#geralt of rivia x daughter!reader

[senseless-writing]

Mountain Top Confessions

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x child!reader

Summary: Taking place in S1.E6, the little girl that Geralt took under his wing all those years ago isn't so little anymore. After overhearing something she wasn't supposed to while he and Yennefer argued about the quest to find the golden dragon, the witcher is forced to have a conversation with Orion that he'd been hoping to push off for as long as possible.

Warnings: Hurt feelings, talk of regret, death, etc. Really nothing much

A/N: Here's a story for a trope that's not in demand that nobody asked for, and yet I couldn't help but write! I actually wrote this forever ago and completely forgot about it, but I saw it today and thought I should share it even if it's only in self-service. Lemme know what you think!

Just so you know, this story exists within the world of the other Witcher stories I've written with the oc!character Orion. There are some references to those stories or Orion's life with Geralt in general, but I don't think it's completely necessary to read anything to understand this one.

Masterlist

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“Did you mean it? What you said to Yennefer?” 

Geralt sighed, his entire body sagging with the release. After his fight with the enraging sorceress who always seemed to find a way under his skin, he had no energy left for anything more. Least of all a defiant tween. 

He turned to look at Orion, who was stepping out from behind the tree from which she was hiding. The Witcher blamed his scattered emotions for the failing of his normally heightened senses. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that…I told you to stay with Jaskier.”

“But did you mean it?” She asked again, stoically, without meeting his gaze. Geralt couldn’t tell what was going through her head. These days, he never could. 

When Orion was little, and her favorite place in the whole world was Geralt’s arms, the witcher didn’t have to worry about finding the right words to say. All he had to do was hold her, and it was like anything and everything that worried her little head would disappear. 

At first, Geralt detested this part of guardianship. It made him feel like a witcher turned cuddler and coddler, and he could feel Vesemir’s disapproving glare from all the way across the Continent. After giving it some thought, though, he figured it was probably for the best. Those who truly knew him knew how verbose he could be, but witty remarks and philosophical ponderings never meant too much to a six year old. 

But now his Orion was twelve. Her eyes were forever wide, never shutting for the fear of missing something worth learning. And she had so many questions that Geralt alone was in charge of answering. He couldn’t wrap her in his arms anymore and pretend the Continent wasn’t confusing or dangerous. He owed her answers, and she deserved his words. 

Geralt hesitated for only a moment. The truth was unfortunate and uncomfortable, and he’d hoped to not have any conversations resembling the one they were about to have until she was older. But it was too late for that now, and he wouldn’t lie to her. 

“Yes.”

Before he could so much as explain, Orion was already rushing away, quickening her steps to meet up with the rest of the group. 

“Wait-”

She didn’t listen.

“Orion. Wait!”

He jogged forward, grabbing her arm and twisting her around to face him. She ripped herself from his grasp at once. Her face was stone cold, but still present were the hints of a curled top lip and the flash of barred teeth.

She looked so much like him when she did that. It nearly made his head spin. 

He cocked his head to the side a little, a warning for her to check her attitude. She didn’t take it.

“Will you let me explain?” he said with an even tone. 

“Explain what? That you regret taking me in?" The powerful rage in Orion's voice was not enough to mask what Geralt knew was lying underneath: deep, overwhelming hurt. "Well, you know what, no one held a knife to your throat and made you! If you didn’t want me, you should’ve done something about it!”

“That is not what I said.”

“You said-”

“Orion!” he shouted, and the child’s mouth clamped shut at once. She could count on one hand the amount of time he’s raised his voice at her. “What I said was that taking you in taught me, more than anything else, that raising a child is not something to be taken lightly. It’s a lesson that Yennefer could benefit from learning.”

The girl bit her lip and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. “You said raising me taught you that your life isn't suited to a child. That implies regret.” 

“I do have regrets,” he agreed, and he noticed the flicker of insecurity in her gaze. He felt like an ass for putting it there. “Do you want to know why?” 

Orion stayed silent, and he suspected she didn’t want to know at all. He was going to tell her anyway. 

He spoke his next words very softly. “Every minute of every day, I regret not being able to give you the life you deserve.” 

That clearly wasn’t the answer she was expecting. He could tell from the immediate wrinkle of her brow. 

“What?”

He sighed again, averting his eyes to the group behind her. They were making a steady pace up the mountain. And Jaskier, with his slightly codependent nature, kept turning back every few steps to check on his travel companions. Apparently, their yelling was loud enough to attract the attention of even the loudest of bards. 

Their eyes locked, and Geralt nodded once to let him know that everything was alright. Or, at the very least, that it would be. Jaskier didn’t look convinced, but he gave a defeated shrug and turned back around to continue walking. The witcher hesitantly directed his eyes back to Orion, who seemed to be frozen in a state of confusion. 

“Geralt, I don’t understand any of this.” 

“Our life on the path isn’t normal, Orion. You think it is, because it’s all you’ve ever known, but it’s not.”

“I know tha-”

“No, you don’t. You grew up hiding from monsters that most humans never see in their lifetime. By the age of eight, you were well versed in the art of ignoring those on the streets who throw stones as you walk by. And that's…that's not a reflection on you, it’s a reflection on me.”

“But-”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad about the cards you’ve been dealt. It’s the same way I was raised, it’s all I know. But witchers are a dwindling species for a reason, and the last thing I wanted was to make you a part of our ranks. I never wanted you to be like me.” 

“But I did! I’ve always wanted to be like you.”

Geralt wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He opened his mouth to try, but all that came out was a confused grunt. With a tilted head and lifted brow, the witcher sat there in silence as he struggled to understand. 

How was it possible that after all this time, his sweet, open-hearted Orion still didn’t believe what he knew to be true? He wasn’t the man she thought he was, and the longer she failed to realize that, the longer she would spend wandering blind in the dark. 

Orion took a few steps closer until they were an arms length away. It always shocked the witcher when he noticed how big she had gotten, how much she had changed from the little girl he used to know. “Geralt, people throw rocks at us because they’re afraid of what they don’t understand. You’re the one who told me that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he averted his eyes. “What was I thinking?” 

Orion’s lips lifted in half a smile.“And people die everyday because they don’t know how to hide from monsters. Most humans don’t even recognize the signs for when one is around. I have a leg up on all of them.” 

“But you wouldn’t be around monsters as often as you are if it wasn't for me.” 

“I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” she reminded him sharply. “If you hadn’t found me, I’d probably still be sitting at the entrance of Kaer Morhen. A pile of bones withering to dust.” 

“Don’t say that!” Geralt snapped. His sudden change in tone shocked Orion to her very core, as it was a fiery anger that she'd never before heard directed at her. His eyes were wild and rabid as he stared at her, his entire body tense and shaking. To her, it was an extremely paradoxical image; he'd somehow managed to look terrified and terrifying at the same time.

The witcher had to squeeze his fists to stop himself from saying something he might regret. It wasn’t Orion he was mad at. If anything, it was himself.

Because the idea of his child going through a life-or-death situation should have been something he could only imagine. It should have been a distant nightmare, something that tortured his sleep but eased away once he awoke and realized it was only a figment of his imagination. 

Except that it wasn’t. Not for him. Orion had looked death in the eyes more than he could possibly count, and Geralt was the one leading her directly to it. 

“Don’t,” he repeated again in a clipped tone. “Don’t say things like that. You’re here with me because I made a choice. And while I may regret the implications of that choice, don't ever insinuate, even for a second, that I don’t want my child.” 

Orion was used to him calling her his. And she was, in all the ways that mattered. But it was always still a shock to her heart when he did. 

If Geralt noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it. “You needed me, and I made a choice,” he continued on. “Just as I made a choice to not do the same with my child surprise.” 

Oh, the infamous child surprise. From the little Orion knew, the whole thing ranked somewhere high on Geralt’s top ten list of the stupidest things he’s ever done. 

She wouldn’t pretend to understand why he was so insistent on ignoring the existence of someone he was connected to. “What if they need you too one day?” she asked. “What then?”

“He’s a prince of the largest and fiercest kingdom in all the North. He’s got people pleading for the honor of wiping his arse. I doubt he needs the help of a lowly witcher.” 

Or she, Orion thought absently. And perhaps a little dreamily. What luck it would be if Geralt was tied to a princess.

“Kingdoms fall everyday, Geralt. You also said that.” 

“Let's stop using my words against me, yeah? I’ll have to start keeping track of what I say around you.” 

Orion didn’t respond, staring back at him with an expectant glare. 

“Orion,” he leveled with her. “If Cintra falls, he’ll have dozens of people whose sole responsibility is to take the sword for him. He’ll be alright.” 

“And you’re sure of that?” Orion implored. “You can sleep peacefully at night knowing that maybe, just maybe, there’s a kid out there who might one day be as helpless as I was? A kid that, unlike me, is entitled to your protection?” 

“The only person entitled to my protection is you.” 

They were at a stand still, and after a moment of nothing but silence and a gentle breeze passing between them, Orion decided to let it go. She didn’t even berate him for ignoring her question. Because truly, she knew the answer already. She knew that every night, when he thought she was asleep, he rose and paced in circles for hours on end. The sound of him incessantly cleaning his swords had become white noise for her throughout the night. In fact, Orion couldn’t remember the last time she actually saw him sleep; really sleep, that is. Because Geralt wasn’t nearly as much of a master at pretending as he thought he was. 

So instead, all she did was try and direct the conversation back to its original topic. If Geralt wanted to be pig headed about the situation he put himself in, then fine. That wasn’t her main concern. 

At least, not right now it wasn’t. 

“Okay, well,” she sighed, struggling to change subjects without making it sound awkward. Suddenly, this whole conversation felt awkward. She felt stupid for being insecure, and she felt even more stupid for bringing up Cintra when she knew he’d shut down. “You don’t have to worry about not giving me the ‘life I deserve,’ or whatever it is you regret. I quite like the one I have.” 

Geralt remembers her saying something to that effect before. She’s probably said it a number of times by now. But it never mattered, never meant anything real to him. It felt too comparable to a mutt saying that it quite liked its cage. 

So he stayed silent. That alone spoke volumes to Orion. 

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?” she groaned with an exasperated tone. “No matter what I say?” 

He gave her an honest look. “It’s not likely.”

Orion surged forward at once, crashing into his chest with a resounding thud. The witcher barely had time to catch himself, but even as he took a step back to regain his balance, his arms were firmly wrapped around her. 

This wasn’t at all how he imagined this conversation going. He could’ve sworn she was mad at him not ten seconds ago. 

She smushed her face tight to his side, and Geralt strained to hear what she said next. “Can you at least try to understand that I want to be here? With you?”

It’s bothering her, he thought to himself as he rested his chin on her head. And she’s too stubborn to let it go. 

“Can you try to understand that I want you here?” he answered her question with one of his own. 

He felt her nod against his chest, which he supposed was enough. Though truth be told, Geralt wasn’t much for changing. 

And unfortunately, neither was Orion. 

He would never forgive himself for his shortcomings. Day after day, mistake after mistake, Geralt looked back and saw all the ways that he could’ve done better at raising her. He wasn’t used to failing at a job; Vesemir had raised him better than that. And in his eyes, caring for the girl in front of him was the ultimate job. 

But he hadn’t been prepared for it. 

And Orion would never be able to ignore the feeling that a part of them was missing. A part of Geralt, really. It was something he refused to acknowledge, refused to accept. It would gnaw at him forever until he did, and the idea of that continued to gnaw at her. 

This painful circle of lies where one swallowed their truth for the sake of the other was tense and never ending, and it was difficult to pretend that they both weren’t craving something that they desperately needed. For Geralt, a chance to start over. A chance to give Orion the family she should’ve had from the beginning, the one he ripped her from when they left Kaer Morhen. And for Orion, something that would ease Geralt’s mind once and for all. 

Years ago, on that day they’d met one another, each of them had been given something new. A different life, a fresh start. It was all they needed back then. But not anymore. 

Ignoring it would get them nowhere. It was clear now, even if neither of them could voice it, that something else was needed. 

Something more.

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(A/N: This ending is definitely catered towards the book fans out there haha)

[ellieslittleburrow]

Geralt Headcanons

Painrings : Geralt of rivia x daughter/ Geralt x platonic! Reader

Warnings : none

A/N : hello peeps, i tried my best to make them broader and not just limit them to father daughter stuff, we can turn one of them into a little ficcie if desired. Alsoo Comments are much much appreciated. Enjoyyy 🥀

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You and Geralt had found each other on destiny's commands. It wasn't easy, suddenly being under somebody's wing, having to trust them and listen to them.

Whenever danger was felt, Geralt would place a hand on your shoulder, his own little protective move, prepared for whatever's about to come.

When you're out in a market or somewhere he deems to be dangerous, he makes sure to always be somewhere behind you. No matter how far you get away, he's always somewhere close watching over you.

After a few of your nightly freakouts, Geralt offered up a little spot beside him every night. He doesn't order you to come over. He doesn't ask if you want to come over. He just settles down on whatever bed he's sleeping on and puffs up a little pillow he keeps beside him. If it's a whole seperate room. Then the same line is growled :"I'll keep my door open in case i am needed."

A boy smiles at you and the witcher is there to smile back. Not in a possessive way. Not in a she is untouchable kind of way. Just a simple smile, to assert his threatening presence. A smile that says if she is hurt, you're fucked.

Mornings are your least favorite time of the day. Geralt is always at the foot of your bed, gently swinging your foot left and right, in an attempt to wake you up. It surely annoys you but it's not until he grabs your wrist and pulls it upwards that you start getting annoyed. And then comes the full pull, when he grabs you from under the armpits and drags you out. You groan in unpleasentness but let go anyways.

Late nights are for sure your favorites, though. Just a grumpy old guy running after you and pleading for you to go to sleep. You dodge his reaching arm, giggling at his frowning features. He growls your name and sighs, giving up. And you just stand awkwardly, triumph radiating out of you.

What you reeeally dislike, though, is those little fights you and Geralt have about your future and your training. Him not wanting you to get in harm's way. You doing everything possible to get in harm's way. He yells at you. You never ended up crying or anything like that. You just bottled it up and sat in your little corner, getting slowly eaten up by the deafening silence that reigns the space. But then one of you breaks it. And everything slowly goes back to normal.

All in all, life with the witcher is not easy. But how could you deny the warmth that coated your broken heart, the warmth that filled it with love. The warmth that filled it with the father, brother, protector that you never had.

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End of poem. I could never use such methodology for my own school work, goddammit. Anyway, i hope yall like this ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[cas-kingdom]

PLS. GERALT TEACHING AKELA TO ICE SKATE 😩

Find the OC version of this fic here.

The air had been cold all morning, but somehow it was more so as you looked out across the frozen lake. Giggles carried towards you by the wind, soft laughter and teasing remarks from Ciri as she taught Yennefer to ice skate. One part of you longed to go and join them, but the other—

"Y/N."

You glanced over your shoulder. Geralt leant against the axe he'd been cutting wood with. His head tilted, one hand at his hip, he offered a knowing smile. "You can join them, you know."

He had already told you as such, so he knew you knew. Nonetheless, stubbornness ran through your veins like blood, and when your mind was set on something, it was set in stone. Though, Geralt had always considered himself adept at breaking that stone. He had an axe now, after all.

You sniffed and brushed your hair behind your ears, a useless act considering the winter breeze. You turned back to the lake and watched as Yennefer yelled out and slipped, grabbing onto Ciri with a flurry of giggles.

You were long over your aversion to the princess's relationship with Geralt, but this...feeling you had towards Ciri and Yennefer was unfamiliar and unanticipated. The two were obviously close. Ciri seemed to have that effect on people.

"No," you said eventually, "it's alright. Ciri has my skates, anyway."

Geralt shrugged. He dropped the axe and walked towards the lake. "We don't need skates. Come." He stopped by the bank and reached a hand behind him expectantly. When you didn't grasp it, he turned to see you stood in the same spot, unblinking. Geralt dropped his arm and sighed. "Y/N, you love to skate. Come here."

You didn't vocally decide not to listen, but Geralt was well versed in the behaviour of the girl he'd raised. When you crossed your arms over your chest, not defiantly, more unwillingly, he dropped his arm and let a small smile slip onto his face.

"You remember when I first taught you to skate?" he asked, stepping one foot on the lake. He tested it, his boot slipping easily across the smooth surface. "You were four."

You couldn't help but breathe a short laugh. "You mean I taught you."

The Witcher stepped onto the lake, using his arms for balance. He skidded a bit, then turned to face you. "I slipped over once," he reminded you.

"And used four-year-old me to keep you up."

Geralt hummed morosely. Admittedly, that had not been his finest moment. Still. He reached his arm out again and opened his hand. "If you are so good, come and prove it."

There was no hint of competitiveness in his voice, just a discreet encouragement, and you took it with a long sigh and a reluctant smile, trudging over to him and taking his hand. He helped you onto the lake, allowing you to grip his sleeve as you found your footing, and noted fondly that said grip did not slacken even as you both slid slowly along the outskirts of the lake.

Ciri and Yennefer were still far out in the middle, slipping and tripping and laughing until their hearts' content. Somehow, Geralt doubted you wanted to be close to them right now, and not because of your refusal to leave the safety of the lake's edge. He wouldn't discuss it with you until he felt you needed it. He had an idea of what was bothering you, but as long as it wasn't dispiriting you as much as it had when your disapproval had surrounded him, he was sure it would fix itself.

You let go of his sleeve eventually, eyes fixed on the ice as you slid along it. Geralt turned so he was gliding backwards, hands at the ready in case his apparently oh-so-professional child needed some support. You were determined, though, your lack of skates doing nothing to thwart you, and Geralt felt himself relaxing and enjoying the—

"Oh, fuck." The moment he took a single wrong step, everything went to shit. Balance long forgotten, Geralt went into panic mode, arms pinwheeling, feet fighting for traction. You panicked too at first, instinctively attempting to launch forward to catch him lest he fall straight forward, but when you figured out he was in no imminent danger, you straightened with a snort.

"Geralt, you—Geralt—Geralt, you're making it worse!" Your words arrived between barrels of laughter as Geralt continued in the reclamation of his balance. He looked like a newborn deer, its long legs unused to the ground beneath it. You had tears in your eyes and when a burst of hysterics echoed across the lake, you realised Ciri and Yennefer had noticed the spectacle too.

Your laughter died when Geralt did indeed fall forward, though from the look on his face you were sure it was purposeful. Before you could utter a single squeal of anticipation, he lunged towards you, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down beneath him as he fell. His hands went behind your head to shield the impact but the wind was knocked from you all the same, even more so when the Witcher's tickling hands found your sides.

"Hey!" You could feel the laughter-induced tears on your cheeks freezing, the harsh wind almost as cold as the ice beneath you. Geralt made quick work of boxing you between his arms, poking and prodding and scribbling his fingers across every spot he knew you possessed.

"You may be better than me at ice skating," he ground out breathlessly, "but here is something I will always best you at."

"Stop ihit, you bihig lump!" You pushed at his face and Geralt grunted with his newly blocked vision. Seconds later, a heavy force ploughed into his back and he was knocked off course.

"Attack!" Ciri yelled. She grabbed piles of snow from the bank and shoved as much as her hands would allow down his jacket.

Geralt howled. "Fucking fuck, Cirilla!"

Yennefer leaned down and extended an arm towards you, still on your back and struggling for breath. You hesitated but took it. You stood up slowly, slipping once or twice, but made it safely into Yennefer’s arms. Yennefer held you close, a grin on her face as she watched the princess and the Witcher wrestle, and you found yourself leaning into her. Yennefer leant her chin on your head, and you relaxed. As always, there was never a need to worry.

Your family was too tight-knit to ever leave anyone out.

Witcher Masterpost

[storeboughtmashedpotatos]

Geralt of Rivia x daughter reader

In the vast and magical world of the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia found himself faced with an unexpected twist in his solitary life. After embarking on countless adventures and battling fearsome creatures, fate intervened in the form of a young girl named Y/N.

Y/N possessed an undeniable resemblance to Geralt, hinting at a mysterious connection. Though initially hesitant to accept this newfound responsibility, Geralt's compassionate heart couldn't resist the bond that quickly formed between them. Together, they traversed the realms, encountering both peril and wonder.

As Y/N grew, Geralt became not just her protector, but a loving father figure. He tirelessly taught her the ways of the Witcher, nurturing her natural abilities, and guiding her to become a formidable warrior in her own right. Their bond, forged through shared battles and heartwarming moments, became an unbreakable force.

Amidst their adventures, Geralt and Y/N discovered a long-lost prophecy, foretelling of Y/N's destiny to reshape the world. With their unyielding determination, they embarked on a treacherous quest to fulfill this ancient prophecy, facing formidable enemies and powerful allies along the way.

Through their journey, Geralt's love for Y/N only grew stronger, and his heart swelled with pride as she embraced her own path, her own destiny. Their story became a legend, whispered through time, inspiring future generations of Witchers and warriors alike.

And so, Geralt of Rivia and his daughter Y/N left an indelible mark on the tapestry of their world, their bond proving that family transcends bloodlines, and love knows no bounds.

[natxwidow]

Hey guys should I start writing something ??

requests are open!!

[donaweasley]

Promises to Keep

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Geralt is tasked with protecting a princess but his feelings keep poking at him, urging him to shed his tough armour and give in to his heart. But the witcher is a righteous man. He won’t succumb to his feelings so easily. Will he?

Some pining, some fluff that will lead to a “part 2” of this story.

Warnings: A bit of m.at.ure stuff. K.i.d.s better stay away!

Read time: ~15 mins

Note: This story has been based in a timeline before the fall of Cintra, and so, Geralt has not yet started his quest for Ciri. Oh, and he doesn’t fall in love with Yennefer. 😉

Prologue:

Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with many a difficult missions but the hardest of them all was probably not killing but protecting a person. That person was a princess whose parents had specifically called for Geralt to take their daughter under his wing as Nilfgaard marched towards their doorstep.

The princess could fight; she had been in battles but Nilfgaard had morphed into something entirely different from what the Continent had previously seen. It was as though Hell itself had poured into their army, leaving a trail of ash and blood wherever it went.

And so, turning all cries and protests from the said princess to deaf ears, her parents sent her away, in return of an assurance from her that, should their kingdom fall, she would come back and restore it to its glory, flying their banners from every nook and corner.

They knew she could, they had said.

The journey with Geralt had not been easy, moving from camp to camp, from inn to inn, not to mention the complications of his profession. But time gradually made things easier for them both, eventually bringing them to a point where they could comfortably pose as husband and wife so as to protect her identity, and avail a temporary shelter in a village.

And even though they were living a lie of being a married pair, their hearts often wished to forget reality, and enjoy the bliss of domestic life with one another. To be with each other unconditionally, forgetting all rules and boundaries.

But Geralt was a man of ethics, and she did not want him to bear the burden of guilt just because her stupid heart could not stop fluttering for this kind, brave gentleman with a heart of gold!

And thus, neither, for fear of straining what they already had, could ever utter their feelings to each other. After all, they had promises to keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months ago:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hurt herself on the thick leather armour as she flung her arms around his neck. But she did not care. That was a pain she would happily endure if it meant seeing Geralt at her doorstep safe and sound.

He smelled of sweat and blood and the swamp. He probably tasted like it, too. Alright, so what? The man returned after three weeks from the edge of the Continent. And perhaps from the edge of life. She couldn't care less about what he smelled or tasted like. But did he really…? She was very close to confirming her assumption - almost there - when Geralt suddenly remembered his place: the protector of the princess, a mere witcher.

“Princess,” the rich baritone vibrating in her ear woke her up from her purple dream. She could not help but lean back when she found her “husband” doing the same.

Geralt spread his arms slightly, and smiled with that usual softness in his eyes that came to the forefront only when she was around. “Safe and sound. Just like I had promised.”

“I am honoured!” She jested, and stepped inside, making room for Geralt to do the same.

“Give me a minute. I'll draw a bath for you. And once you have cleaned that mess off you, you'll have a warm dinner waiting,” she smiled and turned to make her way to the bath when Geralt gently but firmly held her wrist.

Neither could deny the spark that coursed through their veins at the contact. But neither would confess. Involuntarily, the witcher’s thumb made faint circles over her veins. Once he realised what he was doing, he slowly released her but their fingers lingered over the other’s before finally making some room between them.

Geralt pleaded with her to stop fussing over it all but the woman was ecstatic! Who could stop her from doing everything she could for the man she was falling in love with! Not even the strongest witcher.

And so, she hopped away to prepare a warm bath for him while he busied himself with the relieving task of removing his armour and weapons.

Geralt lay in the bath, pondering over the unsaid things that have been passing between the princess and him. Especially the ones that happened that evening. They had never been this close before, and it only made his breath shallower every time he thought about it. His mind wandered away unleashed every time his drunken heart slipped into fantasies of what could have happened had he not pulled away from her embrace…or what might happen if he allowed himself a bit more liberty with his feelings…

A gentle knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to the reality of the small room lit by two candles, back to the fact that the woman living under the same roof with him was his mission, not his real wife, as the villagers knew her to be. There was no way a witcher could dream of having a wife and a family, let alone with a princess!

“Need anything?” The voice was gentle, happy…it was caring. It made Geralt smile to think that someone cared so deeply for him, that he was actually having a domestic life, even though a fake one.

“Your company would be nice,” he quipped.

Geralt grinned wickedly. He did not need to see her to know the blush creeping up her ears and cheek.

Over the months their relationship - real or fake, whatever that was - had built into a strong bond, one that was made of cares, banters, challenges, huffs (and not just from the witcher), puns of all kinds and fluttering heartbeats. And though neither backed down during the banters or the puns, either one of them definitely ended up with blood rushing up their cheeks.

(Y/N) bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Two could play this game. Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. It startled Geralt, and she could tell it without seeing his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about from your adventure?” She slowly walked in, eyes straining to look anywhere but at him.

She did not receive an immediate response. How could she! Geralt was spellbound by the boldness of this woman! It was inspired by his own recent boldness, perhaps, he wondered.

He cleared his throat, “Indeed.”

She picked up a small wooden stool, and sat with her back to him. “You were saying?”

“I would detail everything but are you sure you can stomach all that? And before dinner?”

Glimpses from his previous tales crept back, and she gulped at the gory imaginations that his words had painted in her head. Perhaps she could not. But would she confess? No!

“I’m tougher than you think, witcher.”

This was their usual way of addressing each other: “Witcher”, with a sarcastic stress in the middle of the word, and “Princess”, with a vanity enveloping the word.

When they had set out for their journey, she had requested him not to call her “princess”. “I have a name, and I would like to be addressed by it,” she had insisted. But Geralt had decided on maintaining his propriety.

When asked whether he would like to be addressed as Geralt or Witcher, he had simply mumbled, “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Witcher it is then.”

And that has ever been going on, until recently when some rare moments witnessed them addressing each other by their names, and not what they were to the world.

In the small bathroom now, she heard a slosh behind her, signalling the rise of the large man from his bath. She tried her best to stop her shameless mind from picturing his wet body, dripping with water as he stood and stepped out of the tub, as he reached for the towel nearby and dried himself with it before wrapping it low around his waist. But the quiet of the night made sure that every little sound and movement reached her ears, leaving her a slave to her unabashed imagination.

Geralt grunted, the sound coming from right above her head.

“I know you can’t take it…Princess,” the last word was practically breathed on the shell of her ear.

Leaving her a total mess, Geralt sauntered out of the bathroom with a promise to indulge her in his stories after dinner.

That night, in the faint light of the moon, nimble fingers traced the contours of the witcher’s face as he slept - brows slightly arched, lips parted, face as serene as a dawn in Spring. She watched him breathe peacefully, devoid of the cares of the world, until a small smile cracked at a corner of his mouth. With eyes still closed, he placed a hand on hers and brought it to his lips. A chaste kiss was all it was, and yet it had her heart thundering. He had never - ever - shown any affection other than soft looks and gentle smiles.

“Sleep princess,” he rasped in a sleepy voice.

He opened his eyes once, to watch her smile at him, before holding her hand snuggly and drifting back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day:

The sound of the door cracking open brought her back to the present. Quickly slipping a little more below the soapy water, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

It was Geralt. The moment he set one foot inside, his eyes went wide. It took him hardly a second to swing on his heels, to look away, but the sinful image had planted itself in his head. Probably for eternity.

“Pardon me. I…I did not know… I thought you were done. I just returned from outside; I did not notice that you were not anywhere else. I…”

“Geralt!” His name. She spoke his name! That, along with her soothing tone put an abrupt end to his string of stammering apologies. “It’s alright. I know you had no ill intentions.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet for a couple of seconds, he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Her lips stretched into a smirk as she recalled an old conversation that had occurred under very similar circumstances.

“Your company would be nice,” she quipped, just like Geralt had a few months ago.

The witcher recognised the joke immediately. A small smile escaped his usual serious features.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about your first kill,” he jested just like she had back then.

The sigh that filled the room made Geralt wonder if he had said something uncalled for. She was shaken by the incident but if she was making jokes now, she must be recovering. Right?

“(Y/N),” Geralt called without looking at her, “are you alright?”

“No, if truth be told,” came the confession.

He understood. Keeping his gaze focused on the floor, he took a few large steps until he was standing near the foot of the tub. In one smooth move, he was sitting on the floor with his back to her.

There was something about Geralt that made her feel protected all the time. Even in her most exposed and vulnerable state, she felt safe and comfortable with him around. And it was not just the love she felt for him. It was something else. It was something…very “Geralt”.

“The monsters we kill haunt our minds till long after. You never get used to it no matter how many kills you have made,” he sighed.

(Y/N) listened quietly. He was a man of few words, and at most times it seemed as though he was not even listening. But he always understood every single unexpressed emotion, every single unsaid word that she carried within her.

“Every time I close my eyes or every time I hear something, fear grips me,” she shivered at the thought. “You are right. I'm haunted by its memory, and … I cannot seem to shake the thoughts off. No matter how hard I try! I cannot even be courageous enough to convince myself that it is all in my head!” She slapped the water in frustration.

Unlike the witcher, killing monsters was not her profession nor did she volunteer for it. But what she did volunteer for was accompanying Geralt to a trip to the river caves for some herbs. Despite the witcher’s efforts to shield her inside the safety of their home, she managed to argue her way out of the proverbial safety net. Which is what led to the unforeseen event of her first close encounter with one of the many monsters that had become part of Geralt’s life. It also led her to, for the first time, being at the receiving end of Geralt’s fury for risking her life .

‘You were very courageous back there,” Geralt smiled at the memory of her driving her sword through the neck of the drowner, thus saving his own neck in the process.

“I had to be! Couldn’t just stand there and watch my favourite grumpy fellow die!” She jested about it but a shiver ran up her spine as she spoke. “It was disgusting, you know? I can still feel all the blood and slime on my skin.”

“It was also very brave. You saved my life!”

He had thought that his statement would make her proud but he was met with silence.

She spoke after a while. “You do know that I shall not be able to live anymore if something happens to you, don’t you? I shall only survive.”

Geralt’s heart suddenly felt very heavy in his chest. What she said was known information to him. Somewhere in his soul, he knew that she loved him. But to hear it aloud was totally unexpected.

“I shall be fine, princess,” he used his most assuring voice. “Do not worry about me.”

Unseen by him, a smile formed on her countenance. “I know, witcher.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else?” He suggested. “Take your mind off the monster?”

“Hmm… How is Jaskier?” She suddenly asked.

Geralt almost turned his head towards her in surprise. Almost. She was naked, having a bath, and the first “something else” that came to her mind was the bard??

“Jaskier?” He asked. “You wish to talk about Jaskier now?”

“Well, you wanted to talk about something else!”

Was that jealousy that she was sensing in his huffs? She hoped it was.

“He must be fine. I do not know.” He ended the topic as quickly as it had begun.

“Hmm.”

The princess laid her head back on the tub and closed her eyes. There was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that she did want to leave, did not want to do anything that might disturb the moment. Even though it was getting late. Even though Geralt still had to wash himself.

Geralt still has to wash himself! Shit! He must be hungry!

Her eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, I forgot you have to wash up, too! I shall be quick.”

The sudden splash of water pulled Geralt out of his own reverie, inadvertently causing him to turn around so as to ask her not to hurry. But the sight before him left him speechless. It was fortunate that she was too busy to see him else he would never have been able to face her in shame. Geralt turned back and shut his eyes as soon as he snapped out of his trance. But that did nothing to erase the image imprinted in his mind. Not that he wanted to.

She had pulled herself up slightly, as she tried to reach for the towel on the nearby stool. In the light of the candles, her body glowed golden as water cascaded off every curve of her body… down the side of her neck, her shoulders, two perfect globes that highlighted particularly well in the candlelight, perky nipples that had hardened in the water, the beginning of a lustful waist…

He did not hear her step out of the tub, did not hear the rustle of clothes as she got dressed, no. His mind was replaying the same thing over and over again. There was an evident twitch somewhere down his body. He faintly heard something about dinner and changing the water. The creak of the door pulled him back.

“I shall…” His voice was hoarse. “I shall change the water. You may leave.”

The change in his mannerism surprised her but then both his voice and attitude were gravelly most of the time. With a small “alright”, she exited, leaving him to his thoughts.

Dinner was quiet as Geralt tried to suppress the feelings bubbling inside him. He wanted to look at her and lose himself in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Wanted to show her what it meant to unleash months of bridled love that he had been carrying within his entire being. He wanted to…

Gods! There were so many things that he wanted to do. But every time he talked himself into taking one step forward, his reality made him take two steps back.

And so, once again, he retired to bed without telling her anything at all about the whirlwind in his heart.

Geralt woke up sometime in the middle of the night, sensing some movements near him. Once sleep stopped fogging his senses, he realised that it was (Y/N) tossing and turning beside him in her sleep. Not only was she being restless, she was mumbling something incoherent that only got louder with her movements. It hardly took him a couple of seconds to realise that she was having a nightmare!

Geralt tried to wake her up: called her name, shook her. But she was trapped deep in her own head. He thought he heard something like his name but could not be sure. Seeing his efforts go in vain, he took her face in both hands and shouted her name while shaking her once more. He wasn’t sure if it would work but luckily, it did. With wild eyes she stared at him, as if trying to figure out where she was, trying to put up a wall between her horrid imagination and sweet reality. When she finally came around, she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, causing him to tumble to the mattress with her below. Once again, he fought with himself as a wave of relief washed over him, eventually crashing into a strong desire to keep her encased in his arms and caress her for the remainder of the night.

“I dreamt that you were…” she almost sobbed. “That I had…” She couldn’t bring those bitter words to her tongue.

Geralt understood.

“You will never lose me. I shall always be by your side. I promise.”

In the dark veil of the night, in those weak moments, he made her a promise that even he did not know how he would keep, for she would be married to some royalty some day; she would have to go away, leaving him with his solitude and monsters. He could not keep her to himself nor could he watch her be with somebody else.

But that was a worry for another day. Right then, she was in his arms, and no one else’s. Even if for a moment, she was his. He lay on his side and pulled her to his chest. A hand cradled her head, drawing soothing lines through her hair, until her warm breath on his skin had become stable.

Geralt never seeked help or answers from the gods; he did not believe in them. But as he kissed the crown of her head that night, his lips prayed for her safety and happiness, and if possible, for her to be bound to him for eternity.

He knew he was being selfish. He did not know who heard his prayers or even if there was someone who might hear them. But he whispered them anyway, believing that it was the only way to make his wishes come true.

***

[kittenofdoomage]

Awakening (Ao3 Link)

Summary: Y/N’s always been an obedient daughter and sister, but one foraging trip into the deepest part of the woods changes everything for her.

Pairing: Alpha!Werewolf!Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader

Word Count: 53615

Chapters: 16 (fully posted and complete)

Warnings: mild assault, dubious consent, corruption, angst, mentions of suicide, biting, jealousy/fighting over a mate, public masturbation, public nudity, voyeurism, heat/rut, possessive behavior, werewolves, size kink, praise kink, smut, pregnancy, A/B/O themes (including mating, biting, knotting, breeding kink), non-canon elements (witchers are not infertile, they’re just a different breed of werewolf), some time-period-level sexism towards women, use of “little one” as a pet name. Please let me know if there are additional warnings I have missed.

LINK TO FIC

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Destiny

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia X Reader

Word count: 1.6 K

Summary: You had to give up on some things when you decided you wanted a life with Geralt, but life has a way of turning things around.

{The Witcher Masterlist}

The nights are starting to grow colder as fall starts to fade, ready to turn into winter. Your small garden in front of the house is still flourishing, even though only a few flowers are strong enough to give you their beauty. So, kneeling on the ground, you pluck some weeds and clean off the dead leaves. The place will be less colorful for some months, but if you keep taking care of them, they'll come back at full power next spring.

You hear horses coming, and a wain. Not many people come this way but some residents of the nearest town since they know this route. Taking the small basket with the weeds and dead leaves to dispose of, you get up. The two horses come into sight and the wain soon after. The couple on it are familiar to you. You buy their carrots, potatoes, and broccoli.

“Good morning.” The man says, not smiling, but with the same respectful expression he always gives you.

“Don't talk to her.” The woman says. She's too young to be his wife, you see it now. His daughter then, but you don't know which one. “She's the wife of that –”

“Hush.” The man says.

“Good morning.” You reply, waving. “Safe journey back home.” Then, you give them your back and head inside.

You throw the weed and leaves on the fire before heading to the kitchen and starting to cut some vegetables for soup, trying not to let the loneliness bother you too much. You knew this was how things would be, but even so, even though you'll have to deal with the cold nights by yourself, it's all worth it. You'd do it all over again.

Passing the sweet potatoes to the pan, you're about to reach for the carrots when you hear it. A low, faint sound of a step on the wooden floor right next to you. Your body moves almost by itself, the grip on the knife getting tighter, but even before you can turn around and give hell to whoever was bold enough to invade your house, a strong arm surrounds your waist at the same time a hand grabs your wrist.

“I was expecting a much warmer welcome, my love.” His voice is what makes your body relax, but your heart, which was already beating fast, starts pounding.

“Geralt?!” You breathe out, dropping the knife and turning around.

Seeing Geralt after two months makes your body almost melt. Immediately, you throw your arms around his neck, your lips chasing his. Only seven months into the marriage, you only had Geralt with you for three. But you don't mind. You love him, and you knew things would be like this. It's the price of marrying a Witcher. A price you're more than willing to pay.

Geralt kisses you tenderly, and you can feel all of his love in it, the warmth, the thirst from all this time away. So you just hold him tight, even when you're both out of breath and have to break the kiss.

“I thought you'd take longer to find that monster.” You whisper, your foreheads touching.

“Ouch.”

“It doesn't mean I'm not happy. I'm... Delighted. Euphoric.” You give a little jump, kissing him again, then placing kisses all over his face as you stand on your toes. “You just scared the living hell out of me.”

“Just wanted to make a surprise. And I hurried with the hunt because the nights are cold and I made a vow to keep you warm.”

“Hm... So let's start by drawing you a very warm bath.” Smirking, you start to walk away, but Geralt grabs your arm.

“Draw us a bath. And let me get the water.”

“I can do it.”

“I know. But I'm your man. Let me do the hard part.”

You don't really enjoy bringing the water inside, so you don't complain.

Minutes later, the bath is ready, and the tub is set in the bedroom as usual. First, you washed with hair and body, and after, Geralt insisted on changing the water so you could get in. And you didn't say anything after the short explanation about how exactly he killed the monster and how some of its guts got on him. So when the new, hot water is ready, you join him in the tub. The temperature is perfect, and you rest your back against his chest.

“I never thought I'd have a real home to spend the winter.”

“Oh, you're supposed to go to that place for the winter. Kar Mare? Kor More?”

He giggles. “Kaer Morhen.”

“Kaer Morhen, yes. I don't mind if you have to go there, I can take the journey.”

“We could make a short trip while the winter hasn't kicked in yet, just so they know I'm still alive but... I have a home now. A real one. And I rather spend my winter with you than with those ugly men.” His embrace grows tighter around your waist, and your smile. “But tell me about you. Anything exciting happened while I was away?”

“Yes! I delivered a baby all by myself.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Marlën was with another mother in difficult labor. So when Alyn started feeling the contractions, I had to go.”

“And how was it?” Geralt always asks about your things, even though they're nothing compared to the amazing adventures he lives.

“A bit of a mess, I was so nervous.” You chuckle, turning around to look at him. “The husband passed out. He was holding a bowl with water and then he just fell, got the floor all wet.”

“Hm.” He mutters, looking down.

“What is it, my love?”

“You love this. And you love babies and children, and you'd be an amazing mother but I–”

To cut him off, you place a kiss on his lips. “Geralt, I knew of this limitation when I married you. And yet, here I am. And I wouldn't change a thing. I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, a small, sad smile on his lips. “I love you too. But it breaks my heart that I can't give you children.”

“Just give me all your love. That's everything I want.” And with another kiss, you both leave the tub and head into bed.

•••

When you start to stir, you feel Geralt moving. He always wakes up first, and then, he just lies there, holding you, looking at you.

“It's so good to wake up next to you.” It's the first thing you say, moving to climb on top of him. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Geralt smiles, softly grabbing your hips. “I dreamed about you almost every night.”

“Well, I'm right here now.” With a smirk, you lower yourself on him, your lips already chasing his.

Loud, obnoxious knocks make you sit back up. “I'll see who's there. Dress up.” Geralt says as he gets up, searching around for his clothes.

You put on the first gown you find, a white one, that you use to sleep, before following Geralt.

“I'm sorry...” You hear a woman's voice, low and anxious. “...died... Has no one...”

When you get to the door, you see Marlën, with a bundle of fabric in her arms. She passes the bundle to Geralt, who takes it as if it's the most fragile thing. You're about to reach the door when she turns around to leave, walking fast. She didn't even see you.

“Geralt, what's going on?” You ask, walking over to him, staring at Marlën's back. “She seemed so distressed...”

Then, a low, soft whimper gets your attention. Looking up at Geralt, you find his eyes locked on something in his arms. It's unbelievable how long it takes you, you, a midwife in training, to realize the sound came from a baby.

“Geralt, what...”

“She said the mother died... That he has nobody left... That a wet nurse will come twice a day with bottles of milk. I don't...” His voice fades when the baby opens his eyes, moving a tiny little hand up.

“Geralt, I think... I think she meant us to raise this baby.”

He looks at you, and you meet his eyes. Geralt's eyebrows are pinched together and... You've never seen him so emotional. Only when you confessed your love for him. “Raise him? As if–”

“As if he's our own.” Stepping closer, you take the baby's hand. “She knows I always wanted a child... And that I gave up that dream because of my love for you. So...”

“Do you think I can do it, (Y/N)? Do you think someone like me can be a father? A good one?”

Smiling, you take your free hand to caress his cheek. “Remember when you asked the same thing about being a husband? I told you you'd be a good husband.” Your smile grows wider. “And you proved me wrong by being an amazing husband.” The baby moans, and it sounds a little like a giggle. “If you agree to do this, my love... It'll mean a commitment for life.”

“A family.” He says, and then a smile breaks through his lips. “A family of our own.”

“Yeah... A family of our own.” Tiptoeing, you kiss him before caressing the baby's forehead. “Seems like destiny is on our side.”

“How did I get so lucky?” Geralt moves the baby up a little, so he can place a kiss on his forehead. And the scene brings tears to your eyes.

“You deserve it.” Moving to stand next to him, you exchange a look with him before focusing on the baby.

“Guess we'll have to leave Kaer Morhen for next year.”

“And next year, we'll introduce them to a tiny Geralt.” You add, as your heart is filled with bliss. Life has a way of turning things upside down for everyone. But this time, it just was putting things into their places. And you're excited to see where it leads you and this perfect little family you have.

[first-edition]

Daughter of Kaer Morhen

Smut-mas day 5

Geralt of rivia x reader

Sum- You spend all your time and days taking care or kaer morhen with your dogs but it’s only when the witchers come home you can finally relax

CW- smut, 18+ language and themes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral! Fem receiving, pet names.

“Come along.” You call to your 7 dogs as they all run up to the large doors of kaer morhen aka your home. The first and only human to reside there.

You’ve lived at kaer morhen ever sconce you could remeber. Vesimer found you as a baby in the woods cold hungry and dying. He took it upon him self to feed, clothe and house you teaching you the skills of a Witcher yet brought in mages to teach you the skills to be a proper lady.

Over time you became friends with the other witchers and even a lover to one, geralt of rivia or as you and the others call him white wolf, wolf for short.

You stop in your place seeing horses tetherd and smoke roaring from the top of the hold. Running to the door you open it seeing your family. A huge smile covers your face. You place down your basket and run to them. All the men embrace you in a large group hug.

“Move aside come now let me see my daughter!” Vesimer voice travels through the room as everyone steps back.

“Father!” You exclaim and run to him hugging him he picks you up spinning.

Placing you down he pulls back too see your face. “Oh how I’ve missed those lavender eyes, fair skin and strong spirit!” He smiles and kisses your fore head.

“You look well.” He says “yes my dogs have helped me much so with winter hunt. You on the other hand look starved.” You reply and whistle one of your dogs grabs the basket walking over to you.

“Venison, bear, salmon, and mushrooms if they server your liking?” You ask “oh!! You treat me too well.” He says you smile and grab your basket.

“Your rooms are mended and fresh fur is placed….” You say but stop and look around the room counting how many are left.

“Where is wolf? And eskel?” You ask. Everyone looks around “not here m’lady” lambert says “hm.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive” Coen replies. You nod and continue your way to the kitchen.

———

You sit your dogs around you nose head resting on your lap. A horses whine can be heard.

“That’ll be eskel he has the loudest horse.” Lambert says. You scoff. The doors open revealing the famous, large, white haird Witcher. But he’s brought someone with him a girl around the age of 16.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” Lambert exclaims as geralt places his bag down with a thud.

“We thought you were lost or killed..” coen says

Geralt chuckles “not yet..” he says and laughs as they all hug. He greets vesimer as well. Your dogs get up and run to him and greet him but bark at the sight of the girl.

You stand up “Vulcan heel!” You exclaim he whines and runs to your side “sit.” You say he does. Geralt watches you in awe missing the sight of you. Everything about you perfect to him.

“Wolf..” you say as he walks twirls you.

“You’re late..3 hours to be precise-“ he cuts you off pulling you in and kissing you. You smile into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck.

Ciri covers her mouth not too show her smile. Geralt spoke of you before but she never invisioned the fearless heartless man to be so mezmerized by you.

You two pull away and you look into his amber eyes. “I’ve missed you.” He states, “and I you.” You reply but your sight goes to the girl.

“And who have you brought with you?” You ask. “Cirilla. This is y/n.”

“Are you a Witcher.?!” “Oh no but I am vesimers daughter, I live here tend to it whilst the witchers are gone.” You reply she smiles “pleasure to meet you!” She says “and you cirilla” “ciri.” She corrects you nod “ciri”

———

Soon eskel arrives and the party begins

The night is filled with music and laughter ciri dances with the rest.

You stand and watch by the door way.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?” Geralt asks from behind you as his large arms weapp around your waist.

“Huh? I am believe me…just parties with women of the night aren’t really my scene. I’d much rather spend it with you.” You reply turning around to face him he presses his lips against yours lightly and squeezes your waist.

You pull away and grab his hand leading him away.

Walking into the room he closes the door and smashes his lips against yours. His hands roaming your waist to your back instead of waiting to in tie your corset he rips it apart. Getting you out as soon as possible.

Opening your legs he rests in between sitting up only to take off his shirt and pants leaving you both nude. His large hard cock presses against your pussy making you gasp “Ah wolf please!” You plead out to him.

“I want to take my time with you, I haven’t seen you all year!” He huffs in your ear as he grinds himself against you. His mouth pulls from your neck. He kisses down your body between your breasts. His large calloused hand takes a breast in hand and squeezes causing you to moan out.

Kissing down your body he finds his way to your thigh kissing it as well. You look up at the ceiling and feel his tounge press against your clit causing you gasp and shift. Geralt grabs your thighs keeping you in a place as he eats you out.

His tounge swirling around you dipping into you causing your back to arch. “F-fuck geralt!” You moan out placing your hand on his head. Trying to pull him off “ngh g-geralt please I-ah I’m gonna cum.” You huff he dosnt listen and only moves up and inserts a finger then another.

Pressing against your g spot as sucking on your clit make it unbearable. Finally snapping as you cum. He dosnt rest over stimulating you.

He finally pulls away and immediately moves up to kisses you letting you taste your sweet self. You grind your hips on his dick. He pulls away hissing through his teeth.

“P-please.” You answer his gasp. “Please what!?” He growls pulling your hairs back.

“Ngh.. p-please fuck me.” You reply he kisses your neck surely leaving hickeys And angles himself up to you. “Good girl.” He huffs and pushes himself in making sure to be carful and not to hurt you. 

you moan out as he enters your pussy. 

he begins to move slowly at first to find a rythim and then rough and fast. 

Your nails drag against his back and arms being sure to leave marks. 

“F-fuck Wolf!” you exclaim you breast bouncing to his hips pounding you. 

he pulls back a bit and pulls you closer to him pulling your leg up over his large shoulder. the angle making your back arch and grabbing the sheets. “ah shit.” he curses groaning out. 

The sound of moans and groans, skin hitting skin rumbels through the room although not loud enough to reach the party loud party downstairs. 

you cletch around geralt dick as you cum. he sees this and fucks you even rougher.  “Ah ah g-geralt i-.” “come on baby” he grumbles in your ear. as he bottoms out hitting you cervix making you cum again this time its enough for him to finish as well. his warm cum pooling inside of you. 

Both if you pant coming down from your highs. he pulls out making you whimper. he chuckles and pecks your lips and moves off of you. 

geralt lays next to you an pulls you close to him. “come with me.” you says you giggle “where.” you reply “out. out of kaer morhen.” he replies. 

“you know i cant do that.” you reply. “y/n..” “wolf-” you cut him off. 

he sighs pulling you closer to him and kissing your head. “Just one year..come with me.” he says you dont reply. “y/n..” he says trailing off seeing youve fallen asleep already. he chuckles and nods kissing your head again

[joelslegalwhre]

I can help

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.3k

summary⁀➷ Much to your fathers disliking, you not only serve a Witcher in his tavern, but you also leave with Geralt to find his child of surprise.

warnings⁀➷ people being mean to geralt and reader, soft!geralt, swearing, making out, kind of ‚fast pace' relationship, not a good father daughter relationship

a/n⁀➷ is the relationship of geralt and reader a little fast pace? definitely but we don’t care lmao (if I missed a warning let me know pls!)

sorry the ‘read more’ is still not working properly

The tavern fell silent as a tall man entered. His features were covered by the large hood that he had pulled deep into his face, but you could see the white, almost silver, hair that peeked out of it. The smell he wore told you everything you needed to know. Everyone knew who he was - a Witcher.

Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken as some called him.

He took off his hood, revealing his amber eyes. It almost looked as if they were glowing. He came to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. The Witcher barely looked at you as he slid a coin to you and silently stared at the wood. You took the coin and placed a mug full of fresh ale in front of him.

"I don't serve witchers in my tavern, Y/N. That son of a bitch should find another place!"

Your father spoke loudly as he approached you.

"You don't, I do. He pays, just like the others."

Your dry reply made the Witcher raise his head. He looked at you. Studied you. You could feel his gaze on you like it was burning into your skin.

Your father stood before you, enraged, staring at you, then turning his attention to his unwanted guest.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

"One of the men back there asked for you. I'll take care of the rest."

The Witcher raised an eyebrow as he watched the whole scene from up close. You turned back to him, ignoring your father who, fortunately for you, only walked away in a huff.

"Can I get you anything else?"

As if nothing had happened, Geralt thought, and had to strongly suppress a grin. Much to his astonishment.

He wordlessly slipped you another coin.

And again you gave him a new jug in return. Curiously, you leaned your arms against the counter and looked at him. "Geralt of Rivia, right?" He looked up from his drink and eyed you again. "Mhm." was all he said.

"I heard you're looking for your child of surprise." His gaze was still fixed on you, something that wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I can help."

Geralt breathed out a laugh, tilted his head, and with a slow flutter of his eyelashes, looked directly into your eyes. "You?"

"Of course, it could all be a rumour, but I heard that a woman took in a young girl just a few days ago. Not far from here." He was still staring at you through his Witcher eyes.

"I know her, I can show you the way."

Still no movement from him. But it didn't surprise you, it was no special behaviour for his kind.

You still didn't give in and stared back.

Geralt knew it wouldn't be smart to take you with him.

You could already distract him too easily, make him forget what he had been trained all his life. But you were the first real clue to Cirilla of Cintra in weeks.

"How long will it take to get there?" he asked in a low voice that made your legs go soft.

"By horse, about three days."

The Witcher looked at his jug again, and his gaze lingered on it for a moment. Without you, he wouldn't get any further either, he had to try it at least.

"All right, then." he grumbled.

A grin formed on your lips.

As Geralt made a move to leave, you stopped him. "Oh no, you need sleep first. You look like you haven't slept in days. And a bath won't do you any harm either."

Your determination surprised him, and for a brief moment he wanted to go on looking for his child of surprise without you.

But you were right. He hadn't slept properly for days. The nightmares that plagued him made it impossible.

But he could accept a bath. Since he had killed that Kikimora, he stank of guts and blood.

„Mhm. All right.”

With a grin, you approached him, only to walk past him. "This way." You could feel Geralt's gaze on your body, as you had earlier. But now it was stronger, almost impossible to ignore. Goosebumps spread up your arms. His tall, broad figure towered over you as he followed you.

Geralt felt the eyes of the people and your father on the two of you as you disappeared into one of the doorways that lead to the guest rooms.

The wooden door opened with a creak, revealing one of the plain rooms.

"You can sleep here tonight, l'll go and prepare a bath for you. If you-"

Large hands gripping your hips softly, interrupted you. Geralts eyes looked back and forth between your lips and eyes. "I think the bath can wait." he growled and pulled you against him.

With ease, he closed the door behind you with his foot and pressed you against it in the same movement. His hands found their way to your back.

His eyes studied every inch of you, and again it seemed as if his eyes were glowing. Before you could think, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He seemed to like it, because Geralt grabbed your waist a little tighter, lifted you up and sat down on the bed, with you straddling him.

He had already left a few marks on your neck that would certainly be seen for some time. His hands roamed your body as your lips found their way over his chin to his neck to leave a trail of kisses. You noticed how Geralt was concentrating on something else as he tensed slightly.

He leaned over to your ear, „Your father is eavesdropping.” You stopped kissing his neck, a wicked smile spreading across your face.

Without warning, you leaned back a little in Geralt's lap, but held on with your hands on the back of his neck.

"Mhmm Geralt!" you moaned his name, loud enough for your father to hear. Geralt looked at you with this small grin that spread across his lips so rarely. With one swift motion, he grabbed you tighter and kissed you hard, which made you moan into his mouth in surprise.

This time without pretending.

When he parted from your lips, his eyes went to the door. “He's gone.” he grinned with his usual low voice.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good thing I'm going with you because they would hunt me down after this, him being in the lead."

"Mhm" Greralt grumbled with an evil smile. "Sleeping with a mutant," his eyes looked directly into yours, "Bad, bad girl."

"Oh, shut up." you laughed as you hit his shoulder but he already started kissing you again.

When the two of you left the tavern the next morning, the marks on your neck were still clearly visible. Geralt had made sure everyone would see it.

"Fucking whore!" some drunk men and women shouted after you, still drinking or already drinking again. But one look from Geralt was enough to shut them up.

Whatever they were ranting about, they were still more afraid of the Witcher than anything else.

"My horse is outside." spoke Geralt softly into your ear from behind. You looked up at him and nodded.

"Where are you going?!" your father shouted when he saw you and the Witcher. Without moving a muscle of your face, you answered him. “Finding his child of surprise.”

"I have not raised you to be a fucking whore for a fucking mutant." he shouted after you, as you were already making your way to the door. You would've said nothing and just left. Geralt, on the other hand, would not.

He slowly turned around, and you could see the fear in your father's eyes. Geralt didn't even have to say anything, he just turned back to you, put one of his big hands on your lower back and walked out of the tavern with you.

"We're leaving. Now." he murmured angrily.

He wouldn't be able to hold himself back for much longer.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[writerscafehub]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈: @fushic0re

ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ . 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀:

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

        I’d say a 3.5. I’m proud of my work, but there’s always room to grow and improve. 

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

        I think my writing style focuses a lot on the complexity of the inner emotions the characters feel. I like to take a lot of time fleshing out their inner selves that way when there’s dialogue or they commit a specific act, readers are able to say to themselves “yea, this is very them”. All in all, I like a lot of emotion. 

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

        My fellow writers café members inspire me! Everyone has such different styles and ideas, it really makes me want to be more innovative. I don’t really have any specific muses, to be honest–the fanfiction fandom in general makes me want to write and see my ideas developed.

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

        “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” and “Dance In The Dark”. 

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

        Steve Rogers for sure is my easiest. I love that man with my entire being and have dissected him and my interpretation of him so many times. I find Geralt of Rivia a bit difficult to write, hence why there’s no work for him.

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

        There’s not really a who, more like a what–my emotional wounds. Writing is used as a tool for me to not only bring my ideas to life, but use them as vessels to work out these emotions and proverbially close that chapter of my life by turning them into something positive. 

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

        I have a very cute “Spy x Family” meets “The Incredibles” one shot for Miguel O’Hara in the works featuring Filipina!Reader, Gabriella O’Hara, and reader’s daughter hehe 

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

        I’m really gonna expose myself here…it was for Black Veil Brides LMAOOOO 

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

        GIRL (gender neutral); black cat gf x golden retriever bf, the mean one being soft for the sunshine one, enemies to lovers, reincarnation. 

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

        Mafia/mob boss. I have one singular wip with that trope and after that, I’m retiring it. Cannot stand it, no offense. 

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

        Definitely my demon! Lee Bodecker and ghost!Steve Rogers fics. Those were RIDES.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, BLACK CAT GF x GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF, and THE GRUMPY ONE BEING SOFT FOR THE SUNSHINE ONE. I clearly have a preference. 

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

        Either bossanova, classical music, jazz, lo-fi, or a playlist I made specifically for whatever I’m writing.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I don’t have a preference tbh. they’re both very impactful, it just depends on the plot in question. 

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

yES ALL THE TIME. especially for fluff pieces with family dynamics, I always wanna create little side drabbles in the style of “modern family” like they have their very own sitcom. 

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

writing for Geralt of Rivia. The deep lore for The Witcher seems like a lot of ground to cover. 

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I can’t remember anything specific, but my fic “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” received a good amount of super meaningful feedback from Filipino readers that meant a lot to me. They expressed how much it meant for them to be seen, especially in a fantasy-fairy tale like story that incorporated our culture.

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yes, lore building for “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call”! I’ve never written anything in the fantasy genre, so that was definitely a challenge. It turned out amazing. I loved writing it and that fic is one that is near and dear to my heart. 

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

I’m a fucking baby and I can only have angst if it’s followed with fluff…..but I do love angst.

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

EEEEEE I currently have one OC for a re-write of my series called “Keeping Up With The Starks”. Her name is Camila Santos Stark, a Filipina-American who is the only daughter of Tony Stark. She’s a spoiled heiress but is definitely a no-nonsense woman who you do not want to underestimate. She’s described by others around her as the rational version of Tony–the snark is there, but so are a bunch of other characteristics that Tony doesn’t possess. Steve Rogers is her love interest. He thought she was a spoiled brat, but look who fell in love!

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Definitely “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” – it’s pure fantasy which sounds amazing. Plus, Namor! 

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Eh, there’s nothing really interesting going on behind the scenes–I just write at night with a candle lit. 

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

        “I’m a beauty, I’m a beast, it defends on the feast” – “So Cool” by Dounia

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

        If writing frustrates you, that’s a sign for you to step away and take a break. If you initially started writing because you love it, continue to lead with love–don’t kill the joy.

[lunarbreaksblog]

What if Ciri had a friend who wanted to learn how to be a witcher wanting to quit their life of crime? Her friend is a thieving rogue.

https://www.dndbeyond.com/classes/rogue

The Witcher x Thief!Rogue!Reader

It was simple. You were a thief, always had been even when you grew up in the church. They tried to teach it out of you but the prospect of having shiny trinkets always excited you. Then when you learnt special skills from a very special friend— you could easily break into place and get your beloved items.

That changed when your very special friend disappeared, your friend had told you things about her life and how she was on the consistent run. She told wonderful stories about witchers and how they managed to save the day by defeating the horrible beasts.

You really wanted to become a witcher— you knew it couldn't happen of course, you weren't a male nor had undergone the trials of grass.

But that didn't stop you.

After your friend disappeared, you went to look for her adoptive father: Geralt of Rivia

Hopefully he would teach you and help you find his daughter and your friend...

[cas-kingdom]

For drabble requests can you write

“This means war, my dear.” And “You better run!”

With The Witcher? Maybe centered around Lambert and R pretty please? 🥰

A/N: I wrote this with my OC, Akela. (Switched the dialogue prompt up a bit).

"You know this means war."

The disgruntled voice seemed most unnatural when accompanying a ginger witcher with his arms full of pillows. Still, Lambert made sure he got his point across, glaring at each witcher he passed on his way to the pitiful campfire in the centre, as though they weren't as imprisoned as he was. He dropped the pillows and stretched his hands out towards the flames, getting them as close as possible without burning himself, and then flopped miserably on the cold, cold ground.

Eskel rolled his eyes as he helped the five-year-old on his lap stretch her marshmallow on a stick closer to the flames. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Lambert, if it was possible, seemed even more unimpressed. "It's so fucking cold out here I'm going to wake up with blue balls."

"It's Akela's birthday, and Akela wants to sleep outside. So, we sleep outside."

The ginger grumbled something under his breath and pulled his knees to his chest. He wasn't wrong - the wind was glacial - but if there was one thing that could force a group of monster-killing machines out into the biting air, it was Akela.

"And where's Geralt, huh?" Lambert continued. "If we're going to freeze our asses off out here for his kid then-"

Geralt silenced him with a prompt whack to the back of his head as he passed, holding an Akela-sized sheepskin coat in his hands. "I'm here. Stop complaining. Akela, put this on."

Vesemir smiled ironically warmly. "A bit of cold never hurt anyone," he said, attempting unsuccessfully to mask his shivering. "Hm, Little Wolf? What do you say? Will you go and give Lambert a big, warm hug?"

A toothy grin spread across Akela's face. She dropped the marshmallow stick and clambered off Eskel's lap before racing over to Lambert, whose shoulders seemed to slacken ever so slightly as she leapt into his arms.

Lambert squeezed her. "Thanks, brat," he said, "but this doesn't change a thing."

Eskel shuffled closer to Vesemir and Geralt. Around them, shivering witchers were grappling between appeasing the girl they all loved so dearly, and vaulting back indoors.

Silently, he leaned towards them. "You realise she will want to go indoors again in half an hour or so?"

Vesemir wrapped his arms around his body and stretched his facial muscles, vaguely realising he felt quite numb. "Oh, we're all counting on it," he said. "So are Lambert's balls."

Witcher Masterpost

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 2

Ch 1 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: blood, violence, fighting

Word Count: 2197

Masterlist

Tag List Form

“Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!”

All suspicious, accusatory whispers about you died at the herald’s call. Heads whipped around to feast their eyes on the White Wolf of legend, to catch a glimpse of his white hair or even his dual swords. There was not a soul across the Continent who had not heard of the glorious battle at the Edge of the World - a fabulous tale of Elves and Fauns, no doubt concocted by the man next to him who carried a lute.

A bitter taste soured your mouth at the hypocrisy. They spat and scowled at your presence, but how quickly they could turn and lunge for the Nordling Witcher’s boots so that they might kiss the ground he walked on. You did your best to ignore his presence and focus on the job at hand.

No less than a week ago, Mousesack sought you out to propose a contract for none other than the Lioness of Cintra. She desperately sought a Witcher who could act as a guard at her daughter, Pavetta’s, betrothal banquet, for the sole purpose of disposing of any unwanted guests. Mousesack didn’t know who the target could be, or why, but the amount of coin he offered was more than you could shake a stick at.

So, on the day of, you appeared donned in leather and daggers, and accepted the contract face-to-face with her majesty. Before she left to settle disputes within her kingdom, she ordered you to change into more reasonable attire.

The silk and linen was unfamiliar and uncomfortable against your skin. Your heightened senses were distracted from the sensations of the fabric, though not so much you could not hear the conversation across the hall.

Mousesack and Geralt of Rivia were tucked away in an alcove, whispering to each other about court gossip and the favored bachelor. What caught your attention was not the Witcher’s deflection of royal scandals, but the druid’s sudden change of topic.

“There is another Witcher here you should meet,” Mousesack said, conspiratorially, as if he was revealing a great secret and a great danger all at once.

Geralt of Rivia frowned at the other. “Another Wolf?”

“No, no, no.” Mousesack shook his head quickly. “A Witcher from the South.”

Even from afar, you could see how that peaked his interest. “A Nilfgaardian?” He trailed off a moment, thinking. There were only two Niflgaardian Witcher schools. “A Bear?” he asked, hedging his bets.

“A Viper,” you interjected. Mousesack almost jumped at your sudden appearance, but Geralt only frowned. You turned to the druid, a slight, teasing smile on your lips. “It’s not polite to talk about someone behind their back, Mousesack.”

He chuckled good-naturedly and slung an arm around your shoulders. “My apologies; I didn’t know you cared so much about manners.” He turned back to the guest of honor. “Geralt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Geralt.”

Despite the easy way the druid introduced you, Geralt remained on edge. He crossed his bulky arms, pulling against the fancy garb he was also forced into wearing. The line between his brows only deepened as he looked you up and down.

“I didn’t think Vipers came this far North.”

“We usually don’t,” you agreed. You glanced at Mousesack, who seemed to be on edge from the interaction. “Mousesack tracked me down.”

“The Queen requested a Witcher to act as a guard,” he explained quickly. “They were the closest Witcher with the skillset she required.”

“Someone willing to kill humans.” It was not a question, yet the Wolf stared you down as he waited for confirmation.

You grinned at his unease. He was fighting back a scowl, though he hid it well enough. Wolves and Vipers - all Witcher schools, really - had a long standing history of distrust and conflict. With an adolescent sense of determination, you replied, “It’s what Vipers do best.”

His scowl revealed itself fully.

“Drop your trousers!”

All three of you turned your heads to a disturbance off to the side of the larger crowds. A lord had a well-dressed man - you recognized him as the bard Geralt came with - against the wall. Geralt sighed through his nose at the sight.

“I see you have business to attend to,” you teased. You ducked under Mousesack’s arm and backed away, bowing as you did so. Oh, if your mentors could see you now; you’d be reduced to sorting the library until Ivar Evil-Eye deemed it good enough. “Gentlemen.”

-

“Witcher…” Calanthe gasped. You couldn’t tell which one she spoke to. “Kill it.”

You should have leapt over the table. You should have drawn your blades the very second the disturbance began. You should have, but you couldn’t. Something kept your feet glued to the floor.

“No,” Geralt replied coolly.

“Viper, kill it,” she hissed, growing desperate.

The dark eyes of the animal-knight stared up at you. Briefly, you considered how grateful you were for the cover of the Queen’s throne.

Geralt half-turned to look at you. “This is no monster.”

He must have known that meant little-to-nothing to you. The Viper School was the only school to focus on hunting monsters, humans, and non-humans. Whether he was a beast, a man, or some other creature of the land did not matter. You were taught to accept all contracts on any head, and remain neutral. Above all else, take no sides.

“This knight has been cursed,” he tried again, a twinge of distress in his words.

Calanthe sighed irritably. “You’re as useless as the rest of them. Slay this beast!”

Your heart leapt forward. Your feet stayed put.

Take no sides.

Two more guards fell to the ground before Lord Urcheon drew his sword to point at Calanthe. “Lioness of Cintra, I come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise.”

Take no sides.

In one motion, you vaulted over the banquet table and drew your twin blades. Geralt tried to grab your arm, but his fingers barely had time to brush against the silk of your attire.

One royal guard after another ran forward. Lord Urcheon skillfully deflected blows, redirecting swords with the momentum behind their swings. A guard collapsed to the floor, clasping his gut, after the knight sliced it open.

He turned and swung his sword down. It stopped dead in the air with a metallic screech, caught between two crossed daggers. Dark eyes full of fear peered deep into the focused gaze of the Viper before him.

You arched your daggers up and out, pushing his sword back. In the opening, your foot collided with his stomach in a powerful kick, knocking him to the ground. His sword skidded across the polished stone, far away from his desperate grasp.

The royal guards gathered to stand behind you as you towered over the defenseless man. Terror rippled through the party so intensely you could smell it.

You were exactly the monster they whispered about.

You flipped your daggers in your grasp. The knight’s heart raced.

Dual daggers raised into the air, smooth curves of metal glinting in the candlelight as they formed the deadly fangs of a snake.

You pitched your swing down, aimed directly for his heart.

The hollow sound of a dagger hitting the floor echoed through the room. Blood dripped down your knuckles as you stared into the eyes of the Wolf, his sword aimed at the hollow of your throat. Your silver dagger stayed in a tight grip by your side.

Movement caught your eye as the knight picked up your dagger. A protectiveness settled in your chest seeing the weapon in his hands.

“KILL THEM BOTH!”

Chaos. You and Geralt fought head to head. Lords and royal guards rushed in to stop Lord Urcheon. Sir Eist joined to help. Queen Calanthe was forced to sit by and watch. Swords clashed, blood spilled. Your heart pounded in your ears as adrenaline coursed through your veins.

Men fell left and right, but none were slain by the White Wolf. You were deadlocked. You would throw a swing at his side or neck, and he would deflect it with his sword. He would aim an attack at your chest or head, and you would dodge out of the way. Trapped in the futility of fighting an enemy matched to his abilities, he couldn’t help against the guards or lords. If he did, he would risk opening himself up to an attack from you.

His sword sliced horizontally through the air. You rolled under the blade, behind him, and whipped around to stab yours into his back. You stopped inches from driving the silver into the Queen’s neck. Her sword locked with Geralt’s. You stared, stunned, at the back of her head.

“Stop.” It was a plea. His sword slowly fell. Hers followed. “Stop!” she called to the rest of the fighting crowd.

Your eyes met the Wolf’s over her shoulder. His gaze was tense. It burned through you. Your dagger fell to your side once more, and then found its way back to its sheath.

-

A burst of energy shoved everyone back. Some went flying into pillars or banquet tables. The oxygen was stolen from your lungs as your back slammed against the wall.

A figure curled overtop your body, protecting you from the fierce winds brought about by Pavetta’s powers. You gasped and coughed as you fought to catch your breath once more. The figure came into focus as you did.

It was the bard. He was skinny, though not scrawny. Short, dark hair blew about and caught on his long lashes as brilliant blue eyes stared down at you. You hoped he did not see the confusion in your own.

Why would he protect you?

Shards of glass rained down as the windows shattered one by one. He pulled your head down into his chest and raised an arm to cover himself. Sharp pieces fell down your back and scattered into his hair.

When he relaxed his hold, you pulled away and pushed yourself to a kneel. The fragments dug into the rough skin of your palms and latched to the almost-dried blood that stained your hand red. You paid it no mind as you squinted to see into the vortex.

At the center stood the princess and the hedgehog knight. Loose chairs and food swirled through the air around them like a tornado destroying a village. Your eyes traced the crowd of people who all were forced to watch helplessly as Pavetta cast spells under her breath - all to protect her lover. Geralt and Mousesack were pressed against two pillars, closest to the whirlwind. Queen Calanthe and Sir Eist held each other on the floor as they hid beneath her banquet table.

Wood groaned and scraped across the floor as a table came barrelling toward the wall. As fast as you could, you pushed the bard aside and covered him with your body. You felt him flinch as the heavy wood slammed into the wall right next to you and splintered, narrowly avoiding hitting your back.

Just as soon as it started, it was over.

The wind stopped. The world fell silent. You slowly pulled away from the man to see what happened. It was dark. Every candle was out. Haloed by moonlight in the center of a circle of debris lay Pavetta and Lord Urcheon. Geralt and Mousesack stood a few feet away, panting heavily with exhaustion.

It was over.

Guilt setted, heavy and unwelcome, within your chest. Had you listened to Geralt, had you rejected your training and picked a side - All of this could have been avoided. Or, if it was truly destiny that brought the two souls together, perhaps it was unavoidable.

Your back ached as you stood. You would be bruised come morning, there was no doubt about that. The man you protected looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. You wondered why Geralt brought him along. Surely, he saw terrible things every day on the Path; he looked far more in his element amongst the royals and elites in the world.

You reached out a hand and heaved him to his feet. He shakily nodded his thanks. But even as the Princess stood and the Queen joined her in the circle, his attention remained focused on you. He wasn’t afraid. He did not wrench his hand away or spit on you. He just stared.

Before you could ask why, Calanthe began speaking. She held hands with her daughter, seemingly forgiven. Remorse and regret settled on her features. For a brief moment, you caught her eye. You would not be getting paid tonight.

How could she, with a clear conscience, pay the person she hired to murder her daughter’s love?

A glimmer of light caught your attention. Resting within the debris was your steel dagger, a beam of moonlight reflecting off of its sharpened edge. No one seemed to pay you any mind as you stepped forward and slid it back into the sheath at your waist. You said nothing to the man as you passed him, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the hall, and slipping out of the castle.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@lex-caspartine

@lastwandastan

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonssimp

[thewritersaddictions]

Heyyy, I know it been long time since you heard from me but I was wondering if you can do Geralt x yennefer x daughter reader where they were all in a battle and the reader stayed behind to help ciri but got seriously injured as a result so after the battle they reunited as a family until the reader feel to the floor and Geralt realised how deadly her injury is and they can save her and her last word “mom, dad, ciri I love you” and then yennefer just screams so pure angst 😂😭

Thank you

This is just pure angst

[cardierreh15]

I posted 2,608 times in 2022

That's 1,651 more posts than 2021!

80 posts created (3%)

2,528 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@augustsprincess

(care not to add that person)

@angreav

@captainsy-cookiemonster

@nuggsmum

I tagged 894 of my posts in 2022

#henry cavill - 403 posts

#the witcher - 113 posts

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#august walker - 69 posts

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#witcher geralt - 32 posts

#henry cavill x black reader - 32 posts

#enola holmes 2 - 28 posts

#superman - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#if you have to go for a lung transplant and your surgeon is a black lesbian are you gonna tell her youre sick of them being forced down your

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Unexpected Outcomes

Hey everyone! Decided to do something a tad different with the chapter photos. Now, they’re still a work in progress and I have to tweak them a bit, but I hope y’all like the uniqueness of it anyway! Here’s Chapter 3, Company.

**I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warning 18+: Cursing , Mentions of Abuse , Mentions Of Sex , Mentions Of Violence & Infidelity

Description: Anya & Amadeo discusses the future of what is suppose to be.

Word Count: 2.3K

Company

Anna.

Baby.

Listen, I'm sorry.

Please answer me.

Pick up so we can talk about this?

Anya.

Read at 09:32am

'You should talk to him,' Nadine said softly, peaking over her shoulder, glancing down at the blue text messages sent from Joseph the previous night before. She walked around her daughter and sat down in her seat, bringing her hot cup of Americano to her lips. Anya looked up at her from her phone after clicking the power button. She didn't want to talk to him. She really didn't know what to say to him. 'I have nothing to say to him... urr, really don't know what to say.'

Her mother finished her drink and placed her mug down, 'Yeah, I could see that but,' she paused as if she was hesitating to tell her something grim. 'When i was a little older than you, years after your father and I got married, he lost his mind and hit me.'

Anya's head snapped over to look at her mother. She looked pained, and she was shocked really. With the way her father loved her mother, never in a million years would she have thought he would've beat her. 'Mama-' Nadine lifted her hand, stopping her daughter from continuing on, 'I don't need your pity. And there's no need to apologize, it wasn't your fault. But, i can guarantee my life... he never hit me again after that.' She gave her daughter and devious snicker before pulling her mug back up to her lips.

The young woman's eyebrows tugged into one, confused yet, intrigued- 'Well?' she leaned in, placing her arms on the table comfortably, 'What did you do?' A smile tugged on her lips. She was so much like her mother, so she knew her mother got her payback. Nadine stared at her for a brief moment before she glanced to her left, 'Your company is here.' She pressed her lips together, giving her a gentle smile.

Anya listened for a moment, the soft sound of a foreign car engine had been shut off. Amadeo was early. 'Forget about him. I'm not concerned about him,' She stood up and walked around the table to meet her mother, 'How did you handle the situation?' Her mother pressed her lips together, 'I made your father pay in the worst possible way. But it was a lesson for the both of us. I learned to forgive him and we moved past that. I will tell you more about it another time. But for now, try not to kill your fiancé? Hmm?'

Anya cringed at the word. Fiancé. She imagined being happy with the word. Being in love with the idea of being someone’s bride. Being Joseph’s bride. Her eyes diverted to the side.

‘I’m already regretting this,’ she looked back up at her mother with a sigh, ‘Can we just pretend we’re married and live in separate homes and live separate lives?’

Nadine laughed a hearty laugh before shaking her head and walking away.

Anya’s eyes followed her mother as she stride gracefully across the stone patio. Her laughter traveled throughout the estate and it caused her to grit her teeth together in annoyance.

***

Good morning, son. How are you?

I’m hanging in there. How is she— handlin’?

Mmm, she’ll come around. Just like you. She’s out in the garden waiting for you.

Anya’s ear’s twitched at the conversation that occurred in the house between Amadeo and her mother. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. As if her mother knew if she’d come around or not.

She grumbled, mumbling to herself, ‘she thinks she knows me? She doesn’t know me. I have to figure out how to get out of this—‘

‘Good Morning, Anya.’

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33 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

#4

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess

Y’all are going to be getting a lot more Geralt content because our baby won’t be playing him anymore. I’m only trying to help keep dreams alive. Happy Halloween Everyone 🎃

**I do not give anyone the permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Sparring . (Innocent, no bloodshed)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Phoenix (Curvy African American Woman)

Description: Just a friendly sparring match 😈

Word Count: undetermined

Chapter 5: The formidable Opponent.

TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!’ The repetitive sounds and the forced grunts caused Phoenix to toss and turn all morning. Thankfully, she had gotten plenty of sleep last night and it felt so good to be sleeping on something other than the ground for once. She sat up, groaning a little bit as she felt the sting in her hip. It had been sometime since the werewolf attack, but she was still human at the end of the day and if she wasn’t careful enough— it would never truly heal properly. So she carefully pulled herself from the bed and stretched out her body. Relaxing her muscles and bones so she could go about her did with little to no straining.

After she was done, she looked up at the chest that was by the door. There was a brush sitting on top of what had seem to be trousers and a blouse. She reached behind herself pulled at one of the corset strings and untied it. She then quickly got dressed. The button down blouse was a crème colored with flared, ruffled wrists. A tad bit tight at the waist to define her curves, and it had flared, ruffles at the hem. The trousers, were made of fine leather. Slightly scuffed from the previous wearer, but she was grateful for how comfortable they were. These gave her a nice contour to her thighs, hips and rump. Hmph, she’d have to come shop at Motel Kaer Morhen a lot more.

Phoenix walked out of her chambers, pulling her hair back into a sleek curly ponytail that fell down her back like waterfalls. Her boots clicked down the hall happily as she approached the gruff mumbling of Vesemir’s voice.

As she walked into the dining hall, she took notice how the men didn’t take notice of her this morning. That was kind of refreshing to say the least. They were talking amongst themselves, chuckling and sharing witty jokes. But Geralt was no where to be found. She walked over to Vesemir who was stirring something in the cauldron, ‘Good Morning Vesemir.’ Her voice slightly tired but still liberating and pleasing to the ears.

‘Good Morning, Phoenix. I trust you slept well!’ He didn’t turn to look at her, he just kept his eye on that food. ‘Yes. Someone told me before that if there are in rats around… it’s warm enough.’ She giggled and glanced down at the pot. ‘I slept fine, thank you. Where are Geralt and Ciri?’

To be frank, this was probably the first time in weeks that she hadn’t awakened to the sight of Geralt’s face. It was like her routine was disturbed! Finally, Vesemir turned to look at her, ‘They’re outside in the training yard. You should go with them? There’s no such thing as too much training. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to have you.’

Phoenix nodded and gave him a soft smile, ‘Sure. Thank You.’ She gave him a simple bow and walked towards the back doors, that opened to a world of mysterious contraptions and training tactics.

She stood there on top of the stairs as tiny snowflakes fell on top of her and instantly melted. She watched as Ciri stabbed and swung at that dummy over and over again. Well, that’s where the tapping and grunting came from. ‘What a relief.’ She thought. ‘Again, Ciri.’ Geralt called out, leaning against a destroyed statue with his arms folded across his chest. ‘Yah! Hugh! Urgh!’ She grunted out, swinging and stabbing harder, faster.

The woman glanced at Geralt for a brief moment then back at Ciri. She was starting to notice how frustrated Ciri had become, so she spoke up. ‘I think that’s enough!’ She raised her hand as she descended from the few stone steps. Geralt looked over his shoulder and Ciri turned around. She smiled at the sight of her new friend. And her eyes clearly thanked her for cutting a training session that was going nowhere. ‘I think the girl is tired of the doll. I think she will learn better if she had another moving part.’ She placed her hands on hips as she stood next to him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, looking down at her, ‘you’re suggesting her go against me?’

‘No. Of course not. Sure you have your patience, Witcher but you Witcher’s are—‘ she walked over to the wooden swords, ‘Sloppy.’ She teased with a smirk. Cirilla tried to hide her giggle from her father by looking away. But he’d caught it anyway.

‘Come Cirilla. Let’s see what the old man had taught you hmm?’ And she stepped forward.

Cirilla looked up at Geralt with pleading eyes, ‘May I?’

Geralt looked down at her and then back up at Phoenix. He didn’t say a word, instead he just jerked his over. And Ciri flashed the happiest grin anyone had ever seen, then she skipped over to Phoenix.

Phoenix took a second to look her over. She stood in a protective yet, striking stance, ready to attack or shield. ‘Hmm, good stance Ciri.’ She complimented and took a chance to swing the wooden sword. But Ciri was fast! She blocked the attack then parried it with a push back.

Stumbling back, ‘Oof!’ Phoenix caught her balance and raised a brow. ‘Not bad, Cirilla!’ Could she really say she was surprised? Geralt smirked in pride.

Phoenix stood up straight before she took her stance. ‘OK, I won’t be stopping this time. Try to fend me off ya?’ Ciri nodded, taking a deep breath, ‘OK.’ And she took her stance as well.

Phoenix swung at her side and she blocked it beautifully. This time, the girls didn’t stop. They pushed one another. Swinging harder and faster, trying to simply keep up with one another. But it wasn’t until Ciri found herself getting too comfortable. She took her eyes off of Phoenix for a mere two seconds and Phoenix was able to kick at her wrist to disarm her, and point the tip of the wooden sword at the side of her neck. The girls stared at one another, breathing heavily. ‘Never. Get too comfortable. Complacency can become a weakness. And your opposer won’t hesitate to gut you if you aren’t quick enough.’

Phoenix glanced over at Geralt. He had stared; intrigued about what he had just saw. But then, Ciri quickly smacked the sword out of her hand and pulled her dagger off her hip. She then rested the blade right beneath Phoenix’s chin. ‘Sorry, you were open and distracted.’

Phoenix stared at her for a little bit until a giggle had left her lips. Then Ciri had joined her, placing her dagger back into her holster. ‘Good Job, sweet heart,’ she placed her warm hands on Ciri’s cheeks, ‘I am proud of you.’ She then dropped her hands, ‘Go inside. Quench your thirst, you must be dying by now!’

‘I will,’ she sighed heavily, ‘Are you coming inside?’

‘Shortly darling, shortly.’ And she gave Ciri and slight bow before the girl turned away and walked back inside of the miniature castle.

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42 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

#3

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess

Hi everyone! I’m back! Here’s Chapter 4 of Phoenix! Enjoy ❤️‍🔥

**I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Drinking , Violence , Nudity , Mentions of Loss , THE FEELS 🥺💔 , Angst ,

Pairing : Geralt Of Rivia x Phoenix (Curvy African American Woman) (With Guest Stars: Coën, Lambert, Vesemir)

Description: Days after their ambush, Phoenix & Geralt make their way back to Kaer Morhen where she meets those who helped change his life.

Word Count: 3.9K

Chapter 4: Kaer Morhen

The two of them rode in a comfortable silence. Phoenix was to busy taking in her surroundings as, she had never been on this side of the continent before. Even though everything was pretty much the same, having a new companion, made everything seem all the more — different.

‘Hmm, you’re rather chatty today.’ He said softly, with a slight bit of playfulness. He glanced back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her looking down at the shimmering snow.

‘Perhaps I do not have much to say today Witcher. You should pay attention to the path before you get us lost.’ She argued back, her own little playful taunt.

Geralt smirked at her remark, ‘Lost? I know this Terrain better than I know the bestiary of this Continent,’ he looked back, ‘You should put some trust in me Princess.’ And he looked ahead once again.

Phoenix rolled her eyes as a smirk curled on her lips, ‘Hmph.’ She breathe out. Her caramel eyes once again found that sparkling white snow again. This time in the trees. And the way the sun shone down on it, — it was breathtaking. It was like looking at diamonds! It was so white and — untouched! As if no one had ever traveled this far before.

It was unfortunate that she never got to take in this bustling and beautiful world around her. She was always on a time limit. Always on her toes. Minding the twins and running from those who wish to seek her harm. Or worse— bring her back to her kingdom, defenseless.

***

Riding from the protection of the trees up above, Geralt and Phoenix had finally come to a stop in a open field that turned into snow covered mountains. And hiding in plain sight, a place she had thought she’d never see in person, was sitting there awaiting their arrival.

Phoenix clutched the reins tightly in her palms as her chest shook with shock and anticipation. She finally opened her mouth, and a small cloud of fog disappeared before her.

‘Phoenix, this is—‘

‘Kaer Morhen.’ She stared up at the fortress as if it were to burst into flames! It was old as time, (or it had seem to be) destroyed by the trials of time and weather. Or maybe—

Geralt looked over at Phoenix. Watching as her emotions shown like a picture book on her beautiful features. ‘Home.’

She looked over at him with her plumped lips pressed together in approval. ‘After you. I am your guest, after all.’

He had given her a simple nod and kicked at Roach’s side, taking off towards the path that lead up to the fortress. And Phoenix had followed suit.

***

After pulling their horses to a stop and dismounting them, the both of them made sure to tie them up, and remove all of their equipment to bring inside with them. Phoenix was enthralled to learn more about this place! Things that the books wouldn’t tell or her father’s Golden Knight, Levy, refused to explain. She looked around, noticing more debris lying about. Large rocks, broken statues, and one thing that caught her eye in particularly. The remains of a.. Griffin?

‘Geralt is that a—‘

Geralt smirked and looked over at her with slight confusion, ‘A Griffin? Yes.’

Phoenix had dropped everything that she held. Her weapons, her travel kit, her knitted blanket— EVERYTHING— and quickly rushed over to the icy bones. She dropped to her knees, fast breaths leaving her lips. She popped the button on her wrist and removed her her glove.

With the warmth of her hand now gone, she shuddered at the brisk feel. She could have used her power to warm up her palm, but she wanted to feel all of this. This whole moment, she wanted to remember how everything felt. So she placed her palm on the skull of the skeleton and she had never felt so enlightened before. Phoenix let out a scuff, with thick tears filling her eyes. All of this was like a dream to her.

Geralt had picked up her valuables and walked over to her, ‘decades ago. A father, seeking the revenge for his mate and offspring. When Griffin’s mate, they—‘

‘Mate for a lifetime.’ She said softly, loud enough for him to hear but so softly. Phoenix looked over her shoulder, up at him with wet eyes. ‘He only wanted justice. Were there any innocent lives slain?’

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46 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

#2

The Guy Next Door

It’s been a while yall 😏🚩

Pairing: Henry Cavill(Ronan) x Curvy African American Woman(Amunet-POV)

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Mentions of Sex , Angst , HeartBreak , Mentions Of Loss , Angst , Mentions of Abortion .

Description: After finding out something that would change Amunet’s life forever, she comes across something that would change how she looks at Ronan.

Word Count: 2.6K

Chapter 7: Reflections

She was looking at herself in the mirror; glaring at her curves as — she felt like she was a bit more different than she was when she started seeing Ronan. She had a glow to her, one that she recognized but, clearly in denial about. She wouldn’t even know what to think or say to herself if what she had believed it to be true. Hell, she wouldn’t even know what to say to… him.

Amunet was lost in the artistic curves and swirls of her stretch marks when he swiftly wrapped his arms around her body and pressed kisses against her head. It caused her to gasp suddenly in surprise; but she didn’t dare fight that smile that was growing on her lips. ‘Hey, what are you doing— we’re going to be late.’ He mumbled against her flesh.

‘Nothing just— nothing.’ She turned around and tightened her towel around her chest.

Ronan gave her a concerned look, ‘Are you OK sugar? You haven’t been yourself the past few days.’

She placed her hand on his chest and her chestnut eyes lingered there for a moment before they looked up into his deep blue depths. ‘I—…’ she didn’t even know where to start. Her nervousness got to the best of her. The quieter it grew, the more anxious she became and now her stomach begun to turn.

Ronan grabbed her hand gently, ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you Netty you can tell me.’

She finally felt a great weight being lifted off of her shoulders when he reassured her. ‘Can we stop by the store on the way to the meeting? I have to pick something up.’

— Amunet stood there in that aisle alone as she squeezed her purse handles in her palm, staring down at the medium sized pink boxes. She didn’t want to believe the changes she saw in the mirror. Perhaps it was just her own mind playing sick games on her. But: ‘It wouldn’t hurt to be sure…’ she said softly before snatching up the pink box and hurrying to the front to pay for her belongings.

‘Thank you. Where’s your restrooms?’

‘Straight to the back ma’am. There’s a big sign, you can’t miss it.’ The young lady said gracefully to her.

‘I probably still would. Thank you.’ She gave her a gentle smile and swiftly turned around to walk away and the young girl shouted, ‘Good Luck!’

It caused Netty to stop in her tracks. She truly didn’t know how to feel about all of this. She was between: “how could you allow yourself to get pregnant by a stranger? Get rid of it if you are.” Or “You’ll have what you’ve been needing. What you’ve been missing. Keep your baby.” The girl had no idea what she was going through, so she just looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Thank you!’ And started to walk again, ‘I’m going to need it.’

Are you OK in there?

Baby Girl?

Netty do you need me to come inside?

She glared at the text messages as she paced back and forward in the handicap stall. Then she glanced back at top of the screen to look at the time. It had been ten minutes after she had taken the test. Filled with so much anticipation and dread, she could feel her hands start to sweat and her chest begin to tighten. ‘OK. Breathe— what’s the worse that could happen right? You could be pregnant? —‘ No. it would be him not wanting the baby. Nor her.

Pushing those thoughts behind her head, she walked over to the sink where the covered stick sat in. It was flipped upside down on purpose so she could brace herself. And with a bit of hesitation, she finally picked up the stick and looked at it.

2 bright pink lines.

Netty felt like she had been hit with a freight train. Her eyes filled with tears, ‘Oh God.. Oh God.’ Was all she could muster out. She continued to stare down at the stick as if she was hoping if the first line would disappear. Until she finally felt her phone vibrating. Pulling it up into her view with her shaking hand, it read: “Ronan” with a Green and Red button. Her breathing had become hitched and shallow. She was starting to have an anxiety attack. ‘Fuck!’ She begun to sob harder, covering her mouth as she tried to concentrate on her breathing.

Eventually the phone had stopped vibrating and his name had disappeared. But her vision was blurred with thick tears. ‘Breathe Netty— Breathe!’ She held her chest as her other hand gripped her phone tightly. Her chest hurt, and she could feel an oncoming headache. So she closed her eyes, and took 3 deep, and slow breaths. She looked at herself in the mirror before her brown eyes glanced down at her belly. She tried to think about the positives in her situation. She would have her chance at being a mother again. She would get to smell that addicting baby scent and hopefully, Ronan would be happy and they could be a family. Then, there was the buzzing again. This time, she didn’t allow it to ring through, and she just picked it up.

Sniffling, she answered the phone, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey are you— Netty are you alright?’ He sounded concerned.

‘Ye—yeah.’ She looked down at the stick once again, ‘I’m OK. Hey, do you think we can pass on the meeting tonight? I’m not feeling well and I have to talk to you about something.’

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49 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lmao I had this dream last night.

Henry came into my apartment, used his key and everything “Honey I’m home.” I’m confused as hell cause I recognize that voice but my husband is sitting in our bedroom. So I’m like “who the fuck just walked in my house?!” So I get up and go see what the commotion was and this mf is in my KITCHEN PULLING SHIT OUT OF THE REFRIGERATOR AND ALL LIKE THIS HIS HOUSE! So I’m like “excuse me?? What are you doing?!” This mf turns around and is like “Baby? You having amnesia again?” And my husband comes out of the bedroom and is leaning against the counter, “Yeah. She’s been having it all fucking day. Maybe you can deal with it?”

My alarm woke me up, YALL I AM PISSED 🥲

98 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

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