#cahir request

[redskull199987]

Heyy hii I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but I'll try my luck. Can you write something about Cahir and the female Witcher reader? Thanks in advance if you write.

If I am being brutally honest, I had a lot of fun writing this. Season three renewed my love for Cahir, so I hope you like this:)))

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings:it's all fluffy. I probably got carried away and let my inner Jaskier come out

Summary:You and Cahir had been friends for a long time and as he needs your help, you don 't hesitate to be there for him…

Masterlist

You and Cahir had known each other for a long time. You had met him on your travels through the country, as he was attacked by the beast, you were hunting. He was rude at first, but still thanked you. 

The rest was history.

You started running into him over and over again. To a point where it was inevitable that a friendship would form. With you, Cahir could be himself. He was just a normal Person. No Nilfgaard, no white flame, no war. Nothing of that mattered to you. You were neutral. All you were interested in was his person. And he knew that your interest was genuine. And he let it happen. He let the friendship form and prosper. An unfeigned friendship that connected you. 

And when he was cast out, thrown away by his master, like an old doll he didn't want to play with anymore, Cahir came to you. He found comfort in you. He had been through so much, but for once in his life, he felt safe. At peace. He might even say “Home”.

Of course, he would never tell you that, but it surely was on his mind, everytime, he looked at you. Everytime you returned to his small hut, after finishing a Witcher contract. Bruised and battered, but back with him. And only him. Only Cahir got to see you like this. He took pride in knowing that he was the only person in this world, you would trust this far, besides your brothers maybe.

But you told him that you only saw them once a year, in the winter. You told him stories of Kaer Morhen and how you had grown up there, under Vesemir´s care.

You told him that it was hard for you at first, being the only female Witcher. But it had gotten better, the older you got. The more you learned and saw in this world. You realized that no one really cared, as long as they could use you for their dirty work. 

“How was it?”, Cahir asked, forcing himself to return to the present moment. He had let his thoughts wander, after a pleasant silence rose between you, as he carefully cleaned your wounds.

“It was alright.”, you finally said,”It was a small kikimora. Still young and inexperienced.”

“In fighting?”,Cahir asked, not really knowing a lot about the beasts that your job involved. You had told him some things, but a kikimora was new to him.

 You only smiled at him, before finally answering his question:”No, not in fighting. In killing."

He was quiet for a second, not knowing what to say, upon that statement. But luckily, you just continued recounting what had happened.

“The Monster´s head was worth a lot of coin though. I won't have to leave for at least a month. The money will be enough.”

Cahir smiled at you, glad that he got to spend more time with you.He slowly got up from his place in front of you and sat down beside you on the bed:”Thank you. You don't have to do this. Supporting me in my exile, I mean. But you still do it anyway. And for that I am thanking you.”

“Oh Cahir.”, you smiled, your hand rising to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your gentle touch.

“I would proudly ride into death for you, without hesitation.”, you mumbled, as he opened his eyes. You heard how his heart picked up a beat. How his breath stocked for a second, his eyes lingering on your lips, instead of your yellow orbs, which were intently watching him, awaiting his next move. 

You had often thought about your relationship with him. Often let your mind wander to what ifs.

 What if you were more than just close friends? What if you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Never leaving each other. What if…

“I love you.”

At first you barely heard him. His words were so quiet. His voice shaking and his eyes darting everywhere else, but your face.  He wasn't usually this hesitant. He was an outgoing and stern person. Always sure of himself and his capabilities. He used to be a Nilfgaardian officer after all.

“Cahir.”, you mumbled, after a few seconds of burning silence. He finally looked at you. His expression now a bit more confident. His heartbeat had slowed and he finally dared to look you in the eye.

“I love you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. With all my heart.”, you smiled, your eyes almost glowing with excitement.

Cahir didn't need to hear anything more, before he finally leaned in. Your eyes closed and his lips collided with yours. He was gentle and sweet. Passion laid in his actions. And you knew that he meant every little bit, he had told you.

“I love you.”, he said once again, before slowly pushing you back against the bed. You followed along with his movements, until he was hovering above you.

“I love you.”, you also repeated. You were bare in front of him. Not in a physical way, but emotionally. No one had ever known you as Cahir did. Not even your brothers. He knew your heart and soul. Something that you had shown no one before.

And as he slowly lathered kisses over your body, your moans and whines mixing with his groans. As you fully let him in, you knew that he was the only one  you would ever love this way. He became part of you and you part of him. 

 An unfeigned bond, that was never to be broken again.

[seancekitsch]

Soft, sleepy Cahir? Just...give that man some rest

hey isn't it cool i finally answered this months later!! im sorry my dear :(

“Hi. Can you do enemies to lovers with Cahir? “

i combined the two requests!!!

“Why don’t you just lay down?” you huff, rolling your eyes as you shift on the bed. Cahir sits rigid on the side of the bed, his only resting being his spine against the headboard. His eyes stay fixed on the candle on the table near the window, his body refusing to relax. 

“Why?” he asks, “So you can slit my throat while I sleep and claim your reward?”

You smirk, laughing soundlessly.

“Is that a joke?”

Finally, the man turns just ever so slightly to look your way.

“I’d do it to you,” he admits, and yes, you have to understand his point. He’s a two time Nilfgaardian fugitive traveling with a half elf misfit with ties to a witcher. It’s surprising you even got this room at an inn without being arrested. 

“And yet here I am lounging comfortably next to you. A beautiful woman in your bed and you sit here sulking,” you tease him, knowing full well that just yesterday you had a knife to his throat. The man is infuriating. 

“Some solider you are,” you bite, and maybe thats a little unfair. Cahir turns to you, and in the candlelight you can see just how tired and weak he is, the bags under his eyes purpled and sunken, his brow furrowed with stress, the corners of his mouth turned down as if keeping a straight expression had become too exhausting. He leans in closely.

“Just because I am not some pervert with no honor does not mean I am not a good soldier,” he hisses, and you know you’ve struck deeper than you thought you did. 

But you’ve never been one to back down, just diffuse. 

“Easy,” you warn, shifting to sit up next to him, leaning towards his frame until you share the same air, “I did not mean to prick you between your armor. I apologize.”

It surprises even yourself how earnest you sound; no, how earnest you are. Cahir’s shoulders slump, conceding. 

“You’re right, I’ll lay down,” he nods, shifting on the pillows until he lays next to you, both of you now staring at the ceiling, the candlelight finally starting to dim. 

“I should listen to your more, Witch,” he admits, his voice little more than a whisper, “This feels nice.”

You turn to look at him, the ghost of a smile now tugging at his lips. You open your mouth, thinking of something smart to retort with, but nothing comes. 

Instead, you let him have this one and try to focus on sleeping. 

You wake up warm, warmer than the sun’s light should make you. Fear grips you for a moment, worried the candle your travel companion had lit had tipped over in the night somehow despite the window being firmly shut. But the crackling of flames does not reach your ears, and your body relaxes into the warmth, your eyes shutting tightly as you nuzzle into the warmth and snuggle deeper. This is the comfiest you’ve been in ages, the chill and tension wiped from your muscles. 

“Stop- Stop squirming,” the lump of blankets you cling to mutters, and you all but jump away. 

“Cahir!” your voice a weak and cracked yelp, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“Come back,” he mumbles, the crease in his brow pronounced in annoyance.

You ease back in slowly, trying to mimic the natural tangle of limbs that you’d been in since some vulnerable point in the night.

“Thats it,” he encourages you, his arms coming back around you to cradle you gently. You tighten your grip on him slowly, until you’re lazily clutching him with your arms and legs, wrapped around him so naturally. His hand comes up to the back of your head, dipping you further into his chest until you’re laying on him.

“Are you always this clingy in the morning?” you joke, hoping it comes off more playful than moment ruining. He’s not a bad man, as much as you’d like to tell him. Laying with him like this is… nice. Sweet, even. 

“Only when my bedmate is as infuriating and… soft as you,” he mumbles against you, sleep creeping back into his voice. As it seems, he was even more tired than you thought. When was the last time he had slept well? Weeks? Months? You dare not ask… years?

You chuckle, and close your eyes, resting your cheek against his clavicle, letting yourself lean into the embrace. Cahir sighs, and his lips brush against your hairline. It’s not a kiss, but it isn’t some innocent gesture either. 

You decide not to read too much into it as you fall back asleep.

[kamiana-ruzha]

≺◂※Masterpost※‣≻

hey :з

i'm Ruzha, Ruzhka or Ryn.

i'm a Ukrainian ficwriter, translator and, occasionally, an artist

commission status: opened

DNI's:

≻ russian. anything, russian fandoms, art, au's, language, accounts of russians. if you're russian - get the hell out of my page.

≻ ai stuff

≻ my art's criticism

≻ criticism of my OTP's

links:

≻ my ao3

≻ my carrd

≻ commissions info

≻ my twitter (on hiatus)

≻ my bluesky (literally just reposts, but it exists)

≻ telegram channel (mostly non-fandom stuff, mostly in Ukrainian, slightly smoky. please dm me if you want me to approve the request of adding)

fandom list:

≻ Transformers (but not the comics, G1 or Armada yet)

≻ S.T.A.L.K.E.R

≻ JoJo's Bizzare Adventure (Golden wind is my favourite part)

≻ The Witcher

I'm most active now in the fandom of: S.T.A.L.K.E.R

and a little more about me:

≻ nickname origin: "kamiana ruzha" roughly translates to "stone rose" and is a common way to call plants of the Sempervivum genus in Ukraine.

≻ i crochet

≻ i like getting into deep details and counting things, so you will see some weird nerdy things occasionally (or S.T.A.L.K.E.R og trilogy screenshots dumps)

≻ i like to cook, especially Asian food or baked deserts

≻ i use Obsidian to write fics

≻ i'm pansexual

≻ my OTP's are: Optimus Prime/Bumblebee, Strilets/Degtyaryov, Bruno Buccellati/Giorno Giovanna, Cahir/Ciri;

≻ some of my favourite movies and/or series are: БожеВільні (Diagnosis: Dissent), Ти [Романтика] (Ty [Romantyka]), Снайпер. Білий Ворон (Sniper. The White Raven), S.T.A.L.K.E.R. Shadow of the Zone, Transformers: Age of Extinction, The Rookie, Fringe, Blacklist, Blue Eye Samurai, True Detective, The Silence of the Lambs

≻ some of my favourite musicians are: МУР, BaWN, ДК Енергетик (DK Energetyk), Schmalgausen, Sadnovelist, Sadsvit, Linkin Park, Okean Elsy, The Rolling Stones, Zwyntar, Fish in a Birdcage, badactress, Struktura Shchastya and many more (my playlist is 3k+ songs long)

≻ favourite books: R. Sabatini "Captain Blood", A. Sapkowski "The Witcher", Dyachenky "Witch Age", A. Sem'yankiv "Dancing with Bones", A. Perez-Reverte "Captain Alatriste"

i hope my nook of the internet is cosy enough <3

[futuristicsaladparadise]

Re: your request for people to ask about their fav dolls of yours: I'd love to know more about your Dovie!

Dovie was originally a Rebecca display doll, I just switched her wig to an older Felicity one and gave her some freckles and teeth.

I wanted a doll to represent Ireland from about the Bronze age to the medieval period. Her name is actually Dubheasa Ni'Mhaoileidigh (pronounced DUHV-uh-suh NEE-milady), I ended up shortening it to Dovie. I wanted a name that would have been used in pre-Christian Ireland, so no Bridget or Maire/Mary or Megan, and her last name is taken from an Irish dance teacher (from Ireland) I had several years ago. The "Ni" part means "daughter of", her older brother is Cathaoir O'Mhaoileidigh (Cahir O'Milady), because "O" is "son of".

I've had a lot of fun researching the time period(s) I placed her in, and I think she's one of the prettiest dolls in my collection. She has such a timeless look that I tend to put her in all kinds of different periods.

I made her leine (tunic) based on descriptions of ancient ones, as best I could understand. Saffron grew well in Ireland after it was introduced and many (most?) leinte were yellow. They used a LOT of fabric for them - one note I read was that during the time of Henry VIII, Irish men were banned from wearing shirts made from more than 7 yards of fabric! So, Dovie's is made as wide as the length of a pillowcase, with wide sleeves to match. Another source described them worn as "pleats upon pleats" and to dress her in this requires a lot of folding. As a bonus, a child wouldn't have needed a lot of new clothes, just to adjust the pleats and blousing over the belt as they grew.

The shoulder brooches hold the fabric together on each side, and the homemade annular brooch (popular in the Bronze age, though much more elaborate) keeps the top together without falling off. Her "amber" necklace was also a popular Bronze age decoration. Her woven belt is very basic, and would probably have been checked or striped, but I'm no weaver, so I used what I had.

[astaldis]

Issue no 38 - Duct tape

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher, Supernatural

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Regis

Excerpt from A Magical Game

Chapter 7: Here in fair Angren ...

"Would you look up a little, son?" Regis asks. "I have this poultice here that will help with the swelling and pain from your injured nose. It is very effective. When the swelling is down, I can set the bone." He smiles at Cahir through pursed lips. Or rather the two Regises smile at him. Cahir tries to focus, but his head hurts too much. Closing his eyes is a lot easier. It is mostly dark anyway except for the light coming from their campfire. The poultice feels pleasantly cool when Regis carefully spreads it across the bridge of his broken nose and has a soothing herbal smell. It works almost immediately. 

"Milva," Regis addresses the archer while bandaging Cahir's nose, "would you hold the dressing in place for a moment, please?"

Milva nods and does as requested. Regis walks over to where Dean and Geralt are still engaged in conversation.

"How's the Nilfgaardian?" Geralt grunts at seeing the barber-surgeon approach.

"Nice of you to ask, Witcher. He'll be alright. But I believe we have established that Cahir is not a Nilfgaardian, haven't we?" Before Geralt can answer, Regis turns to Dean.

"Do you, by any chance, have some more of this silvery sticky bandage material?"

"You mean the duct tape? Sure," Dean says and fishes the roll from his pants pocket. It was a brand new one and there is plenty of it left.

"Thank you," Regis says, curling his lips into a smile. Duct tape, what a curious name. But it will come in handy.

And it does. With the help of the duct tape, the barber-surgeon fixates the dressing in Cahir's face, which is a lot easier than wrapping most of his patient's head in bandages and less likely to fall off during the night than if he used strips of bast to keep the dressing in place. He will ask Dean where he bought the strange material. However, somehow, Regis has the feeling that it, and the man himself, have come from a location that is very far away, too far to ever go there, and especially not to just purchase a little duct tape.

"You know what, Cahir? You look adorably ridiculous," Milva says when Regis is done, suppressing a giggle. She knows she should not make fun of her friend when he is obviously in pain and feeling shitty, but with the bandaged nose, he does look funny, and not at all like a scary Nilfgaardian commander general.

"Hmm."

Cahir is far too exhausted to answer anything that would make sense, or to even care. All he wishes to do is sleep, preferably for a couple of days, and be left alone in his misery. Well, maybe not all alone. Travelling in company is so much better than travelling through the wilderness alone, even if the company's leader makes no secret of how much he hates his guts. Well, he can hardly blame Geralt for that, it is already a miracle that the Witcher did not run him through with his sword or cut his head off when he found out that the very person who had tried to abduct his missing daughter several times and for years was trailing his group. He hates his own guts for what he has done. Still, perhaps one day he can make up for it somehow. But definitely not today. 

[casualwriters]

masterlist !!

moodboard and others Masterlist | Me requests are open for all fandoms listed below! Just a fyi spelling and grammar has always been a struggle for me so I am sorry for that! <3

peaky Blinders-

jealousy- Finn Shelby

dating someone who is deaf

raising a little girl with John Shelby

Hogwarts MoodBoard

The lost Boys -

Eddie S/o being apart of the Lost Boys

There S/o loosing someone close to them

being the oldest Emerson Sibling and dating Paul

full moon gone wrong Paul

The witcher

Arrange marriage - Cahir

Euphoria

Single mother (Fez x reader)

Video Games

Nathan Prescott freaking out and coming to his s/o

Nathan Prescott s/o has anxiety

life is strange ch seeing there s/o draw them

Horror

slasher with a tall s/o

jason dean with naive s/o

Being the Third de'ville bride

Characters dating a demon

Harry Potter

Sirius finding out you're a death eater

Marauders readers having to sleep in bed with their rivals

Harry Potter boys reacting to someone yelling at you

Dc & Marvel Comics

Love in the line of fire Roy Harper

kara Danvers Help their friend during a autistic meltdown

being stuck in an elevator with Dick Grays | Plus size reader

Baulder Gates

surprise Visitor | Halsin

[jawanaka]

7, 29, 30 for the writers ask! (Mostly cause I want to make myself feel better about all my ideas that won't see the light of the day 😂)

Hahaha, its all good

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

Counting or not counting WIPs? I think about four that are not down on paper, at least if we count ideas that I'm somewhat serious about.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Have a cut Dandelion cameo from Swallow:

As the princess prepared to face down a queen, Morvran, meanwhile, was facing down a buffoon. He was of course no stranger to buffoons. Nilfgaards nobility, merchant guilds, senate and even military had their fair share: as, had he come to learn, did the northern kingdoms. This particular buffoon was, according to a prodigious intelligence file that Morvran had taken care to peruse beforehand, named Julian Alfred Pankratz and held, or at least had once held, the title of Viscount de Lettenhove. The man was also a graduate of the norths most prestigious university and, apparently, a man of letters and poetry famed in every court of the northern kingdoms. He also styled himself after a pestilent weed and operated Novigrads most (in)famous cabaret. His hat and clothes were of garish purple coloring and his head held the most ridiculous combination of a goatee and puffy bereft that Morvran had ever had the misfortune of setting eyes on. In short, a buffoon. Unfortunately for Morvran, the man known as Dandelion was, on the viceroys personal request mind you, contracted to organize and provide the entertainment for the feast. Which is why the man was currently parked in his office and was already in the process of quaffing a fairly decent wine that Morvran had hoped to save for a better occasion, instead of being thrown into the mud outside the gate were Morvran would have dearly liked to deposit him.

30. Ask anything!

Ya forgot to ask something :P

But because I'm a fair and benevolent writer, and becase its you, have a slice of the Ciri/Cahir WIP I might even finish one day (if you bribe me sufficiently):

He is a strange one, the smallfolk agree, the lord of Darn Dyffra. Younger then most lords, unfailingly polite when you met him riding on the roads between the olive groves and vineyards, attentive to the needs of his people and a fair man all round. Yet he is also distant, if not exactly cold and you may as well catch him daydreaming, sitting in the shade of a plum tree or on one of the walls separating the fields from the rocky lake shores. Curled black locks waving slowly in the wind as his horse happily munching son spring grass, eyes blank as if seeing something else, far beyond the stony and green hills of Vicovaro. Some say he was always like this, those times you saw him after his old father forced his nose out of whatever romantic nonsense he had found in the castle library. Others say it was the war that changed him, the burning and slaughter at Cintra, where he led a the first forlorn hope that breached the gates. Other say no, it was on his way home after the emperor dismissed him. Cahir does not particularly care what they think, or at least so he tells himself. He is too busy, he tells himself, too busy being the man of the household (his mother and sister laughs at him when he claims this) too busy getting to know the intricate runnings of the family holdings. This is fact not true: his father left the estate a well oiled machine, run smoothly by a dedicated team of clerks and lawyers, with his mother being far more capable then him in the running of the affairs. And his siblings does not seem to have caught up to his new and lofty status: mourning their father they may be but surely that is no reason to give their older brother any more respect then he is due? Which, in the way of younger siblings everywhere, is precisely none.

[oftw0tongues]

to make a formal post about it, i want to talk about attraction and what aspects of society / personal tastes influence what for a crown prince turned knight of nothing. ♡

first and foremost, in terms of personality, cahir is pretty cut and dry. it's also worth noting that, in the long run, cahir does tend to favor personality over physicality ; given the lengthy lifespan of elves, he much prefers the concept of someone who, regardless of how they age, will retain some semblance of their core personality traits through the years. it's a touch more important, considering elven culture often leans heavily into life bonds with others and typically cherish the concept of the two souls in harmony type deal (which, to an extent, i will say - none of cahir's preferences really matter as a crown prince. his sense of duty outweighs all, and he would marry and go through the motions of producing heirs even if that person wasn't his psuedo cup of tea). with cahir, he likes strong personalities - confidence, primarily, with a touch of stubbornness, even if that bites him on occasion. he likes headstrong people who are ambitious and quick on their feet.

but for physicality, it stems more from the subset of elven culture he derives from. elves, at their core, often maintain features that feel off-putting and unreal given they are souls reincarnated over and over until they make the choice to enter an afterlife. yes, they are beautiful, but it's an abnormal and often spooky kind of way. this being said, some branches of elven culture prefer the more slender build with ethereal features. with war elves, however, the root of their societies and culture is often set in physical strength. cahir is much more apt to being attracted to the more " baseline " or primal (i guess you could say) features on another. broader shoulders / bodies, softer tummies / thighs, wider hips - etc. typically, the telling signs of strength or fertility in some sense of the word. (given most fantasy mirrors eras in time which certain body-types and builds were viewed as favored for fertility / resembling deities / representation of status / etc, this feels right.)

all of this being said, like i said, at the end of the day ? none of this really matters to cahir, who later adopts the moniker of erolith ; he is duty-bound in every sense of the word. his personal preferences and desires will always take a back seat to whatever it is is requested of him by his title.

[moonlightpirate]

Law of Destiny

Chapter 2: The Journey Home

Time for Ilaria to travel home to Redania to grieve.

Chapter 1

Ao3 link for the fic is here

Tag list @tastyfiddle @wildyonderwillows @chickensarentcheap @ceres27

Ilaria went up to her room to gather her things. She realized when she arrived that she had a carriage to carry all of her things and there was no way a horse could carry that much stuff. Not only that but she didn't have the time to pack all her stuff. As if reading her mind she heard a knock on the door. 

"Come in." Ilaria Said.

 Emhyr entered the room. He still had a look of concern on his face and it began to make her anxious.  

"I'm not sure how I will bring my stuff home. A horse can't bring all my stuff and there isn't time to get a carriage or even to pack it all." Ilaria groaned.

"You don't need to take all of it. Like I said, you are welcome to come back. Though if you didn't want to come back I would ensure you got your things back." Emhyr reassured. 

Ilaria smiled at him as she went in search of one of her bags that she knew was small enough for a horse to carry and went about deciding what to bring while Emhyr watched her intently. Finally after a few moments he broke the silence.

"I do have a small favor to ask while you are away if possible." He expressed.

"Of course. What can I do?" Ilaria asked, pausing what she was doing and turning to look at him. 

"I've been trying to find my daughter. She was…taken from me. One of your brother's friends I believe is close to the man who has taken her from me. If you were to see her, if you could convince her I'm alive at least I'm sure she would come home to me." Emhyr requested. 

"She thinks you're dead?" Ilaria gasped.

"It's complicated but unfortunately yes. But could you help me?" He pleaded. 

Ilaria looked at him looking for some sort of lie in his eyes. But she only saw sadness and desperation. Finally after a moment she hesitantly nodded. 

"I'll do what I can. What is her name?" Ilaria inquired.

"Cirilla. Most call her Ciri I believe. Last I knew they were heading to Aretuza. But that is very outdated information from a not so trustworthy source so be careful if you do happen to decide to follow it. I do appreciate everything you have done while here and that you want to try to help me find my daughter. To show my appreciation for this and for everything you have done here is a gift for you." Emhyr replied, holding up a beautiful necklace. 

"Oh Emhyr you don't need to give me anything." Ilaria blushed. 

"Please, I want to." Emhyr whispered, moving closer to her.

Ilaria bit her lip as she held her hair up and away from her neck turning her back to him. His hands slipped around her, draping the delicate chain around her neck. The pendant shaped like a small flower nestled between her collar bones, as his fingers finished clasping the necklace she let her hair down and turned to face him. They were dangerously close again. She wasn't sure if it was the heartbreak from losing her mother or how close she was to him but she felt a strong urge to lean in and kiss him. This time he was the one who stepped away and Ilaria let out a shaky breath, as she realized she had been holding her breath the entire time he had been near her.

"I hope you have a safe journey, Ilaria. I am sure I will see you again soon." Emhyr bowed and exited the room. 

Ilaria hurried to finish packing her bag and made her way down the stairs to where Cahir was already waiting for her. She gave him a half hearted smile but he just turned and made his way out to the stable. Ilaria quickened her pace to keep up with him now worried he was mad at her. Once there he helped her onto her horse before securing her bag on the saddle and then got onto a horse himself. They started their journey in silence not sure what to say to the other. Finally after a few days Cahir broke the silence.

"Please be careful." Cahir whispered, gazing deep into the fire they were sitting near.

"What?" Ilaria inquired, looking up at him. 

"With Emhyr. I know he seems charming. But I worry he will use you or hurt you." Cahir sighed, looking at her. 

"He wouldn't do that….." Ilaria began to reply.

"He would! I know him. Don't doubt him!" Cahir shouted. 

"If you don't trust him so much then why are you still working for him? Why not just abandon him?" Ilaria yelled back at him. 

Cahir huffed and glared at her trying to find words. She glared back at him, challenging him to continue the argument. Finally after several minutes Cahir turned around and began sulking. Ilaria sighed in frustration and stared into the fire listening to the sounds of the night. After an hour or so she swore she heard a low ominous growl and looked around slightly nervous. Cahir didn't even move or seem to notice anything as his facial expression remained unchanged. Ilaria listened intently for several minutes. When she didn't hear anything else she began to relax. The moment Ilaria did that she heard a loud snap of a twig breaking and saw Cahir jump, snapping his head up immediately looking for the source. 

"What was that?!" Ilaria inquired, moving closer to Cahir.

Cahir stood up clearly on guard as they heard a low menacing snarl, "I'm not sure. Some sort of creature. Probably hungry. I'm guessing that we look like food to it.".

"I don't have a weapon….." Ilaria whispered, standing up as well growing more nervous. 

"Stay close to me until it shows itself. Once it does get by the horses." Cahir stated, unsheathing his sword.

Ilaria and Cahir were back to back as they both kept a close eye out waiting for whatever was lurking just outside of the firelight to pounce on them. Ilaria gasped as she saw yellow eyes beginning to emerge from the tree line. She nudged Cahir with her elbow so he would turn around. Quickly he put himself between her and the wolf just as it lunged at her. Ilaria ran towards the horses without a second thought and buried her face deep into the horse's mane not wanting to watch the battle. After a cry of pain from the wolf and a grunt from Cahir she didn't hear anything for a moment. Slowly she peeked out from the mane and saw him standing by the fire, the wolf no longer moving.

"Is it dead?" She inquired, nervously moving towards him.

"Yes, it's dead." Cahir responded, wiping the blood from his sword on the grass.

Ilaria sighed as she watched him pick up the carcass and dispose of the body in the bushes knowing they didn't have time for a proper burial. 

"Thank you for saving me." Ilaria admitted. 

"Of course." Cahir shrugged, walking away from her and sat back down in front of the fire. 

Ilaria felt frustrated with him and fought with all of her emotions, "I know you know more about Emhyr than I do. Also I know that you are trying to keep me safe. But I feel like things have been set into motion. Things that I am powerless to stop. Like I am fated to be with him no matter what happens now. No matter what I may wish or you may wish.".

Cahir looked up at her seeing tears forming in her eyes and knew what she was saying was true. Though he had begun to fear it when she first met Emhyr.

"As long as you are close to him then no matter what my thoughts are about him I will continue to follow him and fight for him. If nothing else with the goal to protect you more so than him. Things have happened recently that I do not wish to discuss that have made me less trustful of him. Then you came and honestly I hoped he would continue to ignore your existence so I could sneak away with you or just keep you to myself. But you are right it seems destiny has other plans for you." Cahir revealed.

"Cahir…." Ilaria began.

"Please don't. There is nothing more to be said. All I ask is for you to be careful." Cahir replied, looking into her blue eyes. 

She sighed and nodded as she held back some tears that had begun to form. Finally after several minutes she laid down as her emotions finally hit her. She was still grieving her mother's death and now she was finding out she was hurting a man who had done nothing but care for her in the short time she knew him. All of it was breaking her heart. The next morning Ilaria woke up before Cahir. Quietly she got up and walked to the nearby stream and splashed water on her face to try to reduce the redness of the tears. She stared into the water lost in thought for a few moments. After a few moments she realized the reflection in the water wasn't hers. The hair was slightly more blonde and there was just something about that face that looked just a tad familiar. 

"Ilaria be careful that man is right he will hurt you. Give it time. You don't want to end up like me." The woman cautioned.

Ilaria gasped and quickly began to back away from the water.

"You alright?" Cahir questioned, appearing out of nowhere.

"I…..there was…..in the water….." Ilaria stammered, pointing at the water. 

Cahir walked over to the water and looked back at her with a quizzical look on his face, "There isn't anything in the water.".

"Right. Must have still been dreaming. Silly me." Ilaria chuckled, slowly standing up. 

She glanced back at the water before turning and heading back to the camp so they could leave. Cahir looked back at the water and wondered what she had seen that had spooked her so. Quickly he washed his face and joined her back at camp. They rode in silence and only spoke to signal when they needed a break. After five days on the road the Redanian castle was finally in view. 

"I think this is where we should part." Cahir stated.

"Yes I agree. I do thank you for accompanying me and for saving my life. Also for being my friend when I got to Cintra. I appreciate everything you have done." Ilaria replied, feeling sentimental.

"You make it seem like I will never see you again." Cahir expressed, looking over at her with a sad look on his face.

"Well you never know what will happen from here. You have your mission and who knows what will happen to me. I hope to see you again though. Best of luck." Ilaria remarked, as she rode off on her horse.

Cahir watched her ride off wanting to say more but knowing it was better to let her go. He waited until she was out of sight before leaving himself to start his mission. 

**************

It was late when Ilaria finally got to the front gates of the castle. The guards recognized her and let her in quickly. They had her dismount the horse and one guard took the horse to the stable while the other made sure she got into the castle safely. 

"Oh daughter, you're finally home." Her father, King Vizimir, exclaimed.

"It's so good to be home. But what are you doing awake? It's very late." Ilaria chuckled as he hugged her tightly.

"I'll sleep once I've avenged your mother my dear. But you have had a long journey dear. You should go get some rest. I'll catch up with you in the morning and tell you of these terrible happenings then. Wouldn't want to disturb your dreams tonight with them." He smiled at her gently as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Thank you father, I appreciate the concern. I am quite exhausted from the journey so I will try to get some sleep." Ilaria smiled, turning away from her father.

The servants had already gathered her things and taken them upstairs to her room. Slowly she made her way up the stairs towards where her room was. At the first landing she paused for a moment because she swore she heard laughter coming from the entertainment room. Knowing it must be Radovid and feeling a sudden surge of rage as she remembered that he was part of the reason why she wasn't able to be here for the funeral, Ilaria decided to wait to go to bed and go confront her brother first. Quietly she made her way towards the room. Once at the doorway there was a strange man who was standing facing towards her but had his eyes focused on the man who was sitting on the couch. She saw the long blonde hair and knew it was Radovid. The other man was tall with slightly long brown hair. He looked slightly familiar but she couldn't place why she knew him. The man had a kind face and Ilaria was a bit worried about why he was with her brother and concerned Radovid was using him. Slowly she approached her brother from behind. Once Ilaria was at the back of the couch she leaned against it. She brushed her hand against Radovids hair to get his attention and gently started to twirl it in her fingers.

"Radovid my lovely who is this delectable creature you have with you." Ilaria purred, slowly twisting his hair until her finger was free from his hair and then ran her finger down the fur of his jacket, locking eyes with the stranger who was looking uncomfortable.

Radovid gasped a bit at the sudden intrusion, "Sister! What are you doing?", he batted her hand away and turned to face her, "when did you get back?" .

Ilaria smirked as she slowly began to wander around the room, "Oh not long really just a few minutes ago.".

"That's excellent! Wait…why have you returned though? Did things not go well?" Radovid gasped, his eyes following her.

Ilaria closed her eyes, anger filling her body. Taking a deep breath she put a smile on her face and faced her brother, "You really can't think of a reason for my return?" She inquired, feigning concern. 

Jaskier looked between the two of them. Nervously he began to back away from the conversation as he could tell Radovids sister was furious with him. Radovid looked at Ilaria puzzled as he tried to consider why she was home.

"Oh ... .mother ... .I'm sorry Ilaria." Radovid whispered. 

Ilaria stayed quiet as the emotions surged through her not wanting to cause a scene in front of a stranger. 

"Ilaria really it happened so fast. I barely had time to mourn myself." Radovid begged.

Ilaria sighed, "Yes but still. I found out a week after the funeral. But, I will not cause a scene here in front of your guest brother. Thank you for introducing us by the way, so kind of you. I am exhausted. It was a long journey home. So I am going to head to bed and tomorrow I am going to see what I can do to help clean up this mess." She turned and headed for the doorway before pausing, "Just know brother I am very disappointed in you at this moment.". 

"Wait! Ilaria, this is Jaskier! Jaskier, this is my sister Ilaria! Please don't be disappointed! Ilaria!" Radovid shouted after her as she walked away. 

Sighing, Radovid turned and looked at Jaskier who was still in the corner looking back at him very concerned. 

"Jaskier….I'm sorry you had to see that. My sister and I have a very interesting relationship. She has been gone for a few months trying to form an alliance for my father with another kingdom. Trust me she is lovely." Radovid pleaded, slowly approaching Jaskier. 

Jaskier kept his distance from Radovid, "She is very hurt and very angry at you. It was taking everything in her not to cry and honestly very possibly stab you. I could see it in her eyes. Whatever you did or whatever it is she thinks you did, I'm sure it won't be cured by a good night's rest." Jaskier stated.

"Jaskier….please…I will make this right." Radovid begged, reaching out for him.

Jaskier turned away, "Maybe I should go." 

"Darling it's late. Please stay. It would destroy me if you left now and something awful happened." Radovid responded, his voice trembling. 

Jaskier slowly turned to face Radovid again. His face was full of fear and concern for Jaskier. It almost pained him that he had that much fear and concern for him but not for his own sister. Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat. 

"Fine, I will stay tonight. But I want to be in a separate room. But I will leave in the morning especially if you do not resolve things." Jaskier stated. 

"Of course. Let me have the servants make you a bed in one of the spare rooms." Radovid sighed, stepping out to find someone who could do that. 

Jaskier sighed and sat down on the couch until the room was ready. Once ready Radovid showed him to the room. He made sure Jaskier was comfortable and after a failed attempt at trying to join him in the bed Radovid finally left the room and went to bed himself 

[ao3feed-witcher-dddne]

by Graymuse42

“White Wolf,” the man rasped as the Witchers stopped just before the table, “I have come to re-” he broke off in a cough, a painful sound that had Triss already out of her seat, hesitating just to the side of the man, ready to help when permitted. “To request asylum,” he continued, pushing off from the guards helping him and sinking to his knees, though whether in submission or pain, Geralt couldn’t be sure. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he continued haltingly, struggling to get the words out, “I request sanctuary from Redania and Nilfgaard…” he stopped talking, swaying where he knelt, and Geralt hastily glanced to Eskel for advice.

Or: Geralt's the Warlord, and some random noble (Jaskier) comes walking in, badly injured, before collapsing in the main hall and leaving a FUCK ton of questions in his wake.

Words: 24976, Chapters: 18/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of All hell and its fire waits for us

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Eskel (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Gweld (The Witcher), Witcher Aubry (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Vizimir II (The Witcher), Sigismund Dijkstra, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Jaskier | Dandelion's Mother, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Priscilla (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Priscilla, Priscilla (The Witcher)/Dragonfly (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Work In Progress, Temporary Amnesia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Underage Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Slow Burn, Whipping, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Permanent Injury, Angst with a Happy Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Haunting, Ghosts, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship

[boundlss]

what’s your underlying motif? [MUSE: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach]

the home. whether it’s your warm embrace, your unwavering reliability, your smile that says “welcome back”, your motif is the home. your the equivalent to coming out of the rain to the fire on and your slippers waiting by the door. your uncanny way of making people feel alright, you’re treasured in these trying times. i respectfully request you take care of yourself, the world will never been as kind to you as you are to it. anne lammott said “lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining” and though unconventional, lighthouses are inhabited and your cup runs over with generosity. because you probably don’t hear it enough, thank you.

tagged by: @vanbredevoort ( thank you! )

tagging: @futurecomposed , @eccedentesian ( or whichever blog you'd like to do it on! ), and anyone else who would like to!

[seancekitsch]

Top 5 favorite fics you've written :)

maybe this is biased or something but these are the ones im most proud of

the prize buck series: a non linear klaus hargreeves x reader series spanning more than one timeline and is heavily inspired by a klaus playlist that i also have in my masterlist

2. wow, i can get sexual too: an adrian chase x reader series inspired by an amazing anon that honestly is one of the most fun things ive ever written

3. the intended series: a cahir x reader series that came to me in a dream and i love the reader character/oc i created for it and its just fun i got to play god with both show and book cahir to make my own little man who also has a playlist

4. pure evil: a richie kirsch x reader fic with a few accompaniment drabbles bc idk the spirit of loving richie just embodied me this wasn't requested but it was so fun to write and has a playlist

5. indiana handshake: an eddie munson x reader x steve harrington threesome fic thats just... dirty. i dont even know why i wrote this it was just in my brain and it came out and i love it

[astaldis]

Issue no 32 - Kneeling: Prison Blues

@whumpers-monthly

Ups, whumpee has to do an awful lot of kneeling in this fic 🙈 (and these here are only some examples).

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumpee: Cahir

Whumper: Emhyr var Emreis

Caretaker: Assire var Anahid, Jaskier

Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Geralt of Rivia, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Jaskier, Emhyr var Emreis, Assire var Anahid, Merlin (the cat), Menno Coehoorn, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen

Relationships: Cahir/Emhyr

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: GDoV, Rape/Non-Con, torture, Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

Words: 32,676; Chapters: 14/14

Written pre-season 3, compliant with seasons 1+2

Excerpt from Chapter 3: ... and Punishment

"Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. My once most trusted commander. What a pity it has come to that." Emhyr's voice is almost gentle as he looks at the badly bruised prisoner who is standing, back to the far wall and barefoot, in the dimly-lit dungeon cell. They have, of course, not only stripped him of his weapons, but also of his armour and most of his clothes, leaving the prisoner in only a thin, black shirt and pants which are, by now, bloodstained and dirty.

"On your knees, traitor!" he then barks, the sudden shift in tone lending even more bite to the Emperor's harsh command. 

Having expected the guards to come back for another round of beating when the door creaked open, not Emhyr var Emreis himself to enter his cell, Cahir unelegantly falls to his knees in front of his Emperor after the initial shock of surprise. This then is surely it, the final verdict he has been waiting for for nearly three weeks of imprisonment. And daily physical abuse. As the Emperor rules, no, has to rule Nilfgaard with an iron fist, most likely the end. Another execution, and what are the odds of escaping a second time?

Excerpt from Chapter 4: A Weird Visit

"You look - dreadful. But alive, as I promised," the Emperor drawls. Cahir's eyes fly open in a strange mixture of shock and hope. He has no idea at all anymore of what to expect of the White Flame. More punishment and torture? Or was that it and he will be pardoned, released on probation, perhaps? Admittedly, this sounds too good to be true, so it probably will not happen any time soon. But while there is life, there is hope, isn't that how the saying goes? And he is alive after all, like Emhyr promised.

The Emperor keeps eying him up with an inscrutable, dark gaze as Cahir kneels down before him. He must look dreadful, indeed. And smell awful, too, of dried blood and sweat and unwash. At least he did not piss or shit his pants during the torture, nor afterwards. He would have died of shame if he had.

"I know this is going to be a rather, let's say, one-sided conversation, obviously. But don't worry, you are not expected to say anything," the Emperor says eventually in an almost friendly, conversational tone of voice. "Just the occasional nod or shaking of the head will suffice. Actually, a nice change from those tedious conversations at court. Perhaps I should have a few more tongues removed just to stop the constant complaints and ridiculous requests those courtiers bore me with each and every day." He pauses as if seriously contemplating the idea. Maybe he is.

"You probably think you have it bad at the moment," he then goes on. "I admit, your circumstances are not exactly - delightful." He looks around the prison cell meaningfully. "Surely a far cry from what you were used to here in the palace. But," he starts pacing up and down in front of the still kneeling prisoner, "try being an Emperor. Imagine the permanent fear of one of your most trusted advisors turning against you, betraying you for the sake of their own agenda. The possibility of one of your allegedly most loyal nobel families secretly plotting your demise to replace you. The perhaps not utterly unfounded suspicion that your most devoted mistress is spying on you, selling your secrets to the enemy or trying to murder you in your sleep. The not totally far-fetched fear that your most talented mage might decide to curse you into an abominable monster. And, let's not forget," his voice lowers into a dangerous growl, "imagine your favourite commander lying to you - well, you'd know this one, Cahir, wouldn't you?"

Cahir stares up at Emhyr in confusion. Is the Emperor really implying that he has it worse than his prisoner?

Excerpt from Chapter 7: A Welcome Surprise

As it soon turns out, the water is not intended for the dungeon floor, nor its walls, but for the prisoner. The guards grab Cahir by his shoulders and make him kneel in front of one of the buckets. His heart starts to race wildly. They are not going to water torture him, are they? Before he can think of any reason at all why they would do that, the guards dunk his head into the bucket. Cahir struggles, panicking. To his very surprise, though, the guards let go of him almost immediately. He comes up and gulps in as much air as he can, fully expecting his head to be forced under water again right away. However, it does not happen. Confused, he looks up, only now realising that the water dripping from his face and hair onto his soaked shirt is pleasantly warm. Curious. 

When the guards do not repeat the treatment, but step away from the bucket instead, making room for the elderly servant, it finally dawns on Cahir that this is not meant as torture. A correct conjecture as the woman produces a bar of hard soap from the basket and starts rubbing it into the prisoner's dripping wet hair with deft fingers. It is not exactly the fragrance of violets and roses that starts filling the dungeon air but something more basic with a tinge of ammonia and ash. However, it smells, and feels, nicely clean.

Excerpt from Chapter 8: Ruin

"You look much better. The haircut is definitely an improvement. As well as the fresh clothes. Black does suit you," the Emperor says appraisingly when he comes to visit the prisoner late in the evening that day. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being clean for once, Cahir was, for the lack of a blanket, already half asleep in his new shirt and pants when the door creaked open, and thought he was dreaming at first. But he was not. The Emperor is here in his cell. And he is, once again, kneeling before him with trepidation, not having a clue about what to expect of the visit. More punishment? Absolution and release? Just another, rather one-sided, chat? Anything is possible. Which is quite unsettling. 

"Let's see if the food and exercise are doing you good, too," Emhyr continues. "Take off your shirt."

Cahir does as he is ordered. 

"Hmm, far better, indeed. Lean, but wiry." Emhyr reaches down to the kneeling prisoner and clutches Cahir's upper arm with one hand, feeling his biceps. "And muscular enough. The push-ups are paying off, I guess." Then, this time with the slightly callused inside of his thumb, he traces down one of the fresh scars that runs from Cahir's shoulder to his wrist, giving the young knight goosebumps all over. "Healed nicely, too. Not painful anymore, I hope?" Cahir shakes his head, surprised at the question. Is the White Flame concerned about him after all?

"Good. I trust you still remember the lesson, though?" 

The lesson. Cahir swallows visibly at the memory. Of course, he remembers, how could he forget? Bowing his head and looking down at the stone floor, he nods.

"What are you waiting for then?" The Emperor suddenly barks at him. "Strip!"

Excerpt from Chapter 14: ... and out of the woods?

"Wait, Geralt. There is no need, I assure you. This will only get embarrassing - for everybody."

"I need to see for myself before I believe it," the Witcher retorts, shrugs off the vampire's hand and sets off further into the woods careful not to make any noise. Which he, being an experienced monster hunter, accomplishes with ease. As does - being an experienced hunter of all kinds of non-monstery creatures - Milva the archer, who follows the Witcher's lead, whether mostly out of curiosity or concern, she does not know for sure herself. Naturally, as there should always be a voice of reason and logic, Regis is right behind her. Being a more than four hundred-year-old higher vampire, he is making no sound at all.

What the trio finds in the dim light of dusk is this: 

The Nilfgaardian warrior who utterly fearlessly led an entire army into battle just a few days ago - admittedly, it was a very small and insignificant battle no history book would ever mention and only a ragtag guerrilla army but nevertheless, they won against the superior Imperial forces, even if the victory was achieved only, but permissibly, by quickly retreating from the battleground - this fierce warrior is kneeling on the forest floor sobbing his heart out onto the bard's shoulder while the bard, who is likewise kneeling, is holding the crying knight in a tight embrace, murmuring words of comfort in his ear and patting him soothingly on the back. A scene as heartbreakingly cute as disturbing. And a situation that ought not be disturbed. Under no circumstances and definitely not by a grumpy old, paranoid Witcher who expected to find something totally different. Fortunately, said Witcher has sense enough to sense this all on his own and without Regis admonishing him or Milva poking him in the ribs. Which they do anyways. Before they leave again as quickly and quietly as they have come.

Only a faint scent of woodworm, basil, sage, aniseed and cinnamon keeps lingering between the silent trees. Then it, too, vanishes without a trace.

[starwrittenfates]

The witcheress eyes went wide at his offer and suggestion. Especially with knowing how disappointed he had been with Cahir for not being able to bring her back here to Nilfgaard. At least that was what Geralt had told her too. "You would do that? Even for Cahir?"

It wasn't such a bad idea. And if he was offering...Ciri thought it was a beautiful way to keep their memories alive beside just always carrying them with her and telling their story. "I-I think it would be beautiful. I can send a letter to Geralt and Dandelion to send you descriptions of the rest of them. However, I must make one request --- don't depict Cahir in Nilfgaardian armour, or even that blasted winged helmet." It was a memory that didn't need repeating, nor was it something Cahir wanted to be remembered for. That she knew now from Geralt's story. If they were going to be honored, they had to be honored correctly.

"Thank you, papa. I don't know what else to say." Ciri replied with a smile, feeling moved by this action. She was happy that she was getting to know him better now and seeing a side of him that most others didn't get to see. Even just like with Cahir, her father wasn't as scary as she had thought. There was a person, even behind his act as the Emperor. "Okay, show me to my room."

"You won't. Never again." The hug caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered to hold her tightly to him. Never could he have imagined having a real relationship with his daughter after how they had parted. After all the wrong he had done. "A suggestion then... a monument in their honor, perhaps? The brave heroes that gave their lives for their Princess against the evil plots of Vilgefortz." He knew that Geralt might not think much of monuments and statues, but here in Nilfgaard it was just something that they did. He would spare no expense if she thought that it was a good idea and even if he did not honor the rest of the group if she turned the idea down, he would still have one built for Cahir, because he had always been his most loyal man. "Lined in gold as bright as the Nilfgaardian sun to commemorate all their many deeds that they might never be lost to history."

[metronn]

fulfilling the aformentioned t-shirt request: tell me about your elaborate character playlists! :D

oh gee well i have a LOT of them

i also have a blog where i keep a record of them @septimus

some of my favourites are my cahir playlist (from the witcher) and my playlist for hook (AEW wrestler)

and i also have a lot of other playlists for different things too!

[randomfandomimagine]

Hi. So can you do headcanons for Cahir how he fall for reader?

Thank you for requesting! I apologize if this isn’t too accurate, as I said, I’m not too familiar with Cahir. Nonetheless, I hope you still enjoy it! :D

Cahir:

At first you didn’t quite get along at all

You had found yourselves fighting side by side many times

But you didn’t like each other because your personalities clashed

You thought the other was bossy and cold at first

Until you were forced to spend more time together

Then Cahir realized that you didn’t take crap from anyone

That you were strong, brave and determined

And he started getting a liking to you little by little

You found that he then became a little more open and kind

How he cared more about you, always making sure you were okay

After every battle, he asked if you were injured 

He often checked on you to make sure you didn’t need anything

At first it confused you and even annoyed you

Because it made you feel like he was understimating you

You kept telling him you could take care of yourself and didn’t need him

Which only made him grin a little, something quite rare for him

And when he answered ‘I know’ it was when you realized

He didn’t check on you because he thought you needed help

But because he admired you and wanted to look after you

He once told you how he thought you were an amazing warrior

And an incredible driven and courageous person

From then on, you began realizing that he was fond of you

And learned to see those little details for what they were

Some of them being catching him smiling to himself

It was a smile that said ‘Y/N is amazing and I am lucky to have them’

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @capitanostella // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!