#The Witcher drabble

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Pretend

It was an unspoken rule that a Witcher never willingly removed their medallion unless the reason was life or death. As with most rules, there was an exception.

They were always the last thing to be removed whenever Lambert and Aiden fell into bed together. They could practically hear their elders lecturing them both but chose to ignore them, considering neither of them wanted the reminder of why this was a bad idea judging them from around each others throats.

For a few hours, they allowed themselves to pretend. They weren’t Cat and Wolf – hereditary enemies ever since a betrayal neither of them had played a part in. Hell, they weren't even Witchers. They were just Lambert and Aiden: Two occasional lovers who ran into one another in an inn. Nothing unusual in that.

Their medallions would be the first thing to be replaced when they came back to themselves but for now, they sat on the small wooden table. Their chains tangled together in a mimicry of their owners in a too small bed with not enough time.

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher drabble #the witcher drabble #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #Lambert #aiden/lambert #lambert/aiden fanfic #aiden x lambert #lambden

[l4long-winded]

It’s peculiar how distorted the ceiling appears in this position, your eyes tracing the indentations of stained, battered lumber above with barely a touch of curiosity. Normally, that touch would be expansive, having to focus on anything other than what’s ongoing in the present to surpass the time, how long (short on average) a client would dabble in before they were breathless and satiated, satisfied with trembling hands offering payment. Payment, that is, if they were still willing to offer it instead of huffing crooked displeasure to then flee with their currency still jangling in their pockets. Unfortunately, that happened more often than your ego would allow you to admit aloud. Years of this life have taught you that it isn’t because of any ailment or flaw about your performance or countenance, but because some men (or most) were plainly as awful as they were in the sack.

But you’re not staring at the wooden heavens because you’re trying to pass the time, but because if you gaze down, you’re sure to quiver at the sight and lose yourself to the third climax of the night that Geralt’s edged you towards.

You’re staring at the ceiling, mouth agape, shallow breaths inhaled and exhaled, moans of pleas and incoherence filling the room, because looking down would mean bringing this exchange of brilliance to an end. This isn’t the first time Geralt’s had you this way, with your thighs stretched wide apart on the bed courtesy of his large hands and your skirts still intact, so depending on his desires and possibly mood, this could be the last time he buries his head between your legs. For this session, that is. He’s unusual that way. Not in the sense that you don’t enjoy this, you enjoy every millisecond, but because other men wouldn’t bother. They seek out their own satisfaction and then it’s an awkward dance of shame, eye contact avoided, payment extended regretfully, or worse, cynically with superiority. Sure, there were instances in which Geralt held miniscule moments of shame, but not in you nor even the brothel, but in how he began to leave behind blooming marks of your affairs. You watched it fade in real time once you confessed to him of how much you liked to see them after and the days after that. Well, you did purposely leave out the part of how it made you feel as if he was there longer, but this is how it should be. He’s a client, a frequent and unique and talented one, but a client with trudging responsibilities nonetheless.

You don’t know why he revels in slotting his tongue along you, why he seemingly prides himself in how many times he can draw genuine sounds and reactions from you, why he won’t just bring his needs to a completion since he doesn’t require to cradle your desires in his very capable hands. You just know that he’s regularly done this with you every visit, no matter how puzzled you looked at him the first time he requested it, no matter how you accidentally rutted your hips up into him, no matter how embarrassingly quick you were sensitive and reeling, spent in minutes as he lapped up every drop. There are days where he goes once or twice and days where he takes his sweet, damn time. Today is on his pace, and promisingly, it looks as if he’ll go until he sees fit, but you stall anyway. You’re arching up and reaching for the headboard as you pant his name, but stalling is stalling no matter how minor the process. Your ceiling trick barely helps, and before you can stop yourself, you tilt your head to one side and dip your eyesight down to the image of Geralt mouthing along you, slickness on his lips and chin, pleasure written in his chiseled features.

And as if on cue, he flicks his gaze up at you, eyes attaching to yours, authority somehow still lurking in his pupils, alongside evidence of lust probably mirroring your own. You shatter, but it’s not instantly. It builds with a crescendo, with the rate of your heartbeat booming and accelerating, the time between each drum shortening by the seconds. Your thighs ache from Geralt pushing them down, keeping them down, subjecting you to the sensation your body stutters away from because of the intensity, the intensity of human electricity. You reach your peak like a symphony, whines slipping from your mouth as he assists you in riding out your high, short of breath as you float back down to slow, gradual coherence and awareness. From curling in his hair, your fingers reach for the blankets to tangle them into the cloth, to steady yourself from how far you went. You feel dazed as he crawls up the length of your body, as he glances at you with both hunger and admiration, as he searches your eyes for silent permission to carry on. You grant it with fluttering lashes and he presses his lips to yours, a pleased hum vibrating against his mouth that he kisses with longing and fervor.

You wish that it could last longer, chasing his mouth when he pulls away, but he utters a quick sentence, a warning hidden beneath it: “Hands and knees.”

The warning was to prepare you for how he gripped your hip and flipped you by it to your stomach. You scramble to adjust yourself, eager to please and be pleased, already ditching the mourning of his tongue. Because you got so lost in how his mouth made you feel that you forgot how good his—... his... his... oh, his fingers were not where your head went, but you think they feel fucking divine.

#henry cavill #geralt of rivia #the witcher drabble #geralt x reader #geralt x brothel!reader #l4l.writes #the witcher

[cavillanche]

Last Night

A Geralt drabble - OFC wakes up after a night of heavy drinking and finds she's not alone. Rated T ~500 words

_______________________________

The room was spinning before her eyes opened. She gripped the sheets, begging the world to stand still as she groaned.

"I don't think it works that way."

The deep male voice made her bolt up straight. She clasped a hand over her mouth as nausea washed over her. The white-haired man jumped to his feet, and shoved the chamber pot in her hands just in time.

"Haven't seen anyone that shade of green in a long time."

He lay a wet cloth across her neck while she leaned over. The balmy dampness helped to ease the tension that vomiting always gave her.

"Who are you?"

"Geralt."

She stared at him and wiped a large clump of hair from her forehead. He was large. It would have made her wary if he weren't keeping his distance.

"You were in the tavern. I remember you." She slowly looked around the room. "Where are we?"

"My room at the inn next door."

"Your room? Did we—"

"No."

She groaned and put her head in her hands. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"I remember… those men."

"Four of them."

"Yes. Loud, overbearing—"

"Asses."

She laughed and immediately regretted it.

"Sailors," she said. "The downside of being so close to port. I challenged them to drink."

"You did." The corner of his lip turned up. It could barely be called a smile.

"I remember the first one passing out. After that…."

"You outdrank three of them. The fourth held on long enough to have one more than you."

"Ah, damn."

"The tavern declared you the victor. They'd never seen a woman drink like that before."

She smiled. "How did I get here?"

"I didn't like the way some of the men were looking at you after. No one knew who you were or where you're staying, so I brought you back here to sleep it off."

"And where did you sleep?"

He jutted his chin toward the empty space next to her. "It is my bed."

She ran her eyes over him, and her hands over herself. Her clothes were still on properly, and he still wore the clothes from the day before, wrinkled and clearly slept in.

Geralt drew the curtain on the small window aside, and the light split through her head like an ax.

"No. Please close that."

"Sorry. Just checking the sky. I have to head out. Do you have a room?"

"I hadn't gotten one yet."

Geralt shook his head. "Always settle your room before drinking." He dressed himself with his sword and other accessories. "I'll pay for one more night on the way out. You can stay here."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't." He stopped after opening the door. "You'll want to drink a lot of water. It helps."

He closed the door and was gone. She sat staring at the worn wood, left with a pounding head, and a churning stomach.

At least she didn't have to worry about finding a room.

#Henry Cavill #Geralt #Geralt of Rivia #The Witcher #Geralt fic #Geralt drabble #Geralt of Rivia fic #Geralt of Rivia drabble #The Witcher fic #The Witcher drabble #Henry Cavill fic #Henry Cavill drabble #my fic #I made this

[seidenbros]

In a matter of minutes, the sky turned from blue to grey to nearly black. They'd felt the increasing wind before which had made them hurry their steps, but they were not able to escape the thunderstorm that was rolling on.

“Jaskier, we need to hurry if we don't want to get drenched,” Geralt said through gritted teeth.

“You know, we would get to the next inn in time if we were actually riding on a horse.” Jaskier looked at Roach, who seemed to give him a glare, but that was probably just his imagination.

“You know we can't.” As much as Jaskier wanted to protest, he knew that Geralt was right, because Roach was already carrying enough weight at the moment, and they needed all of that. It wasn't like they could just abandon everything just to get to their destination. It wasn't even freezing cold, Jaskier didn't mind the rain at all – he loved the summer rain actually – but he knew how much force a storm could have, how much destruction lightning could leave behind.

Before they know it, the rain set in. Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the wrist and pulled him towards the trees to seek shelter from the downpour. In the distance, they could hear the thunder, but they couldn't see the lightning yet, because of their surroundings.

“So, you want us to stay here until this is over?” Jaskier quirked an eyebrow at Geralt,

“Don't tell me you want to go out into that downpour and get completely drenched? Are you mad?”

“You do know who you are talking to, right?”

“Yeah, you are mad...” Geralt shook his had half in amusement, half in exasperation. Before he could do anything, Jaskier stepped out of the shelter the trees were providing and into the rain. It smelled sweet and earthy, like the typical summer rain, which made Jaskier smile, even ad the rain made it's way through his clothes and onto his skin. “We're in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” Geralt watched Jaskier stand there, already completely drenched.

“Yes,” Jaskier yelled over the sound of rain, a brilliant smile on his lips, as he tilted his face up to greet the rain. It felt amazing, it always did. He couldn't really say what it was about the summer rain, but it almost felt like it was cleansing his soul. For a moment, he simply stood there, enjoying the rain on his skin that cooled his body down after they'd been walking in the sun for hours. Slowly, he turned his face towards Geralt again as the rain was lessening. “You do know that lightning striked trees rather than flat land, right? So I'm actually safer here than you are over there.”

“I'm good here.”

“What's that, my dear Witcher?” Jaskier smirked, turning completely towards him, cocking his head to the left. “Are you afraid of a little rain?”

“That's not a little rain.” Geralt looks Jaskier up and down, his bright blue doublet now a couple of shades darker due to the water.

“So you are afraid,” Jaskier kept on teasing, but he looked up at the sky again, closing his eyes. It was already getting a bit lighter again, but the rain remained. There was still thunder and lightning all around, but still a bit away from them.

“Say that again.” Jaskier heard Geralt's voice close to his ear now, before he felt the Witcher's hands on his upper arms. The bard gasped when he opened his eyes and was suddenly nose to nose with Geralt. Still, he couldn't help but smirk.

“Scared, Witcher?”

“You wish!”

His words make Jaskier's smirk turn into a smile. His hands reach up to cup Geralt's face before he presses his lips to the Witcher's. He'd kissed a lot of people, but he'd never kissed anyone in the pouring rain before. Something that was so romanticised that he had to try it himself, and... it did live up to what he'd expected. More than that actually. Geralt's grip on his arms loosened, and instead, he dropped his hands to Jaskier's waist, pulling him closer. Seems like Jaskier wasn't the only one enjoying this kiss in the rain. They only parted when they both needed to come up for air. Staring into each others eyes, they both started chuckling.

“Maybe, we should keep going now to get to that inn... get out of these clothes, hm?” It was Jaskier's suggestion this time, because as much as he enjoyed standing in the rain, kissing Geralt in the rain, he liked being warmed by Geralt's body next to his in a comfy bed even more.

“You just want to get me naked, don't you?” Geralt asked, trying to suppress the smile that was about to break out on his lips.

“Maaaaaybe.” Jaskier pulled Geralt towards him for another quick kiss. “Can you blame me?”

No. No he could not, because he wanted to get Jaskier out of these wet clothes as well. To keep him from catching a cold of course.

Inspiration from this list

#scared Potter? #You wish! #your writingdoesn't match up to others #I'm not creative enough #Let's get to creative writing #staffi writes #how to get yourself out of thinking and generally thinking everything sucks? #yes you write a drabble because fuck it #fighting with #no matter who reads this or doesn't read it #it helped me get into this again today and get myself out of having not so nice thoughts #geraskier #geraskier fi #geraskier drabble #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #the witcher drabble #the witcehr fanfic

[astaldis]

Monster Friend

@witchermonstermayhem​

Summary: Regis is waiting in front of the Witcher Keep, but Vesemir is reluctant to let the monster inside the walls of Kaer Morhen.

Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Vesemir, Regis (mentioned)

Words: 300

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47371024

#witchermonstermayhem2023 #alt. monster friend #geralt of rivia #vesemir #henry cavill #kim bodnia #triple drabble #the witcher drabble #the witcher novels #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #kaer morhen #emiel regis #regis

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Drabble Challenge #2

my second entry for the @thepassifloradiscord drabble challenge! 

CW: none its fluffy af

__________________________

Arriving at Kaer Morhen near midnight was commonplace for Geralt, so he knew he’d rather bathe before heading up to his room; he could surprise his family in the morning. Hair wrapped in a towel and a clean set of clothes he stole from the hooks by the springs, he shuffled into his room ready to collapse on the bed only to find three person-shaped lumps under his blankets.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

Ciri’s head emerged as she blinked sleep from her eyes, “We missed you,” holding back the blankets, she revealed Jaskier and Yennefer, “Come snuggle.”

#the witcher #the witcher drabble #drabble #drabble challenge #i love that we treat KM like the stark tower #like its so good for the soul #geralt of rivia #cirilla #yennefer #jaskier

[cumslutciri]

Drabble Challenge!

this is my 5th entry for @thepassifloradiscord ‘s drabble challenge. only its dd so it goes here

CW: ciri/geralt, unspecified age, accidental blood play

Ciri stared at Geralt’s shoulder with wide eyes, mesmerized by the little crescent indentations her teeth had left and the one tiny pinprick where her canine pierced his skin. A perfectly round bead of blood was about to start trailing down his pale chest, and without a second thought, she leaned forward from where she was sitting on his cock and licked it. Geralt groaned, and she felt him twitch inside her as she shivered. 

“Do you like that?” 

She nodded, still wide-eyed and lost in the new sensations.

Geralt rolled his hips up and groaned, “Then bite me again.”

#dd #dead dove do not eat #ciri #geralt #ciri/geralt #the witcher #the witcher drabble #drabble challenge #drabble

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

you shook in the middle of the night

“Don’t. Move.”

Their bodies are pressed close together in the darkness. Geralt’s words are barely a breath in Jaskier’s ear; Jaskier stops breathing, but his heart rabbits in his chest, far too loud. His knuckles, on hands clenched into fists, turn white in the moonlight.

Geralt leaps, the silver sword flashes almost faster than Jaskier can see, and behind him there is a heavy thump. And a scream.

Into the quiet, Jaskier whispers, “Did you–”

“Hush.”

Footsteps – Geralt walking away – and then a murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Geralt always apologizes to the bruxae. He’s never explained to Jaskier the reason why.

#lirael writes #geralt x jaskier #the witcher drabble #100 words #bruxa #a little bit sad

[hannibard]

Witchers were feared by all, especially "The Butcher of Blaviken" and yet Jaskier was never scared of Geralt, which made zero sense. Geralt might not have been the emotionless killing machine the Continent made him out to be but Jaskier couldn't have known that.

Afer spending time with him, Geralt realised that it probably had to do with the bard's terrible self-preservation instincts. He got into trouble constantly and always followed Geralt on hunts, no matter how dangerous.

When the witcher once asked him about it the bard replied with his brightest smile: "I'm here for a good time, not a long time". It made Geralt roll his eyes but when he thought about it later, he realized with a chill that the bard meant it.

He already knew there was more to Jaskier than meets the eye. The bard talked nonstop and yet Geralt knew almost nothing about his past. He fleeted through towns and relationships, but nothing was permanent and none lasted. When he thought no one was looking at him he had a melancholic look in his eyes, void of the usual shine.

It always puzzled Geralt but now he couldn't help but face the terrifying truth: Jaskier didn't care at all whether he lived or died.

#drabble #tw implied suicide ideation #i hope someone more equipped than me could write something with this prompt #bc i can't do more than that #the witcher #text #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #crispy

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Until Sunrise | Geralt of Rivia Drabble

Summary: Geralt doesn’t plan on leaving until sunrise. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Geralt x Reader (Y/N)

Tags: smut, prostitution, bathing, Geralt’s thick thighs, mentions of blood, thigh riding, p in v, sex, unprotected sex, orgasms

WC: ± 1K

A/Ns: Not new to smut, but new to Geralt so go easy 🥴🤣 Hope you enjoy my obligatory bathing Geralt turned smut offering to be accepted into The Witcher fanfic world ❤️

The Witcher Masterlist || Support my Writing Here

“Please, sir, allow me.”

Geralt scoffs to himself under his breath, but loud enough that she can hear it. He’s clearly amused by the very title she’s thrown his way. She knows she’s probably a little more coy than the other whores he’s used to, but that’s exactly how she likes to play it. 

“Do you know what I am?” he asks her, obviously still bemused as a smirk plays on his tempting mouth. 

“Of course,” she agrees, unable to stop the playful smirk from curling across her own full lips as she replies. “But you’re still going to pay me handsomely, are you not?” she adds, a playful glint in her eye as she wades through the water towards the witcher. 

She’s unable to take her eyes off of his broad, thick body, the way the blood soaks into his skin, the way the water ripples and laps against the tight muscles underneath, the slight curl in his pale blond hair as the steam of the bath dampens it. Y/N isn’t sure she’s ever seen a more perfect specimen before. If she thought she was pleased to have been selected by The Witcher when he entered the brothel earlier this evening, she’s even more pleased now she’s alone with him, naked and soaking in a warm bath together. 

Geralt’s eyes seem more golden in this lighting as she gets closer, and he brings his longs arms out to stretch them along the back of the bath, the muscles in his shoulders only bulging thicker, water evaporating from his skin before it has the chance to drip across the broad span of his biceps. 

Y/N reaches for a rag, wetting it in the hot water before bringing it to the witcher’s skin, dabbing at the dried blood staining it, careful to get every drop. A low hum vibrates through his throat and straight through Y/N’s core as he closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, relaxing into her touch with ease. 

“Is it true what they say about you?” Y/N dares to ask, rewetting the cloth to bring it further across his shoulders, her fingers wrapping around his thick arm, digging into the impressive muscle as her thighs instinctively rub together under the guise created by the water. 

“What do they say?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling in his chest as he speaks, only serving to make Y/N even more desperate to feel him; taste him. 

“That your impressive stamina doesn’t end with fighting,” she smirks, watching as he slowly opens his eyes to look at her. 

He scoffs, staring directly into her eyes for a moment or two, and Y/N begins to wonder if she’s said the wrong thing and overstepped her line. But then a smirk grows wider on his lips. 

“Well I don’t plan on leaving here until sunrise,” he informs her matter-of-factly, before reaching for her wrist and pulling her closer, catching her before she can slip deeper into the water. 

He pulls her into his lap, her legs straddling his thick thighs, having to spread pretty far apart just to accommodate him, but she groans all the same, feeling his hands push into her hair, his large arms trapping her tight against his body. She can feel how hard he already is between her legs, trapped between her pelvic bone and his own. She reaches under the water, her hand seeking him out, her fingers wrapping around his length as she moans louder, realising they don’t even touch thanks to the girth. 

“You just keep on impressing me,” she quips, but Geralt only growls in response, tugging on her hair harder, pulling a whimper from her lips as she bucks her hips against him, her aching pussy dragging back and forth along his hard, muscular thigh. 

Another primal grunt escapes The Witcher as he lifts Y/N with ease, and when he drops her, it’s onto his cock as it sinks deep inside her, stretching her open with a burning pain she welcomes. Y/N moans, throwing her head back, her hair soaking in the hot water, her breasts pushing into his face as the stubble that adorns his chin scratches against her delicate skin. Geralt places chaste kisses to her chest, his teeth scraping over her hardened nipples, his fingertips digging into the flesh on her back as he instantly begins to fuck up into her. 

Y/N takes the brutality; welcomes it even. She’s never felt a pleasure like it, she’s never been fucked so thoroughly in such a short space of time before. Her orgasm is already building deep in her core, climbing higher and higher as her fingernails bite deeper and deeper into the witcher’s chest. 

“C’mon,” he encourages, pulling her down to send himself what feels like impossibly deeper, his cock throbbing inside her as she finally comes undone around him, her pussy clenching rhythmically as her orgasm ripples through every fibre of her body in a constant wave of ecstasy. “That’s it,” he hums, Y/N’s head flopping forward as she slowly begins her descent from the high of her climax back to the very bath they’re in. 

“Who needs stamina when you fuck like that?” she jokes, breathlessly. 

Geralt doesn’t reply, he just stands, lifting her in his arms with such ease that it only makes Y/N feel even more powerless. He’s still inside her, throbbing and filling her like she was made just for him. He carries her over to the bed, throwing her down onto it, and Y/N can’t help but stare up at him, even more in awe now she can see him in his impressive entirety. 

“I’ve already told you, I’m not leaving until sunrise,” he growls, grabbing her ankles to pull her closer to the end of the bed. “And I plan to get my money’s worth.” 

Liked this fic? Want to see more Geralt fics? Please consider leaving me feedback by replying or reblogging :) Feedback is fuel!

#until sunrise #geralt x reader #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfic #smut #drabble #negans-lucille-tblr #lemon

[witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff]

𝔎𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔰 𝔐𝔦𝔨𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰

𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩!

𝔄 𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥

𝔈𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰

ℜ𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫'𝔰 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢

𝔈𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡

𝔄 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔉𝔲𝔫 ℑ𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

𝙷𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝙰 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝙰 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎'𝚜 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚌𝚢

𝙰 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙵𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝙴𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

𝔊𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔒𝔣 ℜ𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔞 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔒𝔣 𝔞 𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔄 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔘𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶

𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔙𝔬𝔴𝔰

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢

𝔄𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡

𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔒𝔣 ℜ𝔢𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔱

𝑲𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝑨𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒊𝒎 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑴𝒄'𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

Masterlist Part 2

#henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #imagine #Materlist #x reader #klaus mikaelson #Witcher #one shot #klaus mikaelson x reader #TVD #fanfiction #Masterlist #female reader #drabble #fluff #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #HOTD #Smuts

[shy-urban-hobbit]

CW: past abuse

Early on in their romantic relationship, after a truly shit day an over-stimulated Lambert pushes Aiden away with a snarl of how he "Fucking hates people touching him there!" when the other offers him a hug and one of his hands drifts to the back of Lambert's neck.

After the initial 'wtf?' reaction - because this is the first Aiden's heard of this and he's touched Lambert there multiple times over their years travelling together - he's willing to let it go. Lambert's set a boundary (no matter how harshly) and he'll respect it. Lambert however, feels that he owes the other some semblance of an explanation once he's calmed down.

He tells Aiden that it reminds him too much of when he was a kid. Of his father laying a heavy, threatening hand there while Lambert lied about how he'd gotten another black eye. How both he and the Masters at Kaer Morhen would scruff him to drag him kicking and screaming to places he didn't want to go. A crushing hand placed there to pin him down while he received yet another caning for being too mouthy, for not being fast enough, not being good enough. A parody of a comforting hand resting there as he was herded towards Sad Albert before being strapped down.

He hasn't told his brothers - he hasn't told anyone before this because it's nothing compared to Geralt having to shoulder the Butcher reputation and Eskel literally having people run away screaming as soon as they set eyes on him, and it's not like regular townsfolk and whores like to get overly touchy feely with Witchers anyway so outside of the keep it's never really been much of an issue.

From then on, Aiden is mindful of not touching Lambert there and loudly telegraphing his movements if it's a necessity.

#the witcher #the witcher drabble #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert #CW past abuse

[flowercrown-bard]

Geralt stared at the nervously chattering guy, unblinking. 

He was an idiot. 

A brightly dressed idiot who had driven to the wild life rescue centre in the middle of the night, close to tears because he had found an injured animal on his way to a party. 

"Can you save him?"

"Her," Geralt said automatically and took the small fluttering thing from the man. Oh, hadn't he mentioned? The guy was an idiot, who had stopped his car to help an endangered and dangerous species. 

The guy was an idiot. 

Geralt already felt his heart fluttering like the griffin's wings. 

#Modern with magic au #Drabble #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #Witcher #Ficlet #My writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

#geralt of rivia #geralt #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt x reader #harald halfdansson #harald x reader #dark harald #dark!harald #harald finehair #vikings #the witcher #bookstore au #au #series #drabble

[seidenbros]

Congratulations on 1k, my friend!! You deserve it. For the celebration prompts, perhaps Geraskier + a kitten? 💚

Thaaaank you Wren

You can always get me with kittens, and I think this turned out a little sillier than expected, but here we go 💚

-----

“Ohhh, who are you?” Jaskier couldn’t help but smile as he crouched down. They were taking a short break by a stream to fill up on fresh water before they continued to Cintra. Or rather Geralt took care of the water while Jaskier felt something rub along his leg. A tiny black cat had come up to him demanding attention.

“Are you hungry, little one.” He reached out his hands, rubbing the cat’s ears, between her eyes. The purring he received in turn was all the reward he needed.

“Come on,” he cooed, carefully lifted the little thing up to carry her over to where Roach was waiting for them. He reached into a bag and got something out that he held out to the kitten. Oh yes, she really was hungry.

“Aren’t you a little sunshine?” Jaskier’s smile widened, before he dropped down on  the floor and sat cross legged, the kitten between his legs, getting comfortable there. She was soaking up the sun and Jaskier did the same. At least until Geralt came back, a scowl adorning his face.

“What did you pick up?”

“That’s sunshine!” Jaskier looked up at the witcher, a big grin on his face. “She came up to me and was hungry, so I fed her.”

“Jaskier, you can’t keep feeding every lost animal you find. This is ridiculous.” This was so typically Jaskier, that Geralt could only sigh. Wherever they went, he found some hurt or lonely animal and wanted to help. It was… cute in a way, but it could get out of hand, if Geralt didn’t watch out.

“But just look at her!” He held out the little kitten with eyes bigger than her whole head as it seemed, up to Geralt, and she meowed.

“Jaskier…” Geralt gritted his teeth. Damn it, Jaskier knew that this worked, that Geralt couldn’t say no, when he was faced with such big eyes that looked up at him all helpless. “How do you even know that it’s a she?”

“Just look at her!”

“Of course…” Geralt knew better than to argue with Jaskier about this, just accept it as a fact, and keep his mouth shut if they found out in the end, that it was in fact a he. It didn’t matter in the end anyway.

“So, can we keep her? Pleeeaaaase?” Jaskier cuddled the kitten close, looked up at Geralt with the same expression, Sunshine wore on her face.

“Fine.” An exasperated sigh left Geralt’s lips as he got ready to move on. He didn’t look at Jaskier, didn’t want to see that triumphant grin on his lips. If he didn’t love that idiot so much, Geralt would have left here without him, but… he couldn’t live without the bard anymore.

“But you’re carrying her, you’re taking care of her. She's your responsibility, not mine.”

“Okay!” Jaskier got up and leaned in to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek, before they got on their way again.

“Yeah… he’s a bit of a grump, but he has a huge heart… he just doesn’t want anyone to know.” Jaskier spoke in hushed tones to the kitten, carrying her in his arms, but Geralt still heard him. He simply shook his head and let Jaskier babble on. The longer Jaskier talked to the kitten, told her about the adventures they’d had, the more Geralt had to try and hide his smile, because it was adorable to watch Jaskier.

Once they reached their destination, though, Jaskier had to leave the kitten outside with Roach, because she wasn’t allowed in the inn.

“She’ll be fine. She’s been fine without you so far, okay? She’ll stay with Roach.” And if she didn’t, if she ran away, then that was also okay, because so far, she’d grown up in the wilderness.

When Jaskier was asleep that night, though, Geralt snuck out and walked to the stables where Roach was staying, because he had to make sure that Sunshine was alright. And there she was, sleeping on top of Roach, rolled up into a tiny ball of fur, shivering slightly. Geralt reached for one of the smaller blankets and draped it over the kitten. She opened her eyes only for a second, before she closed them again. The shivering stopped and Geralt smiled. Yeah… he knew that he’d never get rid of this kitten, just like he’d never get rid of Jaskier. Because he didn’t want to get rid of them.

#seidenbros follower celebration #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #staffi writes #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher drabble #geraskier imagine #geraskier drabble

[astaldis]

Summary: Geralt spots something in a meadow. Something that is impossible to exist.

Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationship: Borch Three Jackdaws | Villentretenmerth & Geralt of Rivia

Wordcount: 200

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46719046

@witchermonstermayhem

#witchermonstermayhem2023 #witchermonstermayhem #witchermonstermayhemday3 #dragon #geralt of rivia #villentretenmerth #borch three jackdaws #henry cavill #ron cook #the witcher netflix #the witcher #the witcher season 1 #the witcher drabble #double drabble #the witcher fanfiction #witcher monsters