some peace. And you, wildest dream of all. You who stayed with him even when he was grumpy or couldn’t find any words at all. You sat with him in his silence and you were the closest to calm he ever felt and the only person he called home.
You usually gave him his space but one evening when he returned to camp you greeted him with a hug. He froze for a moment as your body pressed against his, standing on tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, and then he tentatively hugged you back. You squeezed harder in encouragement and he burrowed his face into your neck, inhaling your scent and allowing himself this moment of affection, no matter how unexpected or curious. When you pulled back you gently brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, the way he’d done with lovers in the past but no one had ever done for him. His amber eyes stared into yours, brow furrowed in confusion, but you simply smoothed it away with a gentle caress of your hand.
“If you keep glaring like that your face will freeze this way. Which would still be handsome but I’d miss the smile,” you said with one of your own. He was rendered speechless but you didn’t seem to mind.
“Come on, I’ve got dinner ready,” you said, pulling him closer to the fire by hand. He looked down at your hand grasping his, your small hand corralling him with a firm grip. He could break away with ease but he felt powerless and this surrender was also something like peace. He sat obediently when you gestured for him to sit and when you handed him a bowl of soup and sat down next to him instead of across like usual he didn’t question it. He didn’t even put up a pretense of wanting to be further apart, his body hungry for your closeness and your warmth. You sat and ate dinner in quiet, another gift he gratefully accepted as he tried to process the change that had come over you. He watched you as you ate. Watched the way you closed your eyes and sighed contentedly as you chewed your food. Watched as you gazed out into the forest and when he followed your gaze he found himself seeing it through your eyes. Not the mass of looming danger, but a lush and serene backdrop for your journey.
When you finished eating your hand found his again and you scooted even closer, resting your head against his shoulder.
“What… are you doing?” he asked finally.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
“You’re different. You’re acting different.”
He felt you shrug but you stayed where you were. He could smell the lavender in your hair and he could have rested his head against yours if he wanted. If he dared.
“I know it’s hard being apart from your family,” you explained, “I just wanted to offer some very intentional, extra affection. You seemed like you needed it. We all do sometimes.”
He didn’t say anything for a long while and you began to grow worried that he’d taken offense. But he wasn’t moving and when he slid his hand up to clasp your shoulder, bringing you even closer, and you felt the weight of his head lay against yours, you knew that all was well.
“I still have some of my family,” he said finally. He didn’t need to see your face to know you smiled.
Women are to hide themselves from men because if we saw them, we’d get on our hands and knees and beg like hounds. -Line of Dialogue
“Women are to hide themselves from men because if we saw them, we’d get on our hands and knees and beg like hounds,” Thor said, full from ale. He looked back at the Warriors Three and Loki with a blotchy face. “Norns know I certainly would.”
I love to think of Kakashi’s s/o as someone who just beat the shit out of him in training and he couldn’t help just be like “Holy fuck is this love?”
dhshshj dude lmao i love this idea too i think it can kinda happen tbh i feel like he'd be really attracted to strength and skill and stuff. Like he just had his ass beaten and he should feel bad but instead he's feeling all these weird things it's messing w his mind but it feels kinda somewhat similar to those sappy descriptions from his romance novels and he's really confused like ??? hUh
:0 Gimmie more Leggy. Like Aragorn’s daughter is suuuper into Legolas and Legolas is like confused and shocked
Thank you for sending me Leggy things! This sweet sweet elf will always be my boy! <3 Oooohhh I’m giggling at this! With your permission (and credit), this maaaaay or may not turn into a longer thing. I like it.
Legolas is absolutely there for her entire life. Besides her parents, he’s one of the first to hold her as a baby, he holds her hands and teaches her to walk and is there the first time she does, he takes care of cuts and bruises and sings to her for comfort. He’s like a guardian angel to her.
As she grows older, it’s pretty clear she has a big fat crush on him. She’s always running to him when he comes to visit, holding his hand ALWAYS, telling him all the stories she can. He teaches her his favorite elvish songs and is so proud of her beautiful voice. He also teaches her archery- duh! When she’s sent to bed at night, Aragorn and Arwen tease Legolas about how much their daughter adores him. He’s clearly her favorite visitor.
Later on, his visits become more rare. He has a kingdom to take care of by his father’s side, of course. Time passes quickly when you’re an elf, but he does write letters to his little half-elf, keeping up with her and her activities as he does with Aragorn as well. After years, he goes to visit them, celebrating a holiday/feast day in their kingdom.
He was invited to the high table but he didn’t see her sitting there with her parents. He didn’t quite admit it to himself, but a piece of his heart sank when she was missing. He sat next to Aragorn and asked where she was. The King smiled. “She’s not one to be pulled from her archery practice for a festival. However, she will come quickly now that she knows you are here.”
Legolas sipped from his goblet and waited. He saw her the moment she stepped into his view. Her hair had grown longer. Though it was tied back at her temples, the long tresses fell gracefully down her back. The long gown she wore also made him notice her height- she’d grown so much since he’d last seen her. He stood as she neared him, bowing his head, but keeping his eyes on hers.
Her delicate fingers wrapped around his arms. “Legolas! How lovely to see you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and he tried not to stand so stiffly. He pondered the move, she knew elves were not accustomed to such an embrace, but should he be this thrown off by it? This was the same baby he held, the same toddler he carried on his shoulders, the same girl he taught to sing. She’d only grown. That’s all.
“Will you dance with me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Surely there are many others here who will take you to the floor,” he said before returning to his seat next to Aragorn.
“She’s grown,” her father said.
Legolas hummed. “Yes.”
“She’s missed you. She speaks of you often. When your letters come, she reads them over and over and keeps them in ribbons.”
Legolas didn’t answer. He only watched her stutter down the steps, glancing back at him before taking the invitation of another man on the floor. The man didn’t know the correct steps, didn’t know how to support her or hold her, didn’t know her favorite foods or seasons or flowers, hadn’t known her since she was a baby, hadn’t sung her nightmares away.
“Go to her, Legolas,” Aragorn said.
Legolas turned, eyes wide.
“We know what you feel for her. There’s no one else I’d rather she have than you.” Aragorn took his hand a squeezed it. “Go.”
Legolas took flight from his seat to steal her away from the man who had asked her to dance. She was glad.
GIMMIE GIMMIE LEGOLAS. Reader is part of the fellowship and one day Legolas goes to relax and sees her bathing in the river and he’s like “Uh...” and she’s like unbothered and starts having a normal conversation with him. Bonus if someone catches them
Omg I love it. GIMMIE LEGGY ALWAYS!!!
Maybe when he finds you, your back is to him and though the water is covering your bum, he can see the soft skin of your bare shoulders and down your back and he’s so embarrassed that he makes some noise like “oh!” but it get stuck in his throat a bit. You look over your shoulder and see Legolas and once you see it’s someone you’re safe with, rather than an orc or something dangerous, you’re at ease, though you fall in the water to your shoulders before you turn to him.
“You don’t have to leave!” you say as he skitters back into the woods.
“I didn’t know you were bathing here,” he says. “I just came to wash my tunic after we met those orcs a few leagues back.”
“Please, go on. You’re not bothering me here.” You lean back, dipping your hair into the waves and scrubbing the dirt and grime from your forehead.
Your reaction is very surprising to Legolas, he thought humans to be more shy of “indecency” as he heard it called. But really, if you didn’t mind, why should he?
By the time Aragorn comes looking for you two, Legolas is sat on a high rock, knees pulled to his chest as you two talk of your homes and families and traditions. You’re still in the water, not because you feel stuck there with Legolas watching you, but simply because you love to swim. Aragorn leaves you two alone without a word, but definitely a scrunched and confused look. You stay in the water until you’re so cold you’re turning blue and Legolas waits for you to dress with his back turned before you walk back to the camp together.
Bonus- as you’re walking, your hand brushes his and he’s surprised how cold your fingers are. He gathers your hands in his and brings them to his lips, blowing warm air into them. “You’re cold, mellon nin.”
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Modern!Geralt and Toddler!Ciri
Word Count: 1,455
Rating: G
Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual
a/n: I aged Ciri down to a toddler because the mental image of Geralt wearing a baby bjorn would not let me be unless I wrote it out. Also I feel like there could be a part 2 and that reader could be the barista in this piece. Hope you like it!
The crowd parted as he entered the café.
He struck an imposing figure as he stalked past the other patrons, a single mission in mind.
His shoulder length silver hair was falling out of the bun he’d hastily made that morning, the sunglasses obscuring the strange amber color of his eyes. He wore all black from his leather boots to his jeans and even up to the hoodie. The straps wound around his back and in the center of his chest was an all-black baby bjorn. The baby inside of it peered out at the world with green eyes and a grumpy expression, blond hair wound into two pigtails that had been half pulled out though it was only 7am.
Geralt reached the counter and the barista’s eyes widened in surprise and interest and finally adoration as she took in the sight of the child.
“Good morning, what can I get you?” she asked, more to the child than to Geralt. He didn’t mind. In fact, in some ways he preferred it. Since becoming a father, unexpectedly but without a shred of regret, Geralt had found that among the many ways she improved his life was by making him both more approachable and totally forgotten as people cooed over the toddler, no matter how surly she was.
“French press dark roast, whatever you have around, and some almond milk,” he ordered.
“Anything else?” the barista asked, wrinkling her nose up and smiling at Ciri who giggled despite herself. Ciri spun her face up to Geralt, green eyes large and pleading though there as an edge of danger in them that hinted at what might happen if he refused her this request. He had already waged several wars this morning from what time they’d wake up (1 -Ciri), to bath time (1 – Geralt), getting her into her clothes (a toss up between the two frankly) and letting him brush her hair (technically he’d won but it felt like a stalemate at best). He would not fight the muffin fight this morning.
“And a blueberry muffin,” he added.
“There’s a chocolate one,” she pointed out helpfully.
“Blueberry,” he repeated meaningfully, ignoring her pout. He paid and walked them over to a little table where he paused before unlatching the bjorn.
“If I let you out you’re going to sit down, yes?”
She huffed impatiently.
“Yes,” she said. He undid the straps and gently plopped her onto the booster seat another employee had helpfully set in place as he freed her and as soon as she hit the chair her eyes swept to the door and widened suddenly. He yoinked her up swiftly as she started to dart off to the door, nervous about how narrowly he’d missed her, and turned to see what had drawn her gaze.
“Mama!” she cried happily, reaching her arms out and doing grabby hands. The woman who walked in did them back with an uncharacteristically bright smile on her face. How he’d wound up co-parenting with his ex was a matter of wills and, he suspected, a vengeful god. Yet he couldn’t deny that as he passed Ciri into her arms and the girl clung to her neck, he was happy to have her by his side in this.
“Alright, go take your seat,” Yennefer said as she put her down. Ciri immediately ran to the little hair and climbed up onto it, kicking her legs idly as she looked around the room. Like for more exits, Geralt thought tiredly.
“You’re up early,” Yennefer noted with a wry smile.
“Hmm.”
“Here you go!” the barista said, pausing mid-step as her eyes fell on Yennefer. She placed the almond milk carton and Geralt’s coffee by his side of the table and very intentionally turned it so only side of it showed.
“What’s that?” Ciri asked, pointing at the cup, but the barista had set down the muffin and all but ran back behind the bar. Geralt picked up the cup and turned it to find a phone number scrawled on it. Yennefer took the cup from Geralt’s hand, smirking as she took a sip and sent a wink towards the barista who blushed furiously.
“That was for me,” Geralt protested as Yennefer walked off to get a paper, cup in hand.
“The coffee or the number?” Yennefer teased.
“Both,” Geralt bit out.
“And yet it seems they both now belong to me,” the woman replied, violet eyes twinkling mischievously as Geralt glowered.
“Daddy,” Ciri called to him, and he spun around to find her gazing at the muffin but – to his great surprise – patiently waiting in her seat. He sat across from her and stuck the straw in the milk carton before passing it and the muffin her way.
“You’re the only woman I need in my life,” he said quietly as he watched her shove a piece of muffin the size of her small fist into her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she chewed. The cup was suddenly placed back on the table, a ring of berry colored lipstick around the lip. He looked up at her, peering over the top of his sunglasses like a grumpy school marm while Yennefer kept that same infuriating, beguiling smile playing about her lips.
“It’s an inferior blend,” she said simply, “I prefer single origin. I copied down the number, though.”
“She gave it to me,” he repeated.
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Yennefer said in a tone that suggested he had everything to worry about. He glanced over at the barista who was staring in their direction but not, he noticed, only at him. Under other circumstances this could have been the start of a very interesting night, but things were different now. He was a father and Yennefer was the mother of his child but not in the way he’d ever anticipated. He wasn’t sad about that, though. He looked back at Ciri who drank her milk, legs still kicking casually in their little light up sneakers, and he smiled the wide, genuine smile that had once been so foreign to him but now lit up his face regularly.
“What is it?” Ciri asked, noticing how both of her parents were now watching her with twin soft, fond expressions.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Yennefer admonished, though with a little smile to soften the scold, “I’ve got to go to work but be good for your daddy and I’ll see you tonight, alright?”
“Ok,” Ciri said, a little sadly, as Yennefer reached over and pressed a kiss on her cheek that left the same mark that rested on his cup. Geralt wondered idly if there was any part of his life that Yennefer hadn’t marked or claimed in some way. He also wondered why he didn’t mind it.
“Geralt,” she said coolly, though there was a warmth in her eyes.
“Yennefer,” he said back. She smiled and, after sending a final wave to Ciri, left the café. Geralt turned to the toddler who looked crestfallen as she always did when either one of her parents had to go and he sprang to action.
“Guess who we’re going to see today?” he asked. She glanced up, intrigued despite her sadness.
“Who?”
“Uncle Jaskier.”
Her whole face lit up brightly and she gasped so loudly if he hadn’t been looking at her he would’ve feared that something awful had happened. The rest of the morning was spent fielding questions about when he would be there and what they would do and was it time to see him yet. As they left, her hand tucked firmly in his and the bjorn tucked under his arm, Geralt saw the barista returning from her break.
“Hey,” he said with a smile.
“Oh! Hey!” she replied, blushing and clutching her phone.
“I got my coffee,” he said meaningfully. She blinked in confusion for a moment and then understanding broke over her face.
“Oh! That’s good,” she said.
“I’ll call y-”
Her phone vibrated and he saw the screen before she pulled it away; 1 TEXT FROM YENNEFER. His amber eyes rose from the phone to your face and his jaw set in determination, Ciri pulling on his hand impatiently, unaware of the adult drama broiling around her.
“I’ll call you,” he said in a commanding tone that the barista didn’t mind one bit.
“Ok,” the barista said with a smile. She waved at Ciri and after a final glance up at Geralt, walked back into the café.
“Daddy let’s gooooo,” Ciri urged, pulling on his arm with all of her strength. He pulled her up, curling her under one arm like a football or a baguette and she giggled the whole way home.
Reader meeting Legolas for the first time and asking him all these odd questions about elves
Oh fun! Can you imagine like a human child or teen? So enamored by the grace and stature of elves? Then Legolas talks and his light voice soars to your ears and YOU HAVE TO KNOW WHY THEIR VOICES ARE DIFFERENT THAN YOURS WHAT? Where did he learn archery? Why are his ears pointy, does that help him hear? Can you hear someone breathing? FROM HOW FAR AWAY? How far can you see? Can all elves see that far? Why are you so tall, is that an elf thing? Are all elves that tall? Do all elves wear those kinds of clothes? How fast can you run? Is it true you float on snow? Is it more like you’re really light or can you actually fly? How old are you?
